Sharks & Boys

by Kristen Tracy

  “You knew I was driving down here?”

  “No, but I could sense you were real frustrated. I could tell something was really wrong.”

  I don’t even try to look at him. I remove my hand from his grip and slap him on the head with it.

  “That was very selfish of you,” I say. “And psychologically speaking, it totally could have messed me up.”

  “It was wrong. I’m sorry.”

  “So how connected are we?” I ask.

  “You always knew when I was looking at a circle. Every time. It was unreal.”

  “Are we as connected as Burr and Skate?” I ask

  “I think so. I mean, I don’t know now that they’re gone. I don’t know what heaven is like.”

  “Do you think they went to heaven? How does the afterlife even work? Mormons aren’t supposed to drink,” I say.

  “If heaven keeps out beer drinkers, the line into Hell is going to be astronomically long.”

  He leans in and kisses my head.

  “Where did you get this barrette?” he asks.

  “Dad gave it to Mom,” I say. “I found it in the glove box. I think it was a guilt gift over affair number three.”

  “He’s not perfect.”

  “I can’t be with a guy who cheats on me.”

  “You don’t have to be.”

  Landon leans his head against me, and the steady pressure hurts my neck. I turn my head up to look at him. He’s sleeping.

  “Landon?” I say.

  He doesn’t wake.

  “Landon?” I whisper.

  And I join him in sleep.

  I hear the sound of a storm. The waves begin to quicken and heave against the raft. I know it’s the end. I can’t believe that I hung on this long only to die in a second storm. I start thinking about my funeral. Who will come? What will my parents dress me in? Maybe they’ll put me in last year’s prom dress. It’s an icy blue color and falls just below my knees. It would be a shame to wear that dress only once. Wait. If I die this way they’ll never find my body.

  “My God!” Wick yells.

  I turn to look at him. His finger trembles. He points to the sky. I look up. It’s a bird. It’s a big metal bird with glass eyes. Is this what takes us all to heaven? Do we all get to go there at the same time? I thought death would take us one by one, but the bird looks big enough for everyone. How am I supposed to get on this thing? Does it beam me up? Do girls go first? Sometimes, I feel like I don’t know anything.

  Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. As the bird hovers over us, the sea churns. It’s so loud. I can’t even hear myself think. The metal, heaven-bound bird has propellers that rotate over its head and swat the air. It doesn’t appear angelic at all. I hope heaven isn’t a world filled with robots and machines. I was expecting rainbows, marshmallow clouds, and maybe some puppies. But I guess I’ll just live with whatever it is.

  “Coast Guard!” Munny yells.

  “Dude, he’s right!” Dale says.

  I can’t believe it. I don’t believe it. Less than a minute ago, I was planning my own funeral. It’s hard to switch gears so quickly, to believe that, suddenly, I’m not going to die.

  “Enid, you go first,” Wick yells.

  He’s jerking his thumb at the bird.

  “Yeah, you get in the basket first,” Landon hollers.

  I watch as a metal basket is lowered by a rope.

  “I love you, Enid,” Landon yells. “What’s wrong? Are you afraid of the helicopter?”

  I look at him. He’s thrilled. Everybody is thrilled. The basket continues to drop, and I feel very calm. I look at Sov and Munny. They’re unbuckling the jacket so they can separate themselves.

  “I love the Coast Guard!” Dale cries.

  Yeah, I think, I love the Coast Guard too. But after three days at sea, I’m boneless. I fall to the floor. Rotten salt water sloshes into my mouth. I spit it out. Landon grabs my arm and pulls me up.

  “Save your energy for the basket,” he yells.

  The basket is halfway to us.

  “Who goes after Enid?” Dale asks.

  “Sov,” Landon says.

  I think that Dale is on the verge of disagreeing, when for some reason, he tries to sit on the raft’s edge. It’s too soft to support his weight. The next thing I see are his hands reaching to grab hold of the air in front of him. His body slips into the water. Actually, he doesn’t slip so much as he plunges with a big splash.

  “Dale!” Wick cries.

  Wick stands up and immediately tips over, falling into the boat’s bottom. He’s facedown. I think he’s passed out. Dale is bobbing helplessly in the Atlantic beside the dinghy. Several yards away from the raft, I see a gray fin lower itself beneath the choppy waves.

  Sov and Munny hurry to Dale’s side of the raft. They jump into the ocean. Some things are moving so quickly, while at the same time other things are happening in slow motion. The basket is arriving at a snail’s pace. But the shark is approaching at lightning speed. I can see the top of its dark body as it swims toward Dale. Its head is shaped like a shovel. Maybe six out of eight was too high. Maybe we’re going to lose one more. Maybe only five of us will survive. Or four. Or three.

  Landon turns Wick over. If he doesn’t, Wick’ll drown. He rests Wick on his side and pats his back. Water flows out of Wick’s mouth. He coughs. At the same time, Munny and Sov hook their arms around Dale and shove him onto the raft. I reach out and grab Dale, pulling him on board. He slides onto the floor of the raft, his muscles jittering beneath his skin. He didn’t have enough strength to pull himself to safety.

  Sov and Munny are still in the water. The shark is almost to them. It’s approaching like a torpedo. They’re not strong. They’re the weakest among us. They jumped in without the life jacket. This is not fair, I think. Help them. Help them. I reach my arms out to them. Munny grabs onto the raft first. Sov flings his arms over a second later. It’s unreal. They each grab one of my hands. I crouch and try to lower my center of gravity, anchoring myself. Landon sees what’s happening and holds onto my waist. Sov’s and Munny’s shoulder muscles and biceps harden like stones as they both swing their bodies over the side, and roll on board. The shark lowers itself and swims underneath the raft. I look at them, stunned.

  Wick continues coughing. Dale gasps for air. My mouth is open. Sov and Munny are breathing heavily, but they’re not out of breath. Even with my help, they pulled themselves onto the raft without any problem at all.

  “How did you do that?” I ask.

  “Adrenaline,” Sov says.

  “Plus, we wasted as little energy as possible on that stupid log,” Munny says.

  It was a stupid log. It’s like a villain. That’s probably why Dale didn’t have the strength to get back in the raft.

  “Thank you,” Dale says. His voice is desperately sincere.

  “I couldn’t let a shark get you,” Sov says. “You’re a survivor.” He sings this a little, though it’s hard to hear over the noise of the propeller.

  “Oh my God. Oh my God,” Dale says. He peels himself out of his sopping wet jacket and lets it fall to the raft’s floor. He’s touching his chest and legs and butt, checking himself. “It didn’t bite me?”

  “You’re safe,” Munny says. “Breathe.”

  “I don’t think I need to try cocaine now,” Dale says.

  The basket is beside the dinghy. The wash of water created by the rotor is intense. I think it even scares away the shark. Landon pulls the basket to the raft and helps set me inside. It’s like a stretcher with metal walls. I lean back and rest my head against a flotation buoy.

  “You’re saved,” he says, kissing me on top of my head. I glance at Wick before I let go of Landon. Wick is still coughing.

  I can barely hear the guys talk. They’re figuring out who should go up next.

  The basket is smoothly lifted by a machine in the helicopter. I watch the raft growing smaller. The guys look so puny down there. I can feel the basket reach the top. A man pulls m
e into the helicopter. It looks like he’s wearing earmuffs and a wetsuit.

  “Survivor at the cabin door,” he says, setting me on the floor. “Survivor getting out of the basket.”

  I feel heavy and light at the same time. I can hear them talking. They’re lowering the basket again. I stare out the door of the helicopter. I’m in the sky. Above the water. I’m alive. I wonder who I’ll see next. Probably Sov. That makes sense. I feel somebody pull me farther away from the door.

  “Welcome aboard. I’ll get you some water. Then I’m going to give you an IV.”

  I’ve collapsed. I feel like I’m going to be unconscious soon. But I feel a sharp pain in my head. I’m leaning against a wall, and my barrette is digging into my scalp. Why did I even wear this thing? Why did I even keep it? Like hair really matters when you’re adrift at sea. I reach to take it out. The man sees what I’m doing. He unclips it and presses it into my hand.

  “You’ll want to save that. That’s how we found you. It reflected the sun and caught Daphne’s eye.” The man points to the pilot. She must be Daphne. I didn’t realize Coast Guard pilots were women.

  Holy shit, I think to myself. This trinket saved me. This stupid trinket saved us all.

  Holding the barrette in my hand, I feel a pinch on my arm. It must be the IV. I’m so tired. I can hear the rope whistle as the basket rises again.

  “You’ve been all over the news,” a voice says. “Eight teens adrift. It’s a national story.”

  I don’t respond. I don’t care about that. It’s over. And we’re not eight. We’re only six. But we’re safe.

  The basket arrives and it doesn’t hold Sov. It’s Wick. I lift myself off the floor a little. My heart quickens and I feel myself filling with excitement. He’s pulled from the basket and he crawls toward me. He drapes an arm over me and the rest of his body collapses. We lie down beside each other. We don’t say anything. For the first time since Wick walked out of my kitchen, what’s happening feels like what should be happening.

  “Enid,” he says. His arm tries to pull my body closer to his.

  “Wick,” I say, as I let myself be pulled.

  Thank God. Thank God. This is what it feels like to be rescued. Wick and I don’t say anything else. I wonder who is in the next basket.

  “Survivor at the cabin door.”

  I am barely able to lift my head. It’s Dale. Sov and Munny and Landon sent Dale next. I close my eyes. Sov will be next. Then Munny. Then Landon. We’re all making it. We survived.

  Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. The helicopter blades cut though the air so powerfully that they vibrate my bones. They create a spectacular rhythm inside of me. For some reason, suspended in midair, I think of the ark, and the animals galloping off the boat to feel their own weight on land again. I’m not thinking of the animals in the needlepoint, but real flesh-and-blood animals. Their hoofed and clawed feet pounding against the newly rediscovered muddy earth. Myth or not, I think I know how it must have felt to arrive after the flood.

  As I drift to sleep beside Wick, I hear them thundering over the earth. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. The sound sings through me and delivers me to a place of dreams, where there is land, and there is life, and there is joy.