She jerked her right hand out and back as fast as she could, and felt the blade part flesh and bury itself in his neck. The blade itself was small, and though blood drenched her hand and made the handle slippery, she stabbed again and again, pushing hard, and held onto him as he staggered back, and his knees buckled. He twisted and tried to turn away from her, but Cami leaned forward and latched her legs around his waist from behind, which pulled them both down to the ground.
He thrashed around for a long moment, but his actions grew weaker and weaker as Cami closed her eyes and tightened the muscles of her arms and legs. With her dead weight on his back, there was nothing the man could do to dislodge her, or the knife protruding from the side of his neck.
Another few agonizing heart beats, and his struggles slowed to an afterthought. Cami took one more deep breath, and the man gave one final shudder, which rippled through his entire body, then he lay still.
Only then did Cami realize the storm still raged around her, and the water that clouded her vision wasn’t all tears, but rain. Cami pulled her trembling hand away from his mouth and yanked the knife from his neck, grateful the sound had been muffled by the storm. She pushed off of him, and lay panting in the bushes, and allowed the rain and wind to clean not only her blade but her soul.
Finally able to catch her breath, she rolled to her side, got painfully to her feet, and spread her arms. The hurricane pushed at her, tugged at her ragged, bloody clothes, and the rain sandblasted the exposed skin of her face and wrists.
She didn't care. Cami had crossed the line—she’d killed a man up close and let the storm wash the stain from her.
After another deep breath, she lowered her hands and for a brief moment, the wind and the rain held no sway over her. She turned slowly and looked down at the body at her feet.
He wore a camouflage backpack, heavy with food and ammunition. She rifled through it quickly, retrieved a few protein bars and tore into them, stuffing the precious food in her mouth while she crouched over the body of her kill and scanned the woods. She chewed and swallowed, then realized she must look like the human version of a panther, protecting its kill and trying to eat, but wary of scavengers.
She grinned to herself around another mouthful of protein bar and swapped out the little paring knife in her hand for the larger, well-balanced Bowie knife at his hip. Keeping her eyes on the trail ahead of her in case one of his comrades should come looking for him, Cami quickly removed the belt and sheath. Chewing on the last of a protein bar, she had to wrap the belt almost double around her slender waist to keep it steady, then tied the strap to her thigh and sheathed the gleaming, honed blade. She picked up the rifle she’d dropped in the struggle, slung the mud-caked weapon over one shoulder, and moved off in search of her next target.
The rational side of her mind screamed and rebelled at the idea that she'd just ripped the man's throat open and taken him to the dirt in cold blood. Cami narrowed her eyes in grim determination and resumed the hunt.
The men she planned to dispatch were not innocent bystanders caught up in a blood feud. They were actively out to hurt the people she cared about, and most importantly, her daughter. They'd already tried once to kidnap Amber, and they'd had their chance at Cami herself. She was determined to make sure they never got another opportunity with anyone else.
There would be time for guilt later. She had to protect Amber first. Nothing else mattered.
Before long, Cami fought her way through the storm in the woods to catch up to the fifth man in the ragged column heading toward Bee’s Landing. Much the same as the first man she’d taken down, Cami snuck from tree to tree, moving quickly when he struggled through the bushes. The hunter in front of her was clearly not a real outdoorsman. He carried himself like a corporate professional, taking wide steps, slipping over wet patches, and hunched forward unnecessarily against the wind. Cami caught up even faster than she had with the rearguard. This one, however, had better hearing, or was at least more alert.
He stood up straight as she came within striking distance, then suddenly spun on his heel. She lunged at him and the impact knocked them both to the forest floor. Cami fell to the side, and the Bowie slipped from her grasp. She saw the blade flash as it landed a few inches from her fingertips. As she hit, her injured leg exploded in pain and she cried out. Her hands went to her leg instinctively, though her mind screamed to watch out for her target.
The man was quicker than she'd thought. He was on her in a flash, water streaming off his face as the wind and rain howled all around them. He straddled her, pinning her painfully against the rifle on her back. A powerful hand clamped around her throat, while the other fumbled at a pocket on his pants.
Frantic, Cami grasped the hand around her throat with both of hers and kicked with her good leg, but he was too heavy, too dense, and too well-positioned. He grunted under the impact of a knee to the back, but the thick backpack he carried absorbed most of the blow. A smile spread across his face as he leaned in close to her and water dripped from his hair into her eyes.
