Speaking of her eyes, they are two different colors. One is pale blue and one is brown. I have heard of this condition—Geri knew the name of it, though I’ve forgotten—but it’s the first time I’ve ever seen it. The effect is that her stare is somewhat eerie.

Mostly that stare is reserved for the Lord. She stays by him, as if she knows he will protect her. I think of the lessons I learned in church, about Jesus and the children and the kingdom of Heaven belonging to them. The priest would often speak that verse, and my mother would rub my shoulders when he said it. I felt, in that moment, sheltered from all evil. There is no faith like the faith of a child. I haven’t got the heart to tell Alice it’s misplaced.

* * *

It is morning now. I’m sorry, Annabelle. I fell asleep with the notebook in my lap. I must be more careful. It could drop in the soggy bottom of the raft and become unreadable. Geri had a plastic bag in her backpack, and I have taken to storing the notebook inside that bag for extra protection. You never know when a wave will soak us. Or when I might not wake up at all.

It’s been three days since Jean Philippe left us. We have eaten all the meat from his fish. Geri has brought up more barnacles and weeds from the bottom of the raft, which contain tiny shrimp that we gobble down. They are morsels. Less than a bite in normal life. But we savor them like a meal, chewing slowly and not swallowing for as long as possible, if only to remind ourselves of what it is like to eat.

Fresh water remains the biggest problem. Geri has tried the solar still a hundred different ways. It will not hold. Without fresh water, we are withering to death. Last night, I opened my eyes to see Lambert’s large, meaty back bent over the side of the boat. At first I thought he was vomiting, although none of us have done that in a while. But then I saw his head tilt back and his arm lift up to his mouth. In my sleepy haze, I didn’t make much of it. But this morning, I told Geri, and she leaned over to where Lambert was now asleep as if searching for something. Finally, she tapped my arm and pointed. There, partially covered by his left leg, was the bailer.

“He’s drinking seawater,” Geri whispered.

News

ANCHOR: There’s breaking news tonight in one of the most tragic maritime accidents in recent memory. Tyler Brewer reports: