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I slice through the water’s oily surface into pure cold.
Maybe it’s summertime, but when I’m already chilled by spray and a fish pond and my own sweat it feels like plunging off the Antarctic ice shelf into the ocean.
Flaring light overhead tells me there’s a bunch of heat nearby, if I want to stick my head up and breathe flame.
And the freighter. That freighter’s on its way.
I keep my mouth closed and swim like hell.
Pure adrenaline gets me far enough away that the freighter’s prow doesn’t grind me under. The freighter’s motor gets louder and louder. The thought of being chopped up by the propeller’s massive blades gives me more strength than I thought I had, and I keep swimming.
The freighter’s motor cuts out.
I swim until my lungs are hot concrete and oxygen deprivation fills
