It was the Caribbean, but the water was cold as hell nonetheless. John went under several times, swallowing gallons of water it seemed. He tried to swim, but the currents seemed to have their own plan of where to carry him. They smashed him hard against the reefs, cutting him bloody and threatening to knock him unconscious.<br/><br/>John spluttered and struggled. He swam as best he could, not having any idea where he was going. It was all just a matter of staying afloat; of living for another second, another minute.<br/><br/>When he crawled up on a beach he had no idea how he had gotten there. He just felt reasonably, momentarily safe and let himself collapse.