I try to remain positive, my love. I think of you, I think of home, I think of a meal and a pint and a nice, long sleep. Small things. I try to stay active in the boat, moving from side to side, stretching the muscles that I can, but the relentless sun often saps my strength. I never realized how precious shade could be. I am redder than I have ever been, and my skin is covered in small boils. Geri had smartly grabbed a backpack before escaping the Galaxy, and it had a tube of aloe in it, but it is not nearly enough for all of us.

We share tiny dabs on our worst spots. Our only escape is to crawl under the canopy. But it is stifling with everyone inside, and you cannot sit up straight. Geri’s backpack also held one of those small, handheld fans, and we pass it from one to another, creating a miniature breeze. We shut it off quickly to preserve the batteries.

Fresh water remains our most precious commodity. What we have comes from the “ditch bag” of the raft, which also contained various emergency supplies: a bailer for emptying seawater, fishing line, paddles, a flare gun, things like that.

The drinking water, stored in small cans, is what matters most, and it is nearly gone now. Twice a day, we have been rationing equal amounts into a stainless steel cup. We sip it down, then pass the cup on.

Geri makes sure to fill it up for little Alice. This evening, following the strange wind incident, the child took her portion and crawled along the raft bottom toward the Lord.

“What’s that weird kid doing now?” Lambert said.

Alice handed her cup to the stranger, and he swallowed the water in a single gulp. Then he handed it back with a grateful nod. What are we to make of him, Annabelle? Never mind the mysterious things that have happened since his arrival. Would God really drink water before a thirsty child?

Land

LeFleur’s heart was pounding. Keeping his back toward Rom, he pulled the plastic bag fully from the pouch. The notebook’s front cover was torn in half, and its back cardboard was decayed from salt water that had leaked inside. Was it some kind of log? Or maybe a diary that explained what had happened to the Galaxy? Either way, LeFleur thought, he could be holding something of international significance.

And no one knew it existed.

The proper protocol was to replace the bag immediately and call in higher authorities. Pass it up. Step out of the way. LeFleur knew this.