CASTAWAY ⚓ R.C, J.M

O N E

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 WASHED UP

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John B finally woke up and stretched his cramped limbs. His dad had nudged him out of his nap earlier to tell him he was going out to get food then would be gone for the rest of the afternoon. Right after the relayed message John B had fallen asleep again.

The night before John B had been up late with his best friends Kiara, Pope and JJ. It had been Friday so after school they had hung out all day.

Now as John B groaned sitting up on the couch, he could see that the the sun had already begun to set. An indigo and dark blue hue had started to ink over the fiery orange and red the falling sun had created. Going out again with his friends on their boat the HMS Pogue seemed pointless. There had been a storm out in the ocean last night according to his dad, but it didn't affect the Outer Banks and it didn't deter his friends from going out in the marsh earlier.

"Dad! You home?" John B called. He waited a second, however there was no response. John B did a once over of the chateau, even knocking on his dad's office door. He wasn't in here.

John B stepped out onto the porch and looked around the yard. His front garden was pretty much his back garden that spread out to the water edge.

John B surveyed the area not spotting his father. Despite the afternoon being long gone, it didn't exactly surprise John B that his dad hadn't returned yet. This was the norm. He scanned outside one more time, intending to go get changed, when something red caught his eye by the shore. He squinted trying to work out what it was.

Whatever it was had peaked his interest and caused him to bound down the front steps. As John B got closer to his dock, he realised that it was a red jacket covering somebody almost completely submerged in the water.

He raced down and skidded in the sand by the still body. John B rolled the person over and dragged them out of the water.

It was a girl. His eyes grew to the size of his father's compass. It was a pretty girl, who looked, well, dead. Her skin was ice cold to the touch, her lips a shade of blue and blood crusted around her cut torso. There was also a gash on her forehead.

"Oh shit!" John B cursed moving aside her brown hair to feel for a pulse. He started conjuring up all sorts of reasons why a girl in shorts, a tshirt and red jacket would end up by his dock.

How long had she been there? Maybe he could try CPR and with any luck she'd wake up, otherwise he'd have a dead body on his and his dad's land.

John B wearily placed his laced hands over the centre of the girl's chest. He was scared of breaking her. Scared his hands would plunge through her chest, something that he knew was impossible, but he had watched one horror movie too many with JJ the other night.

On a count of three he began to press down on her chest and perform mouth to mouth in intervals. He felt strange putting his lips to the girl's, especially without her consent, he had to remind himself it was for her benefit not his.

At first, nothing happened, it was like performing CPR on a corpse. She didn't inhale or twitch or give any signs of life. Until, suddenly she turned over and sputtered up pints of water. John B rubbed her back taking notice of the gash at the back of her head.

"Are you okay? What happened? How did you end up here?"

The girl didn't respond. She laid there shivering and fighting to keep her eyes open.