Chapter 5
“THAT IS FUCKING BAD!” Zeke bellows, standing, feet wide, staring into the distance. His hands are up on his head, and the look on his face makes my stomach turn.
“No shit,” Ace growls. “What the fuck are we supposed to do about it?”
“That shit,” Zeke jerks a finger at the sky, “will kill us.”
“Oh God,” Rachel wails. “Oh no.”
“Rachel, shut the fuck up,” Aggie snaps. “Your wailing is fucking old.”
“If it wasn’t for you two, we wouldn’t be here. Now we’re going to fucking die when that storm hits.”
She jerks a finger in the direction of the dark, looming clouds in the distance that seem to be edging closer and closer.
Everyone starts talking at once, the noise as rough and broken as the sky above us.
The words “storm,” “dead,” and “fuck” keep popping out of the panic, muttered or screamed depending on who is saying it.
Even Ace looks scared, which is how I know things are different now, because nothing so far has made him look like that.
Tatiana is the only one not looking up—she’s staring at her hands, which are shaking so hard she has to sit on them.
I shove down my own fear, try to push it away so we can figure out what the hell to do right now.
“We... we just need to get as far from that as possible,” I say, and I have no idea what “that” is, only that we are nothing in comparison to it, stuck in some tiny lifeboat.
“Move where?” Aggie asks, her voice high.
“She’s right. We need to paddle,” Ace says. “Everyone gets an oar. We will take turns. We need to get as far away from that storm as we possibly can.”
“And if we go in the wrong direction?” Rachel snaps.
“Do you have a better fucking plan?” Ace growls.
She doesn’t answer, just shrinks back into her seat.
“The wind is hitting hard from the east,” Zeke mutters. “We move in that direction.”
He jerks a finger at the vast open ocean.
How he knows the direction, I don’t know, but I am glad he is at least making it sound like he knows what he’s doing.
Kellen doesn’t wait. He starts knotting cords together, hauling the two boats as close as he can possibly get them.
“If we’re lucky, the outer bands will shove us past before the worst fucking part.
If not...” He doesn’t finish. He just gets busier.
“Well, that’s going to ruin dinner,” Adrian mumbles from his perch at the back of the boat. “At least there will be no mosquitos.”
Nobody answers him.
Nobody.
We gather everything we can into one bag, to keep close if we do go over.
Then, we ensure we are all in a lifejacket and have some kind of rain cover.
Then, we paddle. We paddle like our lives depend on it.
Every time I look up, the sky is closer, bigger, meaner.
The surface of the ocean looks flatter than ever, which makes it worse because that means the wind hasn’t arrived yet, but it’s coming.
Ace barks out orders. “Sit in the bottom, low as you can, back against the side. If you feel sick, puke overboard, not in the fucking boat. Anyone not paddling holds onto another person. If you get knocked out, someone else grabs your vest.” There’s something almost funny about the way he says it, as if he’s prepping us for a fire drill at school and not the literal possible end of our lives.
I look at Aggie, and she’s looking at me with wide eyes. “I’m scared,” she says, and that’s it, nothing clever or tough, just scared. I grab her hand. Mine is cold, even though the air feels wet-hot, like an animal breathing on us.
I try, but I can’t sit still. Every muscle in me wants to run but there’s nowhere to go, no studio, no mirrors, no floor.
I try to stretch my calves but it does nothing to ease the anxiety building in my body.
I want to say something to the group, some kind of speech, but what would I say?
Sorry for getting us capsized? Sorry for not telling any of you so you had a chance to help?
Just keep paddling.
We take turns, sweating and cursing as we force the paddles through the endless ocean.
Are we even moving? Who knows.
The wind is picking up now, cold and threatening.
We paddle harder.
“Keep goin’,” Kellen roars. “We need to get further away.”
My hands sting with each stroke, blisters opening fast, raw skin against the cheap oars.
Aggie relieves me after ten minutes, and we keep rotating like that for what feels like forever.
We are moving away, the wind has changed direction, but the sea is rocking in a way that makes my stomach twist. If it gets much worse, there is no way we will keep these boats afloat.
