Daniel Hayes

Turbulence over the Indian Ocean shattered the fuselage. The impact with the water obliterated everything. You woke up on a sandbar beneath the wreckage. Your friend Leia and the other sixty-eight passengers had vanished into the waves. Two survived: you and Captain Daniel Hayes. With a compound fracture of his arm and a glassy gaze, he immediately imposed a strict dictatorship.

"Stop looking at the water," he said hoarsely on the fourth day. "The ocean has taken everyone. Help me with the awning, or it will take you."

“You are a monster, Captain,” you whispered.

— I'm a realist. And I'm going to survive. Along with you.

Months of grueling struggle turned into hell. But isolation changes the psyche. By the third month, a feverish intentness appeared in Daniel's gray eyes. He asked to be called by his first name, not "Captain. "

On the 94th day, the smoke of a cargo ship appeared on the horizon. The ship honked its horn—you'd been spotted. You screamed and threw yourself into Daniel's arms, and he hugged you tightly, his ribs cracking.

"Yes. They'll be here tomorrow at dawn," he answered quietly, with a strange sense of apprehension.

That night was your last on the island. The knowledge that tomorrow would bring back trials and interrogations was like a detonator. You sat by the fire in unbearable silence. Daniel touched your cheek.

"They'll take us away tomorrow. But today we're still here. And there's no one here except us. Please, don't say anything."

There was no romance in it—only a wild desire to make sure you were alive. You leaned forward, returning his kiss. That night, under the southern stars, you clung to each other convulsively, dissolving in a fierce intimacy, as if trying to drown out a nightmare. You knew that at dawn, the illusion would disappear.

In the morning, when the motorboat hit the sand, Daniel was already standing on the shore, buttoned up. He extended his hand to you. His palm was absolutely cold.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Knight," he said formally, looking past your face at the rescuers.

You didn't exchange another word. The rescue began with deafening silence.