Getting Your Sea Legs

With eyes squeezed tight and bucket held close Marvin sits in his obscenely small cabin aboard the Andromeda. He never had liked the sea, or water for that matter, yet here he sits on a ship in the middle of the ocean wishing it would end.

“How in the hell did she convince me that a cruise would be a good idea? So typical of her to do something like this. She always was the selfish type, Annie.” Marvin mutters to himself, thinking none too fondly of his thick headed sister; the thought is interrupted by the threat of the potato salad he had had for lunch making a reappearance.

            He resurfaces from the bucket with a more pleasing thought.

“I will choose the next vacation. Something she would be bored by but that I will love… bowling. Two weeks of bowling will set her right. This will ensure all future endeavors will be planned in both of their interests.”

            The ship begins to lurch forward violently and Marvin is thrown around the miniature cabin amidst the clutter of his belongings, hitting his head hard against the edge of the cold and unforgiving bed rail, losing consciousness.

 

 

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            Waking up to a soft red glow and the screaming of a siren Marvin slowly rises to his knees in a daze, rubbing the sizable lump now protruding from his forehead.

            “What in the hell happened?” He says and exits the cabin, making his way to the stairs that lead him to the deck. Using the wall for support he just barely makes it topside before the ocean smell of salt invades his senses. Potato salad spurts forth from his mouth in a chunky stream, spewing along the empty deck.

            “Wasn’t very good anyways.” He mumbles before realizing that he is alone. Rushing to the side of ship he looks down and can see the surface of the ocean looming far closer than it should have, and seemingly inching nearer still.

            In the distance he can make out a series of small dotted figures, other passengers on boats, abandoning the wreck.

            “S**t.”

            In a panic, Marvin rushes around the perimeter of the deck, searching in vain for a boat they probably didn’t leave behind. He is running out of time. Spotting an old life vest hanging as decoration on the old snack bar he grabs it in haste and fastens it to himself in desperation. Marvin cannot swim.

            The ocean’s surface is far too close for comfort from the lip of the ship now as Marvin runs about the slippery deck searching for something, anything that will put space between him and the water when this pathetic excuse for a ship sinks. Heading through the cabin to the restricted area of the vessel he spots something bright and yellow strapped to the port side. Upon closer inspection it’s a raft-in-a-box.

            “I would like to take a moment to thank God or Poseidon or whoever the hell is hopefully watching over me through this s**t fest of a mess and ask that they keep it up just a bit longer.” Marvin mutters breathlessly to himself as he reads the instructions and feels the ship start turning slowly to the side, making the already slick surface of the deck more perilous.

 

How to use Raft-In-A-Box 1.        Throw over side of ship. The force of hitting the water will activate the pressure lock and the raft will self-inflate. 2.        Jump into water and climb aboard. 3.        Secure each individual inside the raft and tether the water, rations, and supplies to the floating compartment. 4.        Flip the switch to the homing beacon located under the side of the raft. 5.        Survive until help arrives. WARNING- DO NOT DRINK WATER IF IT IS NOT FRESH WATER. DEHYDRATION WILL ONLY OCCUR FASTER. DO NOT LEAVE SAFETY RAFT FOR ANY REASON. THIS PRODUCT EXPIRES JANUARY 15, 2005. USE AFTER THE EXPERATION DATE MAY CAUSE DEATH OR BODILY INJURY AND IS AT THE RISK OF THE USERS THEMSELVES.

 

 

 

 

 

            The expiration date nearly drives Marvin to his knees. Today is July 21, 2010. As he drags the raft to the edge of the boat, praying that it will still function for him, he swears and curses the cheap b******s involved with the out of date equipment that could save or condemn him. Hauling it over the side and resting it on the edge he can see the water that used to be fifty feet away is now a mere ten. He hopes it will be enough to activate the pressure lock.

            Tossing it over the side he is drenched with water as a condensed explosion seems to take place before him, the small yellow raft unfolds eight feet below him.

            “Thank god.” He mutters as he checks the straps of his life vest from the fifties before vaulting himself over the edge into the calm waters, trusting the vest to keep him alive until he can make his way into the raft.

            Plunging five feet below the surface he quickly is sent rocketing back upwards, spluttering and coughing with a burning nose and eyes. Why people like the sea he will never know. The life raft is right where he left it a few feet away, lucky for him.

            “Psh luck. What luck? The only luck I’ve had today has been s**t. My god damn sister left me to drown on a cruise for our vacation that SHE wanted! I think... The last I saw of her she was dancing with some stranger while I was turning green and rushing to our cabin. Screw luck. Screw her. I can do this myself. Focus… You gotta focus Marvin.” He interrupts his monologue as he does the only kind of swimming he knows how, doggy paddling.

            The ship was now at water level and he had to get away from it soon. Finally reaching the raft he grabs the straps that run along the side and uses the last of the adrenaline coursing through his weary veins to haul himself free of the water. He searches for the homing beacon the instructions had told him about and finds it, just as promised, under a flap on the left side of his crude and, hopefully, temporary home. Marvin starts taking inventory of the food, water, and other supplies the raft had to offer; it was enough for a few weeks alone at sea, if he rationed it. The raft must have been designed for multiple people

            As he lay on his back looking up at the clouds his mind wanders as he waits for his rescue to come.

