Donovan opened his eyes. He was in a bag. Why was he in a bag? He had been in school. He had left to use the bathroom. Why was he suddenly in a bag?
He started tearing at the plastic, and found himself looking at the sky. It was about seven in the morning. It had been two in the afternoon when he left class. Something was going on. He started to roll out of the bag. There was sand on the floor. No- the floor WAS sand. Why? He smelled the air. Salt Water. He turned, and looked. The sea. Beyond that, a cliff face. To the far right, an old house. Around him, other bags. And a crate in the center. Why was there a crate? Were there other people in the bags. He pinched himself. It hurt. This was not a dream. Miss Cardoza had not put him to sleep during class.
Another of the bags stirred. It began to tear. Donovan looked anxiously. A boy with a dark suit and crinsom hair fought his way out of the bag, and swore. "Where the Hell am I?" "I honestly do not know." Donovan replied.
Jaque looked at this weird kid. They were about the same age, but he was tall, and wore a flamboyant mixture of blue and orange to match his blue hair, eyes and round spectacles. There were other bags around the place, and a real big box. There was sand all over the place, a cliff edge, and off on one side was an old crumbling house. He smacked himself. Pain. He wasn't asleep. He hadn't fallen asleep at his dad's office. The other bags began to stir, and a tortured scream ran through the air from the forest on the cliff.