by Watt Key
I felt my way over to the shelves and pulled down the box of uniforms. I changed into one and took Shane another one.
“I don’t know what size it is,” I said. “But it’s dry.”
“Thanks,” he said.
Shane took the uniform and moved away to change. I poured the rest of the box onto the floor for something soft to sleep on.
In spite of our makeshift nest of uniforms, for the first time since we’d been on the rig I slept through the entire night. I didn’t have any nightmares and I didn’t lie awake worried about anything. I was resigned to the fact that Shane and I were going to die soon and now no amount of worrying and effort was going to save us.
* * *
The next day I woke to the rain still pattering the outside of the rig. Shane was already awake, lying on his back, staring at nothing.
“How do you feel?” I asked him.
“Not good,” he said.
“Can you help me get new mattresses?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I think so.”
We dragged two more mattresses down to the storage room. Then Shane rested while I found a couple of flower vases and wastebaskets and set them out on the deck to catch rainwater. An hour later the wastebaskets had blown overboard. Then I found a steel bucket of bolts, dumped it out, and set it under the eaves.
In addition to the real sickness I had in my lungs, a mental sickness had taken over and it was hard to motivate myself to do anything. For a while I stood in the rain, watching the containers catching drips of rainwater, still in disbelief that our luck could be so bad. Finally I went and lay down next to Shane.
That afternoon I began to feel pangs of hunger and I knew I couldn’t just lie there and starve.
“Where’d you find the fishing equipment?” I asked Shane. “Maybe there’s more.”
He sat up slowly. “That was it,” he said. “But there’s some fishing stuff in the lifeboats. It’s not much, but it’s something.”
The lifeboats were tricky to get in and out of. Because of my injured hands, Shane had always considered it his job to get anything out of them.
“You think you can do it?” I asked him.
Shane sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “I think so.”
Shane climbed into both lifeboats and brought out the fishing kits. They were nothing more than two packages of monofilament line, a couple of hooks, four lures, two weights, and a plastic winder. It was the bare basics needed to catch a fish. I stared at the packages doubtfully.
“This might work for a couple of days,” I said. “Maybe.”
“It says there’s only twelve feet of line in each kit,” Shane said. “We’ll have to tie the line to the end of a rope or something.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed them. I said, “If we had a decent light I’d go back into the galley and search through everything. There’s got to be some food that’s not expired. Surely we missed something.”
“Well, we don’t have a light,” he said. “We can’t see a thing back there.”
“I have a feeling spoiled food is all we’ll have in a few days. I guess I’ll have to make a torch or something to get to it. We’ve still got a few matches, don’t we?”
“Yeah,” Shane said. “But what if the canned food makes us sicker?”
I shrugged. “At this point, what would it matter?”
Shane didn’t answer me. I desperately wanted him to encourage me to keep trying, but he wasn’t going to. I lay down next to him again and listened to the endless rain drumming on the rig like it had moved over us to stay. My stomach groaned and knotted with hunger. And one more day slowly slipped into darkness.
43
When I was in sixth grade our teacher had us watch a video of six kids playing basketball. Three of the kids were wearing black and three were wearing white. The teacher told us to pay close attention and count how many times the kids in white passed the ball to each other. I counted sixteen times and that was the correct answer. However, what none of us noticed was that during the video a person in a gorilla suit walks onto the court, stands in the middle of the basketball players, and waves his hands around. It’s strange how sometimes you can be so focused on the details around you that you miss what’s right in front of you.
Shane mentioned starting a fire that night, and we came to realize something we’d both missed.
“Start a fire where?” I asked him. “It’s been raining out there for almost two days.”
“We could do it in here. In a bucket or something. I’d just feel better if we had some light.”
“Do what you want,” I said.
“It’s just so dark. I think I’m going crazy.”
“The light on the derrick is probably still going,” I said. “It must have a battery and a solar charger. I wish there was some way to get it and bring it down.”
Shane didn’t speak right away.
Then, in a strange, contemplative way, he said, “The derrick.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Even that red light would be better than nothing.”
“That’s it,” he said with rising excitement. “It’s the derrick.”
I tried to look at him through the darkness, but there was only black nothing before me. “What are you talking about?”
“It was right there all along, Julie. The light at the top of the derrick is our way out.”
“How?”
“It’s got to stay on. If we took out that light they’d have to come replace it. It’s the law. Dad had a plane, and he talked about hazard beacons. They’re all monitored.”
“You mean we have to get up there and break it?”
“Right.”
After all we’d been through, it was hard for me to believe anything was so simple. And it only took me a moment of consideration before I saw how impossible it was.
“But you’re sick and my hands are worthless.”
“I have to,” he said. “It’s my turn to do something.”
“You can barely stand.”
“We’re dead if I don’t.”
