“Bye-bye, Benji!” he screamed. I could not move. It was as if I were watching myself from behind. He rumbled toward me, his bloodshot eyes and beard-covered lips and yellowed teeth and purplish tongue—all of it so near I felt he was going to swallow me whole. He lunged for my head, and at the last instant, out of cowardice more than courage, I dropped as if the air had gushed out of me, and he stumbled over my body and belly-flopped into the sea.

My chest heaved. My head pounded. Suddenly I was alone in the raft. I spun left and right. I spotted Geri catching up with little Alice, who was flailing in the waves, the currents having carried her maybe ten yards away. I heard Lambert slapping the water on the other side, groaning incoherently. I could not see the Lord anywhere.

“Benji!” Lambert spit out. “Benji, help . . .”

It was the first time I’d ever heard him use that word. I saw his thick frame fighting the demon below the surface, the one pulling at his heels and cooing, The end has come, don’t fight it. I could have left him to that demon. Perhaps I should have, given how aloof he’d always been to my very existence. I saw him go under, then resurface. A few more seconds, and he would be gone for good. No more of his selfish anger. No more ridicule. And yet . . .

“Benji,” he moaned.

I jumped over the side.

* * *

I had not been in the water since the night the Galaxy sank, and it was jolting. My legs had grown so weak from lack of use that just churning them took extraordinary effort. This was probably why Lambert, withered by his dehydration, couldn’t navigate even the short distance back to the raft. I splashed my arms toward him. He saw me but did not reciprocate. His eyes were glazed and his lips were open, and I saw him gulp a mouthful of seawater and barely have the strength to spit it out. I grabbed his right arm and threw it around my neck. He was so heavy, I didn’t know if I could get us back to the raft. It was like towing a refrigerator through the chop.

“Come on,” I urged. “Kick . . . It’s right there.”

He mumbled something, his left arm flapping weakly on the surface, like a dying fin.

“Benji,” he moaned.

“I’m here,” I rasped.

“Was it . . . you?”

I stared at his face, just inches from mine. His eyes were pleading. My legs were giving out. I couldn’t hold him any longer. Suddenly, without explanation, he slipped his arm from mine and pushed me back.