ALL THE ENTHUSIASM FROM DISCOVERING our good luck ran out barely two hours later. Neither of us wanted to talk; the heat and sun sucked out all our energy. We agreed only one bite of each energy bar made sense until we really new how dire our circumstances were.
Considering the wide expanse of blue surrounding us with no signs of life other than the two of us, I’d say it’s bleak.
We’re lucky with the water purifying tablets, but the downside there is that they don’t work on saltwater. I suppose if we ever find land, they’ll be handy. Until then, it’s swallowing spit and praying it rains again so we can collect it. How I wish we knew about the pot last night.
“Taylor, you should get back under the tarp. You’re getting sunburned.” East’s tired voice sounds from behind me and I turn my head slightly to see him lying underneath it in the shade.
Why I insisted on lying out here makes no sense, but I just—yeah, no idea. My brain seems to be filled with cotton and it pounds an unrelenting beat, making it further difficult to concentrate.
I get up on my hands and knees, crawling towards him only to collapse the second I’m out of the sun’s reach, hitting his arm in the process.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t apologize. We can’t afford you getting heat stroke,” he says simply, leaning over the side to dip the shirt he took off an hour ago into the water. He drapes the now wet shirt over my heated skin and I sigh in relief.
“My head—” I let out a little whine and he adjusts the shirt to cover my eyes. The coolness of the water mixed with the darkness the barrier provides calms the pounding exponentially.
I lick my lips, now wet from his shirt, and have to physically adjust his shirt so I don’t suck the water off it. Only thing worse than not having water is drinking saltwater.
“The captain had to have sent out a distress signal. I’m sure they’ll be searching for us. We couldn’t have drifted far.” East sounds so sure and I’m not positive whom he’s trying to comfort.
“Carter will look for you,” I whisper.
“Your family and friends will do the same,” he says confidently and I turn on my side so I’m facing away from him.
“Yeah…” I agree, but what am I supposed to say? That no one is looking for me?
“Let’s play a game,” East says suddenly, as if sensing the topic veered in the wrong direction.
“Let’s sleep,” I counter.
“Come on. I spy with my little eye, something… blue!” he yells and then cracks up.
I turn over and open an eye to peek at him. “You’ve already lost it, haven’t you? Dammit, I’m stuck on a tiny boat with a lunatic. Where’s the volleyball! Time for you to make a new friend.”
“Come on, Taylor!” he coaxes, shaking my shoulder, but I bat him away.
“No, leave me alone.”
“Fine. I’ll go for a swim.”
I snort because that would be ins—
I jump to my knees when I hear a loud splash. “East! What the fuck! Get back in the boat!” I climb over one of the two benches in the middle and look for him, yelling when he doesn’t immediately appear, “East! This isn’t funny!”
Water suddenly splashes my back and I whip around to see his beautifully idiotic face bobbing in the water behind me. “You idiot!”
“Taylor, I’m not going to lie in that boat waiting to die.” His grin disappears and he looks at me with sympathy. “I know you’re scared—”
“Listen to me, you clown! We don’t have a lot of food and no water. You are wasting precious calories. You’re sweating, even in water, and that’s going to dehydrate you further. You’re out in the sun, which is only going to exasperate all of this more. Most importantly, you don’t know what the hell is in the water!”
East’s face closes down as I berate him and I feel bad, but I can’t lose him. I need him to stay alive. “I’m sorry, I just need you,” I whisper selfishly.
I can’t do this alone.
He nods once and sinks below the surface, reappearing seconds later and pulling himself over the side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think of that. I just wanted to cheer you up, distract both of us…”
My heart clenches and I blow out a breath. “I know, but we have to be smart.”
We’re both quiet for the rest of the day, barely acknowledging one another. Even during our mealtime, which is a joke since it’s a small bite of our protein bars and it only further dries my mouth out. Worse, I’m becoming obsessed with numbers.
We require somewhere around two thousand calories a day, which is a joke. We’re barely getting twenty, so our weight loss will be rapid and our body will consume muscle mass after is destroys our fat stores.
