sort out the mast or the rigging. We could only masquerade as sailors for so long. Even if Arturo had still been alive, I wasn’t sure he could save us from this.
I managed to aim my first wave of nausea out of the cockpit, stumbling to the edge to heave it over onto the deck. Shane cringed and recoiled from me. I watched the vomit cascade in an orange blob straight down toward the edge and into the water. The boat had reared up, tilted at a heart-pounding sixty-degree angle. I scampered back into the safety of the cockpit, clutching my stomach, letting Moritz have a turn.
Suddenly, day was night, darker than I could remember it being. The sky was no longer blue or even gray, but flat black that lit up with the oncoming spikes of lightning. Behind a glass pane it would have been beautiful, awe-inspiring, but jammed into a five-by-five cockpit with a tender tummy and five frightened compatriots made it unbearable. I shook and glued my eyes to my shoes, determined not to piss myself and to hold up with a modicum of dignity for Shane’s sake.
“Soon now,” I told him in a pale-faced whisper. “Soon it’ll stop.”
The boat lurched, listing heavily to the left, portside, to the water . I couldn’t muster the tiniest instinct. The sail wagged and then made a noise like a shotgun blast. I wanted to grab something, pull a rope or fix something, anything . I realized then that I should’ve found a life vest to grasp, but my legs were paralyzed and I didn’t know where to look. Then the wind caught us and sent us reeling back the other way. Andrea screamed. I grabbed Shane, wrapping him in a bone-crushing embrace. He hugged me back as we held on for dear life, my tears mingling with the storm.
* * *
Whether we liked it or not, a destination had been chosen for us.
In a way, it was just like we planned. Find land. We found it, all right, forcefully.
I’d like to think we were fortunate. The storm had thrown us into a cove of sorts, with a curtain of green trees covering us overhead. Everything smelled piney and crisp. When the rain finally died down we poked our heads out to find that we weren’t doomed to drown or wash up on shore. But the boat had taken a beating, the hull badly scraped and torn from being smashed against the rocky coast of the island. There was no beach, just a sheer rock face with fringes of mossy grass hanging over the edge at about our head height.
Shane trembled in my grasp, peering up with unblinking eyes as we both found ourselves in more or less one piece.
“See?” I said weakly. “All over.”
He climbed out of the cockpit with me, shifting his grip to my left hand. Thank God he was all right—shaken, sure, wet and rumpled, but definitely not fish food. When I limped to the starboard side of the ship I could reach out and run my hand along the gleaming pale pink stones. The storm had appeared, tossed us around, and then left, leaving behind a creepy absence, birds singing happily as if nothing at all had happened.
“I can’t believe it,” Andrea said, appearing at my side. She, too, reached out to touch the rocks, as if checking that they were real and not in a dream. “We’re alive.”
Miraculously, nobody was seriously injured. Noah had jammed his wrist pretty bad trying to steady the wheel in the cockpit, but other than that there was nothing to report but bruises and minor abrasions. We gathered at the railing, taking stock of our cuts and bumps and sneaking glances at the island itself. So close to the shore it was impossible to tell how big it truly was.
“Do you think we should explore a little?” Noah asked. He bounced on his heels. It was obvious he was eager to be on land again.
“I don’t know,” Andrea said, “maybe we should wait and spend the night here, see what happens.”
“You mean see what comes crawling out after us?” I countered.
“We can’t stay,” Moritz said, rubbing his jaw. He had the beginnings of a beard. “We might drift
I managed to aim my first wave of nausea out of the cockpit, stumbling to the edge to heave it over onto the deck. Shane cringed and recoiled from me. I watched the vomit cascade in an orange blob straight down toward the edge and into the water. The boat had reared up, tilted at a heart-pounding sixty-degree angle. I scampered back into the safety of the cockpit, clutching my stomach, letting Moritz have a turn.
Suddenly, day was night, darker than I could remember it being. The sky was no longer blue or even gray, but flat black that lit up with the oncoming spikes of lightning. Behind a glass pane it would have been beautiful, awe-inspiring, but jammed into a five-by-five cockpit with a tender tummy and five frightened compatriots made it unbearable. I shook and glued my eyes to my shoes, determined not to piss myself and to hold up with a modicum of dignity for Shane’s sake.
“Soon now,” I told him in a pale-faced whisper. “Soon it’ll stop.”
The boat lurched, listing heavily to the left, portside, to the water . I couldn’t muster the tiniest instinct. The sail wagged and then made a noise like a shotgun blast. I wanted to grab something, pull a rope or fix something, anything . I realized then that I should’ve found a life vest to grasp, but my legs were paralyzed and I didn’t know where to look. Then the wind caught us and sent us reeling back the other way. Andrea screamed. I grabbed Shane, wrapping him in a bone-crushing embrace. He hugged me back as we held on for dear life, my tears mingling with the storm.
* * *
Whether we liked it or not, a destination had been chosen for us.
In a way, it was just like we planned. Find land. We found it, all right, forcefully.
I’d like to think we were fortunate. The storm had thrown us into a cove of sorts, with a curtain of green trees covering us overhead. Everything smelled piney and crisp. When the rain finally died down we poked our heads out to find that we weren’t doomed to drown or wash up on shore. But the boat had taken a beating, the hull badly scraped and torn from being smashed against the rocky coast of the island. There was no beach, just a sheer rock face with fringes of mossy grass hanging over the edge at about our head height.
Shane trembled in my grasp, peering up with unblinking eyes as we both found ourselves in more or less one piece.
“See?” I said weakly. “All over.”
He climbed out of the cockpit with me, shifting his grip to my left hand. Thank God he was all right—shaken, sure, wet and rumpled, but definitely not fish food. When I limped to the starboard side of the ship I could reach out and run my hand along the gleaming pale pink stones. The storm had appeared, tossed us around, and then left, leaving behind a creepy absence, birds singing happily as if nothing at all had happened.
“I can’t believe it,” Andrea said, appearing at my side. She, too, reached out to touch the rocks, as if checking that they were real and not in a dream. “We’re alive.”
Miraculously, nobody was seriously injured. Noah had jammed his wrist pretty bad trying to steady the wheel in the cockpit, but other than that there was nothing to report but bruises and minor abrasions. We gathered at the railing, taking stock of our cuts and bumps and sneaking glances at the island itself. So close to the shore it was impossible to tell how big it truly was.
“Do you think we should explore a little?” Noah asked. He bounced on his heels. It was obvious he was eager to be on land again.
“I don’t know,” Andrea said, “maybe we should wait and spend the night here, see what happens.”
“You mean see what comes crawling out after us?” I countered.
“We can’t stay,” Moritz said, rubbing his jaw. He had the beginnings of a beard. “We might drift
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