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1:10 p.m.
Debris, trees and a kid’s bike hurtled across the road. “It’s like we’re in the Twister movie,” Ty said, gripping the wheel to keep them steady. Trees and power lines littered the ground. Sand from the dunes swept across the road in twirling tornados, pecking the windshield like pebbles.
“Well, we don’t have cows yet,” Owen said.
“There are wild horses though.”
“If a horse flies by, Ty, I might tap out.”
According to his GPS, Blue Harbor Marina was only five minutes away. Tornadoes had been spotted out at sea.
“You rethinking this?” Ty asked as he put some muscle into keeping them in the right lane.
“I’m not thinking at all.” Owen smirked, but his eyes mimicked the same dreadful anticipation bordering on fear that Ty felt.
Their destination was on the right, and they approached a parking lot, empty except for the one dark blue sedan registered to Dalen Granger. Slipping into ponchos was a mechanical response to the devastating weather. They wouldn’t protect them from this storm.
Boats slammed against the waves as they scouted the marina for a boat with keys they could borrow. Borrow sounded better than steal. After all, they were federal agents. Stealing was frowned upon.
“We need something big and fast if we plan to make it to the island alive,” Ty hollered against the whipping wind, his clothes sticking to his body like a second skin and rain slicking down his hair and running into his eyes. This was what it had come to—pilfering like bandits and pirating boats in the name of justice.
They hunched forward, working to hold their ground against the wind at their front, and fighting through the stinging rain pelting their faces and blurring their vision. “Remember that true story movie with George Clooney about that boat in a hurricane?”
“No,” Owen yelled.
“Okay, good.”
Ty boarded a charter boat and climbed into the cockpit. He tried a console underneath the radio. Then he hurried back to the stern, waving his arms and signaling to Owen. “Yes!” he hollered.
Owen rushed down the slip and skidded to a halt. “Are you kidding me right now?” He pointed to the name painted on the back of the boat.
Sea Flower.
“Maybe it’s a sign!” He could care less if it had an ominous vibe going. The boat came with keys. “Cut the ropes and come on!”
“A sign from who?” Owen retrieved his knife from his pants pocket. He sliced the ropes, then jumped on board and ducked into the cockpit with Ty.
“I’ll take a sign from anyone or anything. The stars. Even God.”
Owen ran his hand over his face, clearing drops of water. “I think we’re gonna need a bigger boat.”
The charter rocked, and Ty grimaced from the nausea. “Ha ha.”
Ty turned the key, and the boat hummed to life; Owen tossed him a life vest and began securing his own. “Just FYI, it’s been a hot minute since I manned a boat.” Ty slipped on his orange vest and buckled it, pulling the strap tight.
Owen sat in the chair next to him and shook his head. “Why did I need to know that?”
“You didn’t.”
Ty’s attempt to be funny fell flat as a wave crashed against the boat, tossing them.
“Hey, maybe this is like riding a bike.” He’d maneuvered them out into the water. “Where to?”
“South. Go south!” Owen groaned. “I’m gonna be sick.” His skin turned sallow.
“Hold your breakfast.” Ty powered ahead, the waves clobbering the boat.
Twenty miles. Twenty miles was doable.
