Page 2 of Oleander

Behind Mara, an impact boomed hard enough to knock a ceiling panel loose.

“That was your verification,” she said. “Call them now.”

On the accommodation deck, men crowded into the central passage as smoke pressed through door seals in thin black threads. Abel Grant, the medic, stood at the junction and counted helmets as they passed. One, two, three—he lost track when another tremor sent everyone into the bulkhead.

“Keep moving!” Abel shouted. “Lifeboat deck, center stairs! If you can hear me, answer!”

Voices answered through the smoke—some close, some distant, some distorted by radio static. A crane operator reported four men trapped near the workshop. Two roustabouts were bringing them through the pipe corridor. The electrician had gone below to start the backup generator and had not checked in.

Owen grabbed a breathing hood and headed for the door. Mara caught his sleeve.

“You go down there, we lose command.”

“We already lost command,” he said. “Now we find our people.”

They left the control room together. Heat had turned the corridor air dry and metallic. Through a porthole, flames bent almost horizontal in the Gulf wind, curling around painted steel and vanishing into smoke. The deluge system opened above the fire, but only a weak rain fell from the nozzles. Water pressure had failed with the pumps.

At the center stairs, the evacuation column stopped. A section of handrail had twisted inward, narrowing the passage to a single person. Men passed through sideways while the platform vibrated in long, rolling waves. Every few seconds the deck lights dimmed, and the wind carried sparks past the open side of the tower like red insects.

“Don’t bunch up!” Abel called. “Give him room. Keep your hands on the rail.”

A voice came over channel three, faint beneath a wash of static.

“This is Nolan in electrical. Generator won’t take the load. Door’s jammed. I need somebody at the south access.”

Owen turned at once. Luis stepped from the line to follow him.

“No,” Owen said. “Get them to the boats.”

“You can’t haul that door alone.”

They disappeared down the south passage while Mara continued upward with the others. At lifeboat station one, she found the davit controls lit but unresponsive. The enclosed boat hung over the sea, orange hull rocking in its cradle. Men pulled the manual release. Nothing moved.

“Hydraulics are gone,” the boatswain said. “We can crank it down, but not with everyone aboard.”

Mara looked across the deck. The second lifeboat was hidden behind smoke. The inflatable rafts remained in their canisters along the outer rail, but the sea below was rough and streaked with burning fuel. She called Burton again.

“Where is the response vessel?”

“It’s being tasked. We’re still coordinating assets.”

“Coordinating?” Mara shouted. “We called you before the first alarm. Twenty-seven people are standing over a burning sea. Call the Coast Guard. Give them our position. Say it exactly: Platform Nine is abandoning.”

This time, the coordinator did not argue. The line remained open as voices rose in the Burton office, suddenly urgent, asking for coordinates that had already been transmitted twice.

Below, Owen and Luis reached the south access and found the door bowed in its frame. Nolan struck it from the other side.

“Again!” he called. The two men hooked a pry bar through the wheel and pulled until the metal shrieked. The door opened several inches, then caught. Smoke pushed through the gap.

“Kill power to the room,” Owen said.

“Already dead,” Nolan answered. “I’m on air. Maybe three minutes.”

Luis wedged a second bar into the gap. Owen counted, and both men heaved. The frame shifted. Nolan forced one shoulder through, then his helmet. A fresh shock rolled through the rig, throwing all three against the bulkhead. Somewhere nearby, a pipe split with a roar.

They pulled Nolan free and started back. The corridor behind them filled with steam, erasing the route they had taken. Their radios crackled with fragments from the lifeboat deck: “manual crank,” “second muster,” “all hands accounted except—” Then static swallowed the rest.

At the davit, six men worked the emergency crank in turns. The handle resisted, then moved one tooth. The boat descended an inch. The platform listed again, and the hull swung outward, slamming back into its guides. Men inside braced themselves against the benches while Abel stood in the hatch and counted.