The Raft

by S.A. Bodeen

  No response, as expected.

  I sighed. Was it too much to want someone to talk to?

  nineteen

  After a few hours of intermittent bailing, I realized there was definitely a leak somewhere that was not going to stop letting water in. Something had to be done about it.

  Without thinking, I checked Max’s neck again. My fingertips couldn’t find a heartbeat and my own speeded up. I set my head against his chest, listening. Was that a heartbeat?

  Of course, of course it was.

  I sat up. Max is fine. He’s young and strong and he’s just resting.

  “But there’s barely a heartbeat.” I said it aloud. Did that make it true, me saying it aloud? No. “No one dies from a bump on the head.” Do they?

  Again, I checked for a pulse, then listened with my head on his chest. His chest was warm, not cold. He would be cold if he was dead, right?

  My face turned up to the sky and the sun. The day was hot. Even a dead cold fish would be warm after sitting out on a day like that.

  Stop it!

  My head sunk into my hands.

  What was I supposed to do? Someone needed to tell me what to do.

  “Tell me what to do!” I screamed at the sky. “Tell me what to do!” I sobbed. “Tell me what to do.”

  My dry throat hurt enough even without the yelling, so I stopped.

  Meanwhile, the raft continued to leak water and I knew I was losing the strength to bail.

  If we, me and Max, continued as we were, the raft would founder and we would end up in the ocean. Our combined weight, my 115, his probably 165, 170, was too much.

  Would there be a difference with only my weight in the raft? Would it stop taking on water and stay afloat?

  We had to stay afloat, stay in the raft. The alternative was not worth thinking about. No. Worse than that. The alternative was unbearable. I would not survive if I had to float in the water.

  Once more, I laid my head on his chest. I held his hand, which was definitely not warm. I rubbed it, trying to help get the circulation back, telling myself that’s why it seemed stiff. “No.” I turned my face into his chest. He smelled salty, like the ocean, with just a hint of cologne of some sort. “You’re going to be fine. I can’t be alone.”

  I stayed that way for so long that there was time for several inches of water to gather in the raft, making me so far behind in the bailing that catching up might not be possible. My options seemed to be steering toward one, the one I dreaded the most.

  twenty

  Holding Max’s hands, I leaned back, pulling him forward. He barely budged, and I knew that wouldn’t work. So I let go and he fell back where he’d been.

  The life vest he’d worn off the plane still sat in the corner. Kneeling in front of him, I struggled to put the vest on him.

  My voice was as calm and soothing as I could make it. “It will just be for a while, until I can get the raft bailed. I won’t leave you. I promise.”

  Rolling him onto his side, I got close behind him and pushed. The bottom was slippery, so he slid easily over to edge. Using all my strength, I managed to get Max’s left arm and leg over the side.

  He was half in, half out, sprawled like a bug on the side of the raft. My vision was blurry. Was I crying? “I’m sorry.”

  My plan was to roll him the rest of the way over, so he would be faceup in the water. Just until I could empty the raft. A few minutes, at most. If I saw a shark, I’d get him back inside. Somehow.

  There was a nylon line on the raft and I tied that to his life vest. “I won’t let you go. I promise.”

  He didn’t wake up. And he didn’t hear my promise.

  With less weight in the raft, and bailing like crazy, I managed to catch up. There didn’t seem to be any new water coming in, which brightened my mood.

  Then I looked over at Max’s bag. Yellow and round, like a fat cylinder, it had a rolled top with a black plastic buckle.

  What if there was something in it that could help us?

  But if there was, he would have used it that first night.

  Wouldn’t he?

  But then, as I thought about it, what could have possibly been in there that could help us?

  Maybe food. A cell phone. Something …

  Reaching out, I held the bag for a moment, considering.

  The bag was private property. It belonged to Max. Opening it without his permission would be wrong. I undid the buckle, and then told myself I should put it back.

  Instead, I unrolled the top and pulled the zipper.

  twenty-one

  Slowly, I unfolded a sheaf of papers. Before I started reading, I smoothed the creases with my hand. The top page was the manifest for our flight. Larry was listed on top, then Max, then the cargo. I flipped through the pages, not sure what I was looking for. Something nagged at me as I scanned the pages, and then it hit me.

  Where was my name?

  My name might not have been typed, like the rest. There hadn’t been time, so it might be in handwriting. I flipped through the pages again, looking for handwritten items. Looking for the words Robie Mitchell.

  But other than signatures, Larry’s and the guy in charge of loading’s, there wasn’t anything handwritten anywhere.

  Again, I flipped. I scanned. I pored over every page until my eyes blurred. But I still couldn’t find my name.

  I ran through that night of the flight, trying to recall every detail.

  I’d fallen asleep in the lounge. Larry had come and gotten me. He’d asked me something.

  What?

  My breaths shallowed and quickened as I tried to remember. The papers shook in my hands.

