Chapter 29: Strength of the Sea

The wind and water was almost all Sands could hear. The rocking of the boat combined with his newly damaged wounds did not help his concentration. He followed the cold rail back to the stern and the anchor rope. Annamaria had synchronized their watches and told him that she'd set his to go off every five minutes. He would have ten minutes to lower the back anchor before she would start lifting the front end. There was no guarantee it would hold, and they would probably shift quite a bit before the anchor bit into the sea floor. They could only hope they'd move in the right direction.

.

At the bow, Annamaria cowered slightly at the size of the coming waves. No matter how old she got she always knew she could leave it to the sea to remind her she was still only a human to the raging forces of nature. It was bigger. It was older. It was stronger. She put her shoulder to the wind and checked her watch.

.

His arm was killing him, but Sands felt the anchor hit bottom. Water had penetrated every layer of clothes and the bandages on his face were soaked through, soggy on his cheeks, salt water stinging the edges of his eye sockets. Somehow, he was able to ignore it.

His wristwatch began to beep for the second time. Sands lowered a few more feet of nylon and tied it off.

.

Annamaria wished she could yell to Sands over the roar of the wind, but it proved too loud to even hear her own voice as she grumbled to herself. She prayed he had the anchor down as she began to lift hers. A wave crashed in front of her, pushing her feet back, nearly out from under her. The stress of the wind and waves on the nylon had it stretched tight, making it difficult to pull from its lodgings. She waited until the undercurrent pulled them back toward the open sea. The line went slack. With all her might, she lifted. It began to give, then it started to come in easy.

The moment of fear, and ultimately, truth.

.

Sands leaned against the metal rail - the only thing keeping him from falling into the sea - whose valleys of water between waves seemed to gape like open mouths. Foam covered the surface, flying into the air and adding to the salt taste in his mouth. Overhead the thunder kept clashing, though he couldn't see the lightning. What the hell was he doing here? And why did it feel somehow…familiar?

The world started to spin. No, the boat started to move. It was swinging about! But, it was headed the wrong way.

"What the hell…?" He could feel the drift like he was in a plane that was banking to the left. Then, the movement sped up. Instinct told him to grab the rail, and he obeyed. He felt his stomach sinking as the boat went into a valley. It felt like an elevator stopping at after a long decent. He thought he heard someone yelling to him, but then a sound like a giant storm drain in a downpour, only far louder. He sucked in air. Crouching with his head down, his hands still clutching the rail; he bowed to the sea.