Page 33 of Scarred by You

“Shut her down!” he’s yelling. “Shut her the fuck down, now!”

“The pressure settings in the valves are fucked,” Arthur says as he hurries out to the balcony.

“I can’t shut her down, Roger, the pipes are gonna burst!” a voice hollers out from the control room.

“Dad, what can I do? Tell me what to do!”

“Sound the alarms, start to get everyone o—”

He’s cut short by a blow so loud it rings in my eardrums and knocks me to the floor. I scramble on my hands and knees to the control room and sound the emergency alarm as another thunderous roar rocks the rig.

Oil sprays from the top of the derrick, and metal parts fly from the highest point of the structure.

“Lower the life rafts and send a distress signal!” My dad yells above the sound of the alarm. “Everybody off the rig! Everybody off!”

“Dad, let’s go!”

He grabs me by the tops of my arms. “Get yourself to a raft, Dayna. I need to see everyone off. Go!”

“No. Come with me. I won’t leave you.” As I’m looking into his eyes, I start to sniff—the putrid scent of methane. “Do you smell that?”

“Get off the rig! Get off the rig! Arthur, take her. The whole thing could blow!”

Arthur grabs me, pulling me away from my father, but I tussle, fighting back until a force lifts me off my feet. It’s an invisible power so strong it throws me yards back from Arthur’s hold. My head cracks against the steel ground and my ears ring again. My vision is blurred as I crawl to my knees, but not so blurred that I’m blind to the colours of burning orange and flame red.

“Dad!”

He too crawls to his knees. “Go, Dayna, go now! I’ll be right behind you.”

I pray that’s the truth as I make my way down the steps to the rig floor. Dozens of people are jumping onto almost lowered rafts. I go to one and brace myself to jump, but I hear a scream. “Please! Help me!”

Julie, one of only two females working the rig, stands on the lip of Little Princess, crippled by fear. Fire blazes close to her, but there’s a path if she moves now. I glance at the boat and leave it, running to her end of the rig, thirty feet or so from the rafts. “Julie, come through, you can do it. Come on!”

“I… I can’t…”

“You have to, Julie. Run.”

“I can’t!”

There’s a bellowing blast, and a large ball of flame rolls across the rig towards us. “Julie!” I scream as I run through the closing gap and pull her shoulders, taking us both crashing into the Gulf.

I lose hold of her hand. I can’t see a thing as I kick up helplessly, finally breaking the surface with a desperate breath, coated in the greasy sheen of fuel.

“Julie, I’m here, I’m here.” I reach out to her. “Can you swim?”

She nods, oil streaking her face.

“We have to get to the boats.”

She whimpers until we’re hauled onto a raft. Finally, seated, I take long, shuddering breaths. “Have you seen my father? Has anyone seen Roger?” I ask frantically to no response.

I hold a hand across my eyes as if it might shield them from the heat of the blaze and look up to Little Princess. I see him, approaching the edge with Arthur. He can jump from there. But as my heart begins to calm, another raucous explosion rips across the rig and knocks them both back to the ground.

“Dad!” I scream. I shift to leave the raft, but strong arms pull me back.

Dad’s hands curl over the rim, then he pulls up to his feet. I cry out with happiness. He looks around, panicked, and I realise Arthur isn’t there. Another, smaller bang makes him start and put his hands over his ears. I will him to come, but I know he’ll go back.

A wail cuts through the frenzy of shouts and the blazing rig. I realise it came from me. I tug against the arms holding me, to no avail. Then I wait. And wait.

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