53. Dylan
FIFTY-THREE
DYLAN
Once again my hands are shaking as I push the raft away from the shore.
I’m going to get us both killed.
The thing is, I have no idea if anybody is still out there. The light was only visible when it was dark.
There’s also a chance I imagined it. That I’m just insane by now and am making things up in my head.
But I have to do something. I have to try.
Because Adrian isn’t waking up, and I don’t know what to do.
I’m mostly made up of pure panic by now.
Maybe somebody with a better head on their shoulders and more experience being stranded and amputating limbs would know what the most logical course of action is in this case.
I have no idea.
So I do the only thing I can think of.
I will try and get Adrian off this godforsaken island. It’s my Hail Mary pass.
I survey my supplies with a sinking feeling. One measly bottle of water. Some coconuts. Some jackfruit leftovers. That’s it.
I have a backup plan where, if this doesn’t work and there’s nothing out there, I’ll turn around and come back. I mean, steering a life raft in the South Pacific Ocean… How hard can it be?
Oh, God.
I’m fucked.
There’s still time to go back.
I can hop out of the raft and pull it back to the shore.
And… watch Adrian die?
A cross between a sob and a hiccup escapes my throat, and I angrily dash the tears away.
No fucking weakness.
I’ve got this.
I will get to that ship.
And if it turns out there is no ship, I will go and fucking find a ship.
Or die trying.
I wave my middle finger at the island.
“Fuck you!” I yell at the top of my voice before I turn my gaze to the horizon.
Here goes nothing.
I have two plastic oars that I can’t use at the same time because my arms aren’t long enough to cover the width of the life raft, so I scramble back and forth, trying to navigate and get us farther away from land.
The only blessing is that, at least for right now, the waves are small.
Small-ish.
Manageable.
Ish.
I clutch my hair by the roots and tug while I let out a frustrated growl.
I’m starting to get lightheaded from the lack of sleep and food and water, and I know I can’t afford that.
I keep looking ahead, but there’s nothing there.
No land. No ship. And I’m already disoriented, which makes returning to our island with my tail between my legs a real fucking challenge, because soon enough I won’t be able to see the island anymore, so how the fuck am I gonna get back there if—when—this mission inevitably fails?
I should turn back now, while I still can.
I keep going.
The farther we get from land, the bigger the waves get. I don’t think they’re that big yet, but we’re in a tiny raft that’s essentially made out of canvas.
Hours go by.
My blisters have developed blisters, and my mouth is so dry it feels like the skin is about to crack like it already has on my lips. My head aches, and fighting off nausea turns into me dry heaving over the side of the raft.
I check on Adrian every few minutes.
He’s pale, and his breathing is so shallow. Every now and then, he moans or whimpers or mumbles something unintelligible.
Hours tick by one after another, and slowly but surely, the fight starts to drain out of me.
I’d cry, but there’s nothing to make tears out of.
I’m dry.
Helpless.
Hopeless.
I can barely crawl back into the raft when the last rays of sunlight sink behind the horizon.
I’ll check on Adrian, then I’ll go back out there.
I collapse next to him.
Just for a moment, I tell myself.
I just need a few seconds.
I wrap my arm around Adrian’s chest and lean my forehead against the side of his neck.
A sob escapes.
Still no tears, even if the canvas of the raft has started to swim in front of my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. “I’m sorry. I tried. I love you. Please don’t leave me here alone. Please.” I press my lips to the clammy skin of his neck. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow,” I whisper.
Adrian’s eyes flutter open, and he blinks blearily.
“Dyl?” he rasps.
“I’m here,” I whisper.
“Why’s it all swinging?” he mumbles.
“It’s the wind.” I angrily scrub at my eyes. “Just the wind. Don’t worry about it.”
“’S nice.”
“Yeah, baby. It’s nice,” I say softly and wrap myself around him as tightly as I can.
“Say again.”
“It’s nice.”
“No. The love you.”
Something squeezes my heart in an impossibly tight vice.
“I love you,” I say.
“Love you, too,” he mumbles.
The raft jerks and something rattles.
I close my eyes.
And let myself sink into the darkness.