Abandon ship

The hull tore apart. J.B. knew that there was no saving the craft. He had tried to steer it well. He was seasoned, a man of great experience. But there was nothing for it. His guidance was for naught. The only decision now was whether to stay aboard as the vessel floundered or commit his fate to the sharks that patrolled the expanse beyond the safety of the once great ship.

It broke him inside, this defeat. Everything had been in his grasp. He had worked a lifetime to be here, navigating through waters calm and rough, sometimes setting anchor for a stretch, other steaming at a pace. But always forward. Yet never had he encountered such devastation as this. Even while within the eye of the storm, secure in what should have been the calm centre, he could feel the approaching tremors that warned of the coming devastation.

He had to leave. Given the choice between assured destruction and the chance to outlast this turmoil he made the decision. There was nothing for it but to leap.

He plunged into vast blue void and though an accomplished swimmer, as the cold, salty water pulled and tossed him about, all he could do was flail. He felt himself fading and knew he’d not survive this.

“Mr. Bolton, sir, you asked me to wake you. It’s time to meet with the President. Is everything alright?”

“I’ll be alright, but thank you for asking.”

“Very well, sir. And you’re welcome.”