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Shae unbuckled and climbed up next to Ned in the cockpit. He was trying to start the engine. “C’mon, honey, c’mon.”
He glanced at her.
And for the briefest moment, smiled.
She smiled back.
“Gotcha,” he said. Then turned back to the engine. It whined. Sputtered. He turned it off. Outside, the wind was pushing them back, toward the ship.
Shots fired down to the water.
“We’re a duck in the water,” he said.
She climbed down to the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for the engine.” She pulled up a hook in the flooring.
The engine sat inside the compartment. “We used to live in this 1974 Volkswagen Rabbit. When it sat for a long time, the fuel would gum up, and it would need to be primed.” She hunted around for the pump. “Found it.”
More shots, and the waves knocked her over. She grabbed the seat, then got on her knees and braced herself. Then she unlatched the pump. Gave it a number of vigorous pumps. “Try it now!”
The engine nearly caught, sputtered. She kept pumping.
The motor roared to life, angry and coughing.
“Brace!”
She held on as Ned put the throttle down.
The lifeboat churned in the water, fighting for motion.
“Not quite the jet boat you’d hoped,” she said and closed the hatch. Then she climbed up next to him. The night had fallen like a curtain, and in the distance, maybe forty yards away, the massive gulag ship rose against the darkness, the fire lighting up the sky, debris falling into the water. Hopefully, the prisoners had gotten off the ship—at the very least, the fire would create chaos, give them a fighting chance.
Shots still reported in the darkness, although at this distance, maybe the lifeboat was already in shadow.
The motor had slowly started to move them, pushing them through the waves toward the far harbor lights, the choppy water rocking them hard. Ned kept the throttle down, his feet braced like he might be Captain Ahab. His dark hair had been mowed back by the wind and rain, his parka soaked. Only now did she notice he wore a tactical vest under his jacket.
“You did it, didn’t you?”
He glanced at her. “Did what?”
“Stole the caesium-137.”
“Sort of.” He looked back out the window. “It’s under control.”
She touched his arm. “Thank you for coming back for me.”
He frowned, even as they cleared the harbor lights. “I’d never leave you, Shae.”
She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Ditto.”
He didn’t smile as they headed out into the choppy, rough sea. “But we have about five hundred miles to go before we’re safe.”
A massive explosion shook the air, and she looked back to see the entire ship engulfed in flames, the bow sinking into the depths.
Judah.
