Day Twenty-Five: Sudden Arrival (Part Two)

The sensations of drowsiness and abrupt waking alternated endlessly. My head still throbbed as though it might explode. The sun was already sinking in the west, yet I couldn’t summon the slightest strength. Exhaustion, dizziness, nausea, and lethargy tormented me ceaselessly. Still, I knew that if I didn’t replenish my fluids soon, I would likely die here.

In the end, sheer willpower forced me to my feet, though my muscles had almost no strength left to give. Even just standing up took an inordinate amount of time, and I swayed precariously, having to steady myself against the rocks to keep from falling. The pain in my head blurred my vision; everything I saw doubled and overlapped. After a brief pause to recover, I moved, but before I left, I took the bottles from my belt, knelt by the sea, and filled them with water before hooking them back onto my waist.

Such a simple task took me ages; by the time I was done, night was coming on and the sun had already dropped below the horizon. But I was incapable of moving any faster. I doubted I could make it back to my hut before darkness fell.

I was so weak that if I lay down, I’d fall asleep instantly, but I didn’t want to spend the night out here. I trudged along, step by painstaking step, like an old man, with no other choice. About every three steps, I needed to rest; the effort of walking made me feel suffocated, my head heavy, and my feet leaden.

I couldn’t make a sound anymore—my throat was raw and dry, making me cough, and my mouth tasted bitter. But I couldn’t stop. Before, I’d just seen overlapping shadows, but now, the visions before me were swirling around my head. I wanted to vomit, but my stomach was long since empty; all I could do was retch helplessly.

If I had known how agonizing heatstroke would be, I never would have risked it. Who could have guessed that such a small mistake would nearly cost me my life.

I don’t remember how I managed to get back. Little Black had his head raised, watching me. The fire inside the hut was still burning; my plan had worked. Before heading out, I’d soaked fresh branches in water and stacked them at the edge of the fire so they would burn more slowly.

It must have been close to midnight by now, but I knew I couldn’t sleep yet. I took one of the bottles of fresh water from the cot and drained it in one go. Two bottles remained—my emergency reserve, always kept within reach so I wouldn’t have to trek to the river at night when thirsty.

I unhooked the bottles of seawater at my waist and po