Adrift

by K. M. Galvin

  He leans into me and turns his face to me, looking sleepy and out of it. My breath stalls at this move and its familiarity, but then the sound is there again.

  He blinks and coherence seeps back into his gaze as he straightens. “Is that…?”

  My eyes fill and I blink them away quickly. “I think it’s a bird. Maybe a seagull?”

  “I don’t know, but if there are birds they have to land somewhere, right?” His eyes gleam frighteningly in the moonlight; he turns back around and begins rowing in earnest now.

  “Let me help,” I demand, but he shrugs me off.

  “No; wind up the flashlight and see if you can see something up ahead. I don’t want to run into rocks or something,” he says instead, and I don’t bother pointing out we have a tiny flashlight, not a damn searchlight.

  I do as he asks, moving behind him again to the front of the boat and point the light out ahead. It’s swallowed almost instantly by the dark, but I glance above us towards the moon and see clouds hiding most of its light. I will them away, praying the moonlight to guide us.

  I focus the light towards the sounds of birds instead, hoping to catch a glimpse. My grip on the flashlight is almost painful as I pin all my hopes on them being seagulls. They can’t travel too far from land, right? So we have to be close.

  We have to be.

  If this is all some crazy hallucination and there’s nothing—no, there will be land. Don’t lose hope yet, I urge myself. We’ve survived this long; we can do this.

  “See anything?” East asks, hope high in his voice.

  “Not yet, but listen.” I close my eyes in order to focus on the sounds of cawing. “It sounds like there’s more than one now. We have to be close to something, right?”

  “Yes, let’s just hope it’s land and not some dead whale.” He laughs quietly, but my stomach sinks at the possibility.

  “No, it has to be land. Even if they travel to a dead whale, they’d have to go back at some point.”

  “I was just kidding, Taylor,” he says softly, but I shake my head anyway.

  My hope is so fragile, even joking could shake it. I’m not strong like him, believing this entire time there would be land.

  But it doesn’t come quickly or even this night.

  I fall asleep holding the light ahead of us and my dreams are filled with sandy beaches, coconuts, and shade.

  I WAKE UP TO THE slow rocking of the boat. It seems a little more intense than previously and I shudder at the thought of trying to make it through another storm in this thing. We won’t make it.

  I tilt my head to look behind me and wince at the position East fell asleep in. Both is hands are still holding the paddles, but he’s folding over on one side, his head dangling at an angle I know is going to be painful when he wakes up.

  Standing, I slowly make my way towards him, grasping on the sides of the boat as it rocks ominously. My brow wrinkles in confusion; why is it rocking so much? We both got our sea legs within the first day.

  I stand slowly, hanging onto the side, and look around me, mouth falling open at where I see we are.

  My scream of excitement startles East and has him leaping to his feet. Of course, this knocks the whole boat into wobbling, and I tilt backwards as my balance is knocked for a loop. I hit the water with a splash, wincing because I hit sand.

  I come up sputtering, East yelling for me to hang on, and I smile because I can stand. I get up while he’s grabbing one of the paddles for me to hang onto and outright laugh as he turns around to gape.

  “I can stand!” I yell out, kicking water up at him.

  “You’re—you’re standing on sand?” His eyes widen as he looks around before shouting in excitement. “A sandbar!”

  “East, look behind me.” I smile hugely as we turn towards the island about a mile away from where we’re beached.

  “Land,” he whispers, and I watch as his throat works to contain his emotion. “We did it.”

  “You did it,” I correct.

  “Hop back in. I’m going to push us off the sand. Here, help push with the paddles,” he orders, renewed energy in his every movement.

  I climb back in as East leaps off, his movements somehow still graceful, and moves around to the back of the boat. I take his place and grab both paddles. They feel like boulders in my tired arms, but there’s hope now. Land! I dig them into the sand, helping him push.