“Keep going!” Ace is yelling over the wind. His face is wild, alive, a man who knows this is all that exists. The wind howls, the boat jerks, every second is a jolt through my spine. The ocean, always a black mirror, is turning white and rabid around us as the waves increase.
I look up, just for a second, and the clouds have eaten the sun.
The storm is still too close. But there is nothing we can do except keep pushing until we get thrown over.
Rachel starts reciting Hail Marys, the words garbled and slurred with salt, spit, and tears.
I almost laugh, because it’s so stupid, so useless, but there’s something comforting about hearing it.
Tatiana is silent. She stares ahead, jaw locked, every muscle rigid as she moves the oar in perfect, mechanical rhythm.
I realize, for the first time, that she might be the only one holding it together.
Usually she crumbles but right now, she has one focus and one focus only: to get us as far away from this storm as possible.
Adrian is helping, thankfully, by tying a blanket to the boat to catch the wind and pull us further away.
It’s genius, actually, and maybe he will come in handy after all.
It does help, and it allows the rowing to become easier every time the wind catches the blanket; it jerks the boat further in the direction we need.
Is it enough, though?
The wind continues to pick up, and the boats slam together, strings of curse words flying from both Ace and Kellen as they try to keep us pointed straight. We are about to be swallowed up, and all I can think about is how quiet it is inside my own head, like some part of me knew this was coming.
The sky goes black. The first drops of rain hit, and we all know that we have outrun this as much as we will.
But still, we paddle.
Then all at once, the wind drops, a stillness so sudden I know it’s not real. The sky is a color I’ve never seen, a deep blue-green that makes my stomach twist. There’s a moment, just a single heartbeat, where it almost looks beautiful.
Almost.
Then, a large wave rocks us.
Someone screams—could be me, could be all of us.
We brace.
The storm is here.
THERE IS SOMETHING about cold water and the way it stings against warm flesh that is absolute.
Or maybe it’s the way it feels so incredibly huge against my tiny human form, like it could just swallow me up and not a single person in the world would notice, because to it, I am insignificant. Nothing more than a blip, forgettable to it, another soul sucked into the depths.
Yet, my body still flails around, trying to stay afloat, even though the very idea of staying up seems pointless.
I can’t decide if the burning in my lungs is better or worse than the icy needles scraping my skin, but both are preferable to the idea of letting go. Ace would never forgive me for that—not after he made me swear to keep my head above water, no matter what.
A stranger who wants me to survive.
I blink and cough, unable to see a damn thing in the pitch-black night.
I jerk my head above the waves, and cough up a mouthful of ocean.
Someone is screaming—no, wait, that’s me.
Almost funny. My limbs are so cold they ache, but I force them to move, to splash and churn and keep my head above water.
A hand appears out of nowhere, grabs me under the arm hard enough to bruise. “I got you.”
Ace.
Somehow in the darkness, he found me.
“Aggie,” I croak. “Tatiana...”
“We got ‘em.”
I cling to his jacket, trying not to drown him, but also needing my head to stay above water. He has something wrapped in his hand, and it takes me a minute to realize it is the lifeboat. Somehow, through all of it, he got hold of the one thing that could possibly save our lives.
“I’m goin’ to need you to help me get you on this boat,” he growls and then pushes me towards it.
A wave smashes into us from behind. I nearly lose him, but Ace’s grip tightens and pulls me with him, and now we’re both under, spinning in the dark. My chest tightens, desperate for air, but his hand is still there, grounding me even as we’re dragged down.
I think about letting go, just for a second. Letting myself sink, arms out, just allowing the world to slip away. Instead, I kick hard, aimless, and suddenly my head is above water and I’m coughing and gasping at the same time.
Ace pulls me to the lifeboat, and Kellen reaches down and hauls me up as if I weigh nothing.
Aggie is bawling, Rachel is screaming, and somewhere behind me someone is making a sound I have never heard a human being make before.
The water around us is black and it goes on forever.
My hands won’t stop shaking. I press them flat against the floor of the lifeboat and tell myself to breathe, just breathe, but the air tastes like salt and bile.
We’re alive.
I don’t know what that means yet.
For a long time after, there is only the sound of water, the slapping and sucking of waves around our lifeboat.