            “Maybe I’ll make it on one of those survivor shows and tell my story; make some money off of nearly dying. Worst comes to worst I can always sue someone.”  A wry chuckle emits from his chest.

            The last fleeting thought he had before falling asleep is that he no longer is sea sick.

 

ϡ

 

Marvin lay in his life raft. It had been a few hours since the lull of the waves had coaxed his exhausted mind to sleep and finally his eyes were open again. Sitting up groggily and rubbing the sleepy haze from his eyes he takes in his surroundings. The life boats that were a mile away a few hours ago are now just a  few hundred feet from his solitary floating position; most of them are torn and sinking or on fire. Not a human remained in sight. What happened here while he had been sleeping Marvin didn’t know. The last time he had seen them there was people on them floating away as he rustled together his own survival, having been abandoned. There might be supplies in them from which he could draw from. At least then they still will be able to serve a purpose through their deaths�"an aid to his survival.

            Grabbing the paddle that is strapped to the inside of the raft he makes his way to the wreckage.

His focus is set on the sight ahead of him: sinking boats, sunken boats, and the mangled remains of what he assumes is what’s left of the passengers. Marvin feels little remorse for those who abandoned him but is still thankful for an empty as his search for supplies begins. Most of the carnage is useless but he manages to acquire a another bottle of water, a few Quaker granola bars, and a bright orange utility knife.

            As he is about to clamber back into his life raft a partially covered case catches his eye.

“Well well what have we here?”

 Quickly sliding towards it he picks the large container up; it’s looks are deceiving as it is quite heavy for such a small thing, but this raft is sinking and he must get back on his before anything should happen. Taking the mysterious case with him, Marvin grasps the paddle of his raft and once more makes his way in the direction that he prays is land.

            Going through the inventory that he collected and adding it to his current stock, Marvin glances at the mysterious case once more.

            “I wonder what you are hiding in there.” He whispers to himself, slowly making his way away from the wreckage while consuming one of the granola bars he had scavenged.

            “What the hell is this crap?” Looking at the shiny wrapper he sighs in disgust. Peanut butter and chocolate chunk. Of all the flavors he could have found this was just about the worst. Marvin is allergic to nuts; not enough to break out in hives but more than enough to make him irritably itchy, as if covered in a mass of crawling insects, for days.

            “If I’m going to be at sea I would rather starve to death than have to itch my a*s for days on end.” The half-eaten granola bar now lay at the bottom of the boat where a small pool of water was forming from the constant strokes of Marvin’s paddle.

            His eyes dart from the serene calm of the ocean before him to the case beside him.

            “Fancy meeting you here.”  He chuckles dryly. This was the kind of humor he alone seemed to appreciate. Marvin was unsure of what was keeping him from opening the case right away, but something stays his hand. Hope maybe? No that can’t be it… can it? The need to know is consuming him.

            He gives in and restraps the paddle to its secure location; taking the case in his lap he reaches for the zipper and tugs gently. Cold hard steel is recognizable as a barrel. His excitement heightens and the hand keeps pulling at the zipper. The wood of the handle curves sleek and smooth around the various metal parts that he doesn’t know the names of; though, he knows what this is. Marvin is holding a rifle.

            Pulling back the bolt of it, he sees that the chamber is empty. Is there any ammo!? In a moment of brief panic he jams his hand in the depths of the case, rejoicing at the tinkling of metal on metal that meets his ears and the cold of survival that touches his fingertips; bringing his hand out to reveal six bullets, roughly two inches long apiece.

            “If a god exists he surely wants me to survive.” He says, cradling the weapon in his arms like a child would an expensive new toy.

            Marvin lies down on the floor of the raft again. He dismisses that it is wet and salty. He dismisses that he was in the middle of god knows where. He has a rifle. Marvin has a rifle. That is one step closer to surviving.

 As he strokes the barrel he reminisces none too fondly about the year his father had tried to take him hunting: waking up at five A.M. just to freeze his a*s off in a deer stand while his father did the only thing that truly made him happy�"drink his Irish coffee. The only thing that Marvin can recall about guns is that they won’t fire if the safety is on. But he will learn more through careful inspection tomorrow. For now he will sleep.

The rifle is tucked safely under his arm, Marvin’s new toy, as he once again succumbs to the deep of sleep, with thoughts of a dead deer he had watched being shot. At the time he had been filled with horror. Now he feels awe; awe and thankfulness. This rifle could make him. Or, this rifle could end him.

Author's Note

Just a short story I wrote for my creative writing course! Let me know what you think?

Reviews

[Marie]

I like it, because it's well written and exciting. But it doesn't have any real closure.

[Chase]

I appreciate the feedback. Yes there were certain criteria in the grading that made me have to keep it that way. I am going to expand on it at some point.