"Oh, you were fast! But any second now Ronnie's going to show up, he was right behind me—but you didn't know, that did you?" he asked with a leer. "Yeah…” he mumbled as he tried to retrieve the object in his pocket.
Cami began seeing stars as his hand came free of the pocket and produced a bundle of paracord, muddy and wet. "I'm gonna tie you up and let Jenkins have you. Yeah, I'm gettin’ an extra meal tonight!" He chuckled, hatred in his eyes.
He looked away from her and frowned. “Ronnie!" he yelled into the wind. “Where you at?”
Cami flailed with her right hand, desperately searching for the lost knife. A gust of wind hit the man as he straightened up to look around for his missing partner, and his grip on her neck loosened just enough for Cami to take in a deep gulp of air and shift her torso an inch to the left.
As the man noticed her breath, he leaned forward and put all his weight on her neck. "Where you think you're going?"
The extra inch Cami was able to stretch her arm out proved to be just enough to grab the Bowie’s handle. Her fingers slid around the balanced pommel, and she snapped her arm up. The stainless steel cap at the end of the knife flashed through the air and stuck her attacker in the temple with a meaty thwack.
He grunted and rocked back a moment, which gave Cami just enough time to slash him in the face on the back swing. The cut was shallow, but lightning fast and it got his attention. He howled in pain, and a thin spray of blood splattered Cami's face as he leaned back.
The immense weight lifted from her chest.
Seething with rage at the thought of what the man had in store for her, Cami sat up and plunged the bowie knife into his throat at the base of his neck. His eyes flew open, and his hands flashed out as he coughed a spray of blood over Cami’s shoulder. When he moved back, she moved forward keeping the pressure on the knife and driving it deeper. She felt the tip grind against bone, then fell on top of him, using her weight to impale him to the ground.
Cami screamed in rage and frustration, not only at what she'd been forced to do, but what she'd become, furious that the man she’d hunted had forced her into the position she found herself.
When it was all said and done, Cami pulled the blade from the man's neck and wiped it on his shirt. She rose into a crouch and scanned the immediate surroundings. Swaying branches greeted her eyes, and the wind whipped the horizontal rain into a kind of fog. She sheathed the knife, picked up her rifle again, and resumed the hunt.
There were still at least four other men out there, intent on harming her baby, and they were about to find out what it meant to tangle with a mother defending her child[MP12].
Chapter 22
Charleston Harbor
Fort Sumter, South Carolina
Reese hit the cold water like a bag of bricks. He tucked his arms as close to his sides as he could get to make a pencil form as he hit the rough water, but missed the crest of a wave like he'd instructed Jo. He hit the backside
of a wave headed down to its lowest part, and thought he'd landed on concrete. The shock reverberated through his body, and he nearly lost the grip on the handling line clutched in his right hand. His left hand held the line attached to the bundle of gaffs and their makeshift sail.
Once over the shock of impact and the immersion in the relatively cold seawater, Reese kicked and pulled for all he was worth to get back to the surface—which was a wave cresting over him. Cursing his luck, Reese pulled the extra 4 to 5 feet up through the wave to break through at the back.
Gasping as he sucked in a lungful of air, Reese glanced up at the aft end of the hulk, and saw bits and pieces of metal flake off into the water near where they'd been standing on the deck. "Jo!" he called out, frantically searching left and right. The handing line in his right hand jerked hard to the right as a wave caught the lifeboat and pulled him away from where he'd hit the water.
"Jo! Where are you!” he called again. Frustrated and losing hope by the second, Reese kicked in time with an oncoming wave to rise up to the crest and get a better view of the surrounding seascape. The orange lifeboat bobbed into existence over the crest of another wave about a dozen feet away. Reese sighed in relief. Their improvised sail bobbed on the surface close to him. Keeping an eye on the pointed barbed ends of the gaffs, Reese treaded water and tried to move closer to the lifeboat while keeping an eye out for Jo.
Just as he was about to turn and make a full effort to swim to the boat, he saw her brown campaign hat, soaked with saltwater peak over the top of a roller closer to the fort. “Jo!”
Reese immediately kicked and struggled against the water, fully clothed as he was, and dragged himself closer to Jo. She’d flopped over on her back at some point, but he noticed with alarm that her legs were no longer floating at the surface, but had sunk below the water. If she didn't start breathing soon, she'd slip under.