The wind changed, just as the storm got close.
That saved our lives. It didn’t stop one boat capsizing and forcing us all onto the other, only to have it capsize too, and yet somehow, those guys got us back on.
With nothing but a few LED torches, and the three of them.
If that isn’t a miracle, I don’t know what is.
Nobody speaks.
Aggie, Tati and I lie across each other in a tangle, pressed down by cold, exhaustion, and something heavier than both, fear.
Tatiana coughs, a thin, wet sound, and tries to sit up.
Her hair is pasted to her face and blood seeps down from a cut on her scalp, trailing dark through the paleness of her cheek.
Rachel is sitting in the front of the boat, her knees jammed up to her chest, hands laced in front of her.
Iris is lying down, and the guys are all just sitting, silent.
Adrian is clutching his lifejacket, staring at the ground.
I think that shook even him up.
“Is it over?” I croak, scared to even ask.
“It’s over,” Zeke murmurs. “But the waves will stay like that for a few hours more.”
They’re not tipping us, but they’re certainly throwing the boat around enough to have Tatiana gagging and leaning over the side as she vomits, yet again. If she keeps getting sick, she is going to get dehydrated and we don’t want that. It’s already getting bad, vomiting will only make it worse.
Ace shifts, so Kellen can stretch out, and in doing that, his hard thigh presses against mine.
He’s warm, and it takes everything inside me not to wiggle closer and curl up against him.
My skin prickles though, as our elbows touch, and I glance at him in the flashlight’s remarkably bright glow. He looks back, his eyes unreadable.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice just loud enough for him to hear. “This is my fault.”
He leans in closer, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear so he can speak. Shivers run through my body as his lips get so close to my ear, his breath tickles my skin. “We’re alive, that’s gotta count for somethin’.”
He’s right, we are.
A gust of wind blows through and I shudder, cold.
Ace notices and moves closer, pressing himself into me and putting an arm around my shoulder so I can lean against him.
I do, and my body ignites. Being so close to him is sparking an odd response, because it’s one I haven’t had before.
Boys have never been a priority for me, so feeling this kind of way about a man who is basically a stranger is throwing me off guard.
Still, being held against him is nice, and it eases some of the anxiety flooding my body.
The sea is quieter now, and every so often the boat lurches as another wave passes. I struggle to keep my eyes open, and fall into Ace as my body finally lets go.
We drift for hours. I have no way of knowing how long.
If the world ended, I wouldn’t notice. The only comfort I have right now is knowing we are all here still, and we didn’t die in that storm.
I keep expecting someone to show up. A Coast Guard chopper, a cargo ship, even the hard faces of my father’s men.
But there is nothing. It has been a couple of days, and not one sign of life has been seen.
I try not to think about that.
I just close my eyes and let sleep take me.
We all do.
We stay like that until the morning light burns our eyes, but that isn’t what wakes us.
No, it’s the boat suddenly slamming into something, jerking everyone awake.
My body has grown so used to the rhythm of floating that it feels odd when it stops, just stops.
The boat is no longer moving, it is no longer floating in an endless sea.
It has completely come to a stop. Everyone sits up, rubbing their eyes, trying to force them to adjust.
“Look,” Tatiana gasps. “Oh my god!”
My eyes slowly adjust as I stare out. Gone is the endless dark ocean, and now, the world around us is green and brown, and trees clutch the sky high overhead, while cliffs tower over the crystal blue ocean.
The wind is soft and the sun is bright, and the boat, oh the boat, is wedged in beautiful golden sand.
Rachel begins to cry. At first, I think it’s the delirium, but then I realize she is laughing, an ugly, broken sound, the kind only the truly fucked over can manage.
We are on land.
Aggie is the first to leap out, splashing into the water, and I watch her scuffle and slip, then finally stand, hunched and grinning at the rest of us.
We all move quickly, a flurry of voices.
I throw myself over the side, and rush to the land, tripping and getting back up again as if my legs have forgotten how to work.
I fall to my knees and press my hands into the sand.
I didn’t know if I would ever see land again.
I have no idea where we are. I have no idea what to do next.
But we’re alive, and that is a miracle in itself.