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It was almost June.
But twenty-four hours for the very best long-distance swimmers after years of preparation… He only swam a couple of miles in a heated pool, and he was old, and he was broken.
Fat, he could have appreciated a bit more of just now.
Stay or go?
‘Strip. Our clothes will only drag us down, and they will give us no warmth.’
Ben nodded and they slipped out of their jeans and shirts.
Just before Ben climbed down, Aleksey caught him around the back of the neck and pulled them close, forehead to forehead. They didn’t need to speak. They both knew.
But in some ways, Aleksey realised, if he were given the choice of how and when to go, then would it not be swimming in an endless ocean with Ben Rider-Mikkelsen at his side?
No. Not really. In a warm bed aged a hundred and ten was sounding more and more attractive the older he got.
He followed Ben down into the water and they pushed hard to free themselves from the incessant swells vying to return them to the jagged rocks.
Bobbing, preparing, it was an unfortunate time for Ben to glance down.
Aleksey knew what he was pondering: mountains, valleys, canyons…the infinite, unseen world beneath them. It was not a comforting thought.
‘Due east, Ben, we use the sun. It’s all we have.’
Ben nodded and they began to swim.
Something caught his eye.
Something…bobbing. Then another. He tapped Ben’s leg and they swam towards the objects.
Appaloosa’s seat cushions had floated free—had, perhaps, been designed to do this. There were three of them.
He grabbed one. Ben caught the other two. ‘Back to the rock.’
‘Why? We’ve got…’ Ben followed. Aleksey knew he would. That’s just the way they were together.
Once they’d climbed back up to their clothes, Aleksey tore strips from the jeans using the sharp edges of the rock, and with these he fastened two of the seat cushions to Ben and one to himself, explaining, ‘We cannot just hold onto them. We need our hands and our arms free to swim, if not, when we…when we tire, we would let them go.’
Did they actually have a chance now? Thirty hours in the sea, possibly more, with no visible land? Trying to find a tiny green jewel lost on a vast stretch of grey? No. They really didn’t. But hope and will were important, and they now had both.
Ben actually smirked at him. ‘You look like a ninja turtle. I wish I had my phone.’
‘Uh huh. So, if you had your phone you’d use it to take a picture of me wearing a seat cushion with, huh,death solves all problems, no man, no problem—why doesn’t that surprise me—and not, maybe, call for help?’
Once more they lowered themselves into the water.
They now had no problem with buoyancy, but it was actually harder to swim. Easier and harder. Aleksey felt this was saying something fundamental about his life, but really couldn’t give a fuck to work out what that was.Life was shortwas the saying more to the front of his mind.
They swam.
Ben was far fitter and stronger than he was, and Ben was twelve years younger too. Initially, they were pretty much swimming evenly together, both taking their time to get into their stride. But the cold and the salt and the buffeting began to take their toll on Ben, despite, or perhaps because of his superb body. His muscle counted against him.
And they’d only been going four hours.
It wasn’t looking good.
* * *
