June 19th, 2066

22 10 9

Morgan went overboard.
None of us noticed, and even if we had, there was nothing we could have done for him. Not during that storm. At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

When we were free of the storm, I ran up to find Trent holding the wheel. I asked him where Morgan was, and he insisted that Morgan had told him he was going below deck, but... he hadn't. Jess and I never saw him.

With just one arm, he wouldn't have been able to swim. He was a dead man the moment he hit the water.

I'm glad he got us this far and I'm thankful for his friendship. His loss is tragic, but we have something more important to focus on, now: our location.

None of us know where we are or which direction we're heading. I know we should be heading in the general direction of the dawn sun, but that's an awfully wide space.

So we're just sitting in the ocean, drifting.

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