Title: Rogue Wave Capsizes Small Craft
Summary: Frank Holloway dies at sea. Based on the song Play Crack the Sky by Brand New and uses some lines from the song.
Notes: How did Frank find out that Rachel was dead? How does the USCG identify Frank's body? How will Helen find out about his death? Why have I bothered to write such sadness? Shhh...don't think about it too much.
It had taken Frank four months to get here, to the Northeast Atlantic. He was anchored off the tip of Montauk Point in Block Island Sound. Not so far away there were summer houses waiting empty for their tourists to return and fishermen turning in for an early night.
This anchorage was the result of four months of sailing. Pretty smooth sailing, actually. A few hairy moments off the Grand Banks but in general he felt really pleased with his ability to deal with whatever the weather threw at him. He had been all over the globe on his solo sail. A sail that had begun as an attempt to reconnect with the dreams he had as a younger man, before he got bogged down with work and ex-wives. Before he was partners with Rachel.
He moved about the small boat, preparing it for the night, as he listened to a New York City-based radio station on the small transistor. The weather report had a rain storm heading his way but the winds didn't seem like they would pick up for a few more days. He briefly admired the lighthouse off the port side, a metaphor for something but he was too tired to hash out exactly what it represented. He went below for the night, darkness having fallen quickly around him, shut off the radio and slid under the blanket on his bunk.
He was jarred awake by the ship shuddering beneath him. He rolled off his bunk and swallowed back panic as his feet splashed into a few inches of water. He had made sure the scuppers were in place, he had double checked the anchor line, there was no reason for his cabin to be awash. He flicked on the battery powered lamp and confirmed there was actually water in the cabin. He struggled into his rain gear as he noted the wind had indeed picked up earlier than the weather report had indicated and he could hear rain pelting down on the deck. He checked his watch: 4:15AM. Not too long remained before the sun started creeping over the horizon. Things always seemed worse in the dark, he reminded himself. If he could manage the situation until dawn broke then it'd be okay. It will be okay, he repeated to himself.
The ship lurched under his feet, sending him forcefully back onto his bunk. An errant mug he hadn't secured before bed crashed into the water at the bottom of the cabin. He broke out in a cold sweat at the feeling of the ship listing at a wrong angle. He flung open the hatch only to be hit in the face with an icy rain and sleet mix. He glanced around for the beacon of the lighthouse-it was still on the port side, so that was something. He hadn't drifted then. The relief of not having drifted lasted less than a moment as he realized the entire bow was under water.
The ship was swamping, buried in wave after wave now that the bow was under. He got off one SOS call before the electronics shorted out. He switched on the EPIRB and noticed that the lights on shore seemed to have faded as the rain intensified, limiting visibility. He had a quick thought about Tommy and Gavin, his old work mates. If they could only see how stupid he looked now they'd have a good chuckle after they saved his ass. But Tommy and Gav were on the other side of the world, in warmer waters, probably on the Nemesis at this exact moment, saving some poor bloke like himself.
It seemed unlikely anyone would be saving him. He clung to the rigging in a white knuckle grip as reality pounded itself into his thoughts. This is the end. He was already shaking with the cold of the sea and the rain in his face. He managed to fasten a life jacket around his torso and tried the radio again to no avail. The water was so cold he knew the life jacket wouldn't matter. He'd be dead of hypothermia or exposure before he'd drown. He thought of the people who would miss him the most-his brother, Kevin, and Rachel-and realized they wouldn't actually miss him because they were dead before him.
God, he missed Rachel. At first it had seemed like he was the one keeping them apart-him and his foolish sailing trip. Now it was her fault. Her funeral was what kept them apart. Soon to be his own funeral as well, he realized. He started to cry. This was the moment he discovered what captains felt as they went down with their ships. Except he wasn't going down with the ship. He took a deep breath and launched himself into the water, trying to get clear of the sinking vessel. He had a vague idea that he could swim for shore. He spluttered for breath as his tears mixed with the rain and the waves on his face.
"Well, Rachel, looks like I've gone and done it now." He wished he could hear her voice again, hear her giving him a hard time about this latest stupid thing he'd done. He started swimming in the direction of the lights on shore.
On the other side of the world, heading home from a long day at work, Helen felt an extra deep wave of sadness wash over her. She attributed it to Rachel's death, which if she was being honest with herself, she'd probably never recover from. She blinked back tears and made herself recall happy times with Rachel. Herself, Rachel, and Frank: the three of them were a force to be reckoned with once. Now Rachel was dead and Frank was, well, wherever Frank was now.
The US Coast Guard responded an hour too late to the EPIRB signal. The tip of the mast was the only part of the ship still above water as the sun spread its first rays over Block Island Sound. Frank's body was found washed up thirty miles to the west the next morning.