Not a crack but a deep, concussive thud that moves through the floor and up through my legs and into my chest. The corridor shudders. A beat of silence, and then every alarm on the boat goes off at once, overlapping into a single screaming wall of sound. Somewhere beneath us, the engines choke and die. Then it comes to life, filling with shouting and pounding footsteps. The boat lists slightly to one side as it loses its heading.
We run.
Towards the muster point we got shown when we first came on. As we run, people are moving quickly, coming out of their rooms, yelling orders. We act just as shocked and confused as everyone else, rushing up to the deck. The sea is black and infinite. I can smell smoke, but I can’t see fire yet. Rachel and Iris have joined us, their hair a mess, eyes filled with sleep as they glance around. My eyes scan the crowd for Ace, but I can’t see him yet.
No doubt he’s trying to ensure our safety by stopping whatever set off the alarms. It doesn’t take me long to find them, though. Within minutes, Ace, Zeke, and Kellen charge toward us, each of them with an expression on their faces that makes mystomach turn. Ace’s gaze slams onto me with pinpoint precision. He doesn’t look pissed, but he does look concerned and I wonder if we have taken things too far.
“What happened?” I ask, when they reach us.
“Get on the lifeboat. Now. We can’t risk anyone being on this boat if it blows again.” His voice is a feral hiss.
I glance at Aggie and Tatiana and try to ignore how pale their faces are. I know it won’t blow again, at least, I don’t think it will, but I do as he is asking anyway. Zeke’s already lowering the lifeboat, and Aggie grabs my wrist and drags me and Tatiana towards it. I hear someone behind us hurling instructions into the night, and realize it is the captain. Maybe we should have just taken him out.
Rachel and Iris find us, stumbling into the group with matching pyjamas and green facemasks, their expressions confused and darting around as if they still haven’t figured out what’s going on. Zeke throws a confused glance at Rachel, like he is wondering why the hell she looks like that, and then he ushers them towards the lifeboat.
We all get in.
I glance down at the water, which is undulating black silk under the spotlights. The lifeboat looks impossibly small against it.
Just before we go down, Adrian appears, glasses crooked, hair a mess and pyjamas on. He has a backpack slung over his shoulder, and doesn’t even ask if he can get in, he just climbs into our boat. He looks over at me, with somewhat of a chipmunk expression, his front teeth exposed. I want to laugh, but I’m too scared. “Statistically, we’ll likely die out here.”
“Gee, thanks, Adrian,” Aggie mutters, shivering.
“I will be leaving a one-star review for this crew,” he says, like he is actually offended that we are going down instead of being terrified.
“Fuck me,” Ace mutters. “Let’s just lower this boat. Slowly.”
They lower the boat until it hits the water and someone shoves a lifejacket into my chest. I pass them around, my hands moving on their own while my eyes stay fixed on the yacht. Aggie finds my hand in the dark and holds it.
The smoke was supposed to stay smoke. An alarm, a flare of panic, coast guard on the radio—that was the plan. I watch the orange climbing the side of the hull and think... we did that. We had to, right? We had no choice.
Right?
Rachel and Iris start screeching, their voices scraping my nerves raw. Iris keeps saying, “We’re going to die, we’re going to die,” but Rachel cuts through her with, “This is your father’s fault, you know. If we die, it’s because of his stupid, flimsy yacht.”
I tell her to shut the hell up but my teeth chatter so bad it comes out gritted and raspy.
“I just want to let you all know,” Adrian goes on, “I can’t swim.”
“Fuck me,” I mumble. “Put your lifejacket on, Adrian.”
He does.
On the yacht, the smoke is thickening. More boats drop, one after another, figures in them I can’t make out, voices carrying across the water. I press my palms flat against my knees to stop them from shaking and it doesn’t work. Aggie isn’t looking at me. Neither is Tatiana. None of us are looking at each other.
Tatiana starts crying, quietly at first, but then louder when the boat jerks and sways a little too roughly. It takes everything in me to wrap my arm around her shoulders and hold her steady. Aggie leans over, voice low in my ear: “It wasn’t meant to go up like that, only enough that they could put it out but call for help.”
“Guess we overestimated,” I mutter. “It’ll be okay, they’ll call for help.”
The seconds tick by way too slowly.
On the next line down, the guys drop—their boat smacks the surface and rocks violently before settling. Ace doesn’t wait for it to fully stabilize. He gets the oars in and digs them into the water, pulling toward us in short, urgent strokes, the muscles in his jaw tight.
He shoots me a look when he reaches us. “Anyone got burns? Anyone bleeding?”
We all shake our heads.
No one has to say it: Aggie’s bomb worked.
