VANESSA SHEMANDER HON

It’s been five days.

Or maybe a week. I don’t know because there’s nothing to count with here. We were weak, thirsty and famished. Afloat for daylights. Praying that the sharks circling beneath our boat wouldn’t attack us.

Rain. We need rain. We need water desperately. We were stuck on the dinghy and the sun was blazing hot. Peatra was resting on Gin’s chest. She seemed to be running a slight fever and had complained of light-headedness. Gin re-adjusted his shirt on Peatra’s forehead; it had been used as a wet cloth to cool her head.

Nick and I just watched silently. Everyone was miserable.

“Water… I need water,” Peatra croaked.

Gin shook his head gently. “You know we can’t drink sea water.”

“Just one mouth please, my throat hurts.”

Gin glanced at us. None of us moved to help Peatra. She pleaded again, before drifting off to sleep. The afternoon heat made us drowsy, and before long the three of us were asleep too.

I woke up to the sound of splashing. It was evening and my vision was blurry from sleep. I squinted and realized with horror Peatra was gulping seawater from the edge. Quickly, I moved to pull her away. “Peatra stop!”

Nick and Gin were up immediately and helped drag Peatra back. She was dripping from her chin to her shirt, but she didn’t care. “The water was good,” she said with a loopy smile. We took turns watching her after that.

The next day came and it was the same, no rain. Night arrived and then we heard it. A distant rumble. Thunder never sounded so sweet. And so it rained. Boy did it rain hard! We were ecstatic, drinking whatever we could from the skies, that shower of blessing. The roar of the rain was so loud and we were so busy soaking up, we hadn’t notice that Peatra was shouting. No, she was screeching.

“The enemy’s on us! Hide, hide! We’re gonna die! They’re gonna find and kill us!”

She was lunatic, thrashing about on the dinghy, rocking it precariously. The rain was drumming down on us, my hair was plastered to my face and it was difficult to see through the rain. “Peatra! We’re here! There’s no enemy!”

It was a struggle, I didn’t know where she got her strength from, but she was pulling and scratching, flailing about. “Get away from me, you bastards! Don’t touch me!”

The boat was swaying terribly and Nick was crouching in the middle, arms stretched to hold both sides of the boat, trying his best to stabilize it. Thunder crackled and a stroke of lightning blinded our eyes, stunning Gin and I momentarily. Peatra ducked and shrieked her lungs out. “It’s okay Peatra! Everything’s alright!” Gin was down with his arms around her, trying to calm her. She had her hands to her ears, her eyes were flickering about and her body was shaking uncontrollably. She remained like that for quite a while. We didn’t need words; all three of us knew, with no rescue anytime soon, Peatra’s mental state would be on the road of no return.

The next few days passed relatively soundly. Peatra was mostly in a daze and occasionally muttered to herself. Sometimes she recognized us, but more often than not she remained trapped in her mental world. I was more worried about the sharks; recently they had been swimming closer to the surface, and had once or twice jerked the boat. Fortunately nothing ferocious happened. Yet. A shark attack was more threatening than Peatra’s disorientation.

A week had gone since. At least I think it had been. Peatra doesn’t recognize us anymore. I could tell Gin was shattered to know the person he loved no longer remembered him. He wasn’t the only one. To see our friend changed into someone so deranged was heartwrenching for Nick and I too. We were so exhausted from constantly watching over Peatra, it was no doubt we were tipping into our breaking point.

That afternoon, the sun was especially oppressive. We lay on the boat, skin scorched and eyes to dry to open fully. It was even difficult for us to breathe. The air was just too stifling. Peatra huddled beside Gin. I couldn’t really see her but I could hear her giggling, like usual.

“I’m an angel… Oh, I’m an angel!”

Peatra stood up abruptly. The boat rocked and stirred us from our rotting siesta. She flapped her arms and continued her nonsense. Gin grabbed her ankles weakly. It was useless, she just moved away.

“Look, I can fly!”

Splash.

Peatra did the unthinkable. She jumped.

We all cried out. This was bad, it was really bad, we had no strength but we dragged ourselves to where Peatra jumped off. She was floating just a little off from the boat. “Grab my hand!” I reached out feebly. I should’ve known it was too late then. She screamed. It was one of the worst screams I had ever heard. And will never forget. The sharks were upon her.

Everything was a thrash of red, fins and sea foam. Somehow Peatra managed to grab the edge of the boat, and we were trying so hard to pull her in, the boat was tipping to our side. Peatra wailed in agony. “Let go! We’re gonna drag ourselves in if we continue. It’s no point, she’ll bleed to death even if we saved her,” Nick cried and released his grip. I didn’t want to, but he was right; there’s no point, the Peatra we knew was already gone. My friend was gone. We had lost her since the day of the rain. I looked at Gin and we both let go. Her body disappeared in a matter of seconds.

We mourned after, but there were no tears; we were all dried out.

Peatra’s death left a hole in us. A month afloat and we’re more miserable than ever. But we’re determined to survive. For Peatra.

(998 words)