Not Without Hope (12 page)

I kept saying to myself, This is just a bad dream. Come on, Nick, wake up already. Problem was, it wasn’t a bad dream. I never even got to go to bed.

My throat felt like it was ripping and tearing. It was completely cracked and dried. I felt worthless and useless. I didn’t think the whole thing was my fault, but I was the one who invited Will on this trip. It seemed like every time I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it got worse. We saw the helicopters and the planes, but they didn’t see us. The storm got worse, the waves got bigger. We saw land, or thought we did, but there was no way we were going to be able to get near that land. Then Will got sick and died.

It was starting to get dark. I thought I deserved a break. Maybe things would get a little easier. It wasn’t happening. I was getting sicker and sicker. I hoped I would be found, but I experienced what no person should have to experience. It was terrible. I felt awful.

There’s only one thing left, I thought to myself. Three are gone. Now it’s my turn. It’s just a matter of time.

As horrific as it was, I had no one to worry about but myself now. I didn’t have any choice but to go on. People say all the time, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” but when you don’t have any alternative
but to go on, to keep fighting, you’d be surprised what you can do. Strange things started going through my head: “Is there anyway I could eat a bite out of my arm? Is there a way I could drink this water, just a little bit, and not get sick?”

I got back on the boat. I knew if I was going to die, I was going to die sitting there. I felt terrible and I was in pain, but I knew if I wasn’t going to make it out alive, it wouldn’t be because of the elements or because I drowned. It would be because I starved to death or become so dehydrated it killed me.

I thought I was fighting enough—and aware enough—to survive. I had always wanted more, earned what I got on the field, in the gym, in my life’s work. But what if I didn’t make it? I thought again about my mother. I knew how hard it would be on Will’s family that he was gone. And on Marquis’s and Corey’s families. Now it might be a matter of time before my own family felt that same awful loss.

Will kind of floated until I couldn’t see him anymore. The boat shifted and he was kind of behind me. I couldn’t see him for a couple of minutes, then I saw him again. He was still in the same position, floating, head down. After a while, I could see him less and less. We just slowly drifted away from each other. He would go up a wave, then down. And then I couldn’t see him. The skies were overcast, no more sun. It was getting dark.

“I love you, Will,” I said one final time. I stared and shook my head. I was hugging the motor, holding on to my last hope.

T
he next few hours were hazy.

I had been awake for almost forty hours, in the water for more than twenty-four hours, going through the worst elements I could think of, fighting for my life, trying to help three others fight for theirs. I was starving and drained. I couldn’t keep my eyes open, but I don’t think I ever fell completely asleep, at least not for long. My eyes would shut, and I’d doze; and then I would be startled awake by a wave.

It was dark, maybe seven thirty, and very cold. The waves were a lot smaller than they had been. They were swells, but they felt spaced out a little more. It was still a little choppy, but at least it was predictable. I could feel the cold air on my back, and I pulled the drawstring on my winter jacket as tight as I could.

I kept thinking about Will floating away, and Marquis and Corey dying, and I kept asking, Why? I didn’t know why. I didn’t have time to grieve, though. I thought I was next. I thought my body was shutting down. Physically, I wondered if I had anything left.

The pain I felt in my stomach was dry, gnawing, and con
stant, like a stomachache times twenty. I was starving and thirsty. I thought about what I would give for certain meals. If I could have one meal, what would I have? It was my mom’s eggs Benedict. She’d make me four or five eggs on an English muffin, covered in Hollandaise sauce with a little lemon in it. It was my favorite breakfast. Perfect.

I locked my arms around the motor. If a wave came from the front and ripped me off the boat, that was okay, because I just swept into the water in a limp gymnastic tumble. As usual, if it came from behind it would lift me off my ass and throw me forward and hammer my genitals against the outboard. The pain was excruciating. It felt like someone with a steel-toed boot was kicking a field goal right into my business. And then I would fly forward, almost body-surfing on the motor, the propeller on my stomach. My neck was rubbed raw from my life jacket. My hands and feet had cuts and gashes. Somehow I never lost my sandals, so at least the bottoms of my feet were protected. But that seemed like a flimsy safeguard. Night had closed in, and now I was alone. My chances of getting rescued, already small, were getting a lot smaller.

