25. Adrian #2
The wreck wobbles and starts to move, inch by slow inch. The current makes it difficult to get a good position. My body moves without my input, so I have to push and hold on at the same time.
We go back up for air once again.
“Shove it,” Dylan says. “Abruptly.”
I nod.
Once we’re under the water and in position again, Dylan holds up three fingers and counts us down. I slam my palms against the wing and push as hard as I can. The wreck starts to move and I push more.
When it finally comes loose from between the rocks, it’s so sudden that I topple forward with the wreck.
For a moment, I’m not sure which way is up and which way is down.
Where’s the surface and where’s the sea floor.
The debris kicks up sand and the layer of mud at the bottom, so the water becomes murky, which makes everything even more disorienting.
I look around wildly, trying to find Dylan, but I can’t see anything. I’m running out of air again, so I go up.
Dylan’s not there.
Fear starts to set in.
I take a deep breath and go back under.
The piece of the plane has fallen on its side and Dylan is…
I start to kick wildly to get to him. He’s struggling to get loose, one foot stuck under the wing. He’s wrestling and struggling with it. I swim next to him and start to pull at the wing. It’s stuck again.
Dylan looks at me with wide, panicked eyes.
I pull the wing again.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I can’t seem to think, every brain cell occupied by sheer terror.
He needs air. We need air.
I kick back to the surface, take a huge breath and swim back down.
Dylan’s thrashing, desperately trying to wrench himself free. I grab his face with both hands, seal my mouth tightly over his, and I breathe out.
For a second that seems to last forever, Dylan stays very still.
Is it working? Did it help? Please, please, somebody help!
I go back to the wing and start to pull.
I’m not made out of bones and blood vessels and cells anymore. All of me is agony, despair, and desperation.
The wing moves the tiniest bit. Something crumbles and a rock tumbles and falls.
Dylan gives one more tug and wrenches his foot free. I grab his hand in mine and tug and pull and drag him after me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I’m pretty sure I’m not helping. I’m making it harder for him.
I can’t let go.
We both crash through the surface.
Dylan gasps and pulls in a huge breath. We both pant and draw in as much oxygen as we can.
My hands are shaking like crazy.
“Oh fuck,” Dylan gasps. “Fuck.”
My heart is racing, and I feel dizzy with relief.
“We’re alive,” I say weakly. “Jesus fuck. I want out of this fucking ocean.”
To be more precise, I want him out of this fucking ocean that keeps trying to kill him.
Dylan nods.
He looks like he’s about to start swimming.
Then he stops.
“The case,” he says.
“Fuck that,” I say vehemently. Fuck that case. It almost killed Dylan. Fuck. That. Case.
A soft laugh whooshes out of him. More gasping for air follows.
“If we don’t even get the case, this whole almost-drowning has been useless.” He sounds impossibly reasonable, and I can’t figure out how he manages that. He does, though.
“We’ll come back for it.”
“And locate it by gut feeling?” Dylan rolls his eyes. “Give me a moment,” he says. “I’ll go get it.”
“I will kill you myself!” The words burst out before I can consider whether they make me sound insane or not.
Dylan swallows, chest still falling and rising too rapidly.
“I’ll go,” I snap.
I don’t know why I sound so pissed off. I should be relieved. Grateful. Anything. Instead, I’m angry.
“Adrian…”
I don’t reply. I just draw in a big breath and swim back down. At first, I don’t see it. I swear to fucking god, if that case is stuck again… But no. It’s right underneath the wing of the plane again, only this time when I tug, it comes loose easily.
I swim back up.
Dylan grabs the case. Now that it’s free, it floats on the surface. We swim back to the shore and collapse on the sand.
For a long while we both just take deep breaths as the sun dries our skin and underwear.
After a little while, Dylan turns his head toward me. I swallow hard, all the anger draining out of me. I slump into the hot sand, pressing my palm against my heart to try and stop the galloping in my chest.
“I’m okay,” Dylan says.
I stare at the sky and try to nod.
“Yup,” I say tonelessly.
I try to nod again. Still not happening.
The sand rustles when Dylan rolls himself on his knees and then pushes himself to his feet carefully.
“Fuck! Your leg.” I’m not sure how I managed to forget that. How did he manage to ignore it? Because he seemed fine in the water.
“It’s not too bad,” he says placatingly.
I don’t believe him.
“The last thing we need is you to fuck your ankle up more.” I sound angry.
I am angry.
With him.
For almost dying.
Afraid and angry.
Dylan eyes me silently before he stands in front of me and holds his hand out to me.
“Come on. Time to get some lunch.”
I close my eyes for a second and try and take the offer of truce.
“Lunch,” I say. “What are we having?”
I sound almost normal, even if my insides still feel like they’ve been put through a blender.
“Hmm.” He makes a thoughtful face. “How about some coconut?”
“What a fun idea,” I say. “It’s been a whole four hours since I last had a coconut.”
“High time for you to fill up then. We wouldn’t want you to suffer from lack of coconut, would we now?” Dylan sends me a small smile and nudges me with his shoulder.
“No, no. That’d be tragic,” I agree.
We turn toward the trees and start to walk.
“Just promise me one thing,” I say.
“What’s that?” Dylan asks.
“Once we get off this island, we never have to eat another coconut ever again.”
He snorts. “It’s a deal.”