Page 5 of Prey for Me

I feel like all the answers to my silent questions are no. So that begs the most important question of all. How long have I been passed out while the crew was dead, the jet burned, and finally started to sink?

“No… Focus,” I whimper, ripping my eyes away from the gruesome scene and towards the light.

With Herculean effort, I pull the bright red straps of my yellow vest around my waist tighter and begin to doggy paddle towards the gaping hole where the latched door’s been blown off. There seems to be too much sunlight streaming in to be nearlyunderwater, but I don’t let my logic get in the way of escaping certain death.

“Ow…” A sharp, blinding pain robs me of my vision on my next stroke, and I can’t move an inch as I try to get my bearings.

I touch my forehead, and the palm of my hand comes back blood red. My vision swims, but I swim harder and faster, desperate to free myself before the only exit sinks too deep. I’m delirious, and I don’t know if my pressure is rising or dropping too rapidly. Either way, I’m on the verge of passing out.

“Ah!” I gasp as, finally, my broken nails dig into the metallic entrance.

There’s an explosion of blinding light and then a rush of wind so strong it nearly knocks me off the craft—air suspends in my lungs, breath halting, just like the plane, dangerously close to teetering off the edge. But not into the ocean. No, off the side of a fucking cliff!

I go absolutely still, worried my weight will somehow be the tipping point. I glance right and see that while the ocean is quickly submerging the back of the jet, the front end has hit some moss-covered jutting rock. Jet fuel and pieces of the plane burn not only in the ocean down below, but also the trees clinging to the rock.

Soon, the whole thing will tip over, and it will be over for me. I won’t be able to fight my way out under the crush of the ocean tide. I glance further up and see a cliff so tall it resembles a mountain. I won’t be able to make it, trying to climb up. I glance down at the water, which looks like a treacherous maze of deadly obstacles, but also salvation.

A raft! It’s tiny, bright yellow, and bobbing against a piece of metal. But it’s not too far away from where I’m clinging to, and far enough away from the jet-fuel-fueled fires, I stand a chance of living if I jump towards it. It’s risky, but my only option. I clench my teeth as a sickening scraping sound of metal on rockblasts the air. I glance all the way up and see the sun is setting, blazing like a flame on the horizon, but setting nonetheless.

I’ve been out for hours. I should be dead. But I’m not. And so, I won’t waste this chance.

Taking in slow, measured breaths, I brace for the worst cannonball impact of my life. I don’t think twice, because overthinking will lead to me winding up dead. I leap and thankfully land in the water. My body seizes, refusing to swim, and I sink like a rock until the life vest takes over. There I bob like a round yellow ball, turning my cheek so I’m not gulping salty water. Everything hurts so damn bad. I feel like I’m dying, and maybe I am already dead.

No, I am alive. I will survive because my nightmare is far from over.

Despite being an excellent swimmer, the impact and my waning adrenaline mean I have to fight like hell to swim towards the raft. By the time I reach it, it feels like hours have passed. I climb in and lie there, victorious for now, but knowing defeat is so very near. I’ll need supplies. To search for survivors. To find a way off this nameless island.

But to do any of that, I have to live.

I won’t die like this.

I’ve reached the life raft, but the paddle is floating away by the time I recover enough to drag myself to the side, searching for it. I lurch over the raft for the paddle once, twice, and a third time before I grab it. I grin, feeling lucky for the first time since this nightmare began. But then, something heavy bumps against the raft.

“Woah!” I shout as it knocks against me again.

Is it a jet-fueled fireball? A chunk of the jet’s torn wing? Or something much, much worse?

My worst fears are confirmed the second that terrifying thought crosses my mind. A shark fin pokes out of the water andrams into the raft. I’m not sure if pee is trickling down my leg or salt water, since it’s so sticky yet clear, but either way, my phobia of sea creatures kicks my fight instinct into overdrive. I lunge for the paddle and slam it against the water with everything I’ve got.

Do planes really explode like cars do in the movies? I can’t imagine a waterlogged jet can, but I smell something that smells suspiciously like gas as I paddle with everything I have so I don’t end up as shark food. I row towards the sandy beach near the cliff, my forearms burning like hell. As soon as I make it to shore, I crawl inland enough that I won’t be dragged back to sea, tugging the life raft by a rope until I’m forced to drop it. I have to save myself before I can worry about stocking up on supplies. If the life raft floats away, so be it; it’s not like I can paddle across the Pacific.

However, despite unloading the extra weight, I collapse a few feet away from the raft, once again drained of my fight-or-flight energy. With a groan, I drag myself up the sandy embankment, tearing at seashells, sand, and seaweed to get away from the tide. If I pass out now, I’ll be far from the ocean. But by nightfall, the high tide will surge and drag me out to sea. So I have to make it to the edge of the forest, I can barely make out, or preferably, to civilization.

Though deep down, I know that I won’t find anything remotely civil out here.

It takes a while of concerted effort, dragging myself along at a snail’s pace, before I finally reach grass and palm trees. I lay there for a long time, soaking in the heat, trying not to freeze as every inch of my body is soaking wet. Then, I pull myself up, take off the life vest, and carry it close to my chest. I need medical attention. But for now, all I want to do is rest.

I find some palm trees and a sturdy hollowed-out tree trunk after limping further into the forest. I climb inside, lie in a tight ball, and sob until my exhausted body is all cried out. Then Idrift into a dreamless sleep, one where the events of the past few hours disappear like seafoam, and I’m back in my bed in L.A.

CHAPTER THREE

GRACE

However,despitemybestefforts to bury this nightmare deep within my subconscious, I wake up not in my penthouse, but in a forest flooded in moonlight. The the world is dark, humid, and wet as I gasp for air. I close my eyes seconds after opening them, delirious, and my head is throbbing. I shiver from head to toe, slowly dragging my feet out of the water.

Wait… Water!?

Why is the water so close? In that terrible nightmare, I made it to shore and dragged myself into the forest. I found shelter. I slept. In my dream, I then escaped and returned to my miserable but everyday life in L.A. Anything would be better than this. But then, all at once, I realize that none of what happened to me was a dream. I’m genuinely trapped on a deserted island, the only survivor of a plane crash.

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