The water beneath the raft moaned as it devoured what was left of the plane. The raft itself floated some distance away from the carnage, a long gray savior bobbing up and down on the waves. Sam clung to it with all the neediness of a desperate lover. He wasn't even sure how he'd found the damn thing. He remembered being strapped in his seat. He remembered the impact. The screaming. The overhead luggage breaking free and tumbling back and forth. The burning as the crept up his arm . And then the water rushing to swallow him... 

     He'd gotten so turned around under there that he was sure he would die, but by some miracle he'd found his way to the open sky and breathed deep until his lungs had filled with air tainted by smoke and death. raft had been floating nearby. A sanctuary in an ocean of misery. He'd tried to swim for it but found himself anchored. Then he remembered the woman.

     They hadn't spoken to each other the entire flight except for compulsory words here and there. 'Hello', 'Yes', 'No', 'Sorry', 'Excuse me'. Yet when it was clear the plane was going to crash she'd suddenly gripped his hand and held on to it with the kind of intensity only felt when death was a certainty. He'd let her. The reason he hadn't been pulled down in the undercurrent was strapped around her neck. He'd stared at her barely treading form and imagined himself taking the life vest off her and putting it on—but no, he couldn't. So, he'd held her tighter and paddled them both toward the raft where they now lay helpless, but safe.

     She hadn't opened her eyes since the impact. He put two fingers to her wrist to check her pulse but if she still had one it was too weak to feel. He put those same fingers under her nose and exhaled a sigh of relief when he felt her slow but steady breathing. There wasn't much more he could do for her.

     Instead he slid his still damp body over to the edge of the raft and felt around it's buoyant tubbing for a latch or a cubby, anything where the manufacturers might have stored supplies. Once he went the length of the thing he stared at it confused. It was long and gray and rectangular and unlike any raft he'd ever seen.

     It wasn't a raft at all. The plane's emergency slide must have detached when the door blew off. The slide had saved them from drowning, but there was no emergency cache filled with first aid supplies, flare guns, locator beacon, or paddles.

     "Shit, shit, shit!"

     Sam gazed out over endless expanse, nothing but black water beneath him and black sky above. "Is anyone alive?" He yelled into the darkness.

     No answer came back.

     A breeze picked up and a shiver ran through him. Instinctively, his hand reached out and touched the unconscious woman beside him—just on one of her cold hands, just to remind himself that he wasn't the only survivor.

     Assuming she woke up again. If not...

     Tears stung the back of his eyes. He could cry, but then his father's face came to his mind. He was frowning as usual, the deep lines in his forehead more from stress than age. He had survived genocide and labor camps... It had been the liver cancer that finally killed him. If that bitter old man could live through that, then Sam could get through this. Help was probably already on the way.

     A crack of lightning made him jerk forward just as a shower of large rapid raindrops fell from the sky. "Great. Fuckin' great," His words were muted beneath the sounds of water lapping against the slide and rain beating against the rubber of the slide.

     In the pitch darkness, the raft rocked on the gentle waves, swaying so sure and steady that Sam was lulled to sleep. Before long the rain had stopped and the sun began to peek over the horizon. Sam and the woman lay huddled together as they drifted. When a scream pierced the early morning quiet Sam was the only one who woke.

     He sat up so abruptly the slide quaked beneath them. Confusion clouded his judgement. Water? Sky? A dream?... No. He stared down at the woman, but she hadn't seemed to move in hours. When another scream came from his right his neck snapped in that direction and his eyes searched until they found a man desperately thrashing in the water. Sam risked the elements and sunk his lower half into the ocean. He made sure his grip on the raft was secure, spared a quick glance at the woman, and then started kicking.

     By the time Sam got to him, his legs burned from the exertion. He held the slide as steady as he could as he watched the stranger drag himself clumsily out of the water. When he was secure, Sam pulled himself out of the water with ease and flopped down on the raft between the him and the woman.

     He watched his chest rise and fall as he took deep, exhausted breaths. His eyes stopped where the man's shirt was torn open. His dark brown skin had wrinkled like cloth; the pink flesh underneath peeked out at him, wet and red.

     "Something hit me," said the man. "I thought I was going to die."

     "Me too."

     They lay parallel to each other for a time, their heavy breathing the only evidence that either was alive. Once Sam caught his breath he sat back up.

     "How long were you out there?"

     "All night."

     "I'm Sam."

     "Andy." When Andy shook his hand Sam winced as the burning on the skin of his forearm flared up. "What's wrong?"

     "I got burned."

     Andy gently turned Sam's arm as he examined . "Second degree, I think."

