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As soon as I slipped my hand under the fur around his leather flight jacket, his eyes fluttered open. ‘You found me…’ his voice cracked, barely audible but distinct, a vaguely southern accent immediately recognizable. ‘How are you doing?’ I asked, not quite sure where to start in helping him. ‘Water,’ he whispered, which I more deciphered from watching his lips than actually heard. ‘Hold on, I’ll be right back.’ Crawling back out from under the wing, this time I went around the front, and returned with my entire backpack. Pulling my aluminum water bottle out I started back, but then stopped and returned to fish more ibuprofen out first. Returning to the pilot, I knelt beside him, and assisted him in taking a drink. ‘Not too fast,’ I urged as he started to drink. He didn’t listen, taking too much. He choked and coughed and spit up the first sip, then took the second a little smaller, followed moments later by a third. ‘Here,’ I said, passing him four ibuprofen, ‘take these.’ ‘What. The rubble that blew in made him a nice slide that he could use to get into the room through the metre roundish hole.He parked the sledge and went back to the hole. He pushed the loose rock into square up the base of the hole and then slid in. He shone the torch around. He was in a room about 3m high and 12m square. There was plenty of room for all of his gear.He looked back at the hole and decided some magic would come in handy. His transmogrification spells were good enough for this job. He reshaped the doorway to 2.4m high, 1.2m wide and the depth of the wall. He then turned the rubble into a ramp the width of the doorway.He directed his sledge into the room. It didn’t really like the angle of the ramp, but it coped. He set up his tripod lights and turned them on. He could now see the room better. It had smooth rock walls as if they had been cut by a laser. It was completely empty, so he knew it wasn’t the room.He then walked around the walls and felt for the tickle or hot spot.
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