Stumbled upon a bad case of writers block, so figured I'd kill two birds with one stone and use this as an exercise to get over it while also giving you guys what you have repeatedly asked me for over the years.

I know it's not quite a sequel but I hope you guys enjoy this anyway.

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Part One

The Island

Alan's P.O.V

For the longest time, my vision faded in and out as I repeatedly lost consciousness. The one thing that remained constant throughout all of this was the crippling pain that had me curled in the fetal position. Or at least, I thought my body was curled in the fetal position. Really, it was hanging in the air, held up by the securely fastened seat belts around my waist and chest.

It was difficult to breathe, but not because there was something wrong with my lungs. Because every time I parted my lips for a taste of fresh air, I would just get a mouthful of smoke. The acrid stench was enough to make you splutter and heave.

Whenever I was somewhat coherent and didn't have to focus on my breathing, I tried to evaluate my physical state. I was aching all over, and when I focused my eyes I could see the many cuts and scratches that patterned my body. Lightly prodding up and down my arms revealed the many bruises that would soon be blossoming and my head was killing me.

Despite all this pain, I was grateful. My wounds were only minor. I couldn't find anything that was life threatening.

Then it dawned on me. I survived a plane crash.

I survived a mother fucking plane crash.

Or technically a helicopter crash. Same thing.

I was in too much pain to celebrate this fact for long however. Once that short burst of elation had come and gone, I was forced to focus on the present again. My mind was instantly torn between two tasks.

Searching the wreckage for Melody and Carl or getting myself away from the crash. I knew that the Lieutenant and the pilot were both already dead. And. . . Jesus, Mel and Carl weren't wearing their seatbelt's. I was the only one sitting down. My chest tightened with this realization, as if every bone that made up my ribcage had decided to cave inwards, spearing every one of my organs.

I knew I needed to get myself out and as far away from the wreckage as possible. I was already light headed and it was a miracle I hadn't died of smoke inhalation yet. But my mind was overcome with panic and refused to recognize these things.

Mel? Carl? Where were they? Through all the smoke and flames I could barely see a foot in front of me. Not to mention every time I opened my eyes the smoke would seep in and burn them as if my tears had turned to acid. The logical side of me that was still able to function properly knew that the odds were not in their favor. It was a miracle that I survived the crash, and that was with following all the proper safety procedures.

The fact that Mel and Carl were standing when it happened. . .

My chest tightened even more at that thought, so much so that it forced me to physically hunch forward. My thoughts were screaming at me with facts and statistics, but I refused to acknowledge or even listen to any of it. I forced myself to believe that they were alive, and they needed my help. Because if they didn't, if they were already dead, if I let myself believe that, I would have been more than content on suffocating to death in that chair.

So I forced myself to mishear the groaning of bending metal as the cry of Melody somewhere nearby. It was the only thing that managed to get me moving. After unclipping the seat belts, I fell to the ground in a jumbled heap. The landing was painful and I would have liked a moment to collect myself, but the floor was alarmingly hot. There must have been a fire heating it from the outside. I scurried to my feet and moved towards the open hatch. I was going mostly on memory because the smoke was too thick to see through.

Just as a precaution, every body I came along I stopped to quickly inspect. Thankfully, none belonged to Mel or Carl.

As I stumbled out, I found my feet dragging through sand. It didn't register to me that we must have crashed on a beach until I had cleared away from the smoke and was finally able to get a breath of fresh air. The scent of salt water flooded my nostrils and cleared the smoke out of my lungs. After several mouthfuls I began to look around.

The ocean stretched itself out as far as the horizon. The beach we had crashed on curved out of view after awhile, so it was my best guess that we had landed on an island somewhere. We couldn't have still been in Sydney, I remembered flying over nothing but water for a long stretch of time. Not to mention the trees that lined the edge of the beach didn't look native to Australia.

But something about all of it, something about the glowing sand and sparkling waters, the dense jungle with its thick foliage and smooth trunks, all seemed so familiar. It felt like a memory was gently brushing against the back of my mind, but refusing to take hold.

Finally, after sweeping over my surroundings, my eyes finally focused on the crash. The sight of it had me struggling to breathe all over again. It was nothing but a jumbled heap of torn metal and scattered fires. If I were a witness, I wouldn't have bothered running to investigate if anyone needed help. I would have just assumed that all passengers died on impact.

It was a miracle that I had survived, and a phenomenon that I wasn't seriously injured.

The odds of three people surviving...

"Mel!" I yelled. My voice was hoarse and rusty, whisked away completely by the wind. "Carl!"

Even though I was deep in the trenches of denial, a part of me had to acknowledge that even miracles have their limits. I had circled around the wreckage three times and I was just about to collapse and give up when I spotted him.

Lying face down in the sand, I initially dismissed him as being a piece of broken metal from the helicopter. But the wind caught the tail end of his shirt and waved it in the air like a bloodied, white flag.

