Uncharted(14)

My salvation in the storm.

“I’ve got you,” he assures me, voice low with worry. “You’re okay.”

I want to laugh.

I’m not okay. None of this is okay.

He sees the panic in my eyes. “Just breathe. Breathe. In and out.”

It’s not a request — there’s a steel undercurrent in his words. An unmistakable order. I find some comfort in the authority he’s exerting. Staring into his eyes, at the pretense of composure he’s arranged on his features, some long-ingrained childish instinct kicks in, the same one that suggests I seek out an adult in a crisis because, surely, an adult will know what to do.

Of course, I’ve known since I was ten years old that it’s bullshit. Truthfully, adults rarely know what to do any more than the rest of us — they usually just hide their panic a little better. But, in this moment, I don’t care. Staring up into the eyes of the man who singlehandedly tore me from death’s clammy embrace, I can almost pretend things haven’t totally fallen apart at the seams. That my life hasn’t begun to resemble the opening act of my least favorite Tom Hanks film.

He knows what to do. He’ll fix it.

Rain falls steadily on my face as I pull in a shaky breath, throat still burning from the seawater, and watch lightning flay the sky. I flinch when thunder shakes the air a few seconds later. The storm is still raging all around us. A wave crashes over the side of our raft, dousing us both. A terrified bleat bursts from my bruised throat as I contemplate what will happen if we flip.

I can’t go back in that water.

“Hey,” he murmurs, recognizing my terror. “I’ve got you.”

His hands move from my arms to my face, brushing wet strands of hair from my eyes. I don’t shift from his lap, where I’m cradled like a child after a nightmare. Under any other circumstance, I’d be embarrassed to be this close to him. But now, still reeling from the crash, all I feel is numb terror.

“I’ve got you,” he repeats, a fervid promise. “We’re going to survive this.”

I hold his eyes and pull in another jagged breath.

“Do you understand me?”

“I…” The word catches in my sore throat. I clear it and try again. “I hear you.”

“Good. Can you sit up?”

My head bobs in his hands, an affirmation.

He’s infinitely gentle as he maneuvers me into a sitting position with my back braced against the inflatable wall. I bite back a protest when he releases me, feeling far safer in his hold. He’s my only touchstone in this maelstrom.

I press a hand to my aching temple. “I… I don’t remember…”

“You were passed out when I got to you, so you might’ve hit your head, but I don’t see any blood…” He’s crouched close by my side, scanning me intently for further injuries. “Your wrist was still wrapped in the raft lines. If not for that, and your life vest…” He trails off.

I’d be dead.

I clear my throat. “I don’t think I hit my head. I just… ran out of air. When we crashed, it was so dark beneath the surface. I couldn’t tell which way was up. I couldn’t—” I bite down on my lip to contain my words — words I don’t dare let myself speak, about the small hand that was ripped from mine. I can almost still feel her tiny fingers, the ghost of a grip lingering.

The grip of a ghost.

I couldn’t hold her.

“Is anyone else…” I can’t ask, but I must know. My eyes move around the expanse of empty raft and I think I already have my answer, horrific as it may be.

There were fifteen people on board, including the crew. Surely, others made it out. Surely, it’s not just the two of us…

“You’re the only one I found.” A crease appears between his eyes and he seems to steel himself. “So far.”

He scrambles back to the edge of the raft, clutching the lifelines when a massive wave threatens to capsize us. I grab hold as another hits, pitching us violently sideways.

My stomach turns inside out.

I focus on my savior instead of my own panic. He’s leaning against the inflated wall, eyes squinting into the darkness. There’s no sign of the jet in the water, nor any of the other passengers. It’s hard to see anything at all, except during the brief moments when a bolt of electricity lights up the world.

Adjusting my grip on the safety lines, I pull myself to his side and help him look. At first, there’s nothing. Nothing but rain and relentless swells of ocean, foaming white at the crests. But then, a flash of color in the distance — something yellow. A single daisy petal floating in a vat of ink.

“There!”

My voice breaks on the word as my hand flings out, pointing madly as thunder booms overhead.

“What?” he yells, over the howling wind.

“I think I saw someone!”

“Where? I can’t see anything.”

“Wait for the lightning!”

Another bolt streaks across the sky a few seconds later. My heart leaps inside my chest when I locate the flash of yellow, maybe fifteen feet from us in the thrashing waves. A life vest. There’s definitely someone out there.

This time, he sees it too. We call out, but there’s no response. If they’re still alive, they’re either unconscious or unable to reach us on their own.