She understood.
She was beautiful, wasn’t she? Her raven hair and soft lips, her blue-white skin — if he squinted she could be a mermaid, singing to a drowning sailor.
“We don’t have paddles,” she said.
“We can use our hands.”
“We can kick,” said Chris Ferris, the copilot. “Like we’re swimming.”
“Tire us out,” said Stoner.
“We’ll take shifts. I’ll take the first.” He pulled up his legs and untied his boot.
“What do you think happened to your other boot, Chris?” Breanna asked.
“I think I ate it,” said the copilot. He started to undo his vest to take off his flight suit.
“Want strip-tease music?” asked Breanna.
”How does that go?” Chris asked, then immediately began humming, or trying to hum, appropriate music. He kept it up as he got down to his underwear, which he kept on in the water. His right leg and arm were almost entirely black with bruises.
“That direction,” said Stoner, pointing west. “We’ll head toward the Chinese and Indians. More people to look for us.”
Ferris eased himself into the water. He claimed it felt good, though it was obviously colder than he’d expected. He began doing a scissor kick. “I used to be on the swim team,” he told them.
This was going to get old very quickly.
“I have a question,” said Stoner after Ferris grew silent. “Why Rap?”
“Short for Rapture,” said Breanna. “My mom was a hippie. It was either that or Acid Girl.”
“Really?”
“No. Mom’s pretty straight actually. She’s a doctor. Long story.
“That’s good,” said Stoner. “Maybe they’ll come looking for us.”
“They’ll definitely come looking for us,” said Ferris from the watter.
“A hotshot F-15 jock called me ‘Rapture’ a million years ago, right after I waxed his family in a Red Flag exercise. I was flying a B-52 at the time.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Flying the B-52 or waxing his fanny?”
“Both.”
“Both.” She laughed. “HE was trying to pick me up, I think. So I shot him down twice. How about you?”
“I’m not trying to pick you up.”
“I mean, are you married?”
“No.” Stoner laughed.
“What’s so funny? Marriage is a good thing.”
“Good how?”
“In all ways you’d expect.”
“I’m not sure I expect any ways,” he told her, staring into her eyes. The raft was so small their faces were perhaps eight inches apart. If he wanted, he could lean forward and touch his mouth to her lips.
He did want to. He wanted to more than anything else.
She turned her head toward the sky. “We should see them soon. They’ll be here soon.”
“Yeah,” said Stoner. He turned his head and looked toward the sky as well.
“Not a cloud in the sky,” said Breanna.
“Great day for a picnic,” said Stoner.
He would kiss her. He must. He felt the weight of her leg leaning against his.
“Hear something?” she asked.
“Just your heart. And mine.”
“I think I heard a plane.” She jerked upright, scanned the sky.
There was no sound except the water lapping against the sides of the raft and Ferris’s breaths, now growing labored. Stoner wondered if she was hallucinating.
Or inventing an excuse not to be so close to him. He wanted to kiss her.
She leaned over the side toward Chris. “How you doing?” she asked.
“Good exercise. Come on. Water’s warm.”
“Later I think.” She lay back down, her head against the sides of the raft. She’d oriented herself a little farther from him — but their legs still touched.
“So, Mr. Stoner, you want to tell us your life story?” Breanna asked.
“No.”
“What will you tell us then?”
“Noting,” said Stoner.
“Private guy,” said Chris from the water.
“I didn’t know I was expected to perform,” he told them.
“You must have some battle stories. You were in the SEALs, right?” She leaned over, balancing on her left arm. A twinge of pain flashed across her face — her shoulder and back were undoubtedly complaining — but she kept her voice light. “Tell me a story, and then I’ll tell one. We’ve seen some shit,” she added.
“I don’t think I’m allowed to tell stories.”
“Neither are we.”
She wanted him. That’s why she was flirting.
He’d kiss her. He had to kiss her.
Stoner began to lean forward. She watched, doing nothing.
Chris Ferris screamed. The sound was loud and so distorted that it took Stoner a second to realize it was a real scream.
The raft tugged backward, and down. A huge fin appeared on the side. The raft spun fiercely to the right.
Ferris screamed again. Breanna began to move — began to slide toward him.
Water furled.
“The belts, cut the belts!” yelled Stoner.
“Chris! Chris!”
four, five fins appeared in the water and a sound like switchblades snapping open and shut filled the air. Stoner threw his upper body over her, grabbing Breanna as she slid toward the side. Teeth snapped in the air, and once more the raft spun right. From the corner of his eye, he saw a gun on the floor of the small rubber boat, and with one hand, lunged for it. A demon shrieked. Stoner emptied the magazine, but the scream continued. He pulled at Breanna and then saw a knife in her scabbard. He bent for it and felt her pulling away. Teeth and a gray snout leapt from the water. He sprang back, but managed with the knife to cut the line. They shot backward, the knife flying.
“Chris!” she screamed. “Chris! Chris!”
Stoner used all his strength to keep her at the bottom of the raft, and still she managed to squirm away. He grabbed her by the throat and pulled her so tight she began choking for air. She he held on, certain she would jump out for her copilot if he didn’t. only when her body grew limp did he finally let go, collapsing himself over her.
Dog took a large gulp of the extra-strong coffee and swallowed quickly, hoping the caffeine would rush to his brain cells.
As a fighter pilot, once or twice he had come close to resorting to greenies to stay awake at crucial points; he’d always hesitated, however, fearing they might become addictive — or worse, not work as advertised. If he had some now, he’d have swallowed them without hesitation. The few hours of sleep he’d managed had left him more groggy then refreshed, and as he walked down the hallway toward the elevator with his half-full coffee cup, he felt as if his head had been pushed down into his chest. He nodded at the security detail near the elevator, took another gulp of his coffee, then got into the car, waiting for it to trundle downward to the Command Center level.
Even though his quarters were just on the other side of the base, he’d slept on his office couch. He’d never
