Waves crest over the bow of my kayak as an intruding late summer afternoon thunderstorm began to kick up the previously placid bay. My friends are at least a few hundred yards behind, their kayaks bobbing about the turbulent water like a rubber ducky sloshing around within a bathtub full of toddlers. "Justin, come in!" a nearly inaudible yet familiar voice crackles loudly over my walkie-talkie. "DO NOT APPROACH THE ISLAND, I REPEAT DO NOT!!!", a sternly spoken command booms over the walkie. "TURN BACK TO THE ISLAND WE JUST PASSED, NOW, WE NEED YOUR HELP", a final command echoes over the airwaves. As I turn my head to look behind me, I can see my friends making a b-line directly toward the shore line of some random island that was not part of our original plan. In a fit of furry and worry I paddled my kayak around away from the impending abandoned Long Island which had just begun to become a visible silhouette about the shoreline. As we converged on the unknown landmass, I could see the rough seas had faired my friends far less friendly, as their vessels were completely swamped with salt water and were in much need of being drained. At this point in time not a single smile was worn across anyones faces, frowns all around, frowns plastered with a sense of fear, fear instilled by the wrath of nature, for our final island destination upon the abandoned Long Island still remained severed from our reach by a large swath of angry bay water, growing fiercer by the minuet with white caps appearing like foam within a rabid raccoon's mouth. As we set sail for a second time ominous grey clouds blanketed the sky, hovering above the hulk of distant cliffs which guarded the island seemingly nearly impenetrable as flashes of lightening illumined their full deathly scale. Still we paddled forward, braving the waves and sea mist which stung our eyes like mace. With each tug of the bay its currents seemingly dragged us further away from our island destination. We stroked mercilessly with our paddles just barely inching forward, never giving up until we could feel the Long Island sand between our sea battered bodies and the glimmer of light illuminating out from within the vacant hospital buildings perched high above the wave eroded cliffs. We've made it, now to ascend the cliffs and hide the kayaks...
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |