52. Dylan
FIFTY-TWO
DYLAN
I scramble out of the raft on my hands and knees and stand on shaky legs. The air is oppressively hot, even for the early evening. Usually the temperature is starting to drop to something manageable by now, but not today.
Adrian is in the life raft, sleeping.
I say sleeping, but what I really mean is unconscious.
I think it might be shock, but I don’t know for sure.
He should be shocked after everything. I hacked off two of his fingers.
Well, I mean, first I broke the bones—can’t forget that tidbit.
The noise will forever be etched into my memory.
Not to mention the smell of burning flesh when I cauterized the wound after it was all said and done.
I stumble and fall to my knees.
For a few minutes, I try to breathe in and out as calmly and evenly as I can. I don’t know if we have any water left. I don’t remember if I put anything out to catch rainwater.
I find a few coconut shells with water in them and gulp some of it down.
I think I’m going to be si ? —
That’s as far as I get before I retch out everything that just went in.
I heave again at the sour smell of my puke in the too-hot air.
It takes me another few minutes to push myself up to my feet again and stagger toward the ocean.
I put my hands in the water and splash some on my face. I’m so parched that drinking the seawater starts to seem like a good idea. I just about have the minimum amount of required brain cells left not to do that, but it’s a close call.
Once I’ve washed some of the sweat and most of the vomit off, I straighten myself up.
I throw a cursory glance toward the horizon.
And stare.
Then I laugh out loud.
There’s a light in the distance.
I eye it numbly.
By the time I get the fire going again, it’ll probably be gone.
I close my eyes and swear.
Then I turn on my heel and go to the firepit. I poke around a bit until I dig up some weakly glowing embers and coax the thing back to life.
Once that’s done, it feels like I’ve used up every ounce of energy I had left in my body. I crawl back into the raft.
Adrian is so still. With my heart in my throat, I go and lay my head on his chest. The weak, but somehow also erratic beat against my temple makes me breathe out a sigh of relief.
I close my eyes.
Only for a second.
I wake up with a start. No idea what time it is or how much time has passed since I fell asleep.
I check on Adrian, but he’s still out cold. His skin is clammy and pale, but when I touch his forehead, it’s piping hot.
“Adrian?” I rasp.
No reply.
I push his hair out of his face to the constant, sickening rhythm of my panicked heartbeat. It’s been my loyal companion for days now.
I press a kiss to his forehead and cup his cheek.
“You just sleep,” I whisper. “I’ll take care of you.”
It’s still dark when I crawl out of the raft again.
I don’t want to leave Adrian even for a second, but I need to take a leak and get some water.
Once I’m outside, I look around.
Then I blink.
The light is still there.
In the distance.
On the horizon.
It shouldn’t be there, but it’s still there.
I blink again.
It stays put.
I look back toward the raft.
My brain feels sluggish from lack of sleep and food and water and the constant panic that’s been pounding through my bloodstream for days.
What now?
We have one flare left. There were just two, and we used the first one. I could build the fire higher and hope.
I grip the remaining flare in my hand.
Or I could go and make them notice us.