It’s been two hours since the helicopter crashed on the mountain.
Well, not really crashed. It was a rather good landing.
Jacobs disagrees about that. “It was a shitty landing,” he says. “Spilled my drink.”
We’ve got plenty of food, water, and other supplies, but Jacobs insists that we kill the pilot and eat him.
“I’m not eating goddamned energy soy bars,” says Jacobs. “I want a steak, and muscle is just meat, right?”
The pilot tried to yell through his gag.
“I think I hear a chopper,” I said. “They found us.”
“Good,” said Jacobs. “More pilots to eat.”