Numb: The Ritual Forgotten - Part Four

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Suddenly as he tried to take a breath the unfathomable flavor of pure water filled his mouth and flowed into his lungs. The reality of the situation hit him like a freight train. Kicking and contorting in ways he had never thought possible Louis struggled. All around him the water was unending, he couldn’t escape; it was all around him and held onto him like prey.

He spun, trying to find some way of getting back to the surface. His windpipe constricted and paralyzed half of his body as his blood tried to carry every last scrap of oxygen it could find. Yet, as his blood pulsed towards his heart it flowed out freely from the still bleeding gash on his side. In one last-ditch effort he reached, and to his amazement and relief he grabbed hold of something.

Without opening his eyes he climbed as fast as he could, praying it would lead him to the surface. Whatever he was climbing suddenly began to slope away from him, but he continued to climb refusing to give up and die. The need for air and loss of blood began to effect his sense of direction, as he climbed he could feel the world pushing from all directions, could feel the weight of helplessness upon his tiring shoulders, until his grip eventually released and the water once more carried him away from his only hope.

He could feel himself falling, sinking, turning, and rotating as the water played with his limp form. He knew this was the end, he didn’t even have to think, he just knew. He knew like anybody knows something beyond any chance of being wrong, and this chilled him. It made his body begin to freeze in a way the icy waters around him seemed warm. The last time he had felt so strongly about something it was during an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, and that’s perhaps what chilled him the most. That he could compare the knowledge of death’s cold vice upon him to a meeting about staying off of booze.

Well, he thought. If this is going to be the end I might as well see the place I die.

He opened his eyes and astonishment mesmerized his very soul. His boat was there right in front of him. It was turned on its side and yet still afloat as he basked upon its butchered hull. He looked up and saw light, and light meant one thing, salvation.

With strength he didn’t know he still possessed he kicked as hard as he could to reach it. As it grew closer his lungs began to scream with anticipation. Air! They cried. Air!

As he broke the surface of the water he inhaled desperately. The air was cool and felt better than anything Louis had felt in his entire life. He swam towards the boat, his one hope, his boat.

“I bet, you thought you had me,” Louis said through his heavy breath as he swam. “Well you were wrong. I’m here! And there’s nothing you can do to stop me now!”

He looked back. A thick trail of red followed him through the water. Planting his foot on the side of his overturned ship he began to climb up. The sun was beating down upon him once again; he could feel the water heating on his face and arms, the shirt also drying on his back.

Louis sat down, a sharp pain emanating from his side. Unthinking he reached unlooking and scratch it. It didn’t so much relive the pain as it did replace it. Like when a person stubs their toe and pinches themselves in order not to feel it. Pulling up his hand he glanced at it through a field of disorientation, it was coated in blood.

Like a flash the terrors of the storm came back to him. The waves crashing over the side of the boat, the thunder growing hungry and more intense by the second, and the wounding of his side on the ship’s railing.

And yet, there was something else, something that Louis couldn’t think of no matter how hard he tried. The loss of blood was working its course.

He wanted to fall asleep. Just to fall asleep and he would wake up feeling much better.

The sun felt warm on his back. Louis smiled; his mind drifted back and forth through random memories all the way back from the army days. He lifted his arms and stood absorbing the magnificent heat. He could feel the blood as it flowed out of his wound, and he didn’t care. He stumbled, but corrected himself before he fell, and didn’t care. He knew that death was coming and he didn’t care.

Louis’ legs became heavy under him and he could no longer stand. Louis bent his knees slightly to sit back down. Numbness spread throughout his body. Perhaps it wasn’t the knowledge of death that had chilled his heart so, but the numbness and absolute absence of feeling. He was numb, completely and utterly numb, and with this revelation he lost his footing and passed out.

“Daddy!”

Louis’ eyes popped open and fear grasped his heart. “William!” his dry throat rasped as the rest of him plunged into the freezing lake. The unfeeling past. He was with me! He was with me on the boat! His mind cried. Every moment was painful, where was his son? Where was he?

“William!” Louis yelled pounding against the bottom of his overturned boat. Hollow and thick echoes being his only answer. “William! It’s Daddy! Answer me!”

His violent poundings slowed through grief. “Please answer me…” he said sobs shaking his voice. “William, why won’t you answer me?”

He had no strength, no will to carry on, yet he had the will to cry. There he floated, the lake seemed to sense his intent and pain and made no attempt to end him. To Louis the lake had become a person, a person with whom he was no entwined in a dance. A dance that would end with only one still standing.

But now someone else had joined, and Louis would never let this monster destroy his son.

With one great breath Louis plunged himself into the villain, his foe who had tried so hard to conquer him. For a moment Louis scanned the area, his boat looked alright, just a little beat up and floating the wrong way.

When I last saw him he was going downstairs, he thought looking around the broken deck. From certain cracks bubbles of air crept forward and floated their way to the surface. This meant there was still some area left inside, and to Louis that meant that William still stood a damn good chance of being alive.

Finally, after much searching Louis found the hatchway leading down into the lower levels of the ship. Rising to the surface his took another breath and once again descended. He no longer felt cold in the water as he approached the wooden frame of the hatchway, he had grown accustomed to the water, and it seemed that the water had grown accustomed to him too.

He gripped the handle of the only thing standing between him and his son and pulled as hard as he could.

Nothing.

The air pressure behind it sealed the ship like a magnet. He pulled again, nothing.

Planting his feat on the side of the ship he used his body weight as a crowbar and heaved on the handle. With a minimal amount of effort the handle snapped off and sent Louis flying backwards.

Refusing to give up Louis swam back towards his ship. Using the handle as a ram he slammed the door. The deep, bellowing thumps created by this hurt Louis’ ears, but through adrenaline and hope he didn’t pay attention. All he cared about was reaching his son.

With one finally swing the handle broke through the wooden frame of the hatchway. Air exploded outward with a force that sent Louis shooting out of the water, pieces of the shatter frame traveling innocently with him. The ship, at the base of Newton’s Third Law, was suddenly propelled into an upright position. Its beaten and damage hull moaned at this as it crashed into the unexpecting waters. As Louis swam desperately back he ran across the one thing that he was glad to be rid of: his Alcoholics Anonymous Journal.