Sharp, rhythmic waves banged into the boat, sending it rocking from one side to the other.
Salty vapor was up my nose, I was light headed.
Bang.
Another wave hit the boat, sending me crashing into the sail. I could feel the breath being knocked out of me, blood dripping down my sweater.
I groaned.
Bang, another one. This one sent the cold embrace of the ocean around my waist. It was almost... comforting.
For that slight moment I relaxed, all my worries left me, my mind was a clear sea. Until I got hit by another wave and I realized why I hated the world. My eyes fluttered open, quickly, and I noticed that I hadn't taken a breath yet.
I took one.
My throat was hoarse, my eyes hurt, my nose hurt, my everything hurt. I slowly gazed up at my surroundings with sore eyes and spotted something.
Trapdoor. I reached out with my fingers, grasping, my hand was centimetres from the handle. I will not die here, even though I hate the world I will not die here and fail everyone.
Come on, come on. I scrambled forward and felt a strange sensation in the pit of my stomach. Oh sh--. I didn't even have time to think before I barfed all over myself and the boat, redecorating it's sides. The boat moved and this gave me the momentum.
I lunged, grabbed the handle, yanked it open.
And fell 3 metres and a bit.
I lay there for a while, contemplating life, my stupid, stupid decisions, and then heard a voice.
" Well, that was amusing." A smooth, calculated voice commented from the shadows.
Just what I needed, bloody hell. "It won't be so amusing when you see what happened to Betsy." I regretted saying those words as soon as they came out of my mouth. "What. Did. You. Say?" The smooth, calculated voice now had turned sharp and stern. I winced as I stood up and responded, "I gave her a new paint job, what do you think about vomit green, Crimson." I said that last word with mockery. "Captain Crimson. Now, get to the cafeteria. By the way, you'll be cleaning that up with your toothbrush later, Claire." She walked over to me, her big, brown boots clanking against the sub's floor, her fiery red hair falling over her shoulders as she stood there.
"Get. Up. And. Get. Out."
I rolled my eyes internally and exited the room, my hair salty and sticking together, my trousers wet with water and vomit, my sweater dripping with blood and my throat as hoarse as hell.
The best start to a Tuesday morning.
YOU ARE READING
Smoke on Xalia
FantasyA story in progress. In this story you accompany a group of characters who have gone on a mission to find a cure for an infection of creatures on their planet. They travel to different areas in a submarine and form bonds with each other. Just to c...
