Missed Connections Read Online Free Page B
"I'm sure the ferry sent out a distress call. The shore patrol will be combing the waters looking to pick up us survivors."
"They'll never find us in this fog."
"You know the fog will lift. It always burns off by mid-morning."
Suddenly a large piece of wood drifted toward them. Connor wondered if it had come from the ferry. Had the boat gone under? Had it broken up before it did? Well, no matter—wherever the wood had come from, it was a godsend. It would give them additional buoyancy beyond what the life jackets afforded them. "Let's grab on to that wood," he suggested, and he and Paul swam toward the wood and then grabbed on to it. Having no sense of whether they were near land, they let the currents of the bay take them where they would, drifting aimlessly.
Occasionally they heard chatter and even shouts that presumably came from other passengers who were adrift in the water, but the fog shrouded them from sight, and after a while they didn't even hear any further voices. Experimentally Paul called out, "Hello out there. Helloooooo? Can anyone hear me?" but nobody answered.
Paul wore a waterproof watch, and at ten-thirty he commented that the fog ought to have lifted by now.
"It's dissipating," Connor said. "Look. Over there. You can see farther than before. There's some more wood floating."
Paul peered around. "What's that?" he asked, nodding his head in the direction of a barely discernible blob.
"Dunno," Connor answered, "but we ought to be able to make it out soon."
Indeed the shape's form became clearer and clearer as the fog thinned out. "It's an island!" Paul exulted. "Let's swim for it!"
"Hold onto the wood and kick," Connor suggested. They each held on to one end of the large piece of wood and propelled themselves toward the island, which wasn't too awfully far in the distance. Eventually they reached the shore. The island was quite small and definitely uninhabited, but it afforded them some dry land to rest on while hoping for a rescue.
"Do you think anyone will find us here?" Paul woorried aloud.
"There are quite a few islands in the bay," Connor answered. "I'd think the shore patrol would check them out." His voice wavered. He was speaking with more conviction than he truly felt.
*~*~*
They made a circuit of the small island to see if there were any other survivors from the capsized ferry, but it seemed the pair had the island to themselves. They did find several wild blackberry bushes, and they ate some of the berries, noting there was a plentiful supply. Connor ruefully remembered the pizza dog he had stuffed in his pocket. Surely it was waterlogged and no longer edible.
He knew the water would also have ruined his cell phone, and Paul's as well. They had no way to call for help. They would have to hope the shore patrol found them.
"I'm scared," Paul admitted. Connor wrapped his arms around him. "They'll find us. They'll surely go out looking for survivors. They'll find us." He rubbed slow circles on Paul's back and took great pleasure from feeling Paul's body next to his. Paul's muscles were taut, and Connor tried to relax him by kneading his shoulders.
After a while, Connor couldn't resist a more intimate form of connection, and he leaned over to press his lips to Paul's while his hand started traversing purposefully down Paul's torso.
When Paul realized Connor's intent, he pulled away and shook his head. "It feels good, but it doesn't feel right, " he said. "I don't want to cheat on Patrick. I do want to break up with him, and then you and I can do whatever we want whenever we want. If we get back home safely—"
" When we get back home safely," Connor gently corrected him.
"After we get back home safely, I mean to have a talk with Patrick. This experience has been a wake-up call. I don't want to go through the rest of my life just drifting in a relationship that's comfortable but nothing more. Life is for living. Life is for enjoying. Life is for living to the fullest, not for drifting
"They'll never find us in this fog."
"You know the fog will lift. It always burns off by mid-morning."
Suddenly a large piece of wood drifted toward them. Connor wondered if it had come from the ferry. Had the boat gone under? Had it broken up before it did? Well, no matter—wherever the wood had come from, it was a godsend. It would give them additional buoyancy beyond what the life jackets afforded them. "Let's grab on to that wood," he suggested, and he and Paul swam toward the wood and then grabbed on to it. Having no sense of whether they were near land, they let the currents of the bay take them where they would, drifting aimlessly.
Occasionally they heard chatter and even shouts that presumably came from other passengers who were adrift in the water, but the fog shrouded them from sight, and after a while they didn't even hear any further voices. Experimentally Paul called out, "Hello out there. Helloooooo? Can anyone hear me?" but nobody answered.
Paul wore a waterproof watch, and at ten-thirty he commented that the fog ought to have lifted by now.
"It's dissipating," Connor said. "Look. Over there. You can see farther than before. There's some more wood floating."
Paul peered around. "What's that?" he asked, nodding his head in the direction of a barely discernible blob.
"Dunno," Connor answered, "but we ought to be able to make it out soon."
Indeed the shape's form became clearer and clearer as the fog thinned out. "It's an island!" Paul exulted. "Let's swim for it!"
"Hold onto the wood and kick," Connor suggested. They each held on to one end of the large piece of wood and propelled themselves toward the island, which wasn't too awfully far in the distance. Eventually they reached the shore. The island was quite small and definitely uninhabited, but it afforded them some dry land to rest on while hoping for a rescue.
"Do you think anyone will find us here?" Paul woorried aloud.
"There are quite a few islands in the bay," Connor answered. "I'd think the shore patrol would check them out." His voice wavered. He was speaking with more conviction than he truly felt.
*~*~*
They made a circuit of the small island to see if there were any other survivors from the capsized ferry, but it seemed the pair had the island to themselves. They did find several wild blackberry bushes, and they ate some of the berries, noting there was a plentiful supply. Connor ruefully remembered the pizza dog he had stuffed in his pocket. Surely it was waterlogged and no longer edible.
He knew the water would also have ruined his cell phone, and Paul's as well. They had no way to call for help. They would have to hope the shore patrol found them.
"I'm scared," Paul admitted. Connor wrapped his arms around him. "They'll find us. They'll surely go out looking for survivors. They'll find us." He rubbed slow circles on Paul's back and took great pleasure from feeling Paul's body next to his. Paul's muscles were taut, and Connor tried to relax him by kneading his shoulders.
After a while, Connor couldn't resist a more intimate form of connection, and he leaned over to press his lips to Paul's while his hand started traversing purposefully down Paul's torso.
When Paul realized Connor's intent, he pulled away and shook his head. "It feels good, but it doesn't feel right, " he said. "I don't want to cheat on Patrick. I do want to break up with him, and then you and I can do whatever we want whenever we want. If we get back home safely—"
" When we get back home safely," Connor gently corrected him.
"After we get back home safely, I mean to have a talk with Patrick. This experience has been a wake-up call. I don't want to go through the rest of my life just drifting in a relationship that's comfortable but nothing more. Life is for living. Life is for enjoying. Life is for living to the fullest, not for drifting
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