(Untitled)

[nevertouchthem]

Who: William Bush, Archie Kennedy, Horatio Hornblower, anyone else on the Empress
When: Evening of Day 50
Where: The OCEAN.
What: Bush finds himself at sea, but not in the sense that makes him comfortable.
Rating: PG?

Comments

[noprevaricating]

"AGPHBL!" went the floating thing that Bush latched on to.

Just a second ago, said thing had been lying on his deathbed, wondering if it would be this heartbeat or the next. Fluid in lungs, vision blurring, he could feel everything begin to shut down until he realized through the terror that surrender would be the easiest thing in the world.

Now he was tasting--inhaling--salt water. Cold salt water. Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory had very specific descriptions, none of which included cold. Was he hallucinating in his final seconds, believing himself to be drowning instead of choking on whatever water had built up in his lungs? Either way, the instinctive thing to do was try to stay on the surface, and he did, struggling hard against whoever was trying to pull him down.

[seventeensir]

If anything, the quiet unnerved Horatio Hornblower more than the din of battle. There had been multiple warnings about strange creatures on land, things that could barely be seen. The captain had spent much of the day watching the shore, debating whether moving sand on the beach was caused by the wind or something unseen walking. He didn't like the idea of an enemy he could not see

[nevertouchthem]

No, no, no! The thing was trying to get away! Which meant it was alive. Which meant it could hear...

"Please! Don't!" Bush choked out the words, swallowing some saltwater in the process. As he tried to cough it out, one hand managed to clamp down on the other man's wrist. At least he'd have that much to hold on to. "I can't swim!"

Somehow he managed to get his head above water and, through the water dripping in his eyes, caught a glimpse of the face of his companion, a face he hadn't seen for quite some time.

Yes, he was either dead already or his mind was slipping quickly.

[noprevaricating]

Archie coughed up more salt water only to inhale even more, flailing in panic. It sounded like Mr. Bush's unmistakable voice. Was this supposed to be some sort of near-death metaphor? Bush dragging him down into the depths? Why Bush? Was this part of Purgatory? Cold water instead of white fire? He hacked and spat and tried hard to breathe. Seconds passed without anything hideously bad happening. The panic began to abate, just barely, and he regained just enough sense to realize that if he tried to keep the imaginary Bush afloat, his own chances would improve. He took the other lieutenant by the arms and did his best. That was easier. Hack, cough.