Page 5 of Seducing Scylla
“We really have to stop meeting like this,” she jokes, but this close, I can see her eyes and mouth are tense.
I heft myself backward when another, much louder screech reverberates through the container, sounding like the moan of a dying beast. We pitch to the side again, but this time we don’t stop.
I’m thrown forward into Elena once more, gravity preventing me from pulling myself back off her. Someone slides past me and into the wall beside Elena, one of the women who hasn’t woken up yet. I suck in a deep breath as my stomach lurches into my sternum and then the entire container is rolling, the sounds of high-pitched screaming ringing in my ears.
There’s a feeling of weightlessness as we tumble and suddenly, I’m on what was the ceiling of the container. Someone drops onto me with a thud, and I cough, briefly winded. There’s no time for apologies before we’re in the air again, suspended as the container flips with us in it. We’re nose down and everyone has been thrown into a pile at one end, limbs entangled and bruised. Wailing and coughing echo around us.
I feel sorry for those who landed at the bottom of the pile, but it’s short-lived as a loud thud reverberates through my bones when we hit what I assume is the surface of the ocean. My head smacks into the side of the container, the impact jarring my body, and my teeth clamp down on my tongue, drawing blood. A whimper escapes me as I watch water begin to filter in through the small holes littered through the container. What I now realizearebreathing holes are going to be the death of us as we slowly drown at the bottom of the ocean.
There’s a change in the air pressure inside the container, kind of like one of those gravity simulator rides at carnivals that spin so fast you get plastered to the edge of the ring and can’t move until it stops. I’m frozen in place, an invisible force pinning me so I can’t move even if I wanted to. My breath is caught in my throat, the edge of panic clawing at my heart, my eyes frantically searching for an escape despite knowing this steel box is now a tomb.
Sharp ringing in my ears drowns out the screaming. I can’t get enough oxygen into my lungs, my breaths coming in short, sharp pants. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision, and I knowI’m about to lose it any minute. I’m going to black out, my body succumbing to the panic. This—this is definitely worse.
4
Morgan
Warm liquid laps at my face like a gentle caress.
I sigh. That feels nice.
Wait.
I snap my eyes open. I’m not dead. Although, I kind of wish I was. I feel like someone came at me with a battering ram. I groan loudly from where I lay against the warm metal wall of the shipping container. My restraints have come loose at some point, and I flex my now free fingers and toes, finding nothing broken. I move up my body, tensing and relaxing, taking stock of any injuries. I’m surprisingly okay, if not a little bruised. Surprising because the shipping container has been completely wrenched in two, as if a giant has come along and torn it in half with its bare hands, straight through the middle. The sun streams freely through the gaping hole at one end.
Water lazily flows in and out of the newly formed entrance. There’s the smell of salty brine in the air and gulls squawking above, but it’s otherwise quiet. No sounds of shocked onlookers or a rescue party. I blink slowly, once, twice, unsure if my eyes are deceiving me or if I’m actually seeing sand and scrubby trees in the distance. The creamy white sand shimmers with the reflection of the sun’s rays and the trees sway rhythmically as if to a song only they can hear.
A groan from one of the other women breaks me out of the trance.
“Elena?” I hiss, pulling myself into a sitting position with a wince.
Two women are strewn about the container in various states of consciousness, but no Elena.
I crawl forward on my hands and knees to a woman lying face down. I roll her over, so her face isn’t in the water anymore, in case it gets deeper. I’m not going to kid myself and pretend like I know how to check for a pulse, so I hover closely, waiting until I see her chest rise and fall. I sigh in relief and move to the next one, repeating the process of watching their chest move. The daylight illuminates a black denim jacket and purple hair. Disappointment floods me as I realize it’s the woman from the library. She frowns and whimpersin her unconsciousness, and I think she was the one who groaned before. I grab her shoulder and give her a little shake.
“Hey, wake up.”
Her eyelids flutter but she doesn’t come to fully. Sitting back on my heels, I pause to think. She could be concussed.
I brace myself against the steel wall as I stand, not fully trusting my legs to hold me up, and edge toward the opening. Surely, someone has noticed this hulking chunk of metal on the beach and has called for help. Careful of the jagged edges, I peer outside. We are indeed on a beach, but there is no one to be found. The picturesque beach is entirely deserted except for the other half of the shipping container a few meters away, tipped over on its side, entrenched in deeper water than this half. One woman must’ve been thrown from the container as she rests on her stomach on the sand not far from the edge of the water, head twisted to the side.
The water sucks at my ankles as I rush to the fallen woman. There’s a deep gash on her forehead and her arm, but neither is still bleeding. I need to get the women out of the container in case the tide comes in, but the other half, the one I haven’t looked into yet,is already in deeper water. I chew at my lip, and stumble toward it, hoping the women in this half will be okay for now.
The sand shifts beneath me with each step. Wading into the water, it reaches my knees by the time I approach the other half of the mangled steel prison.
“Hello, is everyone okay?” I call out.
“Help!” a wavering voice echoes from within.
“Hang on, I’m coming!”
The hem of my dress clings to my knees where it drags in the ocean, making my steps sluggish in the water. Inside the container, the waves ebb around a large craggy rock that has pierced the steel and juts out just above the waterline. Sitting beside it is Elena. The water laps at her collarbones while she tries to keep another unconscious woman above water; the woman’s head resting on Elena’s shoulder.
“Elena! You’re okay!”
Elena grunts. “Hardly. My foot was pinned between the wall and the rock when it pierced the container. I can’t move it. This one,” she gestures to the woman on her shoulder, “was unconscious whenthe water started coming in. I don’t think I can keep her head out of the water for much longer.”
“Here.” I gesture to Elena and heft the woman off her by her underarms. She’s heavier than she looks, bogged down by wet clothes, and Elena groans in relief. I pull the woman toward the exit, letting the water take most of her weight. I puff, exerted. Some rescue party I am. I’m not made for this kind of work. Let me shelve books every day over dragging women to safety on a deserted beach.