     "Please tell me you're a doctor."

     He shook his head. "Pre-med. Or at least I was. How much does it hurt?"

     "It mostly aches. It's fine; long as I don't touch it."

     Andy nodded. "When rescue comes they'll probably give you something for it. There might be a scar but it'll heal. What about her?" Andy pointed down at Sam's unconscious travelling companion.

     "I don't know her—I mean I don't know. She hasn't woken up since the crash."

     "Shit," Andy crawled over to her. "Has she moved? Twitched? Rolled over? Anything?"

     "No. The only thing she does is breathe."

     "Did she hit her head?"

     "I don't know?"

     "Did you check her pulse?"

     "I couldn't find it."

     Andy grabbed her wrist but paused when his fingers brushed an unassuming silver bracelet. Sam moved closer and looked at the singular circular charm attached. The symbol of a winged staff circled by snakes. Andy ignored it and flipped the charm over.

Hi my name is Theresa

Type 1 Diabetes

     "Shit." Andy used his fingers to pry open one of her eyes and examine it.

     "What's wrong with her?"

     "I'm not sure. Might be a coma. Might be a diabetic coma."

     "Well, which is it?"

     "I don't know! I told you I wasn't a doctor. Just pre-med."

     "Did you miss the class on diabetes or something?"

     "I doesn't work like that. Endocrinology is a specialty."

     "Endo—what?"

     "It requires more school. The most I did was spend a summer as a volunteer EMT, and I once shadowed a doctor friend of my father's."

     "So there's nothing you can do?"

     "This is out of my depth. She needs a real doctor," He gripped Theresa by her arm and rolled her over until she was on her side. "You'll live. I might get an infection. But her, she needs treatment. She needs ventilators, I.V.s, and heart monitors. She needs insulin."

     The two fell into silence as they bobbed on the waves, exhaustion, fear, and ending all conversation. They sat apart staring at the water, Theresa's unmoving body between them. As an hour passed, and another after that, the silence grew more intense. Where was the rescue party?

     Sam watched the waters move below them. Every once in a while they'd pass the bloated bodies of the dead. Andy would look over like he wanted to help them.

     "They're already dead," Sam would say.

     "It feels like we should be doing more."

     Sam didn't know how to answer that. By now news of the crash would have been announced. His mother was probably in tears, thinking he had died. It was unfair. She'd lost her parents, a sibling, and her husband already. She didn't deserve to lose anymore.

     By the time the sun was high in the sky Sam was ready to fall asleep again. The slide rocked beneath them when Andy suddenly jumped forward, his eyes staring off intently into the distance. Sam followed his gaze. Some ways off a piece of debris bobbed with the waves. A splash of red gleamed on top of it. As Sam's anxiety heightened he looked over at Andy; his eyes narrowing in recognition.

     "She's probably dead," Sam said.

     "We have to try."

     "We didn't try with any of these other bodies."

     "That's different." He said as his voice grew shaky with pleading. "She might be alive."

     "We don't know that. Why risk it."

     "What is there to risk exactly?"

     "Do you see how far away she is?" Sam's voice was strained. "We need to preserve our energy. Just because we won't drown on this thing doesn't mean we can't die of exposure, dehydration, or hunger."

     But before he'd even finished talking Andy had plopped down into the water and gripped the raft. "Fine. You can sit there and preserve your energy. But I couldn't live with myself if I just turned my back." With one hand gripping the side of the raft Andy began trying to swim them toward the woman.

     As Sam watched from his seat on top of the slide it was suddenly clear: Andy was a goddamn fool. Sam sighed and eased himself down into the water next to Andy.

     "Fine," he said. "It'll go faster if I help ."

     Together they kicked their way forward. The closer they got the more Sam's body ached. He was thankful when they finally reached her. She lay on some large piece of metal, curly black hair swept back in a tangled ponytail, some kind of red frilly shirt layered over dark jeans.

     When Sam grabbed her arm she pulled away from him. She was alive alright. He and Andy worked together and grabbed her by the arms and legs and hoisted her up onto the slide. Andy rolled her over onto her back as Sam climbed out of the water. His wet clothes clung to him. He tried shaking some of the water off but it looked like he was going to have to either air dry or remove some of his clothes. If he caught pneumonia, it was Andy's fault. He looked over to Andy who had begun checking her for injuries as he had Theresa.

     Sam's eyebrow arched as he watched Andy cup her jaw and let his thumb caress her cheek. "Do you know her?"

     Andy pulled his hand back and looked at Sam defensively. "What? Of course not."

     Sam was too exhausted to argue. He let it go.