"Jo! Wake up!" he yelled as he drew within arm’s reach. He quickly looped one arm over her, and found the bottom was only just out of reach of his feet. Instead of trying to drag her one-handed back to the lifeboat, he decided to push forward toward the rocky, debris strewn shore, and pull the lifeboat to them. Decision made, he ignored the pain from his injured arm and took Jo into a lifeguard carry position. He only needed a few quick kicks to get them to a point where he could put his feet down on the ground and stand.
"It's okay, Jo,” he panted through the pain in his other arm and chest. “We’re gonna get you out of this…just hang in there," Reese said as he talked to her in a continual stream of words that he wouldn't remember saying. His mind was on autopilot, just speaking comforting words—perhaps more for him than for her—so that he heard something other than the hollow sound of the waves squirting through the gap in the wall between the ship’s hull and the broken bricks behind him.
A gust of wind hit him in the face and staggered him back, then died down almost as fast as it had appeared. "Oh, that's not good…” he told himself as he struggled to pull the lifeboat through the rough water with one arm. He piled up a loose coil of wire as the orange inflatable inched closer and closer, constantly tugging back as the waves tried to carry it to the shore rather than the fort.
"You know this’d go a lot easier if you’d just wake up, Jo," Reese panted. He propped her up against some bricks, but she slid back into the water. Cursing, he pulled her further out of the water and settled her against the damp—but intact—base of the fort's outer wall. The waves still sloshed at her and tugged at her clothing, threatening to pull her back under the water, but at least she was breathing and not floating.
At last, he got the lifeboat within reach, and yanked it the last couple feet. He looped the wire around one of his feet to keep the inflatable anchored in place while he struggled with Jo. It took longer than he wanted, and he let loose a few more curses than he would've liked—he imagined a young Amber standing behind him, her skinny arms crossed with a disapproving look on her 10-year-old face. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he thought of his daughter. She never did like it when he swore—even as a child she knew it was inherently impolite.
"I'm coming just as fast as I can…” he muttered to her as he struggled to hoist Jo's limp weight into the lifeboat. Careful of her neck, he still managed to flop her in like a dead fish but took care to make sure she stayed on her back in the bobbing boat. Remarkably, her first aid backpack was still attached by the waist strap she’d cinched around her middle. Reese undid that now and let the sodden backpack slosh into the far corner of the boat where it sat in about an inch of water. The next step was to make sure the gaffs didn't puncture the side of the boat as he tried to enter it.
Metal groaned above him and echoed like thunder all around them. Something heavy splashed into the water not five feet past the aft end of the lifeboat. Judging by the plume of spray and foam that shot about ten feet up into the air, it'd been heavy.
The light dimmed and Reese looked up. Another bank of clouds rolled through, partially obscuring the sunlight that poked through the collapsing eye of the storm.
"Running out of time…” Reese muttered to himself as he worked on unwrapping the wire around his leg so he could climb aboard. Their improvised sail bundle bobbed precariously close to the side of the rubber lifeboat, and he shoved it away angrily before he pulled himself up over the side with a grunt of pain. "Oops—sorry about that," he said to Jo as he removed his leg from on top of her stomach.
Jo coughed in response to the sudden impact, turned her head sideways and vomited seawater into the bottom of the boat.
Reese, overjoyed at the sight of her moving on her own, ignored the fact that she’d just fouled the inside of the boat. "Yes! Just stay awake with me…” Reese said as he pulled the last of the wire aboard, then gingerly reached for the sail bundle. Careful to keep the pointed end of the gaffs sticking out and away from the raft, he wedged the base of the poles into the back end of the lifeboat, then tied them quickly to the side. The front end of the improvised sail stuck out about 3 feet beyond the bow of the little orange lifeboat.
"What happened?" Jo asked as she coughed and tried to sit up. The movement almost knocked Reese out of the lifeboat, and he stuck out a hand to stall her progress. "Hang on—just give me a second to get us untied and away from the ship—she's going to split any second now!”
Jo blinked and looked up as they passed into the shadow of the exposed aft end of the great ship. Reese was still fumbling with the wire tied to the bow, when he glanced up and saw the huge, dripping rudder directly overhead. "Oh, that was a bad time to look up.” Chunks of debris fell from the dizzying heights above them to splash in the water all around, churning up the already confused ocean.
"Hurry up," Jo said weakly. “There’s stuff fallin’ all around us!”
"I know, I know," Reese said without looking up. His fingers and the wire were slick with saltwater, and the knots that tied the improvised rope to the bow had tightened with the herky-jerky movement of