  He’d asked something about paperwork. Had he mentioned Max? I thought I remembered Larry saying his name.

  Was Max supposed to do my paperwork and he forgot?

  My breath caught in my throat.

  There was one thing I knew for sure.

  I had never stepped on a scale that evening. Which meant I had never gotten weighed and neither had my bags.

  I let the papers fall into my lap as I covered my face with both hands.

  My weight, plus the weight of my bags, were all pounds over what the G-1 could carry with one engine. I should have said something. I had never stepped foot on that plane before without getting weighed, even when we flew in a relatively empty plane from Midway to Honolulu.

  But I had been groggy from sleeping … anxious to go home … worried about the flight …

  I dropped my hands and stared out at the horizon.

  Had my extra weight, and the weight of my bags, brought us down?

  What did I know for sure?

  Basically, that my 115 pounds never got recorded. And neither did my bags, and they were stuffed, probably close to 75 pounds in total. Which added up to almost 200 pounds too heavy for the one remaining engine.

  Grabbing the papers again, I looked for my name. They could have estimated, right? Maybe they didn’t list my name; maybe they just added the estimated weight of me and my bags to cargo. Or maybe they had taken off something that weighed the same as me and my bags, but not written it down.

  Larry had written my weight down for other flights, he might have known what to estimate, even added a few pounds for a cushion, just to be sure.

  I nodded.

  Absolutely. That made much more sense. Larry was too smart to make a mistake like that.

  Feeling better, I thought of another scenario. They could have weighed my bags when I was asleep, then brought them back, I wouldn’t have even known.

  That had to be it.

  They flew so much, they would never make a mistake like that.

  Still, even if my weight was on there, even if it hadn’t been too much for the one engine, there was one other thing, one thing that might be the worst fact of all. And for all my rationalizing, I couldn’t explain it away.

  My name was not on the manifest.

  twenty-two

  If my name was not on the list,
then nobody knew I was on that flight. Except Larry and Max.

  But Larry was gone.

  And Max was with me.

  The flight manager, the bald guy filling in that night, he knew, right?

  I breathed out and set the papers on my lap.

  But that night had been crazy, people running around. He didn’t know me, had only sent me to Larry, and had not actually given me the go-ahead. When I talked to him, I didn’t even have my bags with me. All I’d asked him was where Suzanne was. For all he knew, I was just there to see her, not to get on the plane.

  And all the loaders had already left when I got on the plane. It was dark. No one saw me get on except for Larry and Max.

  I folded the papers, unable to look at them anymore, and shoved them back in the bag.

  Next I found a laminated card. Labeled “Survival at Sea,” it was a list of items, in addition to a bunch of small type.

  On top of the list was the heading REMEMBER!

  I couldn’t help but picture some grandma lady admonishing me with a raised finger. Robie, now remember:

  1. Do not drink seawater.

  Whoops. I imagine I’d had a few gallons that first night, when I fell in the water.

  2. Do not drink urine.

  Wasn’t planning to.

  3. Do not drink alcohol.

  4. Do not smoke.

  Those two were just stupid and I breathed out a halfhearted “duh.”

  5. Do not eat, unless water is available.

  That didn’t make much sense. If food presented itself, believe me, I was going to eat it.

  The next item on the card said the two biggest causes of death in shipwrecks were drowning—

  Um, been there, almost done that.

  And hypothermia.

  I hoped it was a warm enough time of year to avoid that. I hadn’t been chilled since the first night and day. Plus, I figured that was a bigger danger if you didn’t have a raft and had to be in the water the whole time. Which, as I kept reading, it seemed being in an inflatable raft, as I was, was actually the best way to survive at sea.

  Good to know that I was doing something right.

  The other things on the card weren’t all applicable. One was about getting away from a sinking ship because it could suck you down. Another was about an oil slick from a plane or ship, because it could light up. There was a whole paragraph about swimming underwater to escape the fire.

  Well, that was one problem I hadn’t had. Thank God for small favors. My plane crashed, but at least there wasn’t a fiery oil slick to deal with.

  I kept reading, and the next section was about dehydration.

  In order to reduce loss of water through sweat, soak your clothes in the sea and wring them out.

  I groaned. All that time wasted trying to get my clothes dry.

  But be aware that too much of this method of cooling can result in saltwater boils and rashes.

  What was a saltwater boil? I didn’t really want to find out.

  Be careful not to get the bottom of the raft wet.

  The raft had never been dry.

  In arctic waters, old sea ice may be used for water.

  I sighed. There weren’t exactly any glaciers floating around me.

  You may get water from fish. Drink the aqueous fluid found along the spine and in the eyes of large fish.

  “Ew.” I would have to be really desperate for that to happen, that’s for sure.

  Watch the clouds, and be ready for any chance of rain. Keep the tarpaulin ready for catching water.

  “That might be nice if I HAD A STUPID TARPAULIN!”

  Apparently, the Survival at Sea people assumed you would be equipped with things needed in order to survive at sea.

