And so they stood on a sinking boat, a literal metaphor for everything she'd been through in the last few days. Every time something seemed to be getting better, something else would happen that would knock her right back down the few rungs that she'd just struggled to climb.
"There's gotta be something!" Collin practically shrieked as he tore couch cushions from their place. "We can use these to float."
"Until they get soaked," she mused, seated on the edge of the boat. Down below, the water continued to pour in, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Just like things were with the first tidal wave of infected, Sara was helpless-and hopeless.
Collin remained frantic, right up until the last moment. He tried to come up with floating devices, only to have her shoot them down, her despair spiraling. Finally, when she feared the suction of the boat ducking beneath the water would drag her to the depths, she jumped off and swam as far from it as she could. Hopefully Collin would follow, but she wasn't holding her breath for him anymore-or so she tried to think.
At first, the water knocked the air out of her lungs. Frigid and rough, she struggled to stay above the surface, taking in a gulp of salty liquid every time a wave crashed against her face. Floatable contents from the ship slowly started to surface as she tread water, arms and legs moving in tandem to stay afloat-Collin included. She saw the teen's head bob up and down a good ten feet from herm and as much as she wanted to leave him, she knew she couldn't. Sure, he was an irritating little shit, but he was also just a kid.
"Over here!" she shouted, waving at him as best she could above the choppy water. He waved back as debris floated by her: paper, upturned pots, clothing. She sighed, watching as Gary's belongings floated by her, and muttered, "Sorry we sunk your boat."
But if the damn engine hadn't craped out on her, things might have been different.
It was then that Collin started screaming. Not quite the screaming she'd heard during his bout of rage while the boat was still afloat-no, this was something different. It was fearful, terrified.
"Something just nudged me!" he shrieked, though she could barely here him over the roar of the ocean. He started to swim toward her, and as he drew nearer, she saw he'd somehow acquired a bloody nose. The red liquid dribbled down his chin and into the water, and it didn't take much for her to piece together what might have nudged him below the surface.
That and the terrifying dark shadows swimming below her, blacker than the water itself, and bigger than anything she'd seen up close before.
"Sharks!" she cried. "Find something to get on top of!"
His panic was palpable, but Sara tried her best to move smoothly through the waters, picking through anything she could find floating. Moments later, she came across their salvation: a bright orange piece of plastic crested a wave, and she realized immediately it was the inflatable raft. Forgoing all sense of stillness, she moved for it as fast as she could. When she turned over her shoulder to tell him, to beckon him nearer, Collin's head disappeared below the surface, his last scream echoing in her head-and if she survived this, it probably would for the rest of her life.
With shaking hands and chattering teeth, Sara went for the pull-string. As soon as she pulled it, the raft sprung to life, burying her in orange and forcing her below the surface. She swallowed huge gulps of water in her panicky race for survival.
If it wasn't the infected, apparently it was a shark looking to sink its teeth into her. At that point, as she flung her arms over the edge of the raft and struggled to get herself up, she wasn't sure which was worse.
Once she was in, she collapsed back, gasping for air, then rolled onto her stomach and wept, her cries drowned out by the crashing waves, miles from shore-and much farther from hope.
She awoke to the sound of an air horn, its unpleasant honk rousing Sara from a dreamless sleep. While the waves had been choppy, it had almost been like sleeping on a waterbed, and she figured she must have been out there for a few hours by the time she finally succumbed to exhaustion.
Blinking rapidly, she pushed herself up with care. The ocean had quieted down now, and the raft only rocked a little over each small curl of water. Her lips were agonizingly dry, her body sore beyond belief.
And yet when she sat up completely, her spirits lifted at the sound of cheers. Beneath a cloudy sky, one that threatened to open sometime soon and unleash a storm, she found herself staring at a beach.
A beach with people.
Sure, their clothes seemed a little ragged. Yes, they were carrying sticks...
But they were cheering for her, waving and jumping. She waved back, barely able to sit up, and then let out a breathy whimper when a canoe was produced a few men hurried into the water. Coming for her. Bringing her in.
Cannibals. Sharks. Strangers.
There was nowhere else to go. In the distance, she spied smoke, and could only hope they'd feed her.
"Hey, little darlin'," one of the men greeted as the canoe approached, his paddling in sync with the man at the back. "Hop aboard the rescue express... You're in good hands now."
And for the first time in a long time in what felt like a very long time, Sara smiled.
The End.
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