Six - Adrift

Stroke…

                Pain is a strange thing. It’s a defense mechanism shared by just about every living creature in the world. It signifies bodily harm. The brain contextualizes immediate physical peril into throes of pain, without which, we might not understand that we were in danger.

                Without pain, we might walk over razors and not even notice as we slowly bled to death. We might eat something that’s so hot, we don’t feel our own tongue melting as we chew. We wouldn’t even be aware of our own hunger. We’d mutilate ourselves before we even knew how to stop it.

                Stroke.

                But maybe walking over those razors was the only way to save the one you loved. Could you still do it? Every step you took would be its own war between your desire to save her, and your sense of self-preservation. Many people don’t fully comprehend just how strong that sense is. It’s not an easy urge to overcome. This sense is the driving force of nature; the single, most powerful feeling any creature can experience, for pain was developed for this sole purpose, this singular quest " to survive.

                Maybe you could bare the pain, tear your feat to ribbons, and save her. Maybe you could throw pain on like clothes, and march through fire if it meant she wouldn’t die. Maybe you couldn’t. Maybe when you tried, you felt your feet slice open, and heard your brain scream in your head, and all you could think of was the pain. Maybe the world stopped existing for all but the shortest path off those razors, and any notion of bravery or protection became a distant memory.

                Thunk…Stroke…

                There are two types of pain: physical pain, and emotional pain. Those of us weak enough to be blinded by the short-term physical pain of those razors will suffer far more than those who could willingly lacerate themselves and save her. Emotional pain is long-term. It’s harder to avoid because it’s more subtle, less overt, and slower than physical pain. If the two are at ends, physical pain usually wins.

                The nightmare of emotional pain is just that: a nightmare. It keeps you up at night and twists your thoughts with fear and anger. Sometimes, it can replace physical pain entirely, manifesting as superficial aches that can distract you from real pain. A person could nearly starve himself, or intentionally break his knuckles on sold brick, because emotional pain distorts the context of physical pain.

The sense of self-preservation can be beaten. Sooner or later, it always is; either by initial willpower, or later, by self-inflicted mental torture. Is one better than the other? Yes. Irrevocably, without question, yes. And those who have yet to learn this for themselves can’t possibly know how lucky they are.

I opened my eyes. The sky stretched across my vision in an endless midnight blue. It tapered into lighter colors as it reached the Eastern horizon. It was early " maybe an hour before sunrise. Water slapped against the hull of the boat. Every couple seconds, the oars were pulled through the ocean, which occasionally caught a strong wind and sprayed inside the boat. The salty mist clung to my skin and clothes. There was no sound of crashing surf, and no seagull caws. Without them, I felt vulnerable, like any second, the boat would explode from lack of sound.

My vision was perfect again. My senses of hearing, smell and touch were also fully capable. And, as soon as I decided to move, I was sure all my motor functions would work too. I flexed my right hand into a fist. Indeed, no damage lingered, no pain stabbed up my arm. For the first time in a long while, I was utterly unamused, and even angry at my body’s regenerative ability.

Nowhere the Lighthouse was gone. The safe house I had worked so hard to protect Zoey in was nothing but a smoldering pile of rocks, wood, and ash by now. I had failed to protect Zoey. If Norman hadn’t been waiting outside, she likely would have burned to death. I deserved to be in pain. I deserved a constant reminder of last night. Now, Zoey and I were being flung into uncertainty, and my body got a clean slate for free.

I didn’t get up. I probably could have lain on the floor of the rowboat for the entire day. Slowly, the sky grew brighter. The midnight blue crept steadily west, retreating from the advancing paler blue of dawn.

“Are they still there?” Natalie’s voice was low and muted. Its sudden presence didn’t startle me at all; it almost seemed like just another component of the sounds of the ocean.

Norman’s response was sharp and louder. “Yes.”

“What do you think we should do?”

There was a long pause. The oars stopped their monotonous strokes. When Norman spoke, it was with a practiced calm. “We’ll think of something.”

The oars proceeded to pull the boat forward.

“Jim, you’re awake.” Natalie came into my field of vision as she sat on the seat next to me. It seemed the sky had grown bright enough to show that my eyes were open. Natalie herself appeared as a vibrant, breathing silhouette " the only details visible inside her outline were a pair of deep green eyes. The constant breeze held her hair out in a flowing black wave. I could still faintly smell fresh laundry clinging to her. Her neat white teeth appeared as she smiled at me, and I felt a sharp twist in my stomach.

