Lost At Sea

Scarlett had only been unconscious once in her life so far, and that had been when they had taken her appendix out in a clean, western hospital. She'd been out then for maybe an hour or two and had woken up with a dry throat, a weak headache and a slight pain at the side of her abdomen. Essentially that brush with mortality had been a walk in the park.

What she experienced this time was different - a surreal kind of unconsciousness, punctuated by dreams and memories that blended together in her trapped mind, turned into a nightmarish black landscape in which she was lost for what seemed like a lifetime. The ripping noises of breaking wood and metal were ringing in her ears, the sound of shattering glass and the screams of Marshall Dakin and his guests punctuated everything. The cold was unbelievable... that feeling of being swallowed by that unbelievable cold as she plunged into the black water, as the waves washed over her and threw her around like a toy. That essential, breathtaking she had felt when she had realized she was going to die! That anger towards everything - her stupid boss, the storm, the sea, the universe!

The taste of salt was strong in Scarletts mouth. Her throat and guts were burning with thirst. Her body and skin felt raw as if she had been flayed alive, her head did not just ache but felt like it was about to explode, every heartbeat kicking against the insides of her temples. Each single intake of breath hurt her ribs and shoulders. Essentially it was this amount of agony that proved she was still alive and forced her to slowly fight her way back out of unconsciousness. But a part of her would have liked to just drift further into the darkness and forget everything, and never return.

Still, at some point Scarlett opened her eyes, blinking, and moaned. When no one reacted she tried to move and managed, after a while, to get into a sitting position. She coughed and nearly puked, but her stomach was utterly empty. She tried to curse and found her voice was so hoarse it was barely audible. She felt weak like a baby.

"Oh fuck... oh fuckfuckfuck... holy Jesus fuck... uuuggghmmyhead....."

Sitting and mumbling curses under her breath she sat for some time, head in her hands. The place she had awoken at was very bright and only very slowly she found the self-control to take her palms off her eyes.

"That must be a joke", she coughed with bitter irony. "I'm in a fucking Tom Hanks movie."

The spot was sandy, the deepest point between a couple of high dunes. Some bushes grew here and spend a little shadow, and that shadow was where Scarlett had been lying as she had regained consciousness. And obviously she had not been alone all the time: There was a small, burned-out fireplace not more than two meters away. There were some empty cans nearby on the sandy ground, some pieces of tarnished leather and an old swim vest on a small heap. There was an old blanket and something like a very small tent that had been constructed from the remains of a liferaft. The place looked like the very sad attempt of someone to build a small home with the few items attainable for the feat.

What was most important was that whoever lived here had collected fresh water: Scarlett found it in the old cans that had once contained beans and sweet corn and she drank most of it within a few minutes. She had a nearly orgasmic feeling while filling her belly with it and didn't care that, as she had heard in certain movies, too much water at once might give her a bellyache. She just drank and drank, burped and drank, until she felt more alive again.

Afterwards she took some time to check the state she was in. It seemed better that Scarlett had expected: Her body had some scratches and she had a light sunburn and broken nails, but nothing that wouldn't heal. Her hair and skin were encrusted with salt and sand, but right now she didn't care. She smelled sweaty and a bit like fish and algae, but that was no wonder. Drugged by the fresh energy the water had given her she even giggled now, traumatized but happy to be a survivor. The giggles sounded a little crazy in her own ears, but she could not manage to keep them inside.

"You just drank all water I had collected for the rest of the week", a calm male voice said from behind her. "But I don't blame you. Frankly I'm just happy you are alive."

Scarlett whirled around as fast as her state allowed. The man was maybe a bit older than her, but it was hard to say: He wore faded clothes that had been exposed to the sun probably for years, he was deeply tanned and had a beard that made him look like a sexy - if slightly starved - hermit. His eyes were blue and he looked to Scarlett in no way threatening but more like a man who had been lost. Which had to be pretty literally what had indeed happened to him, if you put one and one together.

She made a face and tried to relax a little, giving up the defensive position she had jumped into when he had surprised her. He had had, after all, already more than enough chances to rape or kill or eat her while she had been unconscious.