"Carl!" His name caught in my throat as I frantically trudged towards him. Dropping to my knees, I gripped the sides of his body and rolled him over. My heart jumped in my chest as a low groan escaped his lips. "Carl!" I said again, gently slapping his cheek and moving to check for a pulse. His eyes fluttered open for just a moment as the steady thrum of his heart met my fingers. Then they fell shut again as he lost consciousness.

My eyes scoured over his body, quickly evaluating his injuries. My mind was working in overdrive now, aware that I had to stay and help Carl whilst trying not to think of what this meant.

If Carl was alive, that meant...

That meant there was a chance that Mel was too.

Every fibre in my body was screaming at me to abandon Carl and continue searching. A disgusting, horrible impulse that I had to work fervently to restrain. I patted down his body and looked him over twice for good measure. The left side of his face was badly burnt and I had doubts that his eye would have survived. The skin alone was as black as coal and looked just as hard. Along with this, his right arm was bent out of shape and had a jagged piece of metal sticking out of it.

I figured it would be better to get the painful things over with while he was unconscious. So, digging my heels in the sand, I gripped the piece of metal and tore it out of him in one, swift motion. The right side of Carl's face twitched in pain, but the left side was totally unmoving.

Blood, bright red against the sand, began seeping out of the wound like a river. My fingers, trembling with their own pain, moved to rip a piece of his shirt off. Once it was wound securely around the gash, I tightened it, trying to ignore how quickly the blood managed to seep through. Once this was done, I grabbed his hand and moved into position so that I could yank it back into place.

As soon as I did so, his eyes snapped open and he began howling in pain. My hands dropped his arm and moved to pinning his shoulders down instead, in a vain attempt to stop him thrashing around. I didn't have the energy to hold him back. Thankfully though, he didn't have much energy to put up a fight either. It was over in a matter of seconds, his eyes falling shut almost as quickly as they had opened.

With no medical supplies, there wasn't much else I could do for him. A thought struck me then as my body slowly angled itself towards the crash. Would I be able to find the medical kit through all that smoke? Probably not. But the only other option was to wait until the smoke cleared on its own, and I doubted Carl would be alive by the time that happened.

Savoring the fresh air while I could, I pulled my shirt up over my head and rolled it up, fastening it around my mouth like a balaclava. Swallowing one, big mouthful of air, I charged back inside.

My left hand worked at waving the smoke away, trying to clear some sort of path, while my right hand stretched out to touch the walls, in an attempt to get a feel for where I was. Both were proving to be a useless waste of energy.

Flames surged out at me on my left, and forced me to stumble out of their reach. My feet caught on something and before I knew it I was falling. The ground was still hot enough to scorch my skin. While I was flapping around like a dead fish, trying to pick myself up while waving away the smoke and fire, I noticed what tripped me over.

The Lieutenant's body.

I wouldn't have given his worthless corpse a second look, if my gaze didn't catch on the pistol still clenched in his lifeless hand. Reaching over, I grabbed the barrel of the gun and yanked it out of his grasp. A part of me wanted to shoot another bullet into his corpse, purely out of spite, but a more reasonable part of me knew that this would be a waste of a bullet. So instead, I resorted to just cursing him out in my mind while I tucked the pistol in my waistband.

Rot in hell, you dirty piece of shit.

The body of the helicopter was on its side and resting in the sand at an angle. My mind was trying to comprehend where I was and where the medical kit should be, but the smoke was smothering my thoughts, making it difficult to think clearly. So instead of forming a plan, I ended up just moving around blindly, feeling around for something familiar and trying to figure out my bearings from there.

During my search, I found another gun and a shoe. The gun must have belonged to Carl, the one he used to shoot the Lieutenant. I tucked it in my waistband along with the other one, and held the shoe up close to my eyes so that I could inspect it. The colors, black and white, instantly made my stomach lurch. As soon as it came into complete focus, and I realized the shoe I was holding was a converse, it was thrown away before any thoughts could come into focus with it.

She's fine. She's somewhere around here and she's fine. I just have to find her.

My search for the medical kit became more frantic after this. Because I wanted to find Mel, to know that she was alright, but also because it felt as if my oxygen supply was slowly running out.

I was just beginning to feel light headed again when I found it. Strapped against the wall above me, I had to stand on my toes to reach it. Once it was torn away, I clutched it to my chest and escaped the wreckage as fast as I could.

It's amazing how sweet fresh air tastes only once it has been taken away from you. Several mouthfuls are all I allowed myself before I was crouched down beside Carl once again, rummaging through the supplies of the medical kit. I replaced the cloth with actual bandage and antiseptic, and managed to fashion him a sling with the old, blood stained piece of his shirt. Once I'd dabbed the burns on his face with an ointment I wasn't even sure was meant for burns, I stepped back and evaluated my work.

