I pushed on the cabin door and the wind grabbed it, slamming it against the outside wall with a sharp bang. The boat bucked underneath me as I clambered up onto the deck, the damp breeze heavy with the smell of salt, ozone, and something acidic. I fell against the side rail coughing violently, my lungs trying to grasp what oxygen they could from the air. Leaden clothes clung tight against my skin, instantly soaked with the stinging slaps of raindrops and ocean spray. Wind shoved against me and cracked the sails like shattering china. In between coughs I looked out across the ocean.
My chest constricted with a clenching cold as I took in the inky, breaking waves and the black swirling turmoil of the rushing hurricane. Lightning played across its surface, got taken up by the roiling clouds then spit back out in great bursts of light.
“Michael!” Réa had come up to stand just outside the cabin door, and even though she was only a couple of feet away, she yelled to be heard over the wailing winds.
“We need to get the mainsail down,” I yelled back, gripping tightly to the railing to face her without falling down.
Whether she nodded or said something in agreement, I couldn’t tell, but she moved to the sail and began taking it in. I stumbled across the deck to loosen the jib, then moved back to help Réa with the sail. We tacked it down and made for the safety of the cabin. As I turned to close the cabin doors behind us, dread grasped my chest; the tiller had gotten loose and now swung erratically, angling the boat to be broadside against the waves.
“I’ll be right back,” I shouted over my shoulder, climbing back on deck. I grabbed at a length of rope to lash the tiller again, then fumbled and dropped it with stiff fingers and knuckles that ached deeply with frozen bones. My stomach rose up to my throat as the sea heaved and the boat pitched. I didn’t realize I had fallen until I found myself opening my eyes against the soaked floor of the deck. I struggled to my feet gripping the railing, my hand tangled in the rope, and looked up into the open maw of the storm, its teeth sharp flashes of lightning, its tongue a dark crest of water crashing down towards me.
I was aware of being swallowed, crushed in the grip of freezing water that squeezed out feeling, light, and sound. I wasn’t sure if I was swimming up towards the surface, or if it was only my thoughts fighting not to drown in icy darkness. I thought I could make out the screaming of the winds, but it seemed like someone was screaming behind me, too.
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