Page 126 of Wrecked
I haven’t seen another man in about a year. I tilt my head, as if I’m confused over his presence. Maybe I am? Maybe I’m in shock.
“Ma’am, are you okay? We saw your distress signal,” he says with a heavy Spanish accent, pointing to our bonfire. “We wanted to make sure no one needed help.”
Jesus Christ. A ship is here. We…we’re being rescued.
My only thought is Nate.
“We crashed! We crashed. Our plane!” I start yelling erratically. “There…there’s a man. He needs your help! Follow me, please! Oh, God…please…follow me!”
I take off in the direction of our shelter, looking behind me occasionally to make sure our rescuers are still following. Three men from the ship run after me, likely seeing the desperation in my eyes.
The trek home feels like it takes an eternity. When I reach the cliffs, all of the grief I’ve felt the last few days releases its tight grip on me. I can’t help the smile that breaks out when we approach the front door of our shelter. He’s going to be okay! They will get him to a doctor and he will be okay.
I burst through the door and head over to the bed where I left my husband.
“Nate! Nate! Wake up, baby. Help is here! Oh my God! Help is here.”
He doesn’t respond, still in a deep sleep. The infection has had that effect on him. It makes him sleep so soundly. Sometimes it takes me several minutes to wake him.
“Nate!” I yell again, shaking him this time. My smile is so wide I can barely contain it.
He doesn’t even stir. I scan his body, waiting. Waiting for his eyes to flick open and give me that smirk he knows I love. The one that brings me to my knees.
“Nate?” I squeak out, violently shaking his arm.
Why won’t he answer me?
Why isn’t he moving?
“Nate…” I drop down to the floor beside him, desperate to wake him. We need to get him onto the ship so they can treat him. “Nate, wake up. You have to wake up now.” My voice wobbles.
I don’t understand why he won’t wake up.
“Nate, please. Wake up, open your eyes, baby… It’s Pip. It’syourPip.”
I look over at his still chest.
His blue lips.
His translucent skin.
No.
This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. He was fine…he was okay when I left. He was breathing, he had a pulse.
I reach over, grabbing his wrist, searching for his pulse. It has to be there. I felt it this morning, so it has to be there.
“Why can’t I find it now?” I cry out. This is wrong. This is all wrong. It’s just really weak, that’s all. That’s why I can’t feel it.
“He’s just sleeping,” I tell the men, nodding my head. “He sleeps really heavily sometimes. I just need to wake him up, that’s all.” My voice is thick with the tears of a truth I don’t want to acknowledge. I stare at his chest, waiting to see the rise and fall.
It doesn’t.
I place my hands on top of his stomach. His breathing is just shallow right now. I’ll feel his stomach rise against my hand, and it will all be okay.
I don’t.
I lean over his body, placing my ear against his chest. I wait to hear the beating I know will be there, it has to be there.I hear nothing. No beat. No thump. No whoosh of the air in his lungs. Everything is still. Everything is silent. Like he’s…
