Page 60 of The Darkest Hour

“We are.” I focused on the rhythmic motion of paddling, the feel of the water resisting and then yielding to my efforts.

As we drew nearer, more details began to emerge. Rocky outcroppings, a long stretch of beach, and beyond that, the shadowy outline of even more palm trees.

It was real.

It had to be fucking real.

My heart pounded in my chest. “You still see it?”

“Yes. I fucking see it. It’s as real as you and me.”

Hope surged within me, and I found a renewed burst of energy.

The island represented more than just land; it was a real chance for survival. The thought of solid ground beneath my feet, the possibility of fresh water and perhaps even food, was almost too much to bear.

I’m going to be okay.

As we paddled, all that mattered was getting to that island and surviving.

The closer we got, the more the island's details came into focus. Waves crashed against the rocky shore, the sound a welcome change from the ceaseless drumming of rain on water.

The trees swayed gently in the wind, heavy with what I hoped to be coconuts.

We were almost there.

Just a little further.

Then, a wave hit us, rocking the raft violently.

I gasped, letting go of one paddle and gripping the sides to steady myself.

Havoc's strong arms wrapped around me. “Hold on. We're almost there.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath and focusing on the goal.

We paddled.

My muscles burned but I didn’t let go.

The beach was just ahead, the sand glistening in the moonlight like a promise of safety.

Then. . .finally, with one last effort, we pushed the raft onto the shore.

“Yes.” Not even waiting for the raft to settle, I stumbled onto the sand, my legs weak and trembling, but the solid ground beneath me felt like a miracle.

Oh my God.

I collapsed to my knees.

Tears streamed down my face as I whispered a prayer of thanks to whatever gods had guided us here.

Havoc stood beside me, and held the small bag that I had brought into the raft long ago. The bag filled with a knife, gun, and rope had been forgotten the whole journey. Things that didn’t matter when we were out in the ocean.

Havoc kept it over his shoulder.

And for a quick second I knew without a doubt that I had to get that bag back before he looked through it.

While we hadn’t killed each other on the raft, the island. . .might provide new rules and a shift in the power dynamics, especially if he was the one with the knife and gun.