Saltwater Summer

by Rich Eubanks

Cover art by Margaret Hill
Copyright ©2004
ISBN: 0-87714-859-7 eBook edition
ISBN: 0-87714-592-X PB edition

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

DEDICATION

I'd like to thank everyone who has had influences on me.
Thanks to my Aunts, my teachers, and my Aunts who were also my teachers.
And I especially thank my wife who always mitigates her contributions to our works in an effort to feed my ego.

THE AUTHOR

As a former United States Air Force Combat Controller, Rich had extensive survival training. Drawing from this training, along with some actual experiences, aided in accurately creating the situations involved in Saltwater Summer.

Currently he resides in Florida where he delivers mail through the Ocala National Forest. Rich lives with Carol, his wife and middle school librarian, their Yorkie, Chuckie, and their twenty pound Hemingway cat, Opie.

THE BOOK

Have you ever dreamed of being lost with someone you've secretly admired? But I'll bet you never thought about the consequences of a real survival situation. Well, Saltwater Summer not only throws you into the extreme struggle against an unforgiving nature, it delves into the relationships of the young people just trying to stay alive.

Samples

"I'm going to try and swim to shore and get help." Steve spoke as he was taking his jeans off again.

"Steve, don't be silly. If anyone is going to swim to shore it should be me. I'm the best swimmer." Jane began taking her clothes off again as she was speaking.

"Jane, do you think even you should try it?" Nancy looked at her friend very seriously.

"If I'm going to make it I need to hurry. We're going further out every minute. I think I can make it and it's going to get dark soon."

It was getting dark fast. Not only from the sun going down but also from the clouds that were coming in rapidly from the east.

Jane finished taking off her sweats, put her life jacket back on, and dove in. I couldn't believe how brave she was being. It was about two or three hundred yards to shore in water that had waves over three feet high. We kept trying to start the motor and took turns rowing the best we could. We watched Jane as each wave brought her up to the top and then as she disappeared again between them. Finally she was completely out of sight and we hoped for the best, but feared the worst for her. Our fears for Jane made us forget our own predicament, which was bad at best.

"I would almost be happy for a storm." Nancy practically whispered in the eerie silence.

"Anything would be better than this."

"Yea, I know what you mean. It's like we've sailed into a void." I was leaning over the side of the boat looking down into the water hoping to see something, anything, as I spoke. Steve hadn't said a word for so long we wondered if he had lost his voice, but we didn't bother him. We each had our own different ways of handling our feelings.

Nancy had organized, and reorganized, everything in the boat at least a hundred times. She would pack everything in the bags then take everything out and do it a different way.

I had concentrated on the horizon, sky and the deep water of the ocean for any movement. I'd made myself imagine so many times that I had seen something that I hesitated now to even mention them until I was sure. Each time, instead of saying something to the others, I would let my mind fantasize about being rescued and returning home. I would imagine my mom fixing the most wonderful meals and I would almost taste the delicious variety of food she had fixed. I never said anything to the others because I knew it was just my imagination and nothing was really there. But I savored my escapes. I enjoyed those moments when my imagination took me away from this desolation. I wondered if Nancy was doing the same thing.

"Well, who's going to take the first bite?" Nancy asked as she looked at the raw fish chunks lying on the seat of the boat.

We were all three so hungry, but we just knelt there looking at the makeshift table in front of us with so much fresh fish. But it was just too fresh.

"Maybe we could sort of cook the first of it." As I talked I got the soda-can lamp out and set it on the seat. Nancy quickly reached for the beach bag and got the tampon container out that held our matches. We lit the lamp and I put four or five pieces of fish on Steve's knife and held them over the flame. I turned them a couple of times and took the first piece off and quickly popped it into my mouth. The oil of the lamp gave the fish a funny taste but it wasn't that bad. With some concentration I forced myself to swallow. My stomach felt grateful and I quickly grabbed another piece and this time chewed it a few times before swallowing. Steve and Nancy both cautiously took a piece also and did the same. We put more pieces on the knife and each time cooked them less and less until we were almost eating raw fish anyway. It was good and we were ravenous.

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