Marcus had the great fortune of colliding with the jagged edges of a shattered window during the crash, causing him to suffer a gaping wound on his left arm. As soon as the CACOPHONY of the incident had settled down, the doctor spent quite a while to finding the most basic of supplies to tend to his gash. His efforts led to a sewing kit and a crate of vodka. This will do. With vodka as a disinfectant and a needle and thread from the kit, the surgeon, with a colorful string of expletives, was able to sow his six-inch-long wound. After wrapping his handiwork with a torn piece of clothing, Marcus immediately set off to work. “Who’s wounded?” he asked, deep voice momentarily booming above the cries of the seagulls and the sound of water crashing onshore.
