CHAPTER TWO
HANK
As we fall off the casino boat, everything happens in flashes.
First, as the life raft bounces away from the ship, Elliot tumbles off. Next, I flail my arms and soar through the air above him, and then he’s above me again.
There’s a heavy thud and the whoosh of ice cold, and the scrape of plastic against my side.
The world is painful and dark and blue. Sound rushes in my ears, and my arms and legs are moving wildly. I throw my head back and gasp air and realize that I’m in the water, holding the edge of the life raft.
Elliot flails in the frigid sea alongside me, finally grabbing the raft himself.
My brain starts to process. I feel the pull of the water, currents dragged by the ship’s wake. “Get on,” I yell to Elliot as I climb the raft. “Use the grips on the side!”
Elliot pulls himself up as a wave rocks us. Luckily, the life raft is made for this, but it still takes all my strength to drag my body.
I collapse on the wet plastic, heaving my breath. Beside me, Elliot coughs out water, the life jacket hanging from his shoulders. I’m down a shoe, I see, so I pull the other off, tossing it aside.
For a second, I’m relieved. We’re in the raft, not drowning under the ship.
But then I look up, and I see the casino boat cruising away.
“No!” I wave my arms, terrified. “No! No! Come back!”
Elliot pushes himself up. “Oh, fuck,” he says. “Why is it going so fast? I thought it just floated in place once we got out to the ocean.”
“I don’t know!” I answer, panicking. I slap my pockets, looking for my phone without finding it.
Elliot notices what I’m doing and does the same. He pulls his soaking phone out, but I can see from his face that it’s dead, and it’s not like I have a bag of rice in my pocket.
I look around frantically. “Where are the rest of the supplies? There’s got to be another life jacket. A safety flare. Something!”
Elliot looks under the seats. “Nothing. Maybe it all fell out.”
I lean back against the side, cold and terrified as my heart pounds. We’re floating in the ocean, and I don’t even have my own life jacket.
Elliot stands halfway, waving his arms at the departing ship. “Hey!” he yells, his voice swallowed by the ocean’s noise. “Hey! Someone!”
Although I know it’s hopeless, I rise up, one hand steady on the side of the raft, and wave my arm, too.
Elliot starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Give me your shirt,” he says.
“What?”
He shucks his life jacket, then pulls off his dress shirt and the T-shirt underneath, which he immediately begins to tie together. “Quick!” he urges me. “We can make a flag.”
It’s not the worst idea. Ditching my jacket, I strip. “We’re likely too distant already,” I point out.
Elliot grabs my shirt, tying it to his. “We have to try,” he says frantically.
Trembling, I give him my other shirt. When Elliot has them all tied together, he goes to the front of the raft and raises the wet mess over his head, the life jacket now hanging over his bare chest. I steady myself against the side and do my best to support him, one hand on his back, as he thwaps the clothes from side to side like a wet noodle, totally ineffective.
The boat continues to cruise away.
Elliot sits back down, gasping for breath. “Oh shit,” he says.
My brain reels as the raft bobs. We’re stranded at sea. This is a disaster.
