The waves sucked and pulled, smearing the horizon into rolling hills and little bubbles of fire. A siren blared. Max tread water and watched the 200 meter cruise ship sink, his mind stuck on ten minutes ago. He had been dry then. Safe, too, his eye stuck against a telescope while meteors streaked across the sky. It was the biggest shower he had ever seen, each meteor like a streak of white paint. He had taken notes. He had smiled and thought of the paper he could write. He had—
There was no sign of the shower now, nor of his telescope. He kicked at the water, his clothing sticking to him like a second skin, and listened to people panic. Some wore life vests, others paddled in random directions hoping an orange raft would come and save them. A cruise ship of this size should have at least a hundred, yet they were all gone, or maybe just hidden behind the fires and smoke. Max wiped at his eyes and spat water that tasted uncomfortably salty.
At least the water was warm.
The Delight rose from the ocean at an angle, its bow pointed at the sky. Or was that the stern? Max didn’t know much about ships, only that he had been on the left side, near the railing when everything became rushing water. He could remember what happened, yet he couldn’t grasp any of the details. They had hit something, he was sure of that. It had sounded like an explosion, but it felt like a bad car accident. But then what? And what had they hit? The Delight was sailing the Pacific, far away from the nearest ice berg and too far out to sea for rocks or other pieces of wreckage.
Max continued to kick at the water, his shoes making the movements slow and uncomfortable. The Delight drifted further away. The word “riptide” passed through his head, and for the first time, it occurred to him that he might die. He couldn’t see a single life raft, and there were fewer and fewer screams. Where was everyone?
“You okay?” a voice asked from behind. Max splashed around to see an old woman with long, grey hair. Her skin was pale and covered in brown marks, and her cheeks hung loose off her jaw. She looked positively normal, someone on vacation, yet her eyes were the most piercing shade of blue Max had ever seen, almost like gemstones.
She smiled, and her teeth were rotted brown.
“I dunno,” Max said, truly not sure. Now that he wasn’t alone, panic seemed one step further back. If this old woman was fine, then he would be too. All they had to do was wait for a rescue.
The woman chuckled. “Same, same. I was here for a reason, and now that reason is gone.” She stared him down, the glare bluer than the ocean. “But maybe I’ll still get what I want.”
“Sure,” Max said, suddenly wishing someone else had found him. He didn’t know why, but this woman scared him. Her eyes weren’t real.
“Any idea what happened?”
Max shook his head. “No. One minute I was looking at the meteor shower, the next I was in the water.”
“It was the right shade of white.” The woman frowned. “And now it’s gone.”
Max nodded, not sure how else to respond. He gave a few heartier splashes, hoping it looked like he was trying to float and not swim away. For every stroke of his arms though, the ocean brought him closer to the woman.
The woman smiled, and Max felt something stir underneath him, a movement that wasn’t a wave. A new fear waltzed through his head: There were sharks in the Pacific. He looked down, expecting a cavernous mouth filled with teeth, but all he saw was dark, choppy water.
“You okay?” the woman asked.
“Sure,” Max said, feeling anything but. “Just … my shoes are still on. Makes it hard to swim.”
“What color are they?”
“What?”
The woman smiled, showing the tips of her rotted teeth. “I like colors.”
Max shuddered, but when the woman let the pause stretch into uncomfortable, he answered her. “Uh, white, I guess. They’re just tennis shoes.”
“Good.” The woman said. “I need that one.”
“We need to swim. Get closer to the ship. There has to be a life raft. Has to be.”
The woman nodded. “After you.”
Max wasn’t a strong swimmer, but he could keep himself afloat and move in a straight direction. He pumped his arms and squinted every time a large wave crashed into his head. The woman followed close behind, barely moving yet keeping pace. He was surprised at how strong she was, but that didn’t seem to matter. The Delight refused to get closer. After ten minutes, his chest ached and his ankles hurt from his sopping shoes and socks.
“Everything alright, dear?” the woman asked when they had stopped. It occurred to Max that she never blinked, even with all the water splashing in their faces.
“I—” Max froze. Whatever was underneath the water was following them, and it was big. He could feel it lurking, moving the currents. “I—”
“Maybe you should take your shoes off,” the woman suggested. “It’ll make swimming easier.”
Max nodded. It didn’t make sense, but neither did how far away the Delight was. They hadn’t even been in the water more than half an hour.
“I can help, if you want.”
“Okay.”
The woman brushed a sopping strand of grey hair away from her face and reached for Max’s feet. He told himself not to move, not to be afraid, but her hands were hard like concrete, and he was positive there were sharks swimming below them. Or just one giant shark.
“Hmm,” the woman said, holding up one of his ruined shoes. “Not very white anymore, though the plastic on the laces is alright. Still, it’s not good enough.”
She tossed the shoe away and didn’t go down for the second.
Max watched her, how she barely moved yet could stay afloat. How her eyes never seemed to change color even though the sky had grown darker now that the fires were further out. Everything was wrong—the Delight was now so small he could hold it in his hand. Smoke hung heavy in the sky, and the waves slapped at his shoulders and neck, threatening to take him underneath.
“What do we do?” he asked.
“I’m tired,” the woman said, though she didn’t look it. “Can you help me?”
“Uh…”
Without waiting for an answer, the woman lunged at Max. He yelped. Her hands were so cold they sent a shiver through his body, and below, he could feel the ocean stir. Whatever was beneath them was still there. Or maybe it had always been there, like a spider with a web the size of an ocean.
“What are you—”
“Your eyes turn a very brilliant shade of white when you are afraid.” A wave crashed over Max’s head and thrust him below the water. Everything became murky dark, and then he was above the surf, choking on salt water. The woman smiled.
“Stop,” Max gasped. “Please. We have to swim to the ship. We have to—”
Another wave thrust him down, and now he could hear the thing below them, moving through the water like sludge. It was so big. He opened his mouth to scream and tasted more salt. It felt like it had been a year since he had last taken a breath. His head grew light, and another word tiptoed through his head. This one was drowning.
The woman yanked Max above the surf. He coughed on his scream.
“Be more afraid!” she roared. “They can get whiter!”
“Help!”
She squeezed his shoulder until it became bright pain. “Again!
“Hel—”
A third wave took Max below the surf. He struggled against it, but it kept dragging him lower and lower, until everything was dark. He wanted to scream but needed to breathe, and he wanted to close his eyes but couldn’t seem to. His heart roared in his ears, yet he was so tired now, so sleepy. And the water was so warm.
“Yes,” the voice of a god said from somewhere all around him. “That is the white I seek.”
Something brushed against Max’s face, something that he first thought was hair and then plastic. It folded as it passed, a floating dent that controlled the tides. As Max struggled to find another breath, the dark oceans gave way to color. There was green, and there was black, and both were the most pure shades of anything he had ever seen. Even the darkness of the ocean couldn’t hurt them. The green reminded him of finger-painting when he was a kid, and the black was like the first time he had ever looked through a telescope at the night sky. They were comforting colors.
The green spread all around him, pressing against him or floating just out of reach. It was soft, and instead of hair he thought of a nice blanket. He could go to sleep in this green, and he wouldn’t have to be afraid ever again.
Max exhaled, and as he did, he saw himself floating in the green. He was smiling, and the whites of his eyes were gone, replaced with rotted brown.
And as everything shifted into the very essence of grey, it occurred to Max that this was the real color the woman was looking for.
Nonsense 