The ship was sinking. That much my groggy mind had told me. As I tried to make my way to safety, the open wound in my side echoed waves of pain throughout my body. The ship rocked as a wave hit, like a toy in a bath tub. The force knocked me to my knees as my knees buckled. I crawled around like a trapped ant, desperate to find the exit onto the deck.
To my right a sliver of light was created and destroyed as a door flew back and forth on its hinges. That's my escape, I thought in hesitant relief. I scrambled for the vestibule, oblivious to the endless possibilities that could await me.
As I heaved myself up on the doorframe gripping my wound to stem the floor of blood, the ship lurched violently and I was thrown out onto the deck that was slick with sea foam. I would've been flung carelessly into the infinite inky blackness below if my stomach hadn't slammed into the unforgiving aluminium guard rail. Winded, I once again lost my footing and was hurled backwards by the swell. My head cracked against a heavy metal chest that inhabited the deck. I collapsed onto it and could feel myself slipping away from reality.
The edges of my vision blackened and I fought to stay conscious. I looked around for something to stimulate my dimmed brain. The orange writing of the chest I layed upon caught my eye. "F-l-a-r-e-s." I smiled despite the pain. This ship is laying in pieces across a reef. I have a deep wound in my side, definitely some broken ribs from my incident with the rail, a large bump on my head from my last fall and now I'm laying on explosives.
And then it hit me. Flares. Emergency communication signals. I could get help! This part of the ocean was favoured by other trade ships similar to ours. I slowly rolled over and tried to feel for the latch as safety latches these days require two hands to release. My now clumsy fingers brushed over it, at first not recognising the updated mechanism. The rocking of the boat caused me to fail again and again. Finally, steadying my whole body, my fingers closed around it and the latch released.
With my last reserves of strength I heaved the lid upwards. I hooked my armpits over the rim, rummaged inside and grabbed half dozen distress flares. I quickly removed the two end caps and wrapped my finger through the firing lever. I jammed them into the small holes in the guard rail, dying the air around me smoky maroon. I had to move fast to get the parachute flares in the air as they would launch three hundred metres, hopefully visible to any passing maritime vessels. I fired them one after the other into the sparkling sky. "Blood on the stars," I murmured to myself as the flares exploded above my head.
The distress flares had begun to dim. I knew using them this quickly continuously would be ineffective. Then I had an idea. My hands grabbed for more from the chest but this time I lighted them at intervals. I took more parachutes and fired them as my hands started to shake violently.
I knew I couldn't keep this up. The gash down my side bled heavily and the large egg on the side of my head throbbed. However, it seemed that luck had turned in my favour. Bright lights were headed toward me, red piercing the darkness as they blinked on and off.
Adrenaline shot through my veins once again and I desperately wrestled more distress signals from the chest. Common sense was cast aside and I uncapped more and more of them to make sure my position was known. I then began to alternate between the two types again as the ship made visible progress toward me. I reached into the box again, but this time there was nothing to be grabbed.
Time for plan B, I told myself. I painfully hobbled to the railing and when I looked down the waterline lapped against the side only a metre or so below me. I set my eyes on the incoming boat once more. I raised a hand in the air and from my throat came the scream of a maniac.
The ship was a hundred metres away by then. My throat ached as I hollered for help. Seventy-five metres, I counted to keep my mind off the pain. Fifty metres, the adrenaline rush had worn off and my vision had blackened all over. Twenty-five metres, I could feel myself falling as I crashed into the deck. I never get to zero.
I couldn't move. I couldn't open my eyes. Someone's feet resonated against the floor and all I could feel was the jostle of being carried.
I don't remember anything else.
AN: Thanks for reading
xx Uta
