Short Short Series #2

Drifting

by Brent Warren III

“It won’t be long now,” said Jimmy.  If the currents held, they’d hit the Keys before they ran out of water.  The food was gone.  He wasn’t sure if Freddy had much time.

                He took a small sip of water and then held the jug to Freddy’s lips.  “Take a sip, buddy,” he said.  Freddy moaned and tried to sip, but his lips barely parted and most of the water ran down his chin.

                Jimmy set the jug down and then looked at Freddy’s gut shot.  It was beginning to fester and stink.  “It’s not bad,” he lied.  Freddy rolled his head to the right, resting it on the gunwale. “We’ll be hitting the Keys soon, Freddy, and they’ll find us.  Just hang in there a little longer.  Okay?”  Freddy didn’t move.

                Jimmy took the strip of shirt he had used as a bandage and rinsed it over the side of the dingy.  He squeezed it as dry as he could and then laid it back over the wound. Freddy moaned, lifted his head, and the let it fall again.  “Sorry, buddy.  I know the salt stings, but salt water’s good for wounds,” Jimmy said.

                He sat back, across from Freddy, and sighed.  Looking out, he saw nothing but green and blue and wisps of white.  It was midday he figured.  They’d been on the water for two days and had two, maybe three, left if their luck held out.  Freddy looked badly.

                “I wonder if the Cap’n made it?” he asked.  He looked at Freddy for a sign but he got nothing.  “Where do you suppose those bastards come from anyway?  They just appeared outta the dark and started shootin.  They didn’t even board us or take the boat.  Couldna been the coast guard.  It makes no damn sense,” he said, twisting a piece of loose twine around his finger.  He threw it down.  “Hell, it don’t matter anyhow now,” he said.

                He looked at Freddy, looked for the slow rise and fall of his chest.  He didn’t see it.

                “Damn!” he said.

                He bent over Freddy’s body and listened.  Nothing.  He searched Freddy’s pockets, retrieving his wallet, a flask, and a few coins.  He flipped through the wallet and pulled out a picture of a young woman and a little boy.  “I let Sally know what happened,” he said.

                He put the wallet in his pocket and buttoned it and then took a swig from the flask before he put it in his back pocket.  He pulled Freddy’s body up against the gunwale and then grabbed his legs and lifted the body up and over.  The dead weight splashed as the dingy pulled away.

                Jimmy sat back against the gunwale and watched the horizon as he drifted northeast.  Maybe I’ll make it in less than two days now, he thought.