Rescue (fiction)

The man adrift in the fog-enshrouded, endless ocean had little recollection of the night before. Salt water from every wave that broke upon his precarious craft stung his eyes, the cracks in his lips and hands. He stretched out prone across the wicker basket of fishing floats thrown from the ship. The impromptu preserver rocked back and forth, threatening to capsize with every swell, stressing his exhausted muscles and joints. The pain was unbearable and melded into one stoic mass of resistance and fear.

How long could he continue to hold on? It would be easy to let go and allow the sea to consume him. His torment would end: no more pain or guilt-stricken torture for his cowardice. Why had he run away in an impulsive attempt to escape his destiny, a prideful rebellion that had risked everything for foolish principle? The cold grasp of the deep would solve all of his problems if he could just surrender to it, drifting free forever from these troubles in a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

A pale, yellow sun finally rose. This reluctant mariner was startled back to his senses by a form on the horizon. He shook his head and tried hurriedly to clear the crust from his face and sight. Not large enough for a landmass and moving toward him--it must be a ship! Yes, the ship must have returned to search! He slapped the water with his damaged hands and croaked a cry as his blurry vision witnessed the advance. Hurry, Hurry! Faster and faster it came, but in a straight course for his position! Would he be overrun after such a long night of suffering? No, he couldn't allow it! He frantically tried to propel the basket alongside the bulk of the trememdous shadow that overtook him. A dark void opened like an umbrella over his head blotting out the sky. Rushing water rolled everything over and over and downward; suddenly, a black curtain fell. Then--nothingness.

Hours passed. He awoke incredulously in the cold darkness. Horror struck with his first thought:alive! I'm still alive within the belly of the beast!

J. Wallace

Seaside

My first experience of Florida as my new home was the beach on a bright, moonlit night. Even now, it seems like a scene from a movie, surreal and perfect. A cool, stiff breeze blew in from the ocean, followed by strands of low lying clouds that raced across the blacklight sky. Something oblivious to our party waited on the sand below to be forever etched into my memory.

My fiancee' had convinced me to accompany her and her parents to Florida that summer to help with a temporary move and assignment--refurbishing their rental property in North Palm Beach. I drove their huge Oldsmobile with my girlfriend riding shotgun. We followed the U-Haul truck her father drove with his wife beside him, both vehicles packed with suitcases, furniture, and cleaning supplies. The scenic trip from Tennessee was exciting; one romantic and dangerous interlude occurred during a driving rainstorm on a treacherous, curving mountain pass outside Chattanooga. Ah, the impetuousness of youth! Florida lay ahead, a destination I had dreamt about all my life, and I didn't have a care in the world.

We drove straight through and arrived in Palm Beach County around midnight. The lead car pulled over onto a two lane road banked by sand dunes and wheat grass and stopped. My new friends said they had a surprise for me. We walked down a steep path through the dunes and seagrape bushes to where the sand leveled out in the blue light. Foamy surf roared and broke thirty yards away in front of a rolling sheet of black satin whose end disappeared in the dark. A large boulder appeared to struggle in a hole on the beach. Its rubbery side flaps sprayed sand into the air. Someone shined a flashlight underneath. Wet ping-pong balls plopped down methodically into the pit it had dug. The huge, loggerhead turtle glanced up for a moment from her egg-laying work. Tears rolled down her cheeks. My future mother-in-law said, "They always weep like that. She's crying for joy!"

I looked around for a moment, taking in the sound, the waves, the moon-bright night, the rustling palms, all of God's creation, and then looked back at their happy faces. I understood perfectly.J. Wallace