Minus the darkness of a tunnel, there is the light at the end. Is it theoretical light? Not only has the light not been seen in others eyes but the light could possibly not be there at all. To an extent a person or creature could never witness the tunnel. If one doesn't live long enough to see it, has the light at the end of the tunnel ever existed? What if the tunnel had no end to it? Has one truly seen the end to a hypothetical tunnel? Is the tunnel just a metaphor or is the light? Is a person that changes a life or introduces a person to love? Is the hardships of life the tunnel? Is the tunnel the adventures along the way? Perhaps the light is to be the death that seems painful and scary, but a sense of relief because of the path you laid for the next generation.
Ryan awakened with tunneled vision. The sway back and forth brought a sickening feeling upon his body. A deep voice with a cold tone spoke out loud. "So what! Take his god damn wallet and dump him to the sharks!" Foot steps swiftly stomped with anger.
Soon a woman's voice filled the room. "You think some millionaire keeps that money in his wallet? You really are an insane old man!". Ryan moved his head to the left. His arms numbed as if they weren't there. Ryan nudged his ass over and up, just to be met with a sharp pain in his right thigh. A woman's voice came from behind him, muffled in shock. "Shit! Shit! He's awake! What do we do?"
Ryan stared forward as the old man became clearer in his vision. Ryan had recognized the old man to be the captain of the yacht. The old man had a bright red face and a bird shit colored beard. His hands have hard wrinkles and veins pulsing with age. The captain had turned his full attention to Ryan.
The captain screamed in rage. "I'll knock his ass with me gun, we out here far for no one to hear it!". He reached into his raincoat to pull out a black pistol. The woman ran toward the captain with her hands waving hastily. "You can't shoot a gun! My siblings will hear it, stupid!".
Ryan instantly recalled who the woman was from her blonde hair. For a moment, Ryan could feel a soreness in his cheek. Ryan managed to raise to a kneeling stance. His throat was too dry, yet his clothes seemed to be the opposite, completely soaked from the rain. "How long have I been here?" Ryan thought to himself.
The captain ran toward Ryan with a stagger. Ryan flinched back in a drunk bounce. The captain waved his gun next to Ryan's face. "Where is it!", yelled the senile man. Ryan wobbled with the yacht, the waves still crashing against the boat. The woman reached for the captain's shoulder. "Ryan gives us your money or we shoot your sorry ass right here!". The woman was serious, and Ryan knew that.
Ryan had gotten a grip on his reality. He was being robbed. He has little to no chance of surviving this altercation. Ryan has never been a fighter. Hell, he had never been in a fight before. "Run. Run. Run. Move. Move. Move." were the only thoughts rushing through his brain. But his body wouldn't listen, sitting in a soaked puddle on the yacht floor. The gun, now inches from Ryan's face, had clicked. The captain had turned off the safety.
"You have five seconds Ryan!", the captain yelled with a dry throat. Ryan opened his mouth to utter out the words, "the safe downstairs." The woman stood in ah. "Of Course the safe! It's right behind the bar, I remember seeing it when walking by! That has to be it!". The captain looked down at Ryan. "Ryan. Is it a combo or a code?" The gun waved into Ryan's temple. Ryan slurred his words, mostly in fear. "Co- code. One, one, seven, four, nine.". Drool had fallen from Ryan's mouth, hitting his knee.
The captain looked up at the woman. "We tie him here. We go with my plan. Do not kill him!" explained the woman. The captain sighed, backing up away from the helpless millionaire. His gun pointed toward Ryan as he grabbed a bungee cord. The captain handed it to the woman, and she approached Ryan. Ryan sat as water dropped from his hair, helpless and weak. She tied the cord around his hands and a desk leg. Both the captain and the woman fled out the cabin.
Ryan turned over, right shoulder to the ground. He was still drunk, but adrenaline forced a state of soberness. With his leg, he forced the desk up and the bungee cord out from under. Ryan staggered up, only able to walk due to the panic in his bloodstream. He pushed out the double doors into the harsh rain. Ryan had been far enough to not feel the freezing, salty air.
Ryan turned toward the bar, where he heard angry mumbles, then a woman screaming. "He gave- wrong code!". The woman's voice cut in and out by the crashing waves. Ryan panicked, realizing they were on their way back to the cabin. With a swift motion, Ryan ran toward the edge of the yacht where the emergency raft sat. He pulled the tarp off, topped with what felt to be thirty gallons of water. A crash of thunder clapped the sky, numbing the air of its rain for a split second.
A simple click came after. Ryan turned around to meet an old man with a gun. Everything was silent. The captain was screaming but it didn't matter, Ryan could not hear him. A single piano note played, faded, then another replaced the quiet yacht. Ryan saw the light at the end of the tunnel. He wanted to step forward. He wanted to live.
To Ryan the light at the end of the tunnel wasn't his death, or some message, or theoretical idea of love. The end of the tunnel was the want to live. Ryan was selfish. Ryan jumped off the yacht, raft in hand.