Adrift

Leoluca stared at the far horizon, where dark night sky met equally dark, unquiet sea. He didn’t really register the small boat’s movements in the water. It had been so long, he’d almost forgotten anything different. Was that his beloved Sicily he could just see rising above the horizon? His homeland, abandoned in a rush and never to be seen again. Or so they thought. Maybe he was imagining things again. Dehydration did that, apparently.

The boat started to rock violently as a rogue wave slapped up against the side. Leoluca hung on with both hands as if he could steady it by main-force.

“Guju! Wake up!”

A recumbent dark shape stirred on the other rowing bench.

“Hold on tight!”

Leoluca watched anxiously until the boat settled again. His friend, Giuliu wasn’t well. Neither of them were, but Giuliu had drunk sea water a couple of days ago. They were both so thirsty. Giuliu hadn’t believed him when he’d said the sea water would make matters worse.

Leoluca went back to surveying the horizon with his binoculars. There was a dark bulge, just noticeable. As he was wondering whether it was Etna, a flash of glowing red showed its eruptions were still continuing, long after the pair of them had fled.

He and Giuliu had thought it a great plan, one which was possible for two young men to execute on their own. They would leave Catania, row across to Malta, and from there to Africa. Libya. Africa had escaped the madness which had consumed northern Europe. Italy was overflowing with refugees when the faultlines fractured, causing earthquakes, and rousing the volcanos to frenetic activity. Had it been caused by something from the war? Who knew? Who cared? It happened.

They commandeered a row boat, filled it with supplies and water, and set off. It was an adventure. And now, here they were, drifting, without food, virtually no water, and no way to determine their own fate.

Leoluca sighed.

“Luca? … Luca?”

The croak roused him to activity. “Yes, Guju?”

He moved carefully towards his friend.

“I’m thirsty.”

“I know, Guju.”

The last rain had fallen several days before. They’d almost run out again. Leoluca sat down on Giuliu’s bench. He raised up Giuliu’s head and pillowed in his lap.

“You can have a couple of sips soon, Guju. OK?”

“OK.”

Exhausted and dehydrated, Giuliu sank back into a doze. Leoluca stayed and stroked his friend’s salt-encrusted hair.

The trip had started off fine with them rowing well, but then a series of disasters struck. First, it being autumn, they’d forgotten about the sirocco. The wind from the north African desert blew against them for days at a time, sapping their energy for very little progress. Then, when they both fallen asleep at the oars one night, they awoke to find they’d lost one. Two more were lost a few days later when a huge catamaran swept past, almost completely submerging them.

Leoluca stared down at the outline of his friend’s face. Maybe it would’ve been better if they had drowned? Now they were drifting, at the mercy of wind and sea.

Giuliu became restless, his limbs twitching. He started to mutter something. Leoluca lowered his head to hear better.

“It should be a great movie, Luca. Can you get the lights for me?”

Leoluca’s eyes prickled, but there were no tears. His friend was remembering, or imagining, one of the many times they’d watched movies in Giuliu’s bedroom. Giuliu would make the selection and get the download ready, while he brought in the pizza slices and colas. It was also his responsibility to close the curtains, or see to the lights, depending on the season.

Giuliu grew agitated. “Get the lights, Luca.”

“Yes, Guju. I’ve got them.” Leoluca’s voice caught at the end.

He heard a quiet ‘Good’ before Giuliu’s body relaxed again back into his torpor. Leoluca reached round for the precious water bottle. He knew there were about four mouthfuls left. Even if he gave the lion’s share to Giuliu, there was no guarantee he’d survive the slow drift towards Sicily. Surely someone must see them soon?

“Why did you drink the sea water, Guju? Why?”

Lovingly, he roused his friend to semi-consciousness, then held the bottle to his cracked lips.

“Only a little, Guju.”

Carefully, he poured the water, allowing Giuliu time to swallow. They couldn’t afford to spill any. That done, he looked up. The sky was lightening to the east. It would soon be morning.

Would this be the day they were rescued?

© 2018, northie.

This is my response to the latest YeahWrite prompt challenge. All comments and constructive criticisms are welcomed.