Lights Out

Deadly Current

It has been three days since water ran out. Five since food ran out. Survival looks bleak now. Birds were hovering over the raft this morning, their pointy little beaks salivating for flesh. A fin had appeared by the raft, but now the water is calm and almost inviting. If I hadn't seen the fin, I would have gotten in to wash my body of the filth it acquired. But maybe the resistance to get in is more weakness than fear. My arms felt heavy wiping my brow of the morning heat, and now they feel nonexistent. 

It amazes me that I'm able to sweat. I didn't think I had any water left in me, and the fact that it's oozing over my burned body angers me. I know I'm dehydrated, probably beyond dehydrated, but I can't drink the sea. I'd read horror stories of people going mad or dying faster because they drank salt water. I was planning on staying alive.

As the sun sets on my little dingy, I feel an immense gratitude. My body is red and bleeding in some parts from the severe cracking and sunburn. If I sit just right by the mast I constructed, my head and shoulders are protected. But sitting has become more of a chore than it used to be. So, laying down has been my position of choice, but that also means the blood leaking from my legs and thighs is seeping through the logs of the raft. It would explain the fin I saw earlier.

An awful smell woke me in the middle of the night. There was no moon in the sky, but even without it I couldn't mistake the splashing. The bloated whiteness of a dead marine creature sent out a beacon for sharks and other animals. And I had drifted right up to it. The smell was a chunk of the rotted blubber flopping into the raft, a mass of flies buzzing around it.

My immediate reaction was to toss the lump overboard. I didn't need whale scent where there was already blood. But it squished and oozed between my fingers and I couldn't risk scooping water to flush it out. So, I braced a trembling arm against the carcass, ignoring how easily I sunk into it, and pushed myself away. But I pushed too hard, somehow, and the raft wobbled angrily and dumped me into the drink.

Panic overtook my senses. My legs and arms beat the water and my mind conjured an image of a shark mouth closing over my body. My hands grasped the raft but pulling dead weight by weak arms alone, it wasn't happening. Whimpers broke free of my chapped lips as I continued to pull myself up. It burned my shoulders, and kicking my legs did nothing but make a scene for the sharks. I felt something rough touch my heel.

Eventually, what felt like hours dangling in the water were over as my damaged skin slid on the wood beams once more. During my struggle, the blubber dripped through the openings but the raft was bumped against the carcass once more. I let it stay that way.

Now, with the morning sun baking my wet skin, things seem less scary. Shadows are illuminated and nothing can slip past my sight. At least, nothing above the water. I can't say the same for below me but maybe that was best left unknown.

What I do know, is today...I have to find land. Or a passing ship, something that will give me hope. I haven't seen one since my own boat sunk and to be honest, I'm surprised I lasted this long. It was just going to be a sea fishing trip, catch some big fish and spend a day away from my life. And then I didn't listen to the weather alert and got caught in the worst of the storm. It didn't take long before the boat shattered to pieces and I managed to scrounge up enough to make a raft. 

And I'm glad of it, considering sharks are all over this area. Though I have drifted far enough away from the rotting whale that I can see it, but not smell it. And then something else caught my attention. Just beyond the floating dinner bell, a mountain range painted a misty blue. It looked like a small island but maybe planes go over it. Planes meant rescue and rescue meant going home. All I can imagine is a fat burger dripping juices down my forearm and a cold beer to wash it down.

Now I wish I had made paddles. The current was going in the opposite direction, into the open sea and the sun would be falling soon enough. But if I put my hands in the water to propel myself, the sharks might have a reason to take a closer look. But I have to try.

The sun set quick once I made up my mind. I had laid down on my stomach, hoping it would be less effort, and I could feel the sun's heat slowly travel down my back. Staring down into the blue abyss was calling me, but if I only looked down I wouldn't know if I'm still going the right way. And that was risky, too much so. So, I avoided watching for sharks and anything else that may have sharp teeth. 

It was slow going getting back to the whale but once I did, I dug my fingers into the soft fat. The sound that came out almost made me gag but I kept it down and pulled myself along the head. It rocked and rolled and I convinced myself it was me pulling on it. Once I made it around, I gave it a push like I did before. This time I managed to keep from dunking myself, something I was so grateful for, but I still didn't like the motion sickness that came with it.

But, even after getting past the whale, the island didn't look any closer. If anything, it looked farther away. I felt like giving up. For the first time since capsizing, I had no hope of being rescued. I had absolute certainty that I would die aboard this rinky-dink wood raft and no one would ever find me.

As the glowing moon replaced the hot sun, I sank into sleep. It pulled me in so fast that I didn't realize my arms were still dangling in the water. I woke to find them cold and wrinkled, prunes as my mom would call them, but they were still attached to the rest of me. That was all that mattered. That, and the fact that the mountains were closer. I felt like I could reach out and touch them now.

I am too weak to continue paddling, however. If I was going to make it, survive and conquer this nightmare, I had to get in the water. I just had to hold out long enough to get there. It feels like a second wave of hope. Transparent and foolhardy, but hope. And if I waited much longer to enact it, I would chicken out. If I don't make it...then at least I tried.

"Hey, Cap? Check this out!"

He didn't know what he expected when they found a wooden raft floating alone in the middle of the ocean, but he didn't expect to find a water logged diary. The entries inside sent shivers down his spine considering there wasn't a body onboard. If this person really did leave the raft and swam in shark territory...they didn't survive.

Cap sent orders to search Melba Island but there was no sign of life, or that a person had ever set foot on the sand. It made his heart feel sad for this person, even more so that there wasn't a body to bring home. There wasn't even a name written in the diary. It was just another lost life that the water reclaimed. He wished he never found the raft.