“I might be able to,” I said.
“No way,” he said. “You have trouble just climbing into the lifeboats.”
I knew he was right. “Even if you can get up there, it just can’t be that simple.”
“It is,” Shane said. I had never heard him sound so confident.
“Okay,” I said. “Tomorrow after it stops raining. You can try.”
“No,” he said. “Now. Who knows how I’ll feel tomorrow?”
“We can’t see to get through the generator room,” I said.
“Go get the lantern,” he said. “We’ll use what’s left of it.”
Shane was so determined to climb the derrick that I didn’t see any way to talk him out of it. And even if I had seen a way, I didn’t want to. While I was still doubtful that his plan would work, I needed hope. And his idea, no matter how unlikely, was something to give us hope again and keep us moving.
I went up the guide ropes and got the lantern out of the bedroom. To save what little was left of the batteries, I didn’t click it on until I was standing in the storage room again. Then I saw Shane already up and leaning against the shelving.
“You ready?” I said.
“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s do it.”
44
I gathered the last of our matches that we’d stashed on one of the shelves for emergencies. I put them in my pocket so that we could use them to get back once the lantern failed. Then we set out down the hall.
The lantern was almost completely out by the time we reached the back of the generator room. I stopped, got the matches out of my pocket, and placed them on a small table. Then Shane pushed open the steel door and we faced the drizzling night. We heard the breeze whistling through the derrick structure and looked up to see the red light glowing almost a hundred feet overhead. He bent down and grabbed a crescent wrench with a rubber grip that was leaning against the wall.
“Something to break the ligh
t with,” he said.
Part of me didn’t even want to try. If it wasn’t going to work, I didn’t want to know. Not yet. I wanted to hold on to the hope just a little longer.
“We don’t have to do this now,” I said.
Shane slid the wrench into his pocket and coughed. “Yeah,” he said. “We do.”
And in that moment the lantern went out and left us standing there in the dark. But it wasn’t as dark here as inside the rig. I could see Shane’s silhouette, and there was something comforting about the red light blinking above.
I followed Shane to the edge of the derrick, where he grabbed hold of the ladder and started up, his feet falling heavily on the iron steps. And it was only a moment later that I felt like there should have been more to say. That I should have told him to be careful or something like that.
“Shane,” I called after him.
The footfalls stopped. “What?” he said.
“Be careful,” I said. “It’s going to be slippery.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Go slow. Rest if you need to.”
Shane continued climbing and I felt right again. I backed away and stared up after him until he disappeared into the grainy darkness. The whistling breeze soon covered the sound of his footfalls.
I stared at the light blinking on and off and on and off. For what seemed like a half hour I stood there wiping the water from my face and looking for some sign of Shane. I finally saw a blurred outline of him blocking out the red glow. It seemed impossible that he was so high, and it made me nervous just thinking about it. He seemed to hesitate there for several minutes like he was resting. Then I noticed him shift, and a second later I heard a dull banging sound. I assumed he was hitting the light with the wrench. Several times the sound came to me, but the light kept glowing. And then he appeared to rest again.
“Forget it, Shane,” I said to myself. “Come down.”
The light glowed again and I saw that Shane had repositioned himself. The next bang I heard was louder, and orange and white sparks flew into the air around Shane’s head. The beacon didn’t glow again, and I heard the tinkle of glass shower the deck in front of me.
“Wahoo!” I yelled up at him.
I wasn’t convinced the plan would work. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement.
The only reply I got was the sound of the wind. Now, with the beacon gone, the rig had never looked and felt so dark.
I waited.
After a while my neck started to ache from staring up. The rain seemed to come a little harder, but it might have been the wind just blowing it. When I finally saw Shane he appeared shadow-like about twenty feet overhead. He seemed to be standing on one of the small platforms.
“You did it!” I called out.
He didn’t answer me. I wiped my face and studied him.
“Shane!” I yelled.
Suddenly he was falling. I heard his body slam the steel deck in a sickening meaty way. Then I saw the dark lump of him mounded beside the derrick. It took me a moment to process what had happened before I was running and kneeling beside him. He lay on his back, and I put my face up close to him and saw that his eyes were open.
“Shane!” I said.
He didn’t answer me. I got my arms under his shoulders and dragged him across the rain-slicked steel and into the generator room. I struck a match and held it close. His eyes looked so clean and white against the watery blood running down the side of his mouth. I dropped the match and sat and pulled him into my lap and rested his head on my leg.
“Talk to me,” I begged him.
“I did it,” he croaked.
I was so relieved to hear him speak that I got choked up.
“I know you did,” I said. “You did.”
“They’ll come for us now.”
“Why didn’t you wait?” I said. “What was one more day?”
“I was getting worse, Julie. I’ve been coughing blood. There’s something bad wrong with me.”
