A young man with dark hair lies on a beach. He is clothed in a simple shirt, pants, and flimsy foot coverings like those from a hospital. As water laps upon the man’s brow and most of his torso, he seems to be agitated in sleep. The man begins to let out small, groggy, groans as he begins to start from another wave of water. The man’s eyes open as he gazes at clear blue sky with white fluffy clouds drifting across his view slowly. The man squints at the bright image before him and his head lolls to his right shoulder as he tries to decipher what is happening.

When another wave hits him it’s as if sound has just burst back into existence. The man hears the small foamy waves splash once more over his head. Too weak to yet move his body he coughs as some of the water enters his mouth. Another sound registers to the man a sound to his left where he has not yet brought his gaze. A sound as if, heavy, rushing, wind were passing by but he can feel no breeze. All he can feel is heat. Being curious he tries to push his weak muscles to move his head in that direction. As his head lolls to the other side his eyes widen in surprise as he sees the source of the rushing sound of wind. Not wind, but fire, on his left the man sees a helicopter which has apparently crashed previously and has caught on fire.

Squinting in consternation at his weird predicament the man’s eyes stumble across a strange oval but familiar shape lying part way outside of the fire…

Shoes!

Concern bursts into the man’s head as he realizes people must still be in there. The man bolts upright in his wet clothes and a sudden pounding ache as if his brain were growing and shrinking inside his skull. The man puts his hand up to his forehead and brings his palm within eye's view only to see a smear of blood on his hand. He then looks to the crash site and back at his hand wondering if he had been in the helicopter before it crashed. At the same instant he notices a metal ring attached to his wrist and recognizes that one wrist has handcuffs hooked on. Immediately pushing this to the back of his mind he stumbles to his feet and gets to the crash site as fast as his aching muscles can take him. When he finally arrives he sees the person who had previously only been a shoe in his site. A middle aged man, wearing some sort of tattered, long, white, coat, lie still. The man is not breathing. Instinctively the injured man falls to his knees to check on the crash victim. He puts his head up to the victim’s chest and listens intently.

After several seconds of intent listening the man stops and sits briefly upright giving the poor crash victim a sad look. As the man’s eyes pass over the cadavers chest he notices an ID badge on the victim’s coat pocket. The ID has the dead man’s image and a symbol that gives the onlooker an uneasy, frightening, and yet, angry feeling. Still confused the man moves closer to the helicopter to see if there are any survivors left in the cockpit. When the man reaches the open door of the wreckage he finds two persons contorted in the wreckage obviously not living. The man registers the uniforms as pilot and security guard. The man begins to hear a faint tapping as if liquid lightly rapping metal. Shaking his head an idea suddenly rushes forth and he brings up his left arm with the hand cuffed wrist, and looks back to the security guard. After quickly searching the poor soul he finds the keys and unlocks his wrist and feels comfort he had not previously known he was missing.

At the corner of his eye he notices something dripping at a steady pace and looks to see what it is. A fear reaches the man’s core his eyes widen. He has found the source of the tapping noise. The dripping gas formerly powering the helicopter begins to fall faster until it is a steady stream. The man’s adrenaline takes over and he rushes to get away from the helicopter as fast as physically possible for him. A thundering sound crashes behind him as a scorching pain cracks across his back. The man is forcibly thrown fifteen or so feet and to the ground. Just before the man passes out he sees a paramedic rushing to his aid. Days pass as only bits and pieces of momentary consciousness. Moving under fluorescent lights through a long hallway, people in what seem to be medical masks seem to be moving their jaw with no sound reaching his ears. Finally the man awakes once more lying in a hospital bed. A doctor sits in a chair near his bed.

“You’ve been getting better through the last few days. Been out about a week… You’re lucky we were able to help you. You had severe burns on your back though surprisingly not as bad as they should have been. We were not able to find any files on you so tests had to be done immediately for blood transfusions and necessary compatibility… Don’t worry you should be fine, but be careful for the next few weeks, especially with your back. Your muscle and spine are all ok and intact. But your skin is still healing and moving too much might cause severe pain and re-open your wounds. We want to prevent infection so for the next few days you’re not to move a muscle. You can speak though if you feel up to it… Do you have any questions? Do you know why you’re here?"

The young man stares at the doctor for a few seconds then begins to speak with a rough scratchy voice.

“I remember waking up on the beach… And the helicopter exploding… But I can’t remember anything else… At all… Was I on that helicopter? If so why? What happened to it? Who… Who am I?"