The water was dark.  I couldn’t see.  In a few seconds, I would drown.  When I thought there was no hope left, a ray of dim light broke through the surface of the water.  I didn’t think.  There was no time to think.  I somehow started swimming, swimming for my life.  I sucked in a few gulps of water before I hit the surface, but I made it.  I clenched the side of the ice with my half-frozen hands and pulled myself up with the last bit of energy in me.  I lay there, suffering of hypothermia.  If I can’t get out of this ice dessert within the next few hours, I will die, but how will I get out?  There is no one within 100 miles of me.  I will have to make the trek on my own.  I start off on my long journey, but then I start to think somewhat realistically (I couldn’t think straight because of the cold weather).  There is no possible way that I myself, a 40 year old man could get out of this vast tundra alone.  There is no hope.  I lay down to die, but then decide that it would be easier to die quickly.  Then again, I slip back into reality.  Am I really going to die?  Am I really thinking of committing suicide?  The next instant, a bullet slices through my left eye socket.  I never was alone.