“He’s been awake for a half hour.” Norman’s consistent accuracy hadn’t become any more bearable since earlier. I resisted rolling my eyes or scowling; I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that it bothered me. It didn’t work: “And he’s grumpy.”

Natalie reached down and placed her hand on my shoulder. My entire upper body spasmed in a reflexive jolt. My arms uncrossed, and my fingers spread wide with my palms out. I didn’t want her to touch me. My body language was all too clear. She snatched her hand away and, after a silent moment of staring at me, she turned her gaze to her left, out of the boat, hiding her green eyes from my sight. I was sure I had hurt her feelings, or maybe she was already upset about something else.

With one last gaze upward, I sat up and straightened myself onto a seat. The rowboat was perhaps a mile offshore. Zoey’s and my island was nowhere to be seen. Zoey was curled up in the back of the boat, fast asleep, tucked into Natalie’s jacket. I could just barely hear her inhales, a shadow of a snore. It was strange, seeing the rowboat so off course. Though the coast was so far away, I was sure I didn’t recognize any of the scenery. The only familiar sight was the ocean itself " tossing our tiny boat back and forth, always ready to swallow us alive, given the smallest crack in the hull. The absence of crashing surf suddenly filled my whole body with anxiety.

I turned back to Natalie. She was looking toward the coast. Norman sat behind her, rowing the boat. He was also gazing at the distant beach. I was suddenly aware of a tension in the air. I looked back to the coastline and squinted finer details into my vision. There were no startling sights to behold. The beach was a thin strip of grey beneath the black cityscape.

I broke the silence: “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, good, you can still talk,” Norman responded. “You’ve been laying there pouting for so long, I was starting to think you were a little b***h.”

I opened my mouth to respond. Maybe I would hit him. Now that I could move again, all kinds of exciting possibilities came to mind. Before I could say anything, though, Natalie cut me off. “Norman spotted some people on the coast a couple hours ago. They’ve been matching our speed, moving along the coast with us ever since. We’re pretty sure they see us and they’re waiting for us to land.”

I left Norman’s taunt alone as I took a closer look toward the shore. It looked deserted to me. It was so far away, I was about to ask how on Earth Norman could see them when I remembered his black alien eyes. Being in a more rational state of mind than last night, I made some quick assumptions about his mutation.

If there were really people following us on shore, we stood little chance of landing without immediately being ambushed. And if they were able to follow us from a mile away, in the dark, with the black ocean providing camouflage, then we had very little chance of losing them. I glanced around the boat. No backpacks, gear, or other supplies were present. The only thing the boat could provide us was two wooden oars.

I thought back to earlier, when I was lying helpless on the cold rocks outside the lighthouse. It must have been so obvious then that we should have scavenged the debris for food, water, supplies " really anything. I probably would have thought to mention it if Natalie hadn’t forced me into a sleep. Inducing drowsiness was the only thing any of us could think of to help me into the boat, and Natalie had plenty of fatigue to share.

I gave my head a quick jerk. It wasn’t her fault " she did the only thing that prevented my departure from being hours of agony before I could fall asleep on my own. But wasn’t it her fault, though? Wouldn’t I still be fast asleep in my bed, with Zoey safely tucked into hers, if Natalie hadn’t shown up? Or maybe it would just be another day of keeping Zoey in line before she destroyed the lighthouse anyway, like Norman said.

“Jim!” Norman’s voice cut through my thoughts like glass, and I snapped my head to the side in surprise. He was leaning forward with his forearms resting on his thighs. The boat had stopped moving. The absence of the sound of rolling waves filled my head like a thundering, silent drum. “Take over rowing, I need to get some sleep.”

Without waiting for me to agree, Norman stood up. The boat jerked from side to side as he inched his way toward me. Without speaking, I stood up to take his place. Looking for someone to be mad at wasn’t going to help me, and it wasn’t going to keep Zoey safe. I didn’t have the luxury of blaming others. All I could do right now to improve our situation was let Norman rest so he would be better able to help later, when it came time to face our pursuers.

As we awkwardly maneuvered around each other, Norman’s eyes locked onto mine. It was only for a moment. In that moment, though, I saw a bottomless pit " a depthless void trapped behind the black windows of his eyes. No emotions lived there, nor was there even humanity. Not in his eyes, anyway. Sweat crawled out of the skin on his forehead, his eyebrows elevated ever so slightly on the inside, and the chords in his neck gave one great heave as he swallowed hard.

