Carson plopped back on the pitching deck, giving himself a moment of satisfaction at having won this personal war before wondering if he had any chance of survival. He noticed a bright light shining on him, and it wasn’t coming from the ferry. He stood and looked forward, seeing not only the spotlight, but the deck and navigation lights outlining an absolutely gargantuan ship. He couldn’t read the name, but it had to be ten times the size of the vessel he was on. Worst of all, they weren’t even a half mile apart, and the Cape Henlopen was aimed right at the big, gunmetal gray side of the leviathan like an arrow already released from a crossbow.
He raced forward once more back to the wheelhouse to pull frantically at the starboard door, but found it no more agreeable to opening than before. He tried the portside door only to fail once again. The horn on the big ship roared out two shouts on its horn, meaning she wanted Carson to steer to port, followed by five quick blasts, signaling to anyone in earshot she had no idea what the little ferry approaching it intended to do.
Yeah, no shit. Neither do I.
He saw the bow of the colossal vessel struggle to turn towards him in order to parallel the Henlopen’s course, but it was clear she would never come around it in time. Even worse, the waves were coming from Carson’s left, not only making it harder for the big ship to turn, but also pushing the ferry’s bow more towards the other ship. Simply put, he saw no way to avoid a crash.
He smiled ruefully to himself as the ship pounded forward to its untimely demise. If the collision didn’t sink the boat, the explosives in the bridge would surely finish the job. He had no way to know when they were set to go off, but he was certain it wouldn’t be long. His best bet, he figured, was to head astern as far as he could and hope the ship would stay afloat long enough for him to be rescued. He saw the bouncing lights of another small craft coming from the sea lanes towards them, and figured it had to be the Coast Guard, but it was a couple of miles away. With a little (a lot) of luck, he might hang on long enough for them to pluck him from the sea.
He started heading astern but remained facing the bow, unable to take his eyes off the massive side of the ship even as it made walking harder. He marveled at how the powerful waves barely affected how it rode, while the ferry jumped up and down like a bobber on a child’s fishing line. Shit, when we ride up a wave, this deck is almost level with the weather deck on that freighter.
That stopped him in his tracks. He still stared at the big ship, but instead of marveling at its sheer bulk, he now observed it with a more professional, more experienced eye, trying to measure timing and height and angle of attack and everything else he could think of. After a few more waves, he figured he’d learned all he could, and decided on a risky – the word suicidal jumped into his mind, but he ignored it – plan of action.
Carson hunkered down on the small, open deck just behind the bridge, still wondering if his idea was realistic or bat-shit crazy. He poked his head around the edge several times, watching as the big ship grew ever closer. The last time he chanced a peek, the grey wall extended as far as he could see.
Having been in more than a few tight situations during his active military career, Carson was used to fear. More than a few very experienced men and women had told him only a psychopath didn’t feel fear. Normal people had a healthy respect for danger, and they knew when to be afraid, but they knew how to control it. After several close scrapes, Carson had come to accept feeling afraid and unsure as a natural part of his line of work, and he knew how to deal with it.
He was afraid now, but as the first banshee-like shriek of colliding metal reached his ears, for the first time in his life he was sure he was about to die.
***
Katie wondered what she should do. Carson had told her to be ready to adapt to a rapidly-changing situation, but she had no idea what the situation was changing into. A moment before, a large but very fast boat with a bunch of lights had bounced through the waves about a mile offshore, spotlights stabbing into the darkness. Further away, one set of a few dim lights seemed to be heading towards a much larger and brighter grouping. Every few seconds, some of the lights would wink out or move significantly, but she had no idea what it meant. Horns and whistles and bells pierced the wind and reached across the water, further confusing her.
A flash of light startled her, and she watched the flame that rose up near what she assumed was the ferry before it disappeared into the blackness. The clap and rumble of an explosion reached her ears a moment later, but even before the report sounded, the tiny cadre of lights remained in place, giving Katie hope the ferry was still floating and Carson was still on it. Sure enough, the smaller group of lights continued on their way, but it seemed to her the configuration had changed, as if the ferry was leaning badly to one side.
The two sets of lights merged. Orange and yellow sparks appeared between the two ships, and what might have been a flash of fire flared in the area. The ferry seemed to swing violently into the other ship, and the