I
WAS DELIRIOUS
. The next two or three hours felt like an eternity. Even with the swells and the bucking of the boat, it was hard to keep my eyes open for more than five seconds at a time. I tried to sleep, but I was afraid to sleep. I might lose my grip and fall off the hull or the boat could go under and drag me down with it. Or I might not see a plane or a boat or a helicopter if they came by and I would miss my chance to get rescued.

I had a good position on the boat. It was horrible that I was alone, and I felt awful for thinking this way, but there was no one else to worry about now, no one to keep an eye on or grab hold of.

It was probably the most beautiful night I had ever seen. The stars were so bright and clear. There was only a sliver of moon, but it seemed super-bright. There were hundreds and hundreds of stars. Thousands. I looked at the moon and stars and thought my mom and dad and sister and Paula had probably looked up at that same moon and stars tonight. I didn’t have anything else to do but look and hope and pray.

I’
D WAKE UP
banging into the motor and I could see blood pouring off my hamstrings and my butt. It would get rinsed away by the water. I hadn’t checked the watch—Corey’s watch—in forever. When we saw that light from a helicopter or a boat on the first night, when the four of us were still together, still alive, Corey pressed a button to light the dial on his watch. It was green, almost mint in color. The light didn’t work at all anymore, but the sky was so bright, I could see what time it was.

Once, I woke up and checked the watch and I thought, Okay, it’s got to be two or three in the morning. But it was only nine thirty. There’s no way, I told myself. I’m probably not going to make it through this night. Will had said it early in the morning as if it were a premonition. He had been right. And now I thought I might not make it, either.

I
STILL HAD
my water-resistant phone in my backpack. I would take it out now and again and somehow it still worked. Quickly and carefully, I dialed 9-1-1. I figured everything else had failed, why not keep trying this? But it didn’t work. The same thing happened as before. The screen came on; I pressed send, and it said
connecting
, dot, dot, dot. Then I tried Paula and my mother again. It kept saying
no service
.

I knew I might not make it, but I wasn’t going to quit. No one else had quit. I wasn’t going to, either.

T
HE FIRST NIGHT
and the next day, Will kept saying, “I can’t believe this shit is happening to me.”

I had done dumb things, double backflips on snow skis, jumping off the back of a Jet Ski, backflips off big waves. But to be in this position because of a stupid anchor and rope—especially when we weren’t doing anything wrong or bad—was crazy. We were just trying to relax and enjoy one another’s company before Marquis left for training camp. It just didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense on this trip. We weren’t drunk or on drugs. We knew the weather was coming and that it was time to head back.

I thought about how I should be home now, lying in my bed, cuddled up with Paula and our dogs. I thought about all the things I had taken for granted in my life—the vacations, the trips to Disney World at Christmas, how my parents had spoiled me and my sister. We had gotten pretty much anything and everything we asked for.

T
HAT NIGHT
, I probably tumbled into the water a dozen times, my feet flying over my head. The sky was bright, and it wasn’t as windy as before—there were random gusts, but the consistent breeze was gone. And the water glowed. I had seen it once before, at a wedding in Naples, Florida. Phosphorescence. If I moved my hand or swirled my feet in the water or if the boat smacked against the waves, it looked like little white Christmas tree lights.

I kept checking the watch. I randomly called 9-1-1 and got the same thing. Always connecting, never connected. As the night went on, I was able to hold myself onboard longer. I was in pain, though. My butt felt swollen from sitting so long on the keel, from
crushing forward against the motor. It felt like I was sitting on something raised and very hard. I knew something was wrong back there.

I peed once. It only lasted maybe two seconds, but the warmth felt good against my legs, even though the urine burned my cuts.

I was shivering. My throat was dry. My front teeth were really sensitive, like when the dentist touches them the wrong way or you are not quite numb when you get a filling. I didn’t know if I was grinding them down, but my jaws were tight. I was giving myself a headache. I kept licking my lips and rinsing my mouth with salt water. I had the worst chapped lips. And my forehead was so cold. I had lost my skullcap when Will and I tried to swim from the boat. Now it felt like I had an ice-cream headache, a brain freeze.

