A Safe Harbor

Stumbling onto the beach, Grayson coughed and gagged on the salty sea water. He plopped onto the sandy shore, rolling over onto his back. The sky was thick with the remnants of the storm, and the air smelled of salt and ozone. He breathed heavily, soaked to the bone, and shivering cold. As the sun slipped like a blood-red flame over the brooding horizon, a single thought lashed out at his brain. It was going to be a long night. 

After lying on the beach for several long moments, he slowly rose to his feet and looked out over the harbor. His stormy grey eyes were matched by the rushing sky overhead. It seemed to him that the shoreline created a natural bowl, with cliffs in the distance on his right, and rocky sandbars to his left. Having barely escaped the clutches of the ocean's tide, he felt lucky to be alive. Still, if the storm stirred back up, it would be terrible to be caught unprotected on the naked beach. 

He trudged further up the shoreline, driven only by the promise of future rest and safety. After some distance, he found himself in the scraggly hills, surrounded by shrubs and small trees. He started gathering branches, and made a small pile of them at the base of the largest tree. He felt his pockets for matches, a lighter, anything. To no avail. He stopped looking when he realized it wouldn't matter anyway, his firewood was just as drowned as he was. The clouds overhead boiled like a witch's cauldron, with whips of lightning cracking to and fro. 

It was going to be a long night.

In the distance, over the sea billows rise, he could see chunks of his craft being tossed like driftwood. He could only hope the transponder was somehow working, that help would come his way. Darkness fell like a curtain, and far in the distant jungle, animals roared and screamed. Grayson curled up in a ball at the foot of his tree. Arm under his head, he shut his eyes, with prayers for safety on his tongue. Maybe he could catch some sleep before the torrential downpour began again.

He drifted in and out of delirium, images of the nightmarish depths haunting his fitful slumber. True rest eluded him. Finally, he gave up the fight, and sat up. Thunder rolled, echoing off the cliff face. He wondered if he would be any safer in the jungle. It was quite a hike to the edge, but maybe he would find better shelter there. 'Or maybe,' he thought, 'I'll be eaten...'

A strange iridescence lit the night sky. Constantly flickering lightning mixed with thinly veiled moonlight. The beach and the jungle beyond seemed askew. Like the earth was somehow angled wrongly, sloping upward and just off center. 

Grayson walked for what seemed like hours before reaching the jungle's edge. Massive trees rose to the sky, blocking out the shimmering clouds. An unfathomable darkness stretched before him, an inky black tangle of vines and brush and trees. He hesitated. Standing tall, he stepped into the darkness. He could feel his pupils dilating, straining for any sign of light. He kept the beach to his back, and, not daring to venture to far in the darkness, he found a small group of bushes with a small hollow beneath them which seemed relatively dry and warm. If it were unoccupied, it would make a perfect shelter for the night, however much was left of it, anyhow.

To be continued...