Love is Always Write Anthology Bonus Volume

didn't bother to try to call back. His throat was raw from salt water and stomach acid. His lips were raw and chapped. He swam doggedly.
    Then the wash of a wave tipped him over and down the slope towards a small group of men. They were clinging together, holding a cork life ring. In the dim light of dawn they all turned to him. He kicked his way closer, searching the faces eagerly. None was Jacob. Of course not.
    A couple of the men were vaguely familiar, men he had shared a chow call or a crowded deck with. They looked back at him, their faces drawn and tight. There were five of them. He saw that two had no life-jackets. As much as he wanted to keep his spare, just in case, it would be wrong. Although there was something wrong with passing one jacket to two men. Nonetheless, he held it out. "Here."
    "You take it, Gary," one of the men said roughly to the other. "You're not going to make it much longer with that leg." When the other man hesitated, he added, "I'm ten times the fucking swimmer that you are anyway."
    The other man took the kapok and struggled into it, before resuming his position around the ring. A dark-skinned older man said to Daniel, "Hey, you seen anyone else what made it through?"
    "Nope. You fellows seen anyone?"
    "Not to talk to."
    Daniel wanted to ask more, to name names. But there didn't seem to be much point.
    "You think a message got out?" One of the other men asked. "You figure the radio boys did the job?"
    "Had to have," Daniel said, more confidently than he felt. "There was plenty of time."
    "Yeah. Had to."
    A wave rose and broke between them with a fine mist of spume off its crest. When it sank he was ten feet further away. The dark man said, "You could join on with us. But there's not much room."
    There really wasn't, with five crowded around the cork ring. Daniel saw the man without the life-jacket slip a little lower into the water. He shook his head. "I've got my wooden yacht here. I'm doing okay." At some point that man's arms might give way. Daniel didn't want to be there, safe in his own vest watching. He let the rise and fall of the waves push them apart for a while, and then gathered the energy to push forward again.
    The sun cleared the horizon. At first its warmth was a blessing on Daniel's chilled skin. But it didn't take long for his eyes to start stinging from the strong light, and the salt-crusted skin on his lips burned. He ran his tongue over his chapped lips again and again, without relief.
    The sea seemed to be playing tricks on him. There were men all around him now, and as the sun climbed he would catch glimpses of them, just a couple of swells over. But time and again he kicked his way over a crest to find only empty sea on the other side of it. His eyes burned. He began keeping them closed for long periods at a time, letting the painful glow of the sunlight on oily water recede, before taking another look.
    There was a lot of debris. Cans of lard and peanuts, pieces of broken wood, a shirt, still buoyed up by air trapped beneath it. He saw a trio of onions bob past and thought briefly of grabbing them. But the thought of onion juice on his blistered mouth made him wince and he let them go by. When something bumped his arm in one of his closed-eyes periods, he thought it was another bit of debris. Until a voice said, "I don't think he's dead."
    Daniel opened his eyes painfully. Beside him one of the inflatable rafts floated, very low in the water. The man who had tapped him with the tip of a paddle peered down at him. "Are you injured?"
    Daniel had to try twice before he got out a clear, "No."
    "All right." The man, an ensign from his insignia, hesitated and then added, "I'd let you on board except..."
    "You're pretty full already."
    "Yes. And if you're not injured and you have a vest, there are others worse off."
    "Sure." It made sense. No point in hassling the young ensign. The kid looked younger than Daniel. Younger even than Trip. Daniel said, "Just... can you tell me? I'm looking for some of my friends. Tom Granby. Clarence Mills. Jacob Segal, the pharmacist's mate. Sylvester Brown. George Dianopolis. Rog Vespian." The names rolled off his tongue and he bit his sore lip to halt the flow. The ensign shook his head but from the crowd in the raft someone said, "George is dead."
    "You're sure? He's an older guy..."
    "Dianopolis, yeah. I'm sure."
    "Damn." Daniel said it quietly and without emotion. He didn't feel a thing except disbelief, that of all the people he