Maybe there were other things? Had there been flotation vests on the bridge?
The ship gave another violent shudder.
Shit, shit, she was going down fast. He had to go now. He put his arm across Dmytro’s chest and swam for his life. Air from the sinking vessel caused the water to foam around him. It burbled and eddied, pulling at their bodies, dragging at their clothes.
He let his deck shoes fall off and kept swimming. He was close. So close. He’d just reached for the buoy when the ship gave another horrible groan and a shudder. It heaved again, but this time the bridge sank under water and the buoyant ring floated free.
With a prayer of gratitude, Ajax grabbed for it.
Seconds later, the entire boat slid below the water’s surface, and with painful dismay, Ajax realized he’d lost the chance to get life vests, water, a flare gun. He’d never had a chance as long as he had to keep Dmytro’s inert body above water. Still…
As he’d been trained to do, he got his arms beneath Dmytro’s shoulders and dragged his upper body onto the buoy between them, which placed Dmytro’s head above water. In that position, the device took some of Dmytro’s weight, and Ajax was able to maneuver better. He could also see the furrow Peter’s bullet—had Peter, or Chet, been the sniper? He could see a furrow in Dmytro’s skin, plowed by someone’s bullet. Thank God, the bullet had only grazed him. But also…
Ajax was no stranger to these waters, and he didn’t ever want to bleed in them. Not with global warming bringing sharks closer to the West Coast every year.
Now that the ship was gone, he searched the litter it left behind and tried to come up with a plan. First things first, he made a sweep of the debris, looking for useful items. A bit of rag, washed as well as he could in sea water, was useful to put pressure on Dmytro’s wound. Bits of paper came in handy as makeshift sunblock to protect his skin. He found a few water bottles with small amounts of water still in them. They mightcontain enough precious liquid to stave off dehydration for a few hours.
How long would it take to be found? They were somewhere among the Channel Islands. Surely someone would find them. Didn’t the Coast Guard, the DEA, and ICE make sweeps looking for smugglers and drug traffickers and illegal entries all the time?
Ajax tried to be positive. He was still able to swim. He could keep going for a long time, given the alternative. Dmytro shifted, pressing his face into Ajax’s neck—probably an unconscious effort to avoid the bright light and biting wind. His touch made Ajax more determined than ever.
Dmytro’s girls needed their father.
Dmytro needed him.
An orange speck in the distance drew his eye. He towed Dmytro toward it, delighted to discover it was a life vest. It must have floated free from the bridge as the vessel sank. He looked around, but if there had been others, he couldn’t see them.
Holding Dmytro on the buoy with one hand, Ajax slipped the life vest around his body and secured the fasteners with the other. Relief poured through him.
A vest like this could buy him time and help him stay afloat a whole lot longer, even if he had to keep Dmytro with him. Thank Christ, thankChrist, something was going his way for a change.
Now all he had to worry about was hypothermia.
He held the damp pad of fabric to Dmytro’s wound and kicked as economically as he could, relishing the soft warm puffs of breath against his neck as proof Dmytro was still among the living. Maybe they could come out of this alive yet.
But already the few minutes he’d been forced to spend in the water felt like hours. The heat from the sun was merciless, the light blinding wherever it hit the waves.
He took his own counsel and covered his head and face with paper debris. He did the same for Dmytro, who had yet to come to.
Every time he thought he was near the end in the past few hours, he’d been thrown out of one nightmare only to be blasted into another, more serious, more dangerous one.
Was this the end at last?
If it was, he’d run an awesome race. He’d told his parents he loved them. That he was proud to be their son. He hadn’t told Dmytro how he felt about him, but surely, if there was someone up there looking out for him, he’d get the chance.
At leastheknew. At least he had the opportunity to take his love and transform it into action. To hold Dmytro close and keep him safe, even if it was their final hour on earth.
Absurdly, he lifted his arm to check the time on his expensive dive watch. Stupid thing. It had cost a fortune and the second had had stopped. There was no way to tell the time or where he was. No GPS function, no compass, even. Thank God he had the good old sun. He could make his way east, toward the coast, though the currents would most likely drag them south… but there was the wreck to consider. The field of debris from the sunken boat made him think he’d be better off staying put. It would be hard to miss that during a flyover. Hard not to extrapolate that a boat had gone down.
Would they look for survivors?
Of course they would.
And with his orange life vest and Dmytro in his arms, it would be difficult to miss them. He kicked around, collecting anything with bright colors—bits of paper, rags, empty aluminum cans. Anything that might shine or glitter or show well against the backdrop of the sea. He placed what he could on Dmytro’s flotation device without sinking him and waited.
As time passed, he found himself talking to Dmytro. “You have to wake up, man. I’m doing everything I can, but I can’t do it alone… Your daughters need you, Dmytro. If you don’t come home, who will read them stories? Who will protect them from bad boyfriends and bullies at school? Who will sing that ridiculous lullaby?”
It helped, talking out loud. And God knew he could keep going for hours.
