He walked along the beach, back to the site of the crash and just took it all in. It was amazing how much the scene before him felt like the scene within him. Complete chaos. Pain. Death. Destruction. The people moving around were completely silent, contrasting extremely from the way they had all been just yesterday. There was a sense of mourning...a kind of funereal aspect to the beach. Who would have ever have affiliated a tropical beach with such a feeling as this? It was too ironic...it was like a slap in the face. A slap in the face from fate itself.
Sawyer figured all the other survivors were too numb or too preoccupied to take notice to him at the moment. So he decided to loot some of the bags for things that he felt would be important to him. Smokes, medicine, alcohol, that kind of thing. He picked up the closest bag next to him, and emptied it, rummaging through the contents and finding nothing of interest (besides, of course, the bag). So he moved along to the next bag, crouching and looking through an unknown person's possessions. He found an old-fashioned razor and decided to take it, placing it in his own bag and continuing on his way. Little did he know that he was being watched.