He didn't look much better than before, but there was nothing else I could do for him except hope for the best.

Inside the medical kit was a small bottle of water. I took one, small sip and then set it down in the sand beside Carl. If he woke before I came back, I figured he would need it more.

Packing everything back into the medical kit, I zipped it shut and took it with me as I once again began doing loops of the beach. My eyes snapped to any small movement. Every wave that the water made, every branch or leaf that swayed in the wind, I was alarmingly aware of. But none of the movements belonged to a person.

To a body.

When the sky began to bruise, threatening with its approach of night, I decided I should go back to Carl before it became too dark for me to find him. I refused to acknowledge what this action meant. I wasn't giving up, I hadn't lost hope. She was around here somewhere. She had to be!

But what if she wasn't? What if she was buried by sand? Or thrown into the ocean? Or somewhere in the jungle?

It took me a moment to realize my stream of thoughts were following a pattern. They were forming plans on how to find a body, not someone who was injured and needed help. Subconsciously, I must have accepted that she was dead, even if I refused to think the words. And once those words entered my mind, it was as if the darkening sky was a reflection of my soul.

Melody... is dead.

For a fraction of a second, I think my heart actually stopped beating.

Somehow, I managed to make it back to Carl before I collapsed. Whether sleep took me, or I simply passed out, it was a torturous slumber regardless. Images of her played before my eyelids like a stuttered film reel. Her dark hair, her blue eyes.

Her beautiful smile that I rarely had the privilege to see. How I managed to make her smile during such a tragedy, I have no idea. But then the memory of her laugh filtered into my ears, an even rarer occurrence, I was surprised I could remember it at all, and my sleep became less tortured at the sound.

When I awoke, I wasn't surprised to find tears streaming down my cheeks. I was in an almost catatonic state of numbness, a pleasant feeling, one that took away all the pain, physical and mental. My subconscious, again working its magic, must have been trying to shield me from any overwhelming agony, because upon waking, my mind somehow managed to avoid any thoughts of her.

It was as if she had disappeared from my memories completely.

She wasn't dead. She had never existed. Same with the infected, with Robyn, Zoey. It had all just been a nightmare.

Of course, I knew this wasn't true, but it was how I felt. And considering it made the thought of living bearable, I decided to roll with it.

Carl's absence didn't register to me until I rolled over in the sand and my leg made contact with the medical kit, and suddenly the events of yesterday flooded back to me. Instantly, I sat up. My eyes scanned the beach, but there was no sign of him or anyone. Absently, my arm reached out to pat the space where he had been lying, as if trying to remember if he too was only a bad memory.

But memories don't leave a trail of blood in the sand.

With stiff joints, I picked myself up from the ground and began to follow it, medical kit in hand. Just like I had done, Carl too did several loops around the crash, only to venture further up and down the beach. He must have still been bleeding pretty badly when he woke up. But the further along the trail I got, the less and less blood there was. He must have managed to stifle the wound himself.

There was just enough left for me to see that the path he took curved away from the beach and into the jungle. Where the hell is he going? With this much blood loss he must be delusional, I thought.

A little tentatively, I brushed aside the thick leaves of the jungle and entered its thick foliage. Almost at once my senses where overwhelmed with green. Green tree trunks, green floor, green leaves that blocked out the sun. If it weren't for the dark stains of blood smearing a trunk here and a branch there, I would have had no way of orienting myself.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was all overwhelmingly familiar. Like I had been here, or someplace like this, before. Every step deeper and the nagging in the back of my mind would nudge a little harder, prompting me to remember.

It wasn't until I came across and pulled aside an exceptionally large leaf, stamped with a bloody handprint, that I realized I had been here before. Shielded behind the leaf was a large set of steel doors built into a small hill that clearly led underground. Standing a few meters away, looking like a victim of war as he inspected them, was Carl.

His gaze swiveled round to meet mine as I entered the clearing, only to quickly settle back on the bunker just as fast. "What the hell is this?"

A glimpse at the doors and the golden cross painted on them was all I needed to know exactly where we were.

"It's an underground laboratory," I said, stepping up behind him, my own gaze glued to the bunker, eyes running up and down the thick, steel doors and the logo emblazoned across them.

Carl looked at me strangely, the left side of his face still unable to shift with any sign of emotion. "How do you know?" he asked.

I stared back at him for a moment before clearing my throat. And then I told him.

"Because I used to work here."

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Question: Is this canon?

Answer: Honey, it can be whatever you want it to be.

P.S. Tried to keep this under 3000 words so sorry if it seemed a little rushed. I'm expecting there to be another two parts of approximately the same length. Honestly, I would write it all now, but... New episode of Rick and Morty kinda just came out, sooo.... Yeah... I'm gonna go watch that and write the next part tomorrow.

Hope you guys enjoyed!