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Dirt. His mouth was partially filled with dirt, or what he thought was dirt. His eyes burned from the filth, and his ears were clogged. Coughing, he tried to spit out as much of the substance as he could, groaning at the effort the little movements took. Moving his arms to clear his eyes was another story entirely. The left arm was broken, that much he was sure. Alan could still move his fingers, but sharp pain spiked through them like lightning. Studying his right side, the teenager gasped in pain once more as he realized something was not right. He feared it was dislocated or his collar bone possibly broken due to the location of the pain.