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📸 Photo

plastered together in a stinking pulp of blood, pus, and mud. My bare foot was so sensitive that the slightest breeze passing over it was like a thousand tiny needles stabbing into my festering flesh. It was a good thing that I hadn’t removed my socks on the way; if I had seen what condition my feet were in, I probably never would have had the fortitude to go on.

I rested for a short while and then clenched my teeth and took the other sock off. That foot was just as bad. I threw both socks into the tin of water to clean the pus and mud from them. I bunched the second net into a wad and rested the heels of my feet on it. I couldn’t cover my feet with a net; even its light touch was unbearable. Fortunately it had grown dark, and the mosquitoes had ceased pestering me.

I lay there watching the lingering rays of the sun. The light on the Tuichi changed from a blinding glitter to a dull silver to a waver of shadow and finally succumbed to the gathering darkness. All told, I was quite pleased with my situation, having made it to the shore. There had been no plane overhead that day, however. Had they given up looking? If they had, I would surely die here. I hadn’t eaten for almost a week. I was injured and exhausted.

I’m going to die . . .

I hastily drove the thought from my mind. People don’t just lie down and die, just like that. I actually stood a fair chance of survival. If it didn’t rain

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