Lifeboat

4. The Black Door

And that was about it. All I could remember from the moment I knocked on that metal door, to finding myself cocooned in this boat, was the realisation that time had passed, and I was no longer pregnant.

I had no idea how I knew that to be true, but I was certain of the fact that I had miscarried and was no longer legally viable for the Union's infamous repatriation scheme.

The lost days, or maybe even weeks from that black door opening till this dark night, may always remain blanked from my memory. What worried me more at that point was that I could tell that I'd been through some terrible fire of sorts and yet I hadn't suffered an ounce of pain.

I flicked my eyes back over my body, the rocking motion of the water willing me to give in to its lullaby. Red, sores and blisters. My finger nails even look charred. I could smell my own flesh, dying.

My vessel suddenly bumped at the stern by my feet, sending shock waves up my spine. It must have run aground. The slapping water of a shoreline became instantly familiar to me, what with all the time I had spent playing truant on the fishing docks.

The influence of what could only be a tide, pushed the boat harder and more firmly onto a dry surface with every surge.

Exhausted, I gave into the rhythm and fell asleep.

***

Birds called to each other. Water sloshed. Waves crashed. My stomach growled.

I forced my eyelids to raise, the strike of daylight I received sent them rapidly battering down for cover.

Even with my eyes shut, the extremity of light still assaulted my vision. It caused me to see dancing patterns of little black spots all over the back of my eye's skin shields.

I sensed that I had more strength now. To test this assumption, I gingerly stretched my legs and arms as straight as I dared. The resulting movements of these limbs made me smile.

With daylight, I could now see that my vessel was indeed made of wood. The boards of the little boat had been well-crafted and cared for. It must have been a naval vessel as no fishing crew would have spent the time and money on such a small lifeboat. It had to be military. Besides, it only made sense. My last memories were of being in a World Union State building- and so this could be a result of that somehow.

The warmth of the early morning sun sank through my skin. Serenaded by the rush of waves onto the beach, I drew myself up and sat with my arms resting along the clammy edges of the lifeboat. To any chance observer I supposed I must have looked like a young Cleopatra sitting up in her bath tub of yak's milk.

Steadily taking in my current situation, I could see that the water the boat had been rolling along on had most definitely been sea. The meeting point on the horizon of the water's royal blue and the pale sky blue were way too vast and expansive for a lake. Seagulls whisked around far overhead, calling to each other. I watched them for a while, until my head became dizzy.

Closing my eyes, I brought my face downwards and steadied myself ready to open them again. Gastric juices rumbled their way around my insides, grumbling at the lack of food to digest. I wondered how long it had been since I had last eaten.

I lifted my eyelids and saw that my boat was quite shallow and I realised just how lucky I had been to survive on an open ocean or sea within it.

I had washed up on a narrow strip of beach with fine, ochre-shaded sand. Each time the tide passed in and out, it left a light froth of white spittle in lacy formations along the beach.

I turned my head slowly to check inland. I gasped, gripping the sides of the lifeboat tightly.

A man - or at least what looked like a man - sat about ten metres away from me!

He sat slumped down on a low ridge of sand which rose slightly higher than the rest of the beach. Maybe it was the beginning of the natural incline of the shoreline up into the dense woodland of pine trees. He didn't move. He sat there. Watching me.

For the second time in the last few hours, I became aware that I happened to be naked.

Blinking against the growing intensity of the morning light, I searched around the vessel for clothing. Nothing. Only the discarded, flimsy plastic mask I had got rid of earlier.

I turned my attention back to the man. He hadn't moved. I think I must have sat there for about twenty minutes. Just watching him.

Watching me.

How would I get out of this one? Would he be reasonable? Maybe a father himself? A fisherman? Or a member of the World Union State, sent here to find me?

There was no one else around. As my dizziness subsided and my strength began to return, I scanned up and down the coast for signs of life. Nothing. Only the seagulls and the rustling sway of the trees against the breeze.

He still sat there.

It took another ten minutes or so before I mustered up the courage to shout at him. Well, I say shout, but first of all it was more of a screech. I coaxed saliva into my mouth and swallowed dryly, before I attempted again. This time the result came out in a rasping, raw exclamation.

"Hey, hey. You there! Hey mister. Can you help me? Please?"

There were so many things I needed to know. Where was I? What had happened to me? How had I lost the baby? Why had I been in that lifeboat?

Maybe this man had the answers. Or maybe he had nothing to do with it at all. He could be waiting for the right moment to come closer. Waiting for the best time to do whatever he wanted to do. I shivered. Goosebumps on my skin.

My skin!

I scanned it to find it no longer red, sore or burnt. It had returned to its familiar shade of golden brown, the dark hairs bleached by the sun. Freckles dotted the surface, the birthmark stood out proudly, stronger in colour and much more obvious. The weird contortion of the number eight into a seven. Everything stronger, alive and bold.

So I would have to be too.