Castaways

30::Hannah Reborn

November 10 9:32 AM

The feeling lasted momentarily.

"I don't feel good," Andrew grunted. He was sat next to me as we zoomed towards the docks. He gripped my hand tightly.

"Andrew, are you okay?" I asked, studying him. His face grew sickly pale. He'd been acting odd the past few days, something o hardly payed attention to until now.

"No." He said, and for a moment everything seemed okay. I thought we were fine. I thought we'd be okay. I thought this was the moment.

His eyes rolled back into his head and he lost consciousness. Everything happened so suddenly I barely had time to scream. He fell backwards, hitting his head on the side of the ship roughly. My heart sunk at the sound of his skull colliding with the metal boat.

"Shit! Andrew!" I cried. I crouched towards him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him slightly. "Dammit Andrew, wake up!"

The boat stopped. We were almost at the docks. I looked up, making eye contact with my family, which was a mistake. They saw the horror stricken face on me and it mirrored onto them. I suddenly felt very sick.

"Check his pulse." Edwin said, moving up towards us. "Hey!" He called to the paramedics down by the beach. "Help!"
He went back to the engine and sped up toward the docs.

I checked his pulse.

That's when I cried. "It's not there!"

"Crap!" Edwin said. "Hold on. Help! Get the paramedics! We need help!"

"Andrew!" I shouted barbarically. I was suddenly angry. Angry that now of all moments he passed out, angry that my parents didn't find us before, angry at the universe for putting me in this position. "You son of a gun! Wake up! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. I don't-I can't...Andrew!"

"Hold on, Hannah," Edwin said. "We're pulling into the dock." He shouted at the group of people, "I need the ambulance. The boy hit his head and has no pulse."

Everything happened in unison. I couldn't focus, couldn't count, couldn't face my family. Time slowed as the paramedics grabbed Andrew and I from the boat. My parents were there, mom and Dave, with the siblings behind them all holding hands. Right in front of me. Within ten feet, there they were. My mothers broken face, no doubt mirroring mine. Her stare held loss and sorry and grief, and I knew immediately that she didn't give up searching. She couldn't, even if she knew for sure we were dead.

Painfully slowly, the sirens and chatter died down and I collapsed, feeling too weak to take it all on. I was placed on a stretcher, my family surrounding me and talking to me in sync. Their voices blurred together, sounding deep and baritone, and my head pounded with the sound of the ocean. I was home, but it felt like things changed.

Dad is alive. That's the biggest thing I have to keep and it will kill me. The guilt of that, the island, Jerardo. Andrew. My stomach sank, and despite not having eaten anything in the last twelve hours, I leaned over the side and threw up on a pair of bright  red converse. My head pounded and I heard ringing, and I realized the shoes were black and I threw up red. Blood.

Making eye contact with Riley, the owner of the new and improved shoes, I stared at him weakly in apology. I heard shouts, and suddenly we were moving. Something grabbed my hand. Mom, I could tell because of the smooth planes of her hand and the small callouses. Mom was holding my hand. Proof that this is real.

I turned my head to the side, seeing a duplicate stretcher only this one held Andrew, paramedics rushing him into the ambulance and attaching him to wires.