Only a Storm

Pounding Rain and Raining Men- April 3

The wood floor was damp. Not severely - just like a few dripping people had recently walked on it. To the right and left, the hallway stretched into a distant, red lit haze. Straight ahead were the stairs. I looked at Gil, wondering where to go. He looked unsure as well.

I decided to look at it logically. The upper deck would be soaking and louder and probably kinda scary - dangerous even. Downstairs, however, was mostly storage and dining and viewing and engines. The important places were on the upper levels. Getting to the upper levels would mean going on deck. There was no choice, really. Another look at Gil confirmed that he had concluded the same.

We inched toward the stairs, careful not to be loud enough to be heard around the corner at the bathrooms. Bless my classmates' tiny bladders. Thanks to them, we were able to figure out this quick escape.

When we stood before the first step, I fell in behind Gil. He had an uncanny ability to find the perfect route up stairs, without a single creak or groan. It had become habit to follow him, placing my feet only where he placed his. It took less than a minute to reach the wooden door with the round window near the top. All I could see from my low angle was a sky of roiling black clouds pelting the ship with sheets of rain, lit only by frequent flashes of lighting drawing jagged cracks in the roof of the world.

Gil looked back at me, hand hovering over the knob. He was giving me one last chance to change my mind, to turn back and blend into the bathroom line. I smiled with false bravado, swirling my hand as if to say, ladies first. He shook his head, looking down, and smiled. Then, he turned the knob.

His eyes shot open as the door was torn from his grip by the raging wind. We stumbled out. Soaked through in less than a second, we worked together to force the door shut before anyone downstairs realized that the sudden increase in sound was something other than a crash of thunder. Then we turned to face the beast whose maw we'd walked into.

The boat was bouncing and rocking, tossed by the waves like a toy. If I hadn't snatched Gil's hand, I doubt either of us could have kept balance for more than a second. We held up our other hands, blocking some of the rain so we could see without having our eyes pelted out. We inched to the side, taking shelter by the staircase I'd tried to run down earlier, in our chase.

We scanned the deck, looking out at the sea. The blood drained from my face. Those waves were huge, big enough that, were they staying still, I might have mistaken them for massive walls. Gil tightened his hold on my hand, anchoring me, pulling me back to my senses. I shook my head, getting rid of the last of the blur of terror.

"Right," I started - and paused. Tilted my head to the side. Saw Gil do the same. There was yelling upstairs, on the upper deck. I could decipher the words "signal," "suicide," "receiver," and something that sounded like "kiss my glass." I was mystified. Gil gestured toward the rail - where we would be able to see onto the upper deck, maybe figure out what the speakers were doing before getting a closer look. We stepped slowly, carefully, intent on keeping our balance. We hooked our free arms firmly around the rails and turned around, just in time to see a man fly off the ladder half way up to the crow's nest after a particularly large wave.

As if in slow motion, the man arced through the air, limbs flailing. His trajectory would put him just over the edge of the boat, into the frothing sea. Then he would be grabbed by the undertow, dragged far, far beyond rescue, and torn to shreds under the angry water.

Without looking at Gil, I knew how he would react, and positioned myself accordingly. I took a small step left and hooked my feet in the rails, facing oceanward. Then I leaned over the rail, holding my hands up over the water. I tilted my head back just in time to lock my gaze onto the man. I zeroed in on his fast approaching form, and - there! I clasped my hands around his wrist.

The weight was almost enough to yank me overboard. If Gil hadn't grabbed his other wrist at the same time, I probably would have. As it was, the man was heavy. The man was more than both our weights put together. I stiffened my legs around the bars of the railing, holding tighter to the slippery, rain soaked wrist as its body thrashed in terror where he dangled over the churning sea, releasing long strings of words that Mommy would have grounded me for saying.

I managed a quick glance at Gil and knew that he was straining as well. It was impossible for us to pull the man up. We simply didn't weigh enough to counter his drag. But we couldn't let go. How could I live with myself if I let a man die? All I could do was hold on as tightly as I could, as all the muscles in my body strained and stretched. I couldn't keep this up anymore. Hot tears, salty as the water spraying us from below, welled in my eyes and trickled down my cheeks. I held tighter to the man's wrist, swearing to myself that I wouldn't give in first - because, I realized, if either Gil or I lost our grip, the other wouldn't have time to react to the change in weight, and would go overboard with the man.

I gritted my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut, focusing all my energy on keeping my legs in the rails and my hands on the wrist. How long had it been. A minute? Two? Was my grip loosening? No! I wouldn't let Gil get dragged down because of my weakness. I couldn't! I ground my teeth, imagining that I was the storm, that my body was swirling with all that uncontrolled force, that there was nothing and no one which could subdue me, because I would not lose Gil. Suddenly, when I was near gasping for breath, I heard a set of heavy footsteps running up from behind, stopping just to my right, and the weight was gone, and I was flying backwards onto the deck.

"Andy!" An unfamiliar male voice cried out. "Andy, get ahold o' yerself!" Next to me someone thrashed and groaned, coughing.

"Holy Jesus, I thought I was dead!" The sputtering voice said. "Hey kid. Kid! You alright?!" A big set of hands shook me and I slapped them off, sitting up with a groan. I heard similar sounds past the huge man sitting next to me, as his friend shook Gil.

I looked at the man - Andy, apparently. "No. I'm not alright. You're heavy."

That made the big man chuckle in something between humor and relief. From his far side came Gil's voice. "She's right. What are you eating, bowling balls?" He asked incredulously.

Andy and the other man exchanged looks and burst out in deep throated guffaws, slapping the deck. "Naw kid," he said, wiping away tears, "I don't think that'd taste very good."

I stood up, finding that, now that the strain was gone, my muscles were remarkably undamaged, and looked down at the man. I put one hand on my hip. "What were you thinking?! What kind of idiot sends a two hundred pound man up a ladder in a storm?! Your own weight would have been working against you!" I scolded.

He and his friend sobered quickly. "Yeah, we know." Andy rubbed his head and sighed. "Problem is, we need to get to the crow's nest." Adults rarely spoke so openly with kids - our great rescue must have evened the field. "One of those lightning strikes earlier took out communication. So captain asked me an' Mitch here to set up this receiver," he held up a black plastic box which had somehow survived his tumble, "In the nest. The height'll help with the signal."

My eyes widened. The top of the ladder. The nest, with its precarious height and slippery hand hold, which was whipping back and forth like a clock's pendulum turned on its head. This sounded... so fun. I looked at Gil, to find him already staring in complete resignation. He knew me too well.

°•°•°

Hello! Once again, we reach the end of a chapter. I finished typing up part one yesterday, and have started work on Part 2 - Delusional. I hope you'll stick with Only a Storm long enough to read it! Don't forget to vote☆ if you're enjoying the story!