Faint voices floated down from the mouth of the cavern, stirring her to consciousness. Around her were bits and pieces of metal and glass, some scattered across the floor, some floating in the air.
Floating?

Memories of the doomed flight suddenly returned to her. The Pilot! Where is he? I must get to him!

The voices grew louder. Did they know? Can they be trusted? These questions she did not know the answers to, but in her situation she needed all the help she could get.
“Help me!” she called out, putting on a damsel in distress act. “Please!”

Two figures appeared at the entrance and looked down at her. They were middle-aged men, carrying fire extinguishers and speaking German.
Damn.

“Help me, please,” she repeats. They asked her whether she could understand them, but she feigned ignorance. They proceeded to pantomime how she could get out of the hole, and she only barely managed to stop from rolling her eyes.

Of all the people she could have run into in this wasteland, it had to be Germans.