have made it twenty-four hours.”
“And land?” she rushed, skipping whole chunks of questions Dave had prepped for. “When did you see land?”
Dave’s answer hitched in his throat briefly, a moment of silence for those torturous, endless hours on the raft that Genevieve Randall brushed away in one sentence. He had to remind himself that less was more. If the reporter wanted to skip all the way to the rescue, Dave shouldn’t complain.
“Around noon on the third day,” Dave answered finally. “The sun was high in the sky and burning my forehead. We had only a few sips of water left in the bottle and Margaret had fallen into a coma. It seemed completely hopeless at that moment.” A long trail of sweat trickled down the back of his neck, as if his body remembered the interminable heat on that boat. “At first I thought it was an illusion. I was weak. We were all at a breaking point. Yet, no one gave in to the temptation to drink the seawater, because Kent said it’d make you go mad. But for a while I was already questioning my sanity. I sat there watching the tiny emerald speck grow slowly in front of me for at least an hour before I said anything to everyone else.”
“What were your feelings in that moment?” she probed.
“First was denial, then excitement and hope. We had no way of knowing how big the island was or if it was inhabited, so of course at first we all felt like we’d been rescued and the whole thing was finally over.”
Dave remembered the flutter of expectation that batted around in his empty stomach as the waves gently pushed their raft closer and closer to the ever-growing speck. He was the one who was sure they’d floated into salvation. He expected to bob up to land on their little raft and startle sunbathers lying out on the beach. His sun-beaten brain imagined they’d run up to the cabana hut and order everyone a tall, gorgeous glass of lemonade.
“How did you get onto the island without any oars or motors?” Genevieve asked, but not in that skeptical way she asked about Theresa, more robotic and rehearsed.
“Once we realized that it really was land, our joy was soon replaced with frustration. We were lodged in a current pushing us close to but not onto the island. We were moving so slowly, we had plenty of time to plan and organize. First, we tried using our hands as oars in the water but that didn’t move us very far off our course. Remember, we were all dehydrated, half-starved, and severely sunburned, so not at our peak performance levels. Then Kent had the idea to get in the water and push the raft by kicking our legs.”
“You went in the water?” she interrupted, tilting her head to one side. “Weren’t you afraid of sharks and such?” Her honey-colored eyebrows wagged, one a fraction higher than the other, making Dave unsure if nature or plastic surgery was responsible for the incongruity.
“Knowing what I do now, we should’ve been. But we were so desperate to be off that boat and we thought there might be food and people and communication on that island. I think if we had thought of it, we still would’ve found the risk an acceptable one.”
“Please tell me about what it was like when you landed. What was the state of the island and your fellow passengers?”
“The first night was the worst.” A chill went through him like the wind whipping his soaked polo. “It was night by the time we reached the shore. We had no fire, no fresh water still, and no food. I mostly remember how dark it was. Lillian cared for Margaret, Kent wandered off immediately, and I slept most of the night in the raft.”
The reporter’s ears seemed to perk up at the mention of Lillian’s mother-in-law. “And Margaret, how long did she last?” How was the end of a woman’s life reduced to a single flippant question? He intended to give Margaret the respect she deserved.
“Margaret lost her life within twenty-four hours of landing on the island. There was nothing we could
“And land?” she rushed, skipping whole chunks of questions Dave had prepped for. “When did you see land?”
Dave’s answer hitched in his throat briefly, a moment of silence for those torturous, endless hours on the raft that Genevieve Randall brushed away in one sentence. He had to remind himself that less was more. If the reporter wanted to skip all the way to the rescue, Dave shouldn’t complain.
“Around noon on the third day,” Dave answered finally. “The sun was high in the sky and burning my forehead. We had only a few sips of water left in the bottle and Margaret had fallen into a coma. It seemed completely hopeless at that moment.” A long trail of sweat trickled down the back of his neck, as if his body remembered the interminable heat on that boat. “At first I thought it was an illusion. I was weak. We were all at a breaking point. Yet, no one gave in to the temptation to drink the seawater, because Kent said it’d make you go mad. But for a while I was already questioning my sanity. I sat there watching the tiny emerald speck grow slowly in front of me for at least an hour before I said anything to everyone else.”
“What were your feelings in that moment?” she probed.
“First was denial, then excitement and hope. We had no way of knowing how big the island was or if it was inhabited, so of course at first we all felt like we’d been rescued and the whole thing was finally over.”
Dave remembered the flutter of expectation that batted around in his empty stomach as the waves gently pushed their raft closer and closer to the ever-growing speck. He was the one who was sure they’d floated into salvation. He expected to bob up to land on their little raft and startle sunbathers lying out on the beach. His sun-beaten brain imagined they’d run up to the cabana hut and order everyone a tall, gorgeous glass of lemonade.
“How did you get onto the island without any oars or motors?” Genevieve asked, but not in that skeptical way she asked about Theresa, more robotic and rehearsed.
“Once we realized that it really was land, our joy was soon replaced with frustration. We were lodged in a current pushing us close to but not onto the island. We were moving so slowly, we had plenty of time to plan and organize. First, we tried using our hands as oars in the water but that didn’t move us very far off our course. Remember, we were all dehydrated, half-starved, and severely sunburned, so not at our peak performance levels. Then Kent had the idea to get in the water and push the raft by kicking our legs.”
“You went in the water?” she interrupted, tilting her head to one side. “Weren’t you afraid of sharks and such?” Her honey-colored eyebrows wagged, one a fraction higher than the other, making Dave unsure if nature or plastic surgery was responsible for the incongruity.
“Knowing what I do now, we should’ve been. But we were so desperate to be off that boat and we thought there might be food and people and communication on that island. I think if we had thought of it, we still would’ve found the risk an acceptable one.”
“Please tell me about what it was like when you landed. What was the state of the island and your fellow passengers?”
“The first night was the worst.” A chill went through him like the wind whipping his soaked polo. “It was night by the time we reached the shore. We had no fire, no fresh water still, and no food. I mostly remember how dark it was. Lillian cared for Margaret, Kent wandered off immediately, and I slept most of the night in the raft.”
The reporter’s ears seemed to perk up at the mention of Lillian’s mother-in-law. “And Margaret, how long did she last?” How was the end of a woman’s life reduced to a single flippant question? He intended to give Margaret the respect she deserved.
“Margaret lost her life within twenty-four hours of landing on the island. There was nothing we could
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