JASE
Chapter 3
If you've ever been in the position where you're in charge of making sure someone doesn't die on your watch, you know exactly how I was feeling.
Ash lay unconscious on the wooden floor boards of the boat, where I had just barely been able to roll the huge mast off of him. A huge bruise was developing on his forehead about the size of a plum, but luckily it didn't seem too serious. This was one of those situations where I felt really grateful for all that stupid first-aid and emergency training we were forced to do in ninth grade health. I checked for a pulse on his wrist, relived to find it was still going. He was breathing too, in faint little huffs, husky sounding, like they took a lot of effort.
Man that had to hurt, I thought recalling how the pole had just snapped and crashed down on him, squashing Ash like a pancake. Slowly, his breathing became stronger, and he coughed a few times. Relief flooded through me. Man, I never thought I would be so happy to see my little brother in my whole life. His eyelids fluttered open beneath his tousled hair.
"Jase..." he started mumbling.
"Hey, hey, Ash. Everything's gonna be okay." I said, hoping to sound convincing. Apparently, he wasn't fooled.
"You were worried about me, weren't you," he asked, a smug smile working it's way across his mouth.
"That beam must have cracked your head pretty hard," I joked, almost laughing. Ash wheezed out a few laughs, and soon we were both rolling around on the small deck space like hyenas. Truth was, I had been worried. Poor kid had been out for about two hours or so. At least that's what it felt like. I was still flabbergasted he had no serious injuries, like a broken arm, or a seriously damaged head. Just a bruise. Nothing else. After shaking off our case of giggles, we both sat up.
"Take a look," I said. "The storm's gone."
It was true. The storm had vanished almost right after Ash had been knocked out. The clouds drifted away, and the rain vanquished along with them. Weird weather we were having lately. "Still no clue where we are though," I admitted. The water was too Disney-beach-resortish- like to be out in the ocean. It was crystal clear; A shiny blue; A pollution activist's dream. The two of us knelt over the side, examining the beautiful water. The sun made it shimmer like a gem in one of those expensive jewelery stores mom would walk by on her way out of Starbucks, her hopeful eyes gazing at the precious stones she could never afford.
After a while, a sheer miracle floated by. A fish. A big, red, glittery fish, with catfish whiskers hanging off it's mouth. It was swishing through the water as if we weren't even there. Ash, smiling to himself, reached down and touched the back of it's scales. The fish shot away with unnatural speed, and the second it swam, about twenty more of the same kind rose from the bottom of our boat, and sped off.
"Hey, don't go scarin' off the fish, will ya?"
We both snapped our head to the unfamiliar voice yelling behind us. It was a tall African American looking boy, around my age. He had what seemed to be a thin white t-shirt- similar to my own- and red shorts, standing on top of a dock that looked like it was made out of bamboo, with an ancient oil lamp hanging of the end, unlit in the daylight. But what was the weirdest thing was that, he was holding a basket in one hand, and a spear -clenched by a fist- in the other. It's sharpened tip seemed like it could shish-kabab Ash or I any time he felt like it. The scowl on his face proved it. He looked like we had just cost him his dinner.
"You guys just cost me my dinner," he exclaimed in frustration, claiming my suspicion.
"Hey, if you need to stop by Acme, we can help ya," Ash offered, stupidly. The guy looked at us like he had never heard of Acme in his life. Weird. Then again, he was holding a spear.
