Chapter 7: Part 2

The tricks the sun played on her eyes were amazing. She'd heard of mirages before but never experienced one. For some strange reason she believed they only happened in the desert, but sure as she lived and breathed a huge mirage of a ship floated before her.



At some point the white and black-hulled ship in her mirage had stopped moving away. Horns blew. She heard some bells. Maybe this was heaven and she'd made it through the pearly gates. But the pain. Couldn't be heaven, must be hell.



Amanda closed her eyes. Visions of hamburgers and milkshakes danced in her head. The little raft that was her new home rocked. Damn, another storm. The raft rocked again. She heard a voice, then another.



Funny what hallucinations you have after weeks of torture. The pain had finally gotten to her. She was hearing things and seeing thing that weren't real.



"Damn, I don't think she's alive."



"Let's bring her aboard. Someone will want to know she'd didn't make it."



Amanda cracked her eyes open and the sun blinded her. A smaller craft had come near. Not at all like the huge ship. This one was orange. The tricks the mind would play when you were half-baked.



The snake in the box was almost dead. It had been days since she'd seen the thing move. What if that boat wasn't fake? What if she was the snake in their box, unmoving and they presumed her dead.



Amanda palmed the snake box. Her arm struggled to lift the plexiglass tomb. With the skill reserved for toddlers, she tossed the box. It went only a few feet, not nearly far enough to hit the boat. But she noticed it made a difference. The men on the boat ran towards her. Ha, angels didn't have wings, they were smelly and had beards.



They threw a line that landed across her stomach. No pain seared her body. She felt nothing. Suddenly her arms were pulled and her body lifted.



Men surrounded her. They covered her with a blanket. The scratchy material burned against her skin, but she didn't complain.



She felt something. The desire to cry grew strong but no tears remained. Her body had turned into a desert lost in the ocean.



Some amount of time passed as ice chips were placed in her mouth. She must have passed out a few times. There was always someone hovering close. All she had to do was grunt or groan and they were there.



The white and black-hulled ship wasn't a hallucination. Instead it was a container ship, packed full of dark boxes. A man, probably the captain said something about a helicopter.



Amanda tried to stay awake but relief ramped up her emotions leaving her unable to stake a claim on consciousness.



Things happened. At some point she'd been given an IV. Eventually she felt the rise of the helicopter and saw a man with a stethoscope hovering over her.



The next thing she knew the scene had changed. Overhead lights blinded her. The smell of antiseptic and cleanliness suffused the room. Starched white frocks became the norm. It must be a hospital.



This time tears came. The salt from her own body now stung her cheeks. Never again would she go to the ocean. Her life had been spared, even if she no longer could sing, could no longer perform, she lived.

Copyright Sara Thacker 2011