Page 2

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.

“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.

“My lighter!” he says, triumphant. “Maybe this will help.” He laughs to himself. “And hey, my joints made it, too. They’re in these plastic tubes that kept them dry.”

“Please do not smoke weed right now,” I manage.

He’s clearly irresponsible. I shouldn’t have caved about the rope ladder. I’m the older one here, on top of the responsibility given to me by the CFO, and I quickly resolve that it’s my job to keep us safe.

Elliot scoffs. “I’m not going to smoke a joint right now. Give me a little credit,” he says defensively and flicks the wet lighter, which fails to ignite. “But a lighter has got to be good for something. Maybe a ship will notice the flame.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I manage, demoralized. The flame will be tiny, but I don’t need to point that out.

I rub my hands together. Fifteen minutes ago, I was working up the gumption to conquer small talk. Now, I’m risking life and limb with a stoner twink who happens to be my boss’s son. I’d give anything to return to a dreadful work event right now.

Elliot and I sit in silence for a minute, each watching the cruise ship shrink toward nothing.

“There are probably sharks out here,” he says.

There are definitely sharks out here.

“Best not to think about that,” I offer weakly, and as I do, it begins to sprinkle.

“I’ve heard that dolphins are violent, too,” he says. “We need a plan if something attacks us.”

Gentle rain patters the raft.

“I wish I had something encouraging to say, but I imagine if any form of marine life attacks us, we’re going to lose the fight.”

Elliot buries his face in his hands. “Fuck,” he says again.

I lean back, and when the raft rocks my way, I move my body toward the middle to steady it again.

My gaze drifts across the eerie, black ocean. To my surprise, one of the lights I spotted earlier is much bigger, approaching roughly in our direction.

Elliot is muttering to himself, face in his hands. With a deep breath, I summon all my strength and determination.

“Give me the shirts,” I tell him, and when Elliot looks up with wide eyes, I point. “There’s another boat coming.”

Elliot bolts upright and hands me the shirts. Immediately, I untie them, making two reasonable flags instead of one limp rope.

“We’ll each cover one side,” I tell him, “and try to wave in patterns of three. But don’t go all the way to the edge. It seems to make the raft unsteady. Got it?”

Elliot nods. “Got it.”

I’m hardly an optimist, but as I steady my breathing, I do my best to believe that this can work. We’ll wave these pathetic flags like two doomed saps, and soon enough, this entire nightmare will be over.

Or at least that’s what I tell myself as thunder crashes in the distance.