Page 5 of For the Strange and Surprising

Dread plays in my psyche, causing me to open my eyes to search for predators repeatedly. Nothing is there unless we’re counting the looming black pit of death.

Either I haven’t moved more than scant inches, or megalodons are real, and there’s one under me.

But as I glance up, I know for sure that I’m advancing, drawing closer to the shore. I’m nearing the halfway point, almost to the clear, shallow waters.

A sudden tug on the rope makes me pause.

I dip my head back in the water, eyes open wide in hopes that I’ll see nothing through my blurry vision.

Darkness swallows the blue hues around me as a tentacle sails through the water, slapping the surface between me and the aluminum boat.

I don’t have time to take a deep breath as I’m forcefully dragged toward something much worse than sharks. I have no idea what it is, other than big, black, and terrifying.

The rope folds in half, and the boat careens toward me so quickly that I gasp, sucking salt water into my lungs. Another tentacle swats at the aluminum, batting it away and jerking me with it.

Glowing jade eyes, too large to be real, stare at me as everything stops moving. I freeze before the panic sets in. And then I reach down to pull the end of the knot, releasing myself so I can genuinely swim for my life.

I hit the surface with a burst of adrenaline so heavy I think I could push a mountain several feet. Under different circumstances, maybe I could.

I sputter and cough, but my arms and legs don’t stop. There is no time to clear my lungs, and I’m sure to inhale more at the speed I’m gliding across the surface of the water.

Death is behind me, below me, all around me.

I refuse to see how close, though.

The blues of the ocean begin to fade as I reach the shallow sandbar, but I don’t pause for even a second. The water is knee-high when I give up swimming to start running.

I’m a dozen feet from the soothing waves and the hidden dangers when I finally notice that I feel nothing but dry sand and the summer sun.

Once I’ve clambered farther onto the dazzling, untouched beach, I cough and gag until I collapse. My arms feel like spaghetti noodles, limp and lacking any strength. My cheek hits the hot earth harshly before I roll over. Between the sand, the sunburn, and all the time spent in the saltwater, my skin is itchy and raw, but I can’t find it in me to care.

I’m so deliriously happy that I’m back to that weird laugh-cry-thing that people do. It makes me so uncomfortable to witness, though it’s the only reaction my body is currently capable of producing.

I lie flat on my back, idly wondering about the time as I stare at the bright, cloudless sky. I’m so exhausted, but I know it has nothing to do with how late it is and everything to do with the rigorous exercise I’ve just done.

I need water—the drinking kind. Food wouldn’t be denied if someone presented it to me. It’s not my biggest concern, though. I’m dehydrated, and I don’t know where to begin to find fresh water in whatever tropical hell I’ve washed up on.

I’d kill for caffeine right now.

It’s a bad idea, but I let my eyes drift shut for a moment to soak in the quiet solitude around me.

I’m alive. On dry land. I can figure the rest out in a few minutes.

I simply want to repose while catching my breath. That’s it.

I know I need to get out of the sun, find shade somewhere, but I can’t muster up the spare energy to move an inch. I can’t even worry about wiping the sand off my face or covering my eyes from the blistering sunlight.

Having sunburn on your eyelids is a different type of hell, but I’m so tired that I don’t have it in me to dwell on future-Ada’s problems.

I’m alive, and I need a nap.

Tomorrow, I’ll...

2

Adelaide

Something is cutting into my ribs. Or slightly below them, I should say.