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And the waves... they’ve gone from stabbing white caps to lashing silver towers.
They toss us up ten feet at a time, the ocean forming mountains that want to swallow us whole.
If we completely capsize, there’s no chance of escape.
I know that.
Another blast of wind rattling the windows makes me squeak as I stumble in to where Shepherd stands with Juan.
“What are you doing up here?” His voice is cutting when he speaks.
“Seeing how I can help. You need as many hands as you can get, don’t you?”
He moves beside me carefully, widening his stance as we roll again. The nose of the yacht rises up a terrifying amount before we drop down the other side of the wave.
“Destiny.” My name sounds so small through the shrieking wind.
“I can’t do it. I can’t stay down there,” I flare. “Not unless you come with me.”
“That’s not going to happen. I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive, and Juan needs all the help he can get.”
“Then tell me what I can do. There must be something,” I say.
Thunder growls loudly again.
Shepherd curses. Juan is pale-faced and tight-lipped, totally focused on the screen in front of him, system readings that are very—red?
So much red everywhere.
Even I can tell this ship is in serious trouble, more than I thought.
I secure Molly to the nearest crew chair, which is bolted to the floor up here, and give the leash a firm tug. Her eyes are wide and fearful.
“Stay. Let me do some work and we’ll be home soon.”
The worst part is how faithfully she listens. Even now, when so much is happening and she’s clearly terrified, she trusts me to see her through.
If only I had the same confidence.
I comb my fingers through her fur and kiss her nose one more time, telling her she’s a good girl. My words are nonsensical, reassuring and empty, filled with real affection and false promises.
But I will myself to believe them.
Molly’s tail wags as I loop my arms around her neck.
“At least tell me the plan?” I demand, staring at Shepherd.
“We’re pulling anchor since the comms are shot. With any luck, the current should push us toward land. Last Coast Guard vessel that responded was almost an hour out, and it’ll never make it in this mess. We need to break out of the storm zone, so we’ll steer the yacht as well as we can. We’ll meet the waves head-on,” Shepherd says.
His steely eyes are narrowed on the view in front of us and the mounting waves like skyscrapers.
How do they keep gettingbigger?
My whole mouth tastes like copper now, and I think I bit my tongue.
Captain Juan slams his hand against the screen in frustration.
“This doesn’t make sense, sir. It says we’re taking on water in the storage bay, but Peter ran down there and said it was bone-dry. This crap must’ve fried our sensors. Hard to tell what’s going on,” he snaps.
