Tusker opened his eyes. Had he fallen asleep? Damn it! He bolted upright with a splash and swiveled around in the darkness. “Sam!” he called. No answer. “Sam!” Again, louder. In the distance, he saw a flicker. A pin prick of light danced at water level. Sam. He flipped onto his back and kicked hard, doing an awkward but effective backstroke in the direction of the light. Every now and then he stopped and sat up to make sure he was going the right way. The light was getting bigger now, and he could hear Sam calling his name and splashing towards him.

After 15 minutes of hard swimming, they came together in a clumsy, panting embrace. “Oh god, Sam, I’m so sorry.”

“Me too, me too,” she replied. He buried his face in her wet hair and clutched her hard to him.

“We’ve got to stay together. We can sleep in shifts,” he said with newfound authority. He peered at the hands of his watch. 1:30. Four more hours until dawn. It would be light earlier than that.

The adrenaline from the swim had woken him up. He didn’t let go of Sam’s waist. He knew her face was directly in front of his, though he could only make out the silhouette of her head. On an impulse, he leaned in and kissed her hard, where he thought her mouth was.

“Owww!” she shouted as they knocked foreheads. They both burst out laughing. He let go of her waist and backed away but clutched her hand. They lay back on the water, still breathing hard. The clouds had cleared and the sky was a black canvas, pinned with bright stars.

“Do you know your constellations?” Tusker finally asked. “I know the usual suspects but this close to the equator, it gets a little more confusing. Or maybe we’ve even drifted into the Southern Hemisphere by now.”

“I know a few,” she replied. “My mother used to teach me…” Her voice trailed off.

“She was killed,” she said, before he could ask. Her voice was cold suddenly. “She was working at the World Trade Center in Colombo when a Tamil Tiger suicide bomber walked in and blew himself up.”

“Wow, I’m so… sorry.” Tusker’s reply felt feeble.

Sam continued. “She was a wonderful woman. I was only eleven when she died, but I remember how kind she was. Always told me I could do anything with my life. Thathi says I remind him of her.”

“I’m sure she’d be very proud of who you’ve become,” Tusker said. “Your father never remarried?”

“He never was the same after she died. She was the love of his life.”

Tusker gave her hand a squeeze. “Why don’t you sleep a bit,” he said. “I’m wide awake now and can keep an eye out.”

“We’re going to be OK, right?” Her voice sounded small, vulnerable.