Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley door pickup 10am - 7pm 3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611

  • Open Daily: 10am - 10pm
    Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm

    3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
    612-822-4611

Open Daily: 10am - 10pm | Alley-side Pickup: 10am - 7pm
3038 Hennepin Ave Minneapolis, MN
612-822-4611
Survive: A Tom Scarbrough Adventure

Survive: A Tom Scarbrough Adventure

Manning, Donald wayne

Paperback

Mystery & Thriller

ISBN10: 1987593804
ISBN13: 9781987593808
Publisher: Createspace
Published: Apr 25 2018
Pages: 498
Weight: 1.45
Height: 1.00 Width: 5.98 Depth: 9.02
Language: English
When the man awoke the air was cool and the boat was rocking. His mind suddenly adjusted to his situation. Bilge water . . . I'm wallowing in stinking bilge water! Grasping the lifeboat's gunnel he managed to pull himself up to where he could look over the side. His vision was blurry, he rubbed his eyes trying to get them to focus. The sky was overcast except on the horizon where the sun hung just above the ocean. He was confused but his mind was trying to clear. Is the sun setting, or rising? He slowly turned his head as he looked in all directions seeing only water, water everywhere . . . but there towards the bow, a blurry lump of something lying on the seat . . . no, it couldn't be, his mind must be playing tricks on him. There's no little boy sleeping up there. His head was swimming with dizziness as he looked back at the sun, it was being swallowed by the ocean, a setting sun. Now he had his directions, the sun sets in the west. He was suddenly confused as he thought, does it set in the west . . . or is it the east? Come on . . . surely you know this . . . sure it's the west . . . I think? Any sailor knows that . . . is that what I am, a sailor? What's my name . . . surely I know my own name . . . it'll come to me. How did I get in this boat? My head, it's throbbing like . . . Suddenly his eye caught movement towards the bow and then a cough, a cough that sounded like a child. Who are you? There was no answer, the lump he could barely make out settled back down. Answer me, you hear? Who are you? Nothing, no more movement. Was it a breeze that moved some canvas? The cough . . . did I really hear it . . . or was it my imagination. I'm so dizzy, head is swimming. What's real . . . and what's not.

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