Page 17 of Let It Snow

“Too late for that—I’m useless with the engine. Time to send up flares.”

She stepped one last step to the chest, but she had to let go with one hand to get to it. She did. That’s when they hit a wave sideways. As the raft rolled over it, the boat tilted so that she was plunged forward headfirst. Grabbing desperately for anything to hold as she slid toward the water, her fingers caught a line. But not before she’d hit the icy depths of churning ocean.

She felt like she’d hit a cement wall. The numbing was instantaneous. And black. Nothing worked and her head felt like it would crack in two. The air in her lungs froze as her chest tightened impossibly.

Then she was lifted back as the boat rocked and the two men rushed to her, covering her and rubbing her and slapping her face. She felt like stone. She couldn’t move, or talk or see. She didn’t know if it was because her eyes were closed or if she was blind. The roar in her ears could have been the ocean, could have been her own blood. It could have been death bearing down on her.

Chapter 8

“I see a flare.” Dane said the words unnecessarily loudly inside the small bridge. Then he dashed for the door. He hoped to hell that red streak was a flare. And he hoped to damn hell it was a flare from the lift raft holding Shana.

“I see it—we’re on it. Starboard side,” Tony Vendi shouted after him.

Reaching the starboard rail of the 47 where there was a ladder to go over, Dane looked for another flare. He saw it—this time much closer. They were closing in fast. Before he had a chance to yell at Tony to slow down, the boat engines kicked back to a hum and the boat slowed and settled into the waves, rolling and splashing up around him now. Spray caught him on the face like the slap of a million tiny icicles.

“Shit.” He didn’t want to think about Shana out there in that. Instead he watched for the boat and prepared to climb over. Cap appeared at his side.

“You see it.” He had a giant flashlight casting a small beam into the blizzard and waves below.

“I’m looking. We could really use that Jayhawk about now with the Nightsun searchlight.”

“I’ll find out from Tony what the ETA—”

Dane heard the familiar sound of whipping rotors even above the roaring ocean. “Don’t bother—I hear it.”

At that instant the sky lit up and it felt like he and Cap were on stage instead of the deck of the 47. He raised an arm and gave them a thumbs-up. They were less than a hundred feet up and wobbling in the wind. He gestured his arm over the starboard side and the lights aimed that way covering from the side of the boat to what looked like the horizon.

Dane strained his eyes, looking for any spot of anything besides whitecaps and snow hurling sideways through the light.

He spotted the raft and swiftly climbed down to the cutout on the starboard side of the 47, close to the water line. The low slung well was designed to rescue people from the water. It was not designed to block the weather and the wind.

Cap climbed down beside him and tried to throw a line to the raft but he missed.

Dane yelled to Tony, “Can you anchor us?” He stood above at the rail. Dane knew it would be dangerous, that anchoring the boat in the waves could cause it to take on water. But it would be equally dangerous to allow the 47 to be tossed so that it could easily hit the raft and capsize it. Tony left the rail and headed for the anchor.

Cap handed the line to Dane as they felt the boat strain against the anchor and the waves and ice cold spray hit them. Hanging from the side with the life raft still 15 feet away, Dane threw the line. One of the crew caught it and they used the wench to pull the raft close. As soon as the raft bumped alongside the cut out of the 47, Dane climbed in and headed straight for Shana. She lay on a bench wrapped in foil and he was about to ask why until he saw her blue lips. Without thought, numb from the cold and the fear, he lifted her and hauled her into the cutout of the 47 and then carried her up to the deck. His muscles burned while the icy water lashed him and he thought of nothing but getting Shana to warmth and home again.

Dane held Shana in his arms on deck and Vendi was at his side as he carried her toward the cabin and the stairs to go below.

As soon as they stepped inside the wheelhouse cabin, Vendi said, “The helo can lift her and take her to the hospital on the Cape or I can get her to Vineyard Haven to the hospital there in about the same time.”

Cap and the crew had gotten Father Pedro aboard and they pushed inside the cabin behind Dane, heading for the stairs below. The 47 was ready to take off.

“Let’s not waste time getting them on the helo here at sea,” Dane said.

“I’ll radio it in,” Vendi nodded. “We’re heading into station. We can get them to the Vineyard Haven hospital from there. The helo can meet us at the hospital in case we need them.”

Dane carried Shana down to the survivor cabin where the others had taken Pedro. The two crewmen from the raft helped, but they need treatment almost as badly. The cabin was warm enough to be called hot and well equipped to treat exposure. Dane laid Shana on a bed and ripped off all her wet clothes while Cap and Andy worked on Father Pedro.

He dried her and wrapped her in warm blankets and rubbed her, patting her face and caressing it. She lay implacable, taking shallow breaths and fluttering her eyes for what seemed like forever.

When she finally kept her eyes open and on Dane, he lowered his face to hers and covered her blue lips in his. She was so cold. He massaged her lips with his until he felt some warmth return. And he heard a cough from across the room.

“They need oxygen,” Cap pointed to a plastic cup with a tube hooked up to a cylinder. Dane had seen them operated in ambulances and hospitals often enough. He wasn’t sure of the level, so after he placed the mask over Shana’s nose and mouth, he proceeded cautiously.

“They’re all in various stages of shock due to exposure,” Cap said. “I’m not sure Father Pedro is going to make it.”

Dane left Shana’s side after she nodded at him to go. He went to where Pedro lay, blue and stiff with his oxygen mask in place. The man had stopped shaking, but that wasn’t a good thing in this case. His eyes were closed and he looked dead already. Dane took Father Pedro’s wrist to find a faint pulse. And then the old man opened his eyes and met Dane’s. For a blink of time they looked at each other. Then it was over.