Page 47 of Adrift

This is wrong, so wrong. They launched the tender. We’re not supposed to use the tender in an emergency—it’s too tippy. There are two rafts inflated too, but the tender is pulling away.

“What’s going on?” Easton holds my arm. The wind is blustering, and the waves are crashing over where the swim platform would be. I’m holding on to the sidebar. Most of the crew is already in the other raft. Shayla, the engineers, Emily, Brick, and all the deckhands but bosun Zane. Anders is in the tender with Rocky and Candy.

“She wouldn’t get in the raft. Rocky made us launch the tender.” Zane is scowling at the tender. “Let me help you into the raft.”

“Where’s the captain?”

“Captain’s on the bridge,” says Zane. “The radio’s down, electrical too. No one knows where we are. Get in the life raft, Haley.”

Sam. I can’t go without Sam. I spin to head to the bridge. “What about Dante?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” Zane picks up his radio. “Dante, Dante.” But it’s clear the system is down. He tosses it in the raft. “Get in, Haley. I’ll go get Dante.”

“No, you help Easton in.” I take off before Zane can stop me.

The boat is really rocking now, and going up the stairs is like a fun house gone wrong. I hit the top step near the butler’s pantry. The light coming in is from the small emergency power lights and a little sliver of twilight. There at the end of the counter, his crocks are sticking out.

“Oh, no. Dante.”

He’s unconscious on the floor. There’s blood on the corner of the counter and some near his head. I drop to my knees.

Chapter 20

Mayday

Calvin

The emergency power is on, but I had to rig it to get it going. It’s powering only a few of the systems at that, and the intercom to the bridge isn’t working. The last thing the captain used it for was to order all of us to the life rafts. Fucking hell. I sent my guys up to the raft already, but I had one more thing I wanted to do. It didn’t work, but I had to try.

I fight my way through the crew mess. Plates and tins lie scattered and broken about the floor. I run up the back stairs to the bridge. The power’s gone dead to all the vital systems, including the radio and positioning beacon. Captain’s working on it on the bridge. But when I get there, the door from the hallway is flapping open. Sam is under the control panel, his damn dog on his feet.

“Captain, I couldn’t get it running.”

“I haven’t got shit here either.” He ducks his head out to me for a second.

“Let’s go.” I give him the look my father used to give me.

“No. Get in the boats. We’re not sinking too fast. I’m going to get the beacon going at least. There’s too much ocean for a rescue party to cover. We’re not due into port for a week. Take Penny and go!”

“Fuck.” I rake my hand over my face. But he’s right. Without that beacon, we’re all dead. This isn’t a shipping lane. No one’s going to find our little rafts floating in the ocean.

I grab the dog, throw her over my shoulder. She’s not having it; she wants Sam. My legs are long and my strides sure. Working on cargo ships for years has taught me how to walk through some tough rolling water. I race to the rafts in the aft.

“What the fuck?” I say into the wind. The tender’s in the ocean being tossed around. One raft is away; the other is still tied to the rail.

I pull the dog down from my shoulder and try to pass her to the owner’s son, the swimmer, whatever the fuck his name is. But the dog kicks out her hind legs and takes off for the open bridge door.

“Damn, she’s a stubborn dog. She would never want to leave the captain, anyway.” I’m not risking my life for her twice. “Everyone accounted for?” I say to Zane. He’s lashing down a supply bin and sun cover in the raft.

“Haley went back in to look for Dante. I tried to stop her.”

Fucking hell. I’m running—well, more staggering—up the stairs to the kitchen. I don’t blame Zane for not going after her. He couldn’t leave a passenger alone in the raft.

Haley’s already in the main salon. She’s dragging Dante by the armpits, kitchen towels draped over his head. “Calvin, help me.”

I grab Dante by the waist and throw him over my shoulder. “Is he dead?”

“No.”

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