Any minute now, Natalie's father would step onto the back porch and call her from the pool. It was their own little summertime ritual. She'd go swimming, stay out there too long, and he'd come to call her inside—there were so many more productive things a young woman could be doing with her summers. Many times, she'd thought about asking him how he knew. He'd never been a woman, young or otherwise.

     She'd pretend not to hear him the first few times, choosing instead to keep her eyes closed, melt into the inflatable pool mattress, and absorb more of the summer heat.

     "I know you heard me," his voice would take on a deeper timbre, not that she was afraid of him.

     "Just a little longer, dad," she'd plead.

     "Lounging is for lazy people and retirees."

     That was her cue to sigh—loudly—and paddle her way to the edge of the pool. He'd have something waiting for her. Something to clean, to fix, somewhere to go, someone to impress. College applications could never be too padded with extracurriculars.

    All she wanted was ten damn minutes where she wasn't doing homework, or volunteer work, or interning at a company she didn't really care about. Even once she was in college, phone calls home were often riddled with questions about what she did in her spare time. Do you have a part-time job? You need experience and connections, what about internships?

     It could all get so heavy.

     But for now she let herself fall back to sleep. It was easy enough in the heat, rocking gently in the pool. As if on cue she was interrupted.

     "She's waking up."

     "Just a little longer, dad," she croaked out from a dry throat.

     "Hey! Are you okay?"

     That wasn't her dad's voice. She tried to sit up and find out who it was but found herself drenched with so much fatigue that not even her eyes could stay open for more than a second or two. When they did open they were flashed with a brilliant light that made them flutter closed even faster.

     Surprisingly, her father didn't bother her for once. He let her sleep. Weird. But if he wasn't going to push it then neither would she. She lulled back into the deepest, most satisfying sleep she'd ever had. A few minutes later her dad came back.

     "Can you hear me?" he said. "Do you know where you are?" What kind of game was he playing? Of course she knew where she was. She was relaxing in the pool like she did at the beginning of every summer.

     "What's wrong with her? Why does she keep coming in and out like that?"

     "It's a good sign. She's getting more lucid."

     Great. He'd brought his friends around again. She hated when her parents introduced her to new people without warning. It was probably a church member or co-worker he was looking to hook Natalie up with to expand her network of contacts. Was it too much to ask to get a warning before she had to do the song and dance.

     She might as well get up.

     "You know what the antithesis to laziness is, Nat?" Another of her dad's little sayings. "Willpower. Now get up."

     Her eyes flickered open just in time for them to be burned by the sun. She turned her head away and cried out at the pain that shot from her neck to her arm.

     "Don't move yet," said a voice to her right.

     Hands started moving over her body, squeezing her arms, and legs, probing at her neck. "Can you feel this?" Why were they touching her?

     "Where does it hurt?" he said, and then without waiting for a reply, "Can you tell me your name?"

     "Natalie," even saying her own name was a struggle.

     "Do you know what day it is?"

     What a stupid question. She stared up at him and studied his face. He was young—like she was, with dark brown skin—like hers, and well-groomed hair he kept trimmed low.

     "Do you know where you are?" he said.

     She didn't answer him, only stared in confusion. "Who are you?"

     "Andy—"

     "Why are you here?" Her voice cracked with every word.

     "Calm down."

     "No—where..." When she sprung up, nausea came rumbling up her stomach.

     "Lay back," said one of them as he lightly grabbed her arm and tried to lean her back. This one was on her left. He was dark eyed and ruddy-skinned. His voice was so deep and forceful she became alarmed.

     "Don't touch me! Who are you? How did you get here?"

     "Do you remember what happened?", said the other one. She'd forgotten his name already. "Think."

     "I was in the pool...my dad...no. I was going home for the summer...the plane!" she sprung upright; startled at the realization. Another attack of queasiness hit her.

     "Hey," he said, the gentleness in his voice comforting. "Calm down. You're safe."

     "What happened?"

     "The plane crashed," that other one spoke. Less gently. "As far as we know, we're the only survivors."

     "Jesus Christ," the name wheezed from her lips; more expletive than prayer. "What are we supposed to do?"

