The water was colder than Joshua had expected. Each stroke felt like pushing through ice, and the salty burn in his throat made it harder to breathe steadily. He fought against the rhythm of the ocean, the steady rise and fall of the waves, trying to keep his movements controlled and measured. Around him, chaos reigned. People floundered, splashing in panic, their energy draining fast as the reality of the situation sank in.
Some had barely made it a hundred meters out before they began to flail, their exhaustion overwhelming their instincts. Joshua heard the screams before he saw them—sharp, piercing cries that sent a jolt of fear through him, though he kept his face blank. He couldn't afford to stop, couldn't afford to let that fear take root. This was a test, and if he hesitated now, he wouldn't make it.
He glanced to his side and saw a man thrashing wildly, his head dipping beneath the surface before he managed to claw his way back up, gasping for air. But Joshua could already tell: the man wasn't going to last. His frantic motions were only draining him faster. A sinking feeling filled Joshua's gut, but he forced himself to look away and keep swimming.
Survive, Joshua. Focus on surviving.
It had been maybe ten minutes since the soldier had spoken, but the number of people already struggling or sinking beneath the waves was alarming. Joshua realized that most of them hadn't thought this through. They had rushed into the water, driven by panic, without any plan or understanding of what they were up against. The ocean was merciless, and it would take whoever wasn't ready for it.
But Joshua wasn't about to join them.
He moved with purpose, each stroke pulling him farther from the shoreline, though the vast expanse of water in front of him felt endless. The horizon showed nothing but blue, and there was no sign of the first checkpoint island. The soldier had said there were islands along the way, but how far was the first one? A mile? Ten miles? More?
His muscles were starting to burn now, a dull ache spreading through his arms and legs. He could feel fatigue creeping in, but he kept his breathing steady, trying to conserve as much energy as possible. There was no way of knowing how long this would take, and he couldn't afford to exhaust himself too soon. He had learned long ago that it wasn't always about being the fastest—it was about lasting the longest. Endurance over speed.
Around him, the water grew quieter as more and more people succumbed to the exhaustion and the pull of the waves. Joshua didn't dare look back, but he knew the beach behind him must already be littered with bodies. Some might have made it back to shore, too terrified to continue, but others… others weren't going to make it at all.
A few yards to his right, a group of three swimmers had formed, trying to stick together. One of them, a stocky guy with broad shoulders, seemed to be leading the group, urging the others on. Joshua caught snippets of their conversation—words of encouragement, of fear. He could see they were struggling, but at least they had each other. It was a small comfort in a sea of isolation.
Joshua didn't mind being alone. He had learned to rely on himself long ago.
The minutes dragged on, turning into what felt like hours. Every now and then, a distant scream would pierce the air, another reminder of how many were losing the fight against the ocean. The crowd had thinned considerably, with only the strongest still moving forward. Joshua glanced around, noticing that there were fewer and fewer people nearby. Many had disappeared beneath the waves, while others had turned back in desperation. Only a fraction of the initial crowd remained swimming beside him.
His arms were starting to grow heavy, the ache in his muscles now a sharp, persistent pain. He knew he had to find a rhythm that would keep him going, but the weight of the task ahead was starting to sink in. There was still no land in sight, and he had no idea how far they were expected to swim before reaching the first checkpoint. The ocean stretched on forever, an unrelenting expanse that felt indifferent to their struggle.
Joshua forced himself to focus. He couldn't afford to let his thoughts spiral. Survival was the only thing that mattered right now.
Then, suddenly, a loud cry broke through the relative quiet around him. Joshua turned his head in time to see a man to his left, a few dozen yards away, thrashing in the water. His arms were flailing wildly, and his head dipped beneath the surface before he resurfaced, gasping for air.
"Help! I can't— I can't—" The man's voice was choked off as another wave rolled over him.
Joshua's gut twisted, but he kept swimming. He wasn't cold-hearted; he just knew the brutal truth of the situation. There was nothing he could do. Trying to help someone who was already drowning would only drag them both down. It was a harsh, unforgiving thought, but it was the truth. Out here, survival meant making hard choices. You couldn't save everyone.
But even as Joshua pressed on, the man's cries echoed in his ears, a haunting reminder of the desperation surrounding him.
Joshua shifted his focus forward, squinting against the sunlight. There was still no sign of land, but he told himself that it had to be out there. The soldier wouldn't have lied, would he? There had to be a checkpoint—an island, something. He kept his strokes steady, his mind locked on the idea of making it to that first island. He didn't know how far it was, but he would keep swimming until he found it.
As the minutes ticked by, Joshua's movements began to feel mechanical, each stroke an automatic response as his mind drifted into a rhythm of survival. He no longer focused on the others around him, nor on the cries of the desperate. He tuned everything out but the sound of the water, the steady beat of his heart, and the burning in his muscles.
The sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky now, casting long shadows over the water. Time was slipping away. It wouldn't be long before night fell, and with it would come new dangers—the cold, the darkness, and the unknown creatures lurking beneath the surface. Joshua didn't want to think about what might happen if he was still out here when night came. He needed to find land soon.
Just as his exhaustion was beginning to overwhelm him, he saw it.
A small speck on the horizon.
Joshua's heart skipped a beat. It was faint, barely visible through the shimmering heat of the sun's reflection on the water, but it was there—land. A surge of relief washed over him, momentarily giving him the strength to keep going. The first checkpoint was within reach.
Others around him noticed it too. A few swimmers who had managed to stay afloat began pushing themselves harder, their strokes more frantic as they realized they were close. The island was still a long way off, but knowing it was there gave them hope.
Joshua kept his pace steady, refusing to let excitement get the better of him. He couldn't afford to burn out just because land was in sight. He needed to conserve his energy for the final push.
The cries of those who had fallen behind faded into the distance as Joshua swam on, his mind locked on that tiny island ahead. He wasn't the strongest, the fastest, or the most skilled. But he was determined. He had control over himself, and that, more than anything, would keep him moving forward.
As the sun dipped lower and the shadows stretched long across the water, Joshua kept swimming, the island growing larger in his vision.
He wasn't done yet. Not even close.