“Shitty day, mate,” Denny said without looking at him. “I’m running warps and using the drogue. But the waves are traveling faster than the boat, breaking over our stern. Pushing us sideways. We’re going to broach.”
“Let’s loop lines on the port primary winch-”
“You think I haven’t tried that?” Denny shoved his wet hair out of his face. “We’re out of gear. We have to switch to passive techniques, no other choice.”
Passive techniques meant giving up and hoping for the best. Christian had never been good at passive. Never. Spending his younger years traveling Africa, South America, wherever his father had been needed, they’d gone, all the while gathering life skills. Those years had been exhilarating, adventurous, and educational as well as exhausting, but had left him with a certain sense of invincibility.
Yet he didn’t feel so invincible now.
Another wave hit them hard. The deck became a grave-yard as things washed overboard.
“See?” Denny yelled over the mountainous seas slamming into them like a battering ram. “Screwed.”
“The storm’s weakening.” In fact, he could see the edge of it on the far horizon, just beyond the swirling gray massive clouds.
Blue skies.
“Hope it’s not too late.”
It wasn’t like Denny to be such a defeatist, and Christian took another good look at him, noting the deep gash above his left eyebrow. “What happened?”
“Bastard wave. I hit the helm. While I was down, the water carried away the front of the mainsheet and block, and tore things loose by the tiller. Almost tore me loose as well.”
Christian moved directly in front of him and studied his eyes. He looked okay. “You need to take a few minutes off, give your brain a rest.”
“Well, fuck me.”
“I’ll pass. You need a few stitches.”
“Later.”
Christian set his backpack down between his feet, where he could make sure it didn’t slide away. He pulled out gauze as Dorie had done for him, and straightening, he dabbed at the cut. “Where’s Ethan and Bobby?”
“Checking out another little problem.”
“Which is?”
Denny’s mouth tightened even more, his gaze remained straight outward, at the storm raging. “We’re taking on water. Can’t radio for help either, not with the radio trashed by the lightning strike. Our spare and all our spare supplies in the raft are gone as well.”
“Well, you radioed yesterday, right? So someone knows we’re out here.”
“Storm blew us off course. Way off course. Truth is, I have no clue where we are, and neither will anyone looking for us.”
Christian’s stomach sank.
It spoke of exactly how bad off they were that Denny let him. He took the helm, or what was left of it, and tried not to think about anything other than keeping them afloat.
Dorie found Brandy sick as a dog. Cadence wasn’t in much better shape. Convinced they needed sustenance, she put on her life vest and attempted to make her way to the galley, thwarted by the heavy rocking of the boat. But she was far too determined to let a little wind and water stop her, and finally, bruised and battered, she made her way up the stairs.
If Christian caught her, he’d probably be pissed off, but he was the one who’d put her in charge of the patients, so really he had no one to blame but himself.
She didn’t see Christian. She didn’t see anyone as she fought her way to the deck, where for a moment she just stood, holding on to the railing for dear life, staring at the bow of the ship as it lifted and fell, making her feel as if she stood on a seesaw. Worse, she knew it was daytime but the skies were so dark and stormy, it could have been before dawn for all the light the day was giving off.
Rain pelted her, the wind whipped at her, and the dark, misty gray air seemed to take on a life of its own, swirling around her, almost swallowing her up.
With the fog and mist so dark and heavy, she couldn’t even see five feet in front of her, and she began to rethink this whole needing food thing, even more so when she heard the haunting voices again.
“Not again,” she said to herself, trying to blink the fog away. “I’m not hearing things-”
“It ends here…”
Or that’s what she thought she heard, and frustrated by her lack of vision, she rubbed her eyes as if she could rub the storm gone. Blinking hard, she tried to focus-
“Ohmigod,” she whispered to no one, staring ahead at the shadowy silhouette of two men, locked together against the railing. She couldn’t tell if one was trying to help the other, or-
The shadow on the right collapsed and tumbled over the railing.
Vanishing from sight.
The boat pitched, and she went flying into the hull, hard enough to rattle the teeth in her head, and when she scrambled to her feet again, she was alone on deck.
No shadowy figures at all. She shook her head, rubbed her eyes, and looked again. Still nothing.
Real, or Memorex?
Racing back downstairs, she burst into Cadence’s room, only to find Brandy and Andy there as well. Dripping all over the place, she counted heads.
“You just missed Ethan,” Andy said, munching on a chunk of cantaloupe. “He and Bobby put together a feast for the stowaways.”
Brandy lifted her head from her prone position on the bed. “And since Christian took over for Denny for a bit, the captain popped his head in on his way to get some shut-eye. He thought the storm would blow over by afternoon, but he promised to make it up to us.”
Dorie stared at them. Everyone was accounted for. Which meant not only was she hearing things, she was now seeing things. No more hitting her head, she decided, sinking wearily to a chair. Her brain couldn’t take it.
Christian helmed the boat for hours, which took all of his brain power so he couldn’t think of anything else. Finally, at some point in the late afternoon, Denny came back on deck, not looking so rested, but fit enough.
Christian left him to hit the galley for food.
Ethan sat at a table, studying a map.
They’d been in tight situations before, the tightest actually, and through it all, Christian had never seen the chef look anything but perfectly put together. Now Ethan didn’t look perfectly put together. His hair was wild, and so were his eyes. He was covered in sweat or rain, or maybe both, and when he saw Christian, he shook his head. “We’re kicking the bucket. Jesus Christ, we’re really kicking the bucket.”
“Not necessarily-”
“Denny’s not pulling this one out of his ass, not this time.”
“Where’s Bobby?”
Ethan lifted a shoulder. “Haven’t seen him in awhile.”
“Is he sick?”
“Probably just lazy.”
Denny yelled for them then, and they ran on deck. When he saw them, Denny shook his head and called, “Prepare the raft.”
Christian took one beat to stare at Ethan while the horror sank in, and then he whipped around, back the way he’d come, down the stairs to get to their guests.
To Dorie.
He found her, always with Brandy, Cadence, and Andy, all together in Cadence’s bunk, playing cards. Cadence and Brandy sat on one side of the bed, Andy and Dorie on the other, so close their thighs were touching. In fact, Andy had his hand braced on the mattress, extremely close to Dorie’s ass.