     "We're waiting," he said. "I'm Sam."

     "Natalie."

     "I heard."

     Natalie stared between the two of them before casting her eyes out over the expanse of seawater. When she looked back she spotted a woman laying behind them. "Who's that?"

     "Her names Theresa but we don't know her." As soon as Sam spoke her name the woman began jerking in her sleep. "Oh shit..." Sam stared, as frozen as Natalie.

     It was the other man who jumped to action. Andy. He was at her side in seconds, cradling her head and trying to talk to her. He rolled her on her side and embraced her to keep her in place. "She's having a seizure."

     "What do we do?"

     "There's nothing...we have wait it out," he nodded to himself. "We can think of what to do once it's over."

     Natalie stared at the woman. The muscles in her arms were ridged. The whites of her eyes peaked out from unseeing slits. Her face became purple and her lungs took quick breathes. With every involuntary jolt a groan escaped; like she was trying to speak but couldn't. Saliva escaped from her slack chapped lips and dribbled down her chin until it pooled under her cheek.

     Andy braced her in his arms and gently rocked her. "It's okay," he muttered in her ear. "I've got you."

     He didn't let her go until the convulsions started to subside and her body went limp. She didn't wake up, but her breathing slowed. Andy pulled off the jacket he wore and bundled it under her head.

     "Hopefully," he said. "She'll wake up soon."

     No one answered. Instead they sat there together, adrift in silence and uncertainty. It was another hour before anyone spoke. Sam had crawled over to check on Theresa. After a moment of silence, he spoke over his shoulder in a numb voice, "She's dead."

     Andy's eyes grew wide. He reached out and checked her pulse. "She was fine a minute ago!"

     "That's usually how dead works."

     Natalie scoffed at Sam's callousness. What the hell is wrong with you?"

     "I know this is hard—"

     "It's my fault I should have...," Andy's voice became weak.

     "You didn't kill anyone." Sam said. "She just died. It happens." They all looked away from her, too unnerved to speak. It was Sam who broke the silence, "Help me get her into the water."

    "What?" Natalie stared at Sam's emotionless face.

     "We need to move her off the raft."

     "No. I'm not doing that. We can't just toss her away like garbage."

     "She's dead," Sam didn't mince words. "She can't stay up here."

     She frowned at him. "She just died."

     "We don't know how long she's been dead," He spoke slowly, as if she were a small child. "We don't know when she'll start rotting."

     Natalie was insistent. "It's disrespectful."

     "Disrespectful? We didn't even know her."

     "But—"

     "I'm not sitting up here with a rotting corpse!" Sam didn't wait for her next point of debate. "Help or don't help, but she's going." He got to his knees and drug the dead women's body to the edge of their little raft.

     The dead weight of her head slumped back against Sam's shoulder. He shuddered and then called out, "Help me."

     Natalie didn't move, not that it mattered, he wasn't talking to her anyway. She looked at Andy with pleading in her eyes.

     "I get it," Andy said low enough that Sam couldn't hear. "But he's right. When she starts decomposing...we can't be around that."

     He moved over to where Sam had Theresa's body propped up and grabbed her legs. They were going to toss her overboard. Natalie wanted to scream. The anger stuck in her throat, but she was just so tired...Instead she wiped at the tears that sprung to her eyes—carefully, so Sam couldn't see. This wasn't right.

     Together, Sam and Andy were able to lift Theresa's body off the raft and into ocean. Before Sam could let her go Andy mumbled a quick, "Wait a minute." He removed a thin, sliver bracelet from her wrist. Then they sent the woman afloat.

     "When we get rescued," he said with sorrow. "We can give this back to her family."

     One sob escaped from Natalie. It was Andy that moved next to her and pulled her into his arms. He rocked her as gently as he'd rocked Theresa before. She let herself cry freely, Sam be damned.

     The two of them sat huddled together, crying and watching as Theresa floated slowly away until she went from person, to speck on the horizon, and then to nothing. If I die, thought Natalie, will they throw me away too?

     She didn't let the thought linger. Instead she cried herself to sleep in Andy's arms.