The sound of the waves silently woke Garret from a terrible nights sleep. His pillow a rock, his blanket a bunch of palm leaves.

Today was day 46.

Forty-six days since Garret’s one seater plane went down 10 miles off the coast of what is now Garret’s home. Garret knew flying over that this was a small island. A small insignificant island in the south pacific. Garret even laughed at the thought of, “This island is so small and out of the way, Survivor wouldn’t even touch this place.”

Garret slowly sat up and tried to get the kink out of his back and neck. He then checked his leg, it was healing, but not quickly enough. He could barely move, but he could crawl about 50 meters from his “base camp”.

Garret started a fire and roasted a dead rat he had found wandering around last night. When he was about to chow down he looked out over the ocean and saw it. Small at first, but grew larger, it was a boat.

Garret knew they found his plane, he knew he was going home.

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