“What the hell just happened?” I ask, as much to myself as to him.
“I think earlier I accidentally released one of the ropes that was supporting the raft, and then you must have pulled another, or maybe tugged on the wrong board?”
I look at him. He’s soaking wet and clearly terrified, and it makes my own fear spiral.
“Why were you down there in the first place?” I ask.
Elliot shakes his head. “I was looking for privacy, I guess. I don’t know. My dad is acting like a dick because he’s stressed about a work thing, and I needed space.” He buries his face in his hands. “Shit. I’m sorry. Shit, shit, shit.”
“This is a nightmare,” I say, babbling with no filter. “How the hell did I pull the damn structure down? But I guess I saw you, and I thought about how I was supposed to find you. Now I don’t even have a life jacket. And fuck! You’re Darryl Peterson’s son. I might die with my boss’s son. I should have gone to get someone from the boat to help.”
Elliot coughs out something like a cry. “Fuck.” He takes his life jacket off and shoves it to me. “You can have this one.”
“Don’t give me your life jacket!” I practically shriek, horrified that he would just give it up. “You could die!”
“No one is going to die,” he yelps back and pulls it back on. “Stop saying we’re going to die.”
I spin around, searching the horizon. Clearly, we might die. The night is dark around us, clouds forming over the stars, and the sea is empty, although I might spot some boats in the far distance.
With a deep breath, I try to calm my thoughts. The situation is dire, and death is a distinct possibility, but any chance at survival will require a clear mind.
“Okay,” I say as evenly as I can, turning back to Elliot while my heart kicks against my ribs. “We are close to Seattle, and likely in well-traveled waters. The sea is relatively calm. And I’m sure there’s some kind of alert system on the boat, cameras or something. In addition, I ran into your dad on the deck, and he was already looking for you. It won’t be long until they send a search party for us.”
The rationalizing helps ease my panic, but a stiff breeze over the water reminds me of the encroaching cold, the temperature dropping.
Elliot hugs his knees to his chest. “I can’t believe the survival plan hinges on Dad caring that I disappeared,” he mutters to himself.
I frown. Elliot has hardly endeared himself to me, but I’m not surprised to hear that his father is a difficult man, and some sympathy works through all the other emotions. Before I can figure out what to say, Elliot talks.
“You’re right. One way or another, we’ll be rescued soon. Nothing to worry about.”
Not exactly what I said, but whatever. “We need to sit tight until then,” I say with a firm nod.
I shiver, and Elliot hugs himself.
“I don’t know the first thing about rafts,” he mutters.
I shake my head. “Neither do I.” When I glance up at the sky, the clouds are parted enough that I recognize the star pattern. “I know which way is north, though.”
Elliot glances up, too. “Then you know which way the shore is?”
I orient myself for a minute before pointing east. “That direction.”
“Should we paddle with our hands?”
“If the casino boat comes back, we should be in the same place,” I point out, but as I do, the raft bobs again, a wave taking us south and demonstrating the futility of that plan. “Trying to keep toward land isn’t a bad idea.”
We both lean over our side of the raft. I stretch my hand down and attempt to paddle, splashing the water to no effect, although the confrontation with the endless darkness ignites my fear again.
Elliot yells something incomprehensible, and I turn.
“What?”
He sinks back into the raft, and it rocks to his side, forcing me to steady my end. “This is useless.”
The moon comes out, and as the brightened light dances across his features, I see him clearly for the first time. He’s got a round nose and colorful heart tattoos that crawl up his bicep, and wet hair is plastered to his forehead.
Suddenly, his eyes light up. Elliot finds his suit jacket, reaches into the pocket, and emerges with a full fist.
