already given up hope. He knew he had no chance. His will to live, though, shouldered his higher thoughts aside and forced his arms to move and his legs to kick up, up, up, until he either broke through to the atmosphere again or died in the effort.
Why not? he thought. If he only had this one life to live, he had to do everything he could to keep it. God might not care if he lived or died – if there was a God in any case – but he damn well did.
Quin swam toward the surface of the sea with renewed vigor, not knowing how close he might be. He shoved aside any fears that the lack of air would force him to open his mouth and breathe in lungfuls of seawater instead. He had no control over that. The only thing he could do was keep swimming until he gave out, so that's what he did.
CHAPTER TEN
Air leaked from Quin's lips as he swam, and it encouraged him to see it rising in the same direction as he was moving. The fact he could see it at all spurred him on again, as he knew that he must be getting closer to the surface. The moon hadn't been shining that night, only the stars, but the lights of the Titanic still burned when he and Abe had been washed off the ship. He had to be getting closer to them.
The last bits of used-up air escaped from Quin's lungs, which now burned to breathe in something – anything – to sustain his effort to live. His arms felt as heavy as lead, but he kept moving them, using every last iota of energy he had left to him. Then the lights that had been growing before him began to dim. Blackness ate at the edges of his vision, and he felt like he was falling back down a long tunnel even though his arms and legs continued to propel him forward.
Quin broke through the ocean's surface, his arms still reaching upward and his legs still kicking below. He gasped for air as he flailed about, and his body didn't quit trying to swim up into the open sky above until his vision slid back down through the tunnel that had encroached on its edges and he snapped back to the horrible reality around him.
Quin hadn't truly felt the cold until then. The lack of oxygen and the resultant surge of adrenaline through his body had pushed aside such concerns, but now it bit like a tornado of thousands of razors spinning around him. He hollered out loud in both shock and relief.
Quin saw that he had his back to the ship, so he spun about in the water to see what had happened. He got just a glimpse of the massive ship towering over him, people still losing their grip and slipping and toppling from it. The sheer size of it made him feel as insignificant as a bug in a pond, but compared to the ocean itself, Titanic seemed like little more than a stick floating next to him.
Much of the fore part of the ship was submerged now as it sunk into the water at a snail's pace, a single row of portholes slipping under the waves at a time. Quin thought about swimming for the ship. It might be going down, but it had taken hours to get into this position. It might remain afloat for a while longer, he suspected, and at the least he figured being aboard the ship might be better than freezing to death in the ocean.
"Abe!" Quin hadn't seen a sign of his friend underwater, and now that he'd managed to find some air for himself, he hoped to find him. He spotted a deck chair floating in the water and headed for it, calling out as he went. "Abe?"
It was then that the lights on the Titanic went out.
A collective gasp went up from every living soul on the ship and in the water around it. To Quin, it seemed like he had just seen the ship die from its mortal wound. The lights had gone out in its eyes. All that was left now was for the ship to bury itself at sea.
The lights flickered on for one more instant, as if the ship were fighting to survive as hard as the people stranded with it. Then they went out again, plunging the entire area into utter darkness.
Screams of horror
Why not? he thought. If he only had this one life to live, he had to do everything he could to keep it. God might not care if he lived or died – if there was a God in any case – but he damn well did.
Quin swam toward the surface of the sea with renewed vigor, not knowing how close he might be. He shoved aside any fears that the lack of air would force him to open his mouth and breathe in lungfuls of seawater instead. He had no control over that. The only thing he could do was keep swimming until he gave out, so that's what he did.
CHAPTER TEN
Air leaked from Quin's lips as he swam, and it encouraged him to see it rising in the same direction as he was moving. The fact he could see it at all spurred him on again, as he knew that he must be getting closer to the surface. The moon hadn't been shining that night, only the stars, but the lights of the Titanic still burned when he and Abe had been washed off the ship. He had to be getting closer to them.
The last bits of used-up air escaped from Quin's lungs, which now burned to breathe in something – anything – to sustain his effort to live. His arms felt as heavy as lead, but he kept moving them, using every last iota of energy he had left to him. Then the lights that had been growing before him began to dim. Blackness ate at the edges of his vision, and he felt like he was falling back down a long tunnel even though his arms and legs continued to propel him forward.
Quin broke through the ocean's surface, his arms still reaching upward and his legs still kicking below. He gasped for air as he flailed about, and his body didn't quit trying to swim up into the open sky above until his vision slid back down through the tunnel that had encroached on its edges and he snapped back to the horrible reality around him.
Quin hadn't truly felt the cold until then. The lack of oxygen and the resultant surge of adrenaline through his body had pushed aside such concerns, but now it bit like a tornado of thousands of razors spinning around him. He hollered out loud in both shock and relief.
Quin saw that he had his back to the ship, so he spun about in the water to see what had happened. He got just a glimpse of the massive ship towering over him, people still losing their grip and slipping and toppling from it. The sheer size of it made him feel as insignificant as a bug in a pond, but compared to the ocean itself, Titanic seemed like little more than a stick floating next to him.
Much of the fore part of the ship was submerged now as it sunk into the water at a snail's pace, a single row of portholes slipping under the waves at a time. Quin thought about swimming for the ship. It might be going down, but it had taken hours to get into this position. It might remain afloat for a while longer, he suspected, and at the least he figured being aboard the ship might be better than freezing to death in the ocean.
"Abe!" Quin hadn't seen a sign of his friend underwater, and now that he'd managed to find some air for himself, he hoped to find him. He spotted a deck chair floating in the water and headed for it, calling out as he went. "Abe?"
It was then that the lights on the Titanic went out.
A collective gasp went up from every living soul on the ship and in the water around it. To Quin, it seemed like he had just seen the ship die from its mortal wound. The lights had gone out in its eyes. All that was left now was for the ship to bury itself at sea.
The lights flickered on for one more instant, as if the ship were fighting to survive as hard as the people stranded with it. Then they went out again, plunging the entire area into utter darkness.
Screams of horror
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