Jack's fingers danced over the control panel, his eyes flicking from one gauge to another. The low hum of the jet engine reverberated through the cockpit, a sound that had become almost comforting over the years. He leaned back in the leather seat, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Flying solo over the Pacific had always been his sanctuary—endless blue below, boundless sky above.
'Freedom,' he thought, staring out at the vast horizon. Out here, there were no distractions, no boardroom meetings, no half-hearted small talk. Just him and the sky. The autopilot light blinked steadily on the dashboard, a silent reminder that, for now, he was just a passenger in his plane.
The ocean stretched out in all directions, an endless canvas of shimmering blue, tranquil and unbroken. There wasn't another soul in sight, just the distant haze of the horizon. Jack's thoughts drifted to the past, his mind wandering. The sound of the ocean, distant but persistent in his ears, brought him back to that summer in Hawaii when he first learned to surf. The waves had been relentless, the sun merciless. He remembered the sting of saltwater in his eyes, the thrill of catching that first wave after hours of wiping out. His instructor, a grizzled local named Koa, had watched from the shore, arms crossed, a wry smile on his face.
"You fight the ocean, it'll always win," Koa had said, pulling Jack out of the water after another wipeout. "Learn to move with it, not against it."
Jack had scoffed at the time, but now, years later, those words echoed in his mind. They had been more than just advice about surfing; they were about life. He'd fought against the currents of the world for so long, always trying to dominate, to win. But out here, above the vast Pacific, he felt the truth of it. Something was humbling about the endless horizon, a reminder of forces far greater than himself.
A sudden flicker on the horizon snapped him back to the present. Dark clouds had appeared, almost out of nowhere, an ominous wall stretching across the sky. He frowned, tightening his grip on the yoke. The instruments read clear skies, but the storm loomed ahead, growing closer with every second.
"What the hell?" Jack muttered.
As he entered the storm, the sunlight vanished, replaced by a swirling chaos of wind and rain. Thunder rolled like a distant drumbeat, and the plane shuddered under the onslaught. Through the driving rain, Jack squinted, trying to see beyond the storm's fury. That's when he saw it—rising out of the churning sea, an island, impossibly vast and completely unexpected.
Two mountains dominated the landscape. One was a jagged spire, so tall and steep it seemed to pierce the heavens, its peak lost in the storm clouds above. It was taller than Everest, a vertical needle cloaked in dense, dark vegetation. Beside it stood another, shorter but much wider, fortress of stone and jungle that spilled down into the valley below.
"Where did you come from?" Jack whispered, awe battling with disbelief. There had been nothing but open ocean a moment ago. The island seemed ancient, otherworldly as if it had been waiting beneath the waves for this moment to reveal itself.
Before he could process it, a sharp jolt rocked the jet. The cockpit lights flickered, alarms blaring. Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the monstrous mountains for a split second before plunging everything back into darkness.
"Come on, hold together!" Jack shouted, gripping the yoke with white-knuckled hands.
Another bolt struck, this time hitting the left wing. A blinding flash. An explosion. Jack felt the plane nosedive, spiraling out of control. The world outside became a blur of rain and chaos. The ocean rushed up to meet him.
'This is it,' he thought, bracing for impact.
The next thing he knew, he was gasping for air, coughing up seawater. Waves crashed around him, their relentless pull dragging him under again and again. Every muscle ached, and every breath was a burning effort. He fought, kicking and flailing, but the ocean seemed to toy with him, dragging him further from the surface.
Koa's voice echoed in his mind. "You fight the ocean, it'll always win. Learn to move with it, not against it."
Jack stopped struggling. He relaxed his limbs, letting the waves take him, trusting the current. Slowly, the ocean's grip seemed to soften, guiding him instead of fighting him. The pull of the waves shifted, and he felt the momentum carrying him toward the shore.
Finally, he felt sand beneath his hands. With the last of his strength, he dragged himself onto the beach and collapsed.
For a moment, he lay there, staring up at a sky that was now impossibly clear. The storm had vanished without a trace. The only sound was the gentle lapping of waves and the rustle of palm trees in the breeze.
Jack sat up, blinking against the sun. The island stretched out before him—lush, green, and eerily silent. The two mountains loomed in the distance, the taller one like a jagged spear reaching into the heavens, the shorter one a broad fortress of dense jungle.
"Where… am I?" he whispered, the words lost to the wind.