Fatal Forecast by Michael J. Tougias

Author:Michael J. Tougias
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scribner

PART III

CHAPTER 18

Alone in the Night

ERNIE HAZARD NEVER NOTICED THAT THE WINDS had diminished slightly because the waves seemed just as enormous and their sound was still deafening. Most of the six-story waves continued to break on the raft’s canopy, nearly crushing Ernie beneath their weight. Each time one struck, he had to quickly push the canopy back up to get the water off him. Between waves his bearded chin often fell upon his breast in utter exhaustion, but rest was impossible. The robotic exertion it took to balance the tiny capsule went on and on.

But he still had his fight. At one point, out of pure frustration, he angrily screamed a challenge at the seas: “Is that the best you got?”

Nightfall was closing in on Ernie’s violent and desolate world. He had been battling for survival within the raft for five straight hours, all the while hoping for the long shot that another fishing boat might spot him. He now understood that for another boat to have any chance at finding him, he would have to first hear or see the boat approaching and then fire off a flare. Rather than dwell on the fact that he could barely hear above the waves, he told himself that should he spot a boat, or even a plane, his flare might be seen.

As the waves continued to thrash the raft, Ernie could tell that it had lost some air, but the sea was too frenzied for him to pull the pump from the survival bag and use it. He refused to worry about the raft’s structural integrity in the face of the onslaught because nothing could be done. He simply hoped the raft’s designers had pictured sixty-and seventy-foot waves when they chose the fabric and the sealant used to separate the air chambers. It was a good thing he didn’t know that these same waves were cracking the oak ribs on the Sea Fever just a few miles away.

* * *

By 6 p.m. darkness had enveloped Ernie. The raft came equipped with a small red beacon on top of the canopy, but it had been ripped away in the first few minutes after the Fair Wind pitch-poled. It was as if he had lost his sense of sight. He forced himself to stay fully alert, for if the raft capsized now, he might not be able to maintain his grip on it. Should he become separated from the raft he would surely die. He refused to waver from the mind-set he had adopted in the first hour of the ordeal—I may die, but not without a fight.

Around 7 p.m. Ernie’s worst fear came true: a snarling wave flipped the raft completely upside down and the vessel did not continue its roll. For a split second Ernie’s feet were pointed toward the surface and his head was underwater as the seas came flooding into the overturned raft, smothering him. He thrashed and kicked to find the opening, but in the darkness the task was tougher and more disorienting than it had been earlier.

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