I swallowed and nodded to him.
“But we were so close,” I said. “I could have figured out another way.”
“It’s done now,” he said. “All we have to do is wait.”
I looked away and wiped the tears from my face.
“I really want to punch you again. Hard.”
“Don’t. It hurts.”
I laughed and sniffled.
Shane coughed and it sounded horrible, like his chest was full of something.
“You’re the only person I ever punched,” I said. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that.”
“I don’t think it’ll ever be as good as this again.”
“Don’t talk like that,” I said. “Don’t you miss hot food and showers and comfortable beds?”
Shane coughed again.
“I feel really good right now,” he said.
“I think you need to stop talking,” I said.
He closed his eyes and opened them again. It seemed impossible for him to die now after all we’d accomplished.
“Don’t go to sleep,” I said. “You can’t leave me here alone.”
45
The rain stopped during the night and left the rig wet and silent. Shane lay across my lap in the damp darkness of the generator room. I caught myself counting his raspy breaths, expecting each one to be his last. Even without being able to see him, I knew he was seriously hurt and I didn’t want to move him.
I didn’t sleep. I had no sense of time until dawn slipped over the rig and a faint line of daylight appeared along the base of the door. Shane was still breathing, but I didn’t want to wake him. I felt that even speaking to him might tip his fragile condition.
Not long after sunup I checked the time on my watch. It read seven o’clock.
“Julie?” I heard him say.
“Yes.”
“Where are we?” he said.
“We’re in the generator room.”
“Why?”
“Because you fell.”
He was quiet for a moment, like he was thinking about it all.
“I broke the light,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said.
Shane coughed and it sounded horrible. “Nobody came?” he said.
“It was just last night. Please, stop talking.”
“You have to go up to the helicopter pad. You have to wait.”
I didn’t answer.
“Julie?”
“I know,” I said.
I couldn’t imagine dying alone in such a place. I would have never wanted Shane to leave me if I were in his position.
“Prop the door open for me,” he said. “So I can see.”
“I’m going to have to get out from under you.”
“Okay,” he said. “Just go slow.”
I eased out from under him and lowered his head to the floor. Then I got up and opened the door, and daylight fell across the room. I propped the door open with a broom handle and turned back to him. The blood was dried around the edges of his mouth, and his chest was rising and falling heavily like it was working against something.
I saw a tarp lying next to the wall and put it under his head for a pillow. I knew it was going to be hard to find my way through the generator room once I left him. And it might be a while before I could return.
“Don’t try to move,” I said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll bring water.”
Shane nodded to me and I turned to go. The truth was, I didn’t know how I could return once I used up the matches. But I was fairly certain it wasn’t going to matter anyway.
* * *
I slowly made my way through the generator room, one match at a time. I knelt and struck each one on the floor, then made about twenty slow, careful steps before it burned to the tip of my glove and I had to drop it. By the time I reached the stairs I had used all but two.
I followed the guide rope to get up to the helipad. Then I sat i
n the middle of the SOS and pulled my legs up and rested my forehead on my knees. I had no hope that Shane’s plan was going to work. The horrible truth was that part of me was relieved not to be with him. I didn’t want a person dying in my lap down in that damp, dark steel room. I kept reminding myself that it was Shane who wanted me to leave, but really I’d wanted it, too.
Horror. That was the only word that kept coming to mind.
Shane dying. Being left alone to starve on the rig with the wind whistling through the cold steel and the Gulf swells slurping through the beams below.
It was a horror that paralyzed me.
46
It was after noon when I heard the thrumming of propeller blades in the distance. For a while I didn’t look up. When I did, I saw the small black speck of the helicopter moving toward me. Soon it was hovering overhead and the force of the rotors threatened to bowl me over. I saw the pilot studying me curiously and faintly got the sense he was waiting for me to move. I didn’t, and he finally set the helicopter down at the edge of the pad. A side door slid open and a man in blue work pants and a polo shirt ducked out and hurried low in my direction.
“Who are you?” he yelled.
“Julie Sims,” I said.
He shook his head that he couldn’t hear me. Then he grabbed my arm and tugged it slightly, as if questioning if I could stand.
I stood and he walked with me down the stairs and started to lead me inside. I pulled away from him before he could get me through the door. When he looked at me I shook my head.
He frowned and leaned close to my ear. “What are you doing here?”
“I floated here,” I said.
I heard the rotors starting to slow.
“Are you by yourself?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “My friend’s with me.”
* * *
His name was Jim. He was trim and clean-cut like someone in the military. While we waited for the noise of the helicopter to die down he held on to my arm like he was worried I was going to run off. Meanwhile two other rig workers got out of the helicopter and approached us, looking at Jim with puzzled expressions.
“What’s going on, Jim?” one of them asked.