Her first few steps were slow and wobbly, but with each one, Paige got just a little bit stronger. She was working on adrenalin now, the kind that kicks in when a mother is separated from her child. With the loudest shout she could muster, she shouted, "JARED!"

Phyllis Kroll

"I didn’t even want to go on this ridiculous flight!" Phyllis Kroll was yelling at anyone who would listen. "My unreasonable husband likes to think that a holiday is going to turn me back into the subserviant hetero wife he always wanted and always thought he had." She took a long, deep breath and huffed, her face contorting in disbelief. "The nerve." Nevermind the fact that she had just survived a horrific plane crash without more than a scratch on her left forearm and a bruise on her cheek.

She introduced herself to a nearby victim by extending her hand. The man’s response was a pained groan and a few shallow breaths. The woman glared at him before adjusting her sunglasses, "I’m Phyllis Kroll, and I’m wondering, have you seen an older man about this tall?" She raised her hand to her husband Leonard’s height. "Blonde hair, blue eyes, glasses, wearing a designer sports coat and slacks, two thousand dollar Italian loafers that I told him not to bring."

The injured man she’d been talking to raised his middle finger at her and exhaled the very last breath of his life.

Phyllis opened her mouth wide in surprise at the gesture. "I knew we should have gone to Australia."

Eva “Papi” Torres

"I don’t like Xena this much," Papi muttered, picking herself up off the scorching sand. A long time fan of the Warrior Princess, she had gone to Pasadena to attend the 15th anniversary convention. While there, she singed up for every raffle imaginable and ended up winning a trip to New Zealand to tour the filming locations, the old soundstages, and she would even be allowed take her pick at some of the clothing and props actually used on the show. It was all terribly exciting, except for the part about the airplane.

Papi wasn’t so much Papi as she was Eva Torres, when it came to planes. The smoky eyed, curvy bodied Latina couldn’t hide behind the brassy bravado of Papi when flying was involved. And rightly so as it would now seem. "My first flight and it crashes. This is God getting back at me for making it with that nun." She shrugged and walked further up the beach towards the wreckage. Her own injuries were relatively small to what she witnessed along the way. And while she wasn’t at all qualified to help, she had to do something. "But where do I start??"