He shined the flashlight into Chris's eyes, checking for a reaction, then put his ear to his chest, listening for breathing.

After a quick examination of Chris, Ted made a final diagnosis.

– What can I say," Ted finally said, "you're not seriously injured. Just a cracked rib and a slight concussion. You'll live. I'm going to give you some pills to help you recover and take them once a day.

Chris took the pills, drinking them with water from the bottle Ted had brought.

– Thank you," he said quietly, feeling the warmth spill over his body.

– Get some rest," Ted said, tucking the first aid kit into his bag. – I'm going into town now. I have to report the plane crash to the local police. I'll try to tow your car.

– No, Ted, don't go there first," Chris stopped him. – There's chemical waste or something. Make sure you tell them they need special people. And anyway, maybe they've already cordoned it off. It's been 24 hours. Just tell them what I said. We'll pick up the car later. It's upside down anyway.

Ted hesitated, frowning his eyebrows.

– Okay," he finally agreed. – I'll go. Is there anything you want me to pick up in town?

– Yes, you can buy a phone and a SIM card," Chris said. – I don't have a connection, but I'll have one. I lost my phone in the accident.

– Okay," Ted nodded. – Anything else?

– Can you get some food? – Chris asked. – Something you don't have to cook. I'm not in any condition to cook anytime soon.

– Copy that," Ted said. – And, Chris, don't worry. Everything's going to be all right.

He slung his bag on his shoulder and headed for the exit.

Chris was alone. He was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The room was silent, broken only by the light creaking of the floorboards. He felt weak, but at the same time there was hope in his soul.

There was the sound of an engine outside. Chris raised himself on his elbows and looked out the window. Ted was getting into his old truck. The truck started slowly and soon disappeared around the corner.

Chris sighed and lay down on the couch again. His stomach rumbled, showing that he was hungry. Chris thought about the cellar, and he remembered that there was food there. He needed something to eat to regain his strength.

Chris gathered his courage and rose to his feet. Every movement was difficult, but he knew he had to do it. Holding onto the wall, he slowly made his way down to the first floor. His gaze fell on the broken door. Chris realized he had to fix it or he wouldn't feel safe.

When he went down into the cellar, he found that everything was organized, just the way he liked it. His eyes immediately fell on the stew that stood in the corner on the second shelf. Chris picked it up and put it on the table. Then he found a jar of pickled mushrooms and took those too.

– Here it is," he said aloud, opening the stew. – Okay, let's get some more mushrooms. And life will start to get better.

He went upstairs to open the jars. The room was quiet, only the wind could be heard outside the window. Chris opened the stew and mushrooms, and his eyes fell on the cutlery. He remembered that he had a can opener.

Chris quickly opened both cans and began to greedily eat straight from them. The taste of stew and mushrooms was familiar and pleasant. He felt his strength gradually returning to him.

– Well," he said to himself, "the first step has been taken. Now we just have to wait for Ted to come back.

He sat down in the chair next to the fireplace and sank into his thoughts, scrolling through everything that had happened to him.