My father always stressed the importance of staying hydrated. Three days tops without water, after that it gets bad. Though I’ve heard some people surviving beyond a week. We can last days without food, but that’s usually if you stay hydrated.
It’s been thirty-six hours since the boat went down and we’ve seen no signs of anyone else. I’m convinced more than ever that the storm blew us much further away than anticipated. I have no way to even orient myself because it’s just blue. Everywhere.
The sun provides a general idea of where east and west is, but where we are in relation to land is a mystery. I don’t want to voice my fears to East.
He, for the most part, lies on his side facing away from me. For the lack of space we have, he seems able to put the ocean we float on directly between us. I realize this is my fault, but I don’t know him. He’s a stranger, but we’re in this impossible situation and he’s already proven he will take risks that could jeopardize both of us.
Night falls again and I welcome it, one more day gone. At the same time, my anxiety spikes because night is when the hunters come out. The ocean has never seemed more threatening than in the dark, with the moon glinting over it, the casual splash somewhere in the distance.
Only there’s nothing causal in that noise; it usually means death for something or at the very least, the knowledge we’re not alone any longer.
The swaying of the boat and East’s even breathing put me to sleep hours ago so when I wake up and it’s still dark, I’m confused for a moment. Then the boat jerks again and I realize something has discovered us, only it’s not by someone here to save us.
“East,” I whisper, shaking his shoulder. His skin is fiery hot, even in the dark, and I’m momentarily worried before focusing again on what’s slamming into us.
“Taylor,” he murmurs and rolls over, facing me.
“No, wake up.” My voice is reedy with panic as the splashing around us increases.
East’s eyes pop open when whatever it is hits us again. He sits up instantly, nearly smacking my head in the process. “What the fuck was that?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper and crawl over to the flashlight, cranking it a few times before I flip on the light. It shakes in my hand as I move to the side of the boat, my breath coming so fast it sounds like I’m hyperventilating.
“Shine the light—” East begins impatiently, but I shush him.
“Give me a second, shit.” I blow out a breath and shine the light on the water.
At first there’s nothing and I begin to relax, but then a distinct fin cuts through the water, moving fast before sinking back into the depths. “Oh my God, oh my God.”
I shut the light off; suddenly terrified it saw us and knows we’re here. Irrational, I know, but holy shit. That’s a fucking shark. That’s a fucking shark! “East! That was a fucking shark!”
“Get away from the side.” His voice is eerily calm, shocking me out of my panic, and I find myself doing exactly that instantly.
“What the hell are we going to do?” I whisper, afraid it can hear us, and shake my head. I-I-I, but what do you do? “Were you bleeding when you went in the water before?”
East slants me a glance. “I didn’t bring it here.”
“I told you not to go in!”
“Shut up, Taylor.” East dismisses me and grabs the knife.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, what are you going to do? Knife it to death? Its teeth are bigger than that little toothpick.”
Suddenly East’s in my face, his breath fanning across my skin, and I can see nothing but his bright green eyes, wide and panicked. “If that thing is here, it’s because there’s food—and I don’t mean us. There has to be fish around here. We could get fish.”
“How?” I ask; it seems like an impossible and stupid task. We have the protein bars, no reason to risk ourselves.
“I’ve been night fishing with my father and uncles before. Of course, I had a fishing rod and bait then, but I’m hoping the light and heat from the flashlight will attract them. I’ll try to grab one.”
“And the knife?”
He’s silent for a moment, eyes roaming my face, and it’s obvious he’s debating telling me the truth, but lying only goes so far in an eight-foot boat.
“It’s also going to attract larger predators,” he says bluntly and gives me his back. “I need you to hold the light.”
“East—”
“Taylor!” he yells, startling me. “Just do it!”
“Yell at me one more time, dick,” I mutter, but slide over and crank the flashlight again, hoping to make it last a while. It’s getting harder and harder to do, my bicep protesting the movement with every rotation.
“Shine it there.” He points to the space in front of him as he leans over, adjusting the knife in his grip.
I bite my lip and follow his instruction, looping my feet around the edges of the bench to give myself something to hold onto in case I have to grab him when the shark comes back and definitely tries to drag him under.