I continued watching him after I sat back down. The manic drum in my head seemed to slow its pace slightly. He sat on the floor of the boat and rested his back against a seat. He kept his head turned uncomfortably far to the right, toward the shore. I got the distinct impression that he was hiding his face from me, for he knew what I saw in it. Maybe he enjoyed hiding behind his eyes, where no one could read him. Maybe it was only by accident, but for one single instance, I still managed to glimpse beyond his soulless eyes " Norman was afraid.

 

“So, Izuho is well?” It was the first thing anyone had said since I took over rowing. The sun was just beginning to show, peaking through the cracks in the silhouette of the cityscape. Norman had nodded off eventually, his head lolled back, with his elbows hanging from his backrest-seat.

Natalie had been watching the beach. At first, she didn’t respond, or even acknowledge my question. The new sun seemed to paint life into her face. I watched her profile squint into the sunrise, and her beauty surged outward, as though it was palpable " something to be scooped out of thin air and preserved in a jar.

After what seemed like minutes, she turned her head to face me. Her smile held a weariness I wasn’t expecting. Tired bags were settling under her eyes.

“Yes, he is,” she spoke in a low, tranquil voice. Then she gave a half shrug. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Are you OK?” Natalie’s demeanor had startled me. I couldn’t identify why, but I knew something was wrong. I realized that I had stopped rowing. The oars were trailing in the water, clinging onto the boat for dear life by the oar locks. I grabbed the wooden handles again and continued to row.

She gave me the second half of her shrug. “I’ll be OK.”

“Maybe you should try to get some sleep.”

She let out a ghost of a laugh and shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m terrified of the ocean.”

I stopped rowing again. We stared at each other " for how long, I don’t know. My mouth hung open and my hands squeezed the oars. Slowly, I saw her eyes grow blurry, and her lips clenched together.

Finally, she breathed in deeply through her nose. “Stop it.” Her head whipped back to face the beach. Her long black hair followed in a graceful arch and came to rest on her chest, which rose and fell in large, dramatic breaths.

Before I could stop myself, I said “You swam a mile through it to get to me.”

“It was important.” Her voice quavered, threatening to crack. “I already told you why.”

I looked past Natalie at Zoey. She was still curled up, dreaming about nice things, I hoped. I looked back at Natalie, and was surprised to see that she was staring at me from the corner of her eye. Her breathing had tempered slightly, and her lips had softened.

“She really means a lot to you, doesn’t she?” I asked.

Natalie’s face softened into a smile.

I didn’t really know what else to say. Until that point, I was prepared to take Zoey and leave Natalie and Norman the first chance I had, once we got to shore. Knowing that Natalie had made such a sacrifice " it drained away the paranoia and distrust that had grown inside me. My two guides that had never steered me wrong for the sake of Zoey’s safety seemed to vanish, like they were never there from the start. I knew that I could trust Natalie. I glanced at Norman. Distrust still simmered there.

“You seem to trust Norman.”

If Natalie had thought this was an odd change of subject, she didn’t’ show it. “He’s my brother.” She turned her head to glance at Norman. When she looked back at me, she held a humbled, apologetic smile. “He’s not as mean as you’ve seen him. It’s my fault; he’s mad at me for making him come with me to your lighthouse. He’s taking it out on you because I almost "“ Her eyes darted to the side as she stammered. “Because of what happened when we got there.”

I understood her hesitation to bring it up " I wasn’t very keen to talk about it either. She deserved an explanation, though, for all that she had done, and for experiencing it firsthand. I stole another glance at Zoey. She was still asleep. Her mouth hung open, and her back rose and fell with her long, slow breaths.

“It hasn’t been easy.” Natalie’s posture stiffened. She probably hadn’t expected me to explain. “As you saw, she doesn’t have any control of herself during an episode. She forgets who I am, and throws anything that moves as far as she can.”

“How often does she get like that?” Natalie spoke in a hushed tone, as if she could startle my answer away by speaking too loudly.

Dozens of memories swam through my head. Zoey’s eruptions clamored through my mind like a haunted dream. Near-death experiences almost always followed. “It gets triggered by shock, mostly " if something overly traumatic happens.”

She raised an eyebrow. A skeptical smile twitched at the ends of her full lips. “What was overly traumatic about last night? I mean, before her episode?”

