Page 15 of Restoration

I start kicking my legs, trying to help him in any way I can.

“Good,” he gasps. “Good girl. We’ve got to try to swim.”

I can’t see anything but the night sky and the choppy waves of ocean water all around us. “Swim where?”

“There’s a piece of hull not too far away. If we can make it over there, we can try to climb on. It will be better than trying to tread water.”

I have no idea what would be better or where the piece of the hull is or what kind of chance we have to survive at all. But he starts swimming with his legs and one arm in a particular direction, so I do my best to help him.

He doesn’t let go of me.

We swim and swim and don’t seem to make any progress or move any noticeable distance. But suddenly there’s a big piece of boat right in front of my eyes.

I grab for it, managing to get my hand to grip a contour in the wood. It’s bobbing wildly in the rough water.

Edmund is moving too. He grabs on and shouts, “Hold on. Don’t you dare let go.”

“I’m not. You don’t have to yell at me.” I’m holding on with both hands now, and it’s a relief to use it to keep me above water rather than only Edmund and my own strength.

He ignores my grumpy words and manages to heft himself up onto the top of the large chunk of hull. Then he reaches down with both hands and drags me up too.

There’s room for both of us to stretch out flat on our stomachs, gripping the dubious security of the piece of wreckage like it’s our last lifeline.

It probably is.

I’m still freezing. And soaking wet. And my head hurts and my stomach is churning and every muscle in my body is aching.

“Are we going to die out here?” I hear myself asking.

“No,” Edmund rasps. He lifts one arm and drops it back down so it’s draped over my back. I’m not sure if he’s trying to comfort me or trying to keep me from being tossed back into the water. “We’re not going to die.”

“Okay.”

I’m not sure why, but I believe him. I just have no idea how we’re going to be saved.

There’s nothing left for us to say to each other. I’m so exhausted and weak I can barely keep my eyes open.

We stay there, clinging to part of what used to be our boat, and let the water take us wherever it wants to go.

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