That’s right. Easter Island. Look the map up if you don’t believe me. It’s way off from Tahiti, but we were close in our guess – but it wasn’t Easter Island.

“The storm must have carried us further than we thought!” Tray shouted, his grip on Anastasia firm.

“And we’ve been traveling for days already,” Blaire completed, now looking a little more confident.

“Does that mean we’re not going to die?” Anastasia asked.

“Yes, honey, it means just that!” Blaire cried, standing next to Tray. “What are we going to do? The lifeboat’s gone.”

“Wait for the storm to blow over?” Tray offered, and Blaire shook her head.

“This could continue till tomorrow afternoon!” Blaire yelled, nearly knocked off of her feet by a particularly strong wave.

There was a crack, and to their horror, the yacht started to tip downwards.

Anastasia wailed in fear, and Tray tried futilely to placate her.

“Think of nice things,” Blaire said in a cracked voice, and clung to the man with a weak hand.

Am I going to live?