Rakasa Read Free Page A

is blond. Her
bosom is considerable. Her character is charming and flirty.
    Her face is but a blur…
    The ghost who holds my heart troubles me, so I think on
something else: the lifeboat’s supplies.
    In addition to my sword and flintlock pistol, the lifeboat
has a potato bag of supplies. I empty it onto the floor. There are three flasks
for water, all bone dry. There is rice but no means of cooking it. A trio of
apples, no longer fit for human consumption, now acts as the hosts for worms
and rot. I do, however, find a compass and telescope.
    David is sniffling with his head hung low.
    “Quit your bawling,” I say.
    “Those poor animals,” David says. “First they get sick then
they burn and sink.”
    “Hmm.”
    “Do animals like lions go to heaven?”
    “Fuck…”
    The boy goes silent. I secretly thank him.
    The compass says we are heading east. It’s not helpful,
considering we have no idea where we are, but I appreciate knowing something .
    The telescope offers up a magnified view of the fog.
Useless. I put it aside for later.
    At least it’s not hot, so we won’t need to drink. Not yet.
    Don’t drink the ocean, my Papa always told me, you’ll
go mad with the phobias, then it’ll kill you.
    The rippling waves didn’t look dangerous like Papa said.
Quite inviting, in fact. Still, I’ve always trusted Papa’s truths, as they’ve
not led my astray thus far.
    “Look!” David shouts.
    I follow his finger to the sky and beyond the fog there is a
gull riding the winds.
    The only gulls in the middle of the ocean are dead gulls… or
ones near land.
    We must be close to shore.
    We might survive this yet.

5 .
    I awake chewing on sand.
    It takes me a moment to figure out that it’s not a dream,
that I’m on the beach and that the surf is tickling my toes.
    I sit up and gaze out at the ocean—it’s never looked so big
and unhappy to see me—then turn to see birds playing in palm trees behind me.
    I stand and brush the sand out of my hair. The lifeboat is
tied to a tree, empty except for the oars.
    David’s nowhere to be seen.
    There are footprints in the sand and I follow them until
they reach the rocks. I’m a sailor, not a ranger. I can’t track shit.
    My head hurts. There’s needles behind my eyes and I’d like a
drink—preferably rum—but I’d settle for water. Maybe there’s a pond somewhere.
    But where am I?
    Beyond the trees are rocky hills featuring very little
vegetation. I’m gonna climb one and get a lay of the land.
    The birds hoot and holler at me when I pass the tree line
and leave the beach. I tip my hat to them, saviors that they are, but I’d beg
them to shut their beaks if they were smart enough to understand.
    The foliage is thick. The ground is hard and brittle.
Doesn’t make sense. Being so close to the shore should make the dirt moist, but
this stuff is crumbling beneath my feet like we’re miles from the coast and in
the worst kind of drought. Further confounding matters is the fact that the
leaves are green on every tree. There is no drought here. So, why the brittle
soil, then?
    The jungle is thick. It clings to me, blocks out the sun.
Feels like drowning in the deep. I look back and the bright beach is still
visible between the swaying fronds. It beckons to me. The ocean, however
unforgiving, seems willing to take me back.
    I want to return to the beach and take my shoes off, feel the
sand between my toes. I like that feeling. I want it now more than ever.
    I’m just about to turn away from the sand and keep moving on
when I notice that the birds have stopped their play.
    I scan the trees until I spot one of them.
    It’s this blue and yellow thing, just hanging out in the
branches above, and it’s staring down at me like I’m not from this earth or
something.
    “What?” I ask the bird.
    He doesn’t reply.
    I find a rock and throw it at the bird’s head. He flies away
but he’s quickly replaced by two others. Then a third and a fourth.
    They’re up there not