Adrift Read online

  “Yeah, and apparently I’m not as crucial to the operations as I thought. That’s always been my excuse, you know? To avoid commitment, to avoid everything. I have to be there for this company, I’m the president, what would they do without me?”

  “Well, I’m glad you decided to take a vacation then. Unfortunate it had to be this vacation, but you know. Can’t win them all.” I’m about to continue when a loud clap of thunder startles a cry out of me, and then the rain comes. The downpour hitting the tarp is deafening and I grope in the darkness for his hand, finding it almost instantly.

  The little boat is rocking now, though rocking seems a tame word. It feels as if we are being tossed between waves, from one to the other, and my stomach surges into my throat. I will the contents back down, knowing that if I do survive this, losing what precious little I have in my stomach is not an option.

  I change my grip on East’s hand, linking my fingers between his, and finally give in to the urge to cry as loud as I want. The need to stay strong for both of us no longer necessary in the dark and under the cover of storm, my cries are swept away by the screaming wind and pounding rain.

  Curling onto my side, I hug his hand to my chest, no longer caring about propriety, just needing to know someone is here with me, and close my eyes. I pray for the sounds to stop, the feeling of being sick to go away, to wake up from the fucking nightmare and be back in Seattle next to Jamie. For my dad to call me in the morning and wish me a good day.

  I wish I never turned on that stupid ass show.

  “Taylor,” someone whispers, and I feel fingers rub gently against my cheek, moving some of my hair out of the way. “Taylor,” the voice repeats, and I blink my eyes open to find East’s face inches from my own.

  Pain erupts all over my body and my face crumples in despair because yesterday was not a dream. It’s real. We are lost at sea. Who the hell knows where that storm blew us? It’s amazing we even survived.

  “I know, I know, but I need you to help me push the tarp back. We need to see where we are.” East pets my hair.

  “In the middle of the fucking ocean, East, that’s where we are!” I snarl and instantly regret it when his face drops.

  “I’m trying here, Taylor. I need you to just hang out a little longer with me. I can’t lose you yet. I need you to stay strong.”

  Just live, squirrel.

  “Fine.” I push up onto my knees and elbows, wincing as my bruised body protests loudly, and move to the front of the boat to unsnap the top as East works on the sides. We peel it back so half the boat stays covered and the rest is open to the sun—and holy shit…

  I gasp loudly, blinking away the blinding light and lift my hand to shade my eyes. “Jesus, it’s bright.”

  “Direct sunlight and it’s reflecting off the water,” East grunts, shading his eyes too, and crawls up to where I sit with my back against the left side of the boat, legs stretched out in front of me.

  It’s the first time I get to inspect myself in clear light since everything happened and the light is not kind to my body. It shows on every bruise, cut, and abrasion on my legs.

  “Shit,” I mutter and check out my arms, thankful those seem otherwise fine. “How bad does my head look? Hopefully not as bad as my legs.”

  East moves in close to inspect the cut on my forehead and I stare at his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as his lips nearly graze my skin. He gently prods the tender skin around the cut, then feels the back of my head where my hair is matted.

  “They look superficial. You’ve got a pretty big knot on the back of your head. You should clean the cuts on your legs.”

  “Let me check you out,” I say, turning towards him and blushing when I realize how my words could be taken. I sink my fingers into his close-cropped black hair and feel for the bump, but find none. “Head’s ok.”

  “I think I fared a lot better than you.” He grins slightly and leans over me, reaching for something. “Let’s see what they have in the first aid kit.”

  “Wait.” I hesitate, wrapping a hand around his wrist. “We shouldn’t use this unless absolutely necessary.” East tilts his head in confusion and I continue, “My wounds are superficial. They need to be cleaned, but I can use saltwater. We shouldn’t touch the medical supplies unless we absolutely have no other choice.”

  He nods slowly and moves over me to the other side, where the rest of the supplies are. “Ok, that makes sense. Let’s see what else we have.”

  He starts unzipping the compartments and pulls out the large first aid kit, then hands it to me. I open it and find gauze, Band-Aids, aspirin, cleansing wipes, gloves, and a small pair of scissors, adhesive tape, and an EpiPen. Much more than I ever hoped for.

  I look over to East to see what he’s stacking into a pile and see a knife, rope, four more flares, a distress flag, an air horn, a small pot, water purifying tablets, an emergency blanket, and two protein bars.

  East pauses and looks at all of this before closing his eyes and mumbling under his breath.

  “What?” I ask him, confused by his response.

  He turns to me with an over-bright smile and blinks tears from his eyes. “This is my brother’s work.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Carter is a survivalist junkie. All he does is watch Naked and Afraid and Alone, and worships Bear Grylls. He loves this stuff. No way was he letting me go out to sea without making sure the boat was stocked just in case.”

  I laugh a little and send a silent thank you to fate for putting me on a boat with a man whose brother is a paranoid survivalist. “If we survive this, remind me to kiss the hell out of him.”

  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 veer
ed 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?”