JOHN AND MIRIAM
Chapter Twenty-One
A lifeboat with a few men aboard came slowly
through the water. "Hello! Is anyone alive out there? Can anybody hear
me?" one of them shouted. They rowed through the corpse-littered water,
checking for survivors, grieving as they realized that they had waited to long
to return. Nevertheless, they kept searching.
John's head snapped up, suddenly alert, as he
heard the voices echoing from the rescue boat.
"Is anyone alive out there? Can anyone
hear me?"
Holding onto the deck chair and Miriam with
one arm, John raised the other, trying to get their attention. He tried to
shout, but his voice came out in a hoarse croak, as frozen as the rest of him.
Luck was with him. One of the men was looking
his way. "There's moving there, sir!"
In minutes, the boat had arrived at the piece
of wreckage. Two of the rescuers reached to help John into the boat, but he
insisted that they see to Miriam first. They looked at her doubtfully. Her head
lay limply against John's shoulder, and she didn't move. "I think she's
dead, sir."
John looked at him in disbelief, then turned
to Miriam. Her head slipped from his shoulder, and she lay unmoving against the
seat of the chair. One of the men felt for a pulse. There was none. John didn't
want to accept it. There had to be some mistake. She had been alive only
minutes earlier.
Reaching for her hand, he felt for a pulse
himself. Feeling nothing, he let go of her hand, finally accepting that she was
gone. The chair tilted as the men helped John into the boat. Miriam slid from
it, and floated for a moment. Then, pulled by the weight of her heavy dress,
she sank beneath the surface and disappeared. The last glimpse John had of her
was her pale blonde hair, visible even in the darkness, disappearing into the
depths.
A whistle sounded across the water, but John
never heard it. Wrapping a blanket around himself, he settled into the boat,
then collapsed, unconscious.