  Idiots.

  I shoved the card back in the ditty bag without reading any more.

  Looking further, I found a red single-subject spiral notebook, curved to the shape of the ditty bag. I glanced at the words on the cover, frowned, and fanned the pages. They were full of handwriting, but it was definitely an invasion of privacy. If Max wanted me to know what was in there, he would tell me. I glanced down at him, his face still serene.

  Still, I put the notebook back without reading any of it. Inside the ditty bag was one more thing, something red. I reached in and pulled it out.

  I whooped when I saw what it was.

  twenty-three

  Despite my major thirst, my mouth began watering immediately.

  A king-size bag of Skittles.

  My gaze went to Max.

  I swallowed.

  Would he share when he woke up? He didn’t owe me anything. He’d already saved my life.

  He could have told me the first night. “Hey, we’re adrift at sea, but I have Skittles.”

  Taste the rainbow.

  My heart beat faster as I licked my lips.

  Taste the rainbow.

  He’d had plenty of time to tell me about them.

  Taste the rainbow.

  The truth was, he had been hiding the only food on the raft from me.

  Taste the rainbow.

  “Screw you, Max.” Carefully spreading my sweatshirt in my lap, I gently tore open the bag of Skittles and shook them out onto my shirt.

  At first, I could only stare as my heart pounded.

  Then I counted them.

  One hundred and seven all together.

  Sorting them into piles by color with a trembling hand, I counted again.

  Thirteen red.

  Twenty-three yellow.

  Twenty-two orange.

  Thirty-two green.

  Seventeen purple.

  I didn’t like purple Skittles. They tasted like really bad grape juice. Max could have all of those. I would fight him for the green and the orange though. They were my favorites.

  There was one deformed orange Skittle.

  I didn’t think Max would mind whether I ate the bad one.

  Did I even care what Max did or didn’t mind?

  My hesitation was momentary before I popped it in my mouth and sucked, trying to make the fruitiness last as long as possible. The rest I put back in the Skittles bag, one by one, then put that into the ditty bag and zipped it up before replacing it.

  Dumb.

  He’d know as soon as he saw the Skittles bag that I’d been in his stuff.

  But I didn’t really care. My mouth still tasted of orange candy. I opened my hand. My fingers, still wet and wrinkled, had the colors of the rainbow all over them. I licked my palm, then, one at a time, I stuck my fingers in my mouth and sucked, savoring. And getting rid of the evidence.

  My butt was wet. Time to bail again.

  twenty-four

  I managed to clear just about all the water out of the raft. Probably not dry enough for the Survival at Sea people, but, hey, it was the best I could do.

  The sun beat down, and I put the damp hoodie on top of my head to keep the hot rays off my face. Max’s face was uncovered, so I took his T-shirt, sopped from lying in the wet bottom of the raft, and draped it over him. Hopefully it wouldn’t result in any saltwater boils.

  I shut my eyes and, before I knew it, was waking up. My throat was dry and my stomach still rumbled. The sun was still up, but lower in the sky and, once again, I was sitting in water.

  I leaned over to check on Max.

  He was gone.

  “Max!”

  Shading my eyes, I scanned the ocean around the raft. “Max!”

  Oh my God, what have I done?

  “Max!” I screamed his name until I was hoarse and the water in the raft had gotten too deep to ignore any longer. I started some frantic bailing as I kept calling for Max and my thoughts raced.

  “Max!”

  He’s in the life jacket, he won’t sink. He’ll be okay.

  “Max!”

  He’ll wake up and come after me.

  “Max!”

  The current will bring him the same way.

  Won’t it?

  Wouldn’t he be
here if that were true?

  I shook the thoughts away so I could concentrate on the bailing. Then I could focus on getting Max back.

  Soon, it became clear that my efforts were not going to be enough. I was not going to be able to bail enough to empty out the raft. The best thing would be to get out, flip the raft and empty the water, then get back in.

  There wasn’t another life jacket, which meant I would have to stay afloat by hanging on to the raft. Steeling myself, I put one foot over the side and into the water.

  And froze.

  There was no way. I could not get in that water.

  I pulled my foot back in and sat down. The water in the raft continued to rise beneath me. I knew there was no choice, so I stuck my foot over the side again. This time, it stayed for a few minutes before I pulled it back in.

  No way was I getting out of that raft on my own.

  I would stay there until it sank beneath the waves, taking me with it for good. I needed something to make me feel better, something to make me feel like I wasn’t stuck in a raft by myself in the middle of the godforsaken ocean.

  Grabbing Max’s bag, I unzipped it, snatching out the bag of Skittles. Shaking some into my palm, I slammed them into my mouth, chewing, tasting every flavor, not even minding the grape. As soon as I swallowed those, I downed another handful before noticing the bag was half empty.

  My mouth dropped open. “Oh my God.”

  What was I doing? The candy belonged to Max.