To the Depths of My Heart

Adrift

The heat of the mid day sun radiated on Tom's skin, burning his fair complexion. It was the sting of the blistering rays that compelled him to open his eyes. He saw only the azure blue of the sky above him, its canvas of blue unobliterated by even a hint of white cloud tendril or even a bird flying by. His head lolled to the side, his neck still weak from near death, and he could see only the seamless cerulean of water meeting sky. The salt water hit the edge of the plank he was floating on, lapping at it with a gentle tongue that caused it to splash up so slightly and sprinkle its saline on his face. Turning his head the other direction, he squinted as his field of vision passed over the bright sun. 

Cora's figure was in the distance and Tom struggled to focus his eyes on her. She turned her face when she heard him grunt with effort and smiled. "It's about time you woke up," she said as she dipped her hands into the water and paddled her own board towards him. 

"How long have I been out?" he asked as he tried to push himself upright. "Long?"

She nodded. "Two days," she answered, "Give or take a few hours."

Tom braced himself with his elbows before sitting fully upright, attempting to gauge his balance in an effort to not upend it and spill himself into the water. "What happened?"

"Well," she began, her speech hesitant as she tried to pick the correct words from her mind. "We were trying to get away and there was an accident." Her body language told him she was not comfortable elaborating.

He drew in a deep breath and took in the surroundings a little more, at least what there was of them. "Where are we?" The familiar heat of blush crept as his face turned even more red at the obvious question. "I mean," he added, "How close to land are we?"

Cora shook her head. "Your guess is as good as mine," she replied with a smirk. Closing her eyes, she continued. "My best guess is that we've floated south. I've been watching the stars at night, when the sky hasn't been overcast." She reached into her pocket and pulled a small plastic bag from it, foisting it towards him as she explained, "I grabbed this from the boat before we capsized. I think it's jerky."

Tom met her halfway and grasped the bag. It was zipped shut, waterproof, and full of leathery strips. He opened it and took a whiff, letting the salty, meaty scent fill his nostrils and chase the smell of the ocean from his sinuses. "Yep," he confirmed, "I think beef." He used his long fingers to fish a small portion from the bottom of the bag and placed it on the end of his parched tongue. Under normal circumstances, he'd have eschewed the meat, his senses telling him that he needed hydration, that the salt of even the tiny bit he chewed was too much, but his stomach rumbled with hunger and the pangs were precursors to the cramping that would follow. He ate the meat and passed the bag back.

As she took the jerky sack back and tucked it into her pocket again, Cora nodded. "Best to save it as well as we can," she said, her eyes solemn. "I have no idea how long we'll be out here."

He chuckled. "Well, given  the many people that were looking for you, I'd hazard a guess that it won't be too terribly long." He hoped his answer would bring some semblance of levity to the situation, but her dour expression didn't change. Clearing his throat, he asked, "I don;t suppose you've got some water stowed in your pocket, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do have something," Cora answered. A tiny smile curled on her lips as she reached into the bag she had slung on her opposite side. Tom failed to notice the strap that was crossed diagonally over her chest, its fabric as murky and worn-looking as the torn shirt she wore, its color nearly identical. She pulled a half-full plastic water bottle from it. "There were a bunch of these on the boat. Once it sunk, they were just floating there."