“Maybe it’s Vancouver.”
I squint, too, peering, and paddle steadily. “Doubtful. Regardless, we’re moving northwest.”
Elliot stretches his arms above his head. “We got this,” he says. “I think that dot might even be a sailboat coming our way.”
I jerk my head to look, but don’t spot it.
“The ocean around the Salish Sea must be one of the most heavily trafficked waters in the region,” I say, returning to yesterday’s reasoning, which is much more comforting now that we have calm weather and land ahead.
“And there are search parties out looking specifically for us,” Elliot says.
I wrinkle my brow. “Presumably. Now that the storm’s passed.”
I’m not certain if a search party would have been sent for me. But I know enough about the world to know that children of very rich men tend to have all the public and private resources marshaled for their safe return.
“We’ll refresh at this island and, if there aren’t people around, wait for the search party to find us,” I say.
“It’s beautiful today,” Elliot says, glancing around. “If you ignore the mortal danger we’re in.”
I’m not ready to laugh, but I manage a wobbly half-smile for the sake of camaraderie. “Right. But let’s make sure to take that mortal danger seriously, too.”
We take turns rowing. My stomach rumbles with hunger, and thinking about how thirsty I am makes me panicky, but Elliot and I both manage to keep focused as we make our way to the island.
It rises up clearer. Waves beat a craggy shore, and scraggly lodgepole pines reach toward the sky. We approach a strikingly beautiful cove, where rocky land and driftwood give way to greenery and the island proper.
The verdant peak of a small, submerged mountain.
“Look at this,” Elliot says over his shoulder. “Gorgeous! No way this is uninhabited.”
We’re both in our dress pants and t-shirts, me in my socks and Elliot his shoes. I gather up our other clothes, preparing to arrive.
“How does the approach look?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Should I try to circle the island and see if there’s somewhere less rocky?”
“It’s probably all rocky. And we’re lucky we haven’t been sucked into a current yet. They’re strongest near land.” I consider our options. “It’s likely shallow in that little cove. Maybe we could jump out nearby and wade the raft to shore.”
“Got it.” Elliot gives me a determined nod over his shoulder and renews his force as he paddles us in. “We’re going to make it,” he says. “We’re really going to be okay, Hank.”
I let out a slow breath. I don’t share Elliot’s total confidence, but the optimism is probably helpful. I’m a pragmatist, and I know attitude is important.
If something tragic had happened to Elliot last night, I don’t know what I would have done. He played an outsize role in getting us into this mess, but this is the home stretch, and we’re in it together. Despite our dismal odds, I resolve to maintain my wits and get us both home alive and relatively unharmed.
“Yeah,” I manage. “Looks like we’re?—”
The raft jolts with a loud tearing sound, and Elliot and I tumble into the cold water.