I swallowed. “I think you reminded her of her mother.” Natalie recoiled back slightly, surprised. I glanced back at Zoey again. She was still asleep. “She asked about her mother last night, when I tucked her into bed. It was the first time in almost a year.”

For s second, I thought Natalie was going to laugh, but then she released a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.” She spoke with her head lowered. Then she looked right at me. “I’m so sorry that you lost your home " you must feel like we’re kidnapping you.”

A sly smile escaped my slack jaw. “Getting kidnapped might be the best way for me to keep Zoey safe right now.”

There was a long silence. The water continued to slap against the side of the boat. Zoey coughed and squirmed in her sleep. I wasn’t sure if what I said was true. I knew it was a bad idea to follow Natalie and Norman to this shelter. I also knew it was a bad idea to leave them and try to find a new home for Zoey. It was a bad idea to head to shore, and it was a bad idea to stay adrift. The question I was left with was which bad idea was the right bad idea.

Norman awoke with a groan. He straightened up and rolled his shoulders. “They’re still there,” he said after glancing at the shore.

Natalie’s balled up fists clenched and relaxed in a quick rhythm. She was staring at the water between the boat and the beach. I wondered how much longer she would be able to stay calm out here.

“Take over,” I said to Norman. He got up and took my place without complaint. When I sat down, I found myself facing forward for the first time in hours. To my surprise, I saw a massive pier, stretching over the ocean for about a mile. It stood in our path, about two hours away still.

Natalie was still gripping her fists over and over. It seemed Norman awake had forced her to re-acknowledge our plight. I looked at the pier again. It was still so far away " a miniscule silhouette looming above the ocean, like an extension of the city, a stalwart arm of civilization past. Maybe…

“We’d be sitting ducks, Jim.” Norman was watching my face as I gazed at the pier.

“Norman, can you see any vehicles on that pier?”

Norman stared at me for several seconds. I stared back. Finally, he twisted in his seat and said “At least two.”

“Jim, vehicles don’t work anymore,” Natalie said. “All the Light Batteries stopped working.”

I turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “I thought I was the guy who invented the Light Battery.”

Norman stopped rowing. Natalie’s mouth hung open. “You can’t fix it?” Disbelief rang through her accusation.

I shook my head. “No. But if either of those cars has an older model, I can reprogram it and use its internal power supply. We used a nuclear core to run the old ones. The core didn’t power the battery, but it did power the Energy Fold system that did.”

Norman laughed. His eyes bored right into me, wide open and expressionless as ever, but genuine laughter poured from his mouth. He started rowing again, still laughing. “What a day,” he finally managed to say.

I felt a hand enclose my own and squeeze gently. I looked over and saw Natalie smiling at me. Fear and fatigue swam up my arm. The strength of those emotions was actually terrifying. I also felt an ache in my back and legs, and realized Natalie must have been injured during Zoey’s uproar. It was all of a sudden when I then felt something even greater; blanketing everything else, towering over fear and pain was gratitude.

Natalie looked out at the pier, and I knew she saw sanctuary from the ocean. She looked back at Zoey. “I’m sure her mother would be proud of you. For everything you’ve done.”

I forced a smile in return. I know she meant for me to be pleased to hear that. Instead, my momentary excitement fizzled. I pictured Susan holding my hand, smiling at me, just like Natalie was. Her frizzy hair bounced in the concussive wind. Her head tilted back ever so slightly to look down her nose at me " her triumphant grin.

Zoey groaned, and I saw her stretching. She had finally woken up. Her blue eyes burst out from beneath her eyelids, like two beautiful, show stopping balls of light. Zoey was the only thing that gave me purpose, kept me going. She was the only thing I had to keep Susan’s memory alive.

But Susan wasn’t her mother.

Author's Note

One of my writing goals for this book is to include as little exposition as possible. I want the reader to get a vast majority of the information they need through dialogue, or through the active thoughts of the narrator. My hope is to accomplish this in an organic fashion that doesn't also leave the reader constantly back-tracking for missed information. Instead, I want the reader to be able to say "Aha! this explains that thing from earlier! And I figured it out by myself." Anytime this happened to me while reading (or even with TV and movies), it made the discovery mean so much more than if I simply had it all told to me in exposition. Being told "this is important" always felt like I was being told what I had to take away from it, which defeats the purpose, in my opinion.