A
T SOME POINT
during the night, the water felt warmer than the air. I couldn’t explain it. It almost felt like a bath. I didn’t jump in, at least not on purpose. It took too much work to get back on the boat. My legs, my ass, everything from my belly button to the back of my knees and my calves, was so sensitive and rubbed raw. It felt like I was missing a layer of skin, and then another layer would get ripped off. I could tell I had deep bone bruises. I wanted to stay on the boat as much as possible. I was too weak. I knew a point would come when I wouldn’t have the strength to climb back on the hull. And if I couldn’t, there was no longer anyone around who could help me. But it felt so good to put my hands in the water.

I
KEPT GOING
in and out. Once, I woke up and looked to my left. I saw the brightest city. I blinked a few times. I thought I was hal
lucinating. But the sky seemed bright above some buildings, maybe on a beach. The glow seemed a couple miles long. It went through my mind a couple times that maybe I was near Cuba or the Bahamas or Puerto Rico. I had no idea. There was a reflection of lights bouncing off the water. They were shaped like stars or crosses, like when you squint your eyes. There was so much water in my face it was hard to tell.

The Coast Guard would later say that maybe I saw a cruise ship, or a cargo ship, or maybe I just had a lot of salt water in my eyes. Anyway, I thought it was land. I questioned myself for what seemed like an hour or two, even though it couldn’t have been nearly that long. Is this my shot to make a run for it? How far is it? Can I make it? Should I wait? Am I getting closer to the land? Should I try because I might be getting farther away?

I knew it was a matter of time until I reached a point where I wouldn’t survive. The odds were against me. I tried my phone again. Nothing. And then for the first time in a long time, I saw a helicopter. My first instinct—I don’t know what made me think of this—was to grab my cell phone and pull up the camera. The helicopter never got that close, but I could hear it. I could see a spotlight. It circled. I saw it for ten minutes and I would flash my camera phone. I’d flash it, then press
cancel
, five seconds between each one, flash and
cancel
, flash and
cancel
, deleting the picture and resetting the camera. With the phosphorescence, the water all around me was lit up. I knew the chances they could see me were slim to none, but no way in hell was I giving up.

It might have been about midnight now. I kept going back and forth about the bright city I had seen. Do I go for land? This could be my last chance. The Coast Guard was looking for a white dot in whitecapped water. Do I sit and wait, which has failed so many times so far?

I decided I wasn’t strong enough to swim for it. My best chance was to wait on the boat. It had withstood the pounding of the waves so far, so I figured there was a good chance it was going to stay up, even if it seemed to be getting a little lower in the water. The waves were smaller. I worried, hoping that the fish tank or something didn’t open underneath, take on water, and drag the boat down. But I thought it would stay up and that I should stay with it.

After the helicopter circled and got farther away, I put my phone back in my backpack, trying to shield it from the waves. I knew the Coast Guard was still looking for us, even though it was nighttime. If I could just make it to morning, the chances of them finding me were better. I was both encouraged and discouraged. Before, all four of us prayed and said, “Please God, we need a break,” but we never got a break. Hours earlier, I thought the only good thing was that Will and I were still alive. Now the only good thing was that I was alive and the boat was still afloat.

I
TRIED TO
use as little energy as possible, keeping my arms and legs tight to my body and my chin down into my sweatshirt, almost on my sternum. I kept breathing down inside my jacket and sweatshirt and T-shirt, trying to keep my chest warm.

A second helicopter came about an hour after the first. It was the same thing. I reached for my backpack and took my phone out. I kept flashing and flashing. This time, a wave threw me into the water. I held on to the phone, but now it was destroyed. The keypad lit up but the screen was gone. I threw the phone back into the bag.

This was just my luck.

Why me? I thought to myself. These other guys didn’t make it out. Am I here just to drag out the inevitable?

I was scared out of my mind. Terrified. It was the same feeling,
repeating itself from before, each time with one less person. That same terror and fear when there were four of us. The same fear and terror when it was me and Corey and Will for a short time. I was frightened and discouraged when it was me and Will. Mother Nature took my friends, including my best friend. Now I knew there wasn’t much time left unless the Coast Guard found me.