Instinctively Sam raised his hand and felt his own head; it came away covered in blood. “s**t that hurts,” he declared.
“You hit your head too,” Foley announced.
“Is it bad?” Sam asked, thrusting his head towards Foley.
“It knocked you out, but I don’t think it’s too bad. Typical head wound, they bleed a lot.”
Sam looked back at the dead pilot. “Could have been me,” he decided.
“Could have been,” Foley agreed, “But it wasn’t. You’ve got a skull like a block of wood.” He got to his feet. “There must be a first-aid kit in the chopper. I’ll have a look, see if I can do something about your noggin.”
As Foley moved away towards the wreck, Sam called after him. “See if there’s any water in there somewhere. My throat feels like a bloody sand pit. Must have swallowed a truck load of dirt.”