This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done and I’m not even really doing anything.
I open my mouth to ask how long this will take, my arm already protesting holding the light at such an angle, when East whips his head at me and glares. I swear to God, if he tells me to shut up one more time, even silently, I will push him over.
After what seems to be hours, I’m resting my head against my arm and elbow on my knee. Not the most comfortable position, but certainly more comfortable than the weird striking position East’s been holding for way too long. He’s going to be so sore and my heart pangs for being so rude earlier.
My vision blurs and I blink rapidly, forcing myself awake. The swishing of the water that frightened me so much earlier has turned into white noise at this point. It’s amazing how we can get used to frightening things the longer we’re exposed to them.
It’s only because I’ve been staring blankly at East that I notice the smallest tension enter his body, and my body reacts instantly. Sitting up straight as I can without jostling the light, I watch as he leans into a deep squat, eyes narrowed and unblinking.
In a move that startles the hell out of me, his left hand, the one without the knife, strikes lightning fast into the water and back out, flinging something into the boat that has me blinking stupidly at him.
“Holy fuck,” East whispers in amazement, clearly as surprised as I am that he actually did it.
My arm drops and I focus the light on the fish flopping around on our boat, mouth gaping open as it gasps for breath. I can’t even bring myself to feel sympathy; I’m so hungry.
It’s a good size too, probably about half a foot long; the silvery scales flash in the light. I continue to stare, dumbfounded at our luck, when East snaps out of it and moves towards the little guy. He leans over the boat to gut it when I leap forward and halt the knife.
“You can’t gut it in the water. That’s like chumming it for sharks. We have to do it in here.” My nose wrinkles at the impending stench.
East nods before looking around and zeroing in on the survival kit. I watch as he rips open the bag holding all the medical supplies and dumps it into one of the side pockets on the kit. “We can put the innards in here.”
I smile at his resourcefulness. “Great idea. You’re full of them tonight.”
East snorts. “I’m as shocked as you are that it worked. It’s definitely a one-off. There’s no way I can strike gold twice.”
“Who knows, maybe you’ve discovered your calling,” I joke, wincing as he chops the head off cleanly. I watch as he hesitates with what to do next. “So I guess these fishing expeditions didn’t teach you how to clean a fish?”
East flashes an embarrassed smile. “I’m more of a catch-and-release kind of guy.”
“Why do I feel like that’s your life motto?” I wink to let him know I’m joking and wiggle my fingers for him to hand over the knife. “Will you hold the bag open for me, please?”
“You did say please,” he agrees and scoots up close to me, watching what I do intently. It feels good to be helpful. I make quick work of the fish, slicing out two filets and cutting off the skin so we won’t ingest any scales. Thank you, Dad, for dragging me out nearly every Saturday morning to go fishing.
“It’s sloppy work, but I’m so hungry I can’t be bothered to be neat about it,” I say as I hand him his half and watch as he studies it.
“Pretend it’s sushi, right?” He maintains eye contact with me as he leans in for a bite. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth, trying to hide my smile as he gags and forces it down. “Ugh, fuck!”
I snicker and take a bite of mine, wrinkling my nose at the taste. It’s an explosion of flavor on my tongue and in no way is it a good one, but I concentrate on the protein we’re getting and am able to get it all down, breathing heavily through my nose.
It’s stupid to think it works instantly, but I could swear I feel the calories and protein already helping my poor body. I already feel energetic, which is why it’s surprising that I yawn loudly.
I watch East choke down his fish, realizing it’s getting easier to see him in the dark, and turn to look behind me as the sun peeks over the horizon. I rest my head in my hand, blinking sleepily as the rays crawl across the water, reaching out like fingers as warmth crawls over our boat and up our bodies.
Day two approaches so quietly, I’m almost fooled into thinking we’re safe. But quiet is the enemy in which my mind spirals. I hear rustling behind me and I turn to see East crawling back under the makeshift tent. I move to follow him. We’ve become vampires, eating flesh and blood, hiding from the sun.
But it’s better to be undead than just dead, I suppose.