  It takes an exhausting hour to move the boat off the sand, sweat sluicing down our backs and arms, but finally we’re free. East climbs back in and moves to take the paddles, but I shake my head. I have to help; I’ve done nothing—

  “Let me take one, Taylor,” he pleads, and I realize he wants to finish the job more than I want to save my pride. I move over to the side and he takes a seat next to me. We paddle in tandem, our progress slow, but finally we manage to catch some of the waves and let them do most of the work for us.

  It takes nearly two hours to cover the little over a mile between being beached on the sandbar and the beach. It’s exhausting work for someone in shape, let alone our weary bodies, but adrenaline is on our side. When we ride the last wave up onto the sandy beach, East jumps out of the boat and runs up the beach. I watch as he sinks into the sand, shoulders shaking, and I know he’s crying.

  I avert my gaze and swallow my own tears, instead pulling our paddles into the boat and hopping into the water to push the boat up onto sand so it doesn’t wash away out to sea with the tide.

  “East, help me,” I shout, and he leaps up to grab the front of the boat to pull.

  He doesn’t look at me and I don’t look at him. I’m nearing the need to break down the closer we get to safety. Or safer than we were, at least. Having solid ground under my feet is nearly too unbelievable to comprehend. Once the boat is safe, I tell East I have to use the restroom and take off towards the tree line.

  Such a lie; I haven’t used the restroom in days and he knows it, but says nothing.

  My feet hurt as I run over rocks, branches, and God knows what else, but it feels good. Solid, unshakable Earth. The buoyancy of being on water is a distant memory already. I glance behind me to make sure I’m out of sight before sinking to my knees and leaning against a tall palm tree.

  I let the tears come freely. It feels good to not have to be strong. To no longer pretend we’ll be fine, that we’re not slowly starving to death, that a storm could come and wipe us out of existence. I give into the fear and simultaneous relief of being alive and on land.

  We have a chance. We have a fucking chance.

  “Taylor! Where did you go?” East yells, and I hear the uncertainty and fear in his voice.

  “Coming!” I call out, wiping my cheeks and taking a deep breath.

  I look around me and spot a fallen coconut; my stomach cramps painfully at the thought of drinking its water and eating the coconut inside. Grabbing it, I make my way back to the beach, this time looking around. The brush is thicker the further in from the tree line. The closer I get to the beach, the easier it is to walk.

  It’s a minute before I see East, and his shoulders relax the second he spots me. Guilt twinges inside and I go to apologize, but he interrupts. “Aw, shit, Taylor. Look at your feet.”

  I look down and wince at the scrapes, some of them bleeding already.

  “I’ll go stand in the water and clean them,” I murmur and move to the water before I spin around, remembering what I have in my hands. “Look!” His face lights up and he slaps his hands together before holding them out to me. I toss him the coconut and he catches it easily. “See if you can crack it open, but be careful. We need the water.”

  I sink to the sand and stretch my legs out into the shoreline, letting the water lap at my new cuts. Grimacing, I take some of the sand and rub it along my unhurt skin, savoring the exfoliation. It’s not much, but I feel cleaner than I did moments ago.

  Shading my eyes, I squint towards the sky and frown. The sun is almost at its highest point and already my skin feels tight. G
lancing behind me, I see East using the knife on our breakfast…or I guess lunch now.

  Rinsing off, I make my way back towards him. “We need to figure out some kind of shelter situation before we roast.”

  East points behind him. “We can hide from the sun in there.”

  “We don’t even know what’s in there. Snakes, animals, who knows?” I shake my head and move to grab the tarp. “We can make a sort of tent.”

  “Why not just sleep in the boat?” he counters and shouts in happiness as the coconut splits open. Handing me one of the halves, he tilts his towards his lips and frowns. “No coconut water.”

  “It’s probably not ripe. There’s a ton in the palms up there.” I point behind him and grab the knife from him to cut a slice of the white meat.

  “Even more reason to find shelter up there,” he thinks out loud, finally seeing my point.

  I chew a slice, eyes closing in rapture before shaking my head. “How about we sleep in the boat for now, use the tarp to cover us, and tomorrow we explore new shelter ideas. We need water and fire tonight.”

  “Do you know how to make a fire?” he asks over a mouthful, and I shake my head nervously.

  “We could use one of the flares?” I suggest, and his head tilts as he weighs the option.

  “True, but what if a boat or a plane is nearby…” He trails off, and I know he’s probably thinking the same thing as me: It’s been nearly a full week and there has been no sign of anyone near us.

  “Then they’ll see our fire. We’ll spell something out on the beach. Burn some dead leaves and create smoke for a signal—” I list our options before he holds up a hand to cut me off.

  “Fine, but only one, so we need to keep the fire going,” he concedes and it’s tough. He doesn’t want to give up on his brother yet.

  I eat another slice of coconut before handing the knife back to him. “I’ll go collect some dry wood.”

  “I can help,” he starts to protest, but I wave him off.

  “Seriously, East, you saved our asses. Eat your coconut and relax for a few. I’ll be right back. I’m going to build it up there in that shady area.” I point to a somewhat clear spot on the sand where a large palm casts a decent amount of shade.

  I try to work quickly, knowing the quicker this task is done, the sooner I can relax. Exhaustion seems to be the only thing I can feel anymore, but at least the coconut is in my system. I grab some good-sized sticks and some bark that’s fallen on the ground and pile it up. We won’t use that much all at once—don’t want to smother the fire—but it’ll be good to have some on deck.

  I’m sweating profusely by the time I’m done and stretch my back as it protests, looking up at the palm to see if there are any greener coconuts. Spotting some instantly, I look around for something to throw and nearly topple over from dizziness.

  Jesus Christ.

  Groaning loudly in frustration, I sit down next to my stack of wood and hang my head between my knees, breathing deeply and evenly. We need water; coconut water will have to do, but we need something. If I’m feeling like this, he has to be worse. I haven’t been paddling for days or catching fucking fish. I’ve been sick on my ass and sleeping the days away.

  I’m not going to be the weak one here.

  Calling on every ounce of energy, I haul myself off the ground and fill the pockets of my cotton shorts with rocks. Pretty idiotic, since it made my shorts fall down. Rolling my eyes, I tie the shorts tighter, hyperaware of the weight I’ve lost. Grabbing one of my rocks, I squint up at the closest coconut and take a few steps back.

  My first attempt misses the tree.

  Growling, I throw one, two, three more with no luck. I collect my rocks and start again. Fuck. This. Shit.

  “Give me that coconut, you dick!” I scream and launch another one. Miss.

  “Goddammit, you fucker! Give me this!” Another miss.

  I hold the next one between my palms as if in prayer and threaten all that’s good in this world. “I did not just survive a sinking boat, a storm, infection, and starvation to FAIL NOW!”

  Yes, I’m being dramatic, but good God. Come on!

  I kept whispering threats to the dumb rock in my hands before launching it as hard and accurately as I can, screaming when it knocked that son of a bitch down.

  “Ha! Ha! I got you, you bastard! You’re mine! Mine!” I squeal, grabbing the greenish coconut and giving it a giant kiss.

  The sound of cracking branches and running has me turning to see a terrified East darting towards me. Oops!

  “I’m fine! Sorry, sorry,” I apologize sheepishly when he halts next to me, breathing hard. “I got a little excited.”

  “Fuck,” he gasps and shakes his head. “Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me.”

  I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it. Maybe it’s the sun, dehydration, or bone weariness, but I lose it. Seeing him running at me all freaked out and concerned when all I’m doing is cussing out a coconut…Jesus, what a pair. I bend over, wheezing from how hard I’m laughing. When I start to cough, I hand him my prize and wave a hand to tell him I’m all right.

  “I think I’ve finally lost it, East!” I giggle, following him back towards the boat.

  “What do you mean finally? You cracked long ago,” he jokes, tossing a grin over his shoulder.

  “Well, well, well, look at who’s arrived. Your sense of humor!” I push his shoulder and run to pick up the knife. “Now don’t crack it open, just see if you can wedge a hole. Or dig a hole with the knife. Like a little spout.”

  He nods and slams the knife into the coconut, startling me.

  “Shit! How about you calm down, coconut killer, before you accidentally stab yourself,” I admonish, but all he does is chuckle, focusing on his task.

  I roll my lips under my teeth in order to stop myself from yelling, “Hurry up!” The thought of having something to eat and drink all in one day is too much. I’m savage about my survival at this point. The ocean didn’t beat us; I refuse to allow this tiny island to get the jump on us.

  “Got it!” He yelps and throws the knife into the ground. Sighing under my breath, I bend down to pick up the knife and toss it back into the boat. East tilts the coconut up towards his mouth and I watch his eyes pop wide as the water hits his tongue.

  He takes one more swig before passing it to me. “Here, drink the rest.”

  I take it gratefully and tilt it towards my lips. The first drop of sweet, cool liquid hitting my tongue has tears welling in my eyes. God, I’m such a crier these days. I do as he says and drink the rest before tossing the coconut towards our boat. We can eat it later.

  “I’ve got some wood. Let’s get the fire going. The idea of napping by fire is too tempting right now. We both deserve some sleep.” I grab a flare out of our pack and head back to the clearing.

  East makes quick work and soon we have a small tower of wood. I pull the string at the bottom that ignites the flare and set it directly in the middle of the dried firewood. It doesn’t take long and soon we’ve got ourselves some fire. Our bellies are full…ish, and we’ve had something to drink.

  “It might be a little early to brag, but I think your brother would be proud of us, East.”

  East gives me a small smile before bedding down on the other side of the fire. I lie down in the warm sand and stare up at the sky peeking through the leaves swaying in the light breeze. The cracking of the fire and soft calls of nature lull me into the first normal sleep I’ve had in days.

  THE NEXT DAY, EAST DECIDES to explore and look for water. He grabs the pot and the knife, promising to be back by sundown. My stomach clenches nervously as I watch him walk along the beach. We haven’t been separated in days and I feel a little codependent on him. Plus the idea of him wandering around into unknown territory has me more than a little freaked out. What if he gets hurt?

  Hands on hips, I survey our little camp. Last night we worked on clearing our daytime space and laid down some ferns we found for added protectio
n against insects. We ate the rest of our protein bars and the coconut I knocked down for dinner.

  We were going to need a lot more food to survive now that we were expending more energy. I empty the survival bag’s main compartment and decide to bring it along with me as I forage. Maybe we lucked out and landed on an island full of fruit.

  I loop the strap over my shoulders and wish for the thousandth time for a hair tie. God, maybe I should just hack it off….

  Shaking my head at my crazy thoughts, I set off into the brush, careful this time to not get scratched up. Or any more scratched up. East seems to have taken quite an interest in my health.

  Only because he doesn’t want to be here alone.

  “Shut. Up,” I mutter to myself, annoyed at the notions running around in my head.

  Neither of us is thinking about sex.

  Sex! Taylor, no one even mentioned sex.

  “God, it’s been too long.” I snort. Jamie and I hadn’t had sex in the months leading up to the breakup. At the time it never bothered me, but it seems like there’s nothing like a near-death experience and constant danger to rev a girl’s engine.

  What a freak.

  Besides, I’m currently rocking the shell-shocked, injured survivor look. Decidedly not attractive.

  I scratch my itchy scalp and wish for the millionth time for some shampoo. My kingdom for a brush! Anything to detangle the snarled rat’s nest on my head.

  Wait…how long have I been walking?

  I spin around, heartbeat escalating radically as my panic rises. Ok, ok, this is ok, Taylor. You’re fine. You just came that way—

  Or was it that way?

  “Shit!” I hiss and look at the ground to see if I can tell from there what path I took, but who the hell am I kidding? I’m not some tracker!

  Growling in frustration, I keep moving forward. Or backward. Left or right, I can’t fucking tell because everything looks the same in the jungle. Tree, tree, bush, tree, bush, bush, rocks… “Anything discernable would be massively appreciated right now!” I shout and listen for noises.

  “Where the hell is the wildlife?” I murmur; since hearing those birds earlier, I’ve heard nothing else.