Page 5 of Fire Island
I spin back, horror etched all over my face.
The door slams. Something on the other side rattles like a lock being clicked shut.
Then another.
Fists pounding against the wooden door, I slide to my knees. The wail that leaves me carries on the breeze, echoing over the Atlantic.
Two
CALLUM
Bl—ee—p
B-ee-p
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Light cuts through the slit of my cracked-open eyelid. Blinding me. I raise a hand to shield myself, but something snags, sending a sting through the back of my right hand. The tight surface beneath me crunches.
I—
Something covers my legs and chest, holding me in place.
I’m trapped?
Forcing my eyes open, white nothingness swallows my vision. I slam my eyes shut. Flinging them open again, I make out the light-grey blind over a window, the sectioned popcorn-textured white ceiling.
Beep.
I turn my head toward the screech.
My mouth is full of sand. My head feels like a swollen balloon. Gripping the edge of the plastic mattress, I pull myselfup. Dizziness sinks heavy behind my eyes. Groaning, I hold firm on the bedrail as I sit up.
What the hell?
I sway on my seat. My mouth waters, and bile rises.
“Fu-uck.”
Boat.
The dark waters of early morning.
The guy on the half-sunk vessel.
The thwack of hardness connecting with my skull.
Panic for something I can’t place settles low in my gut, edging my nerves something fierce.
Greyish blurs roll in, stealing the context of each piece of memory rushing me like a freight train.
A rescue gone wrong?
I reach for my head and find a bandage wrapped around it. The pulse point at the tender spot on the back of my head thrums to life as I brush my fingertips over the material. A dressing over my temple snags my middle finger as I let my hand fall. With a little pressure over it, I can feel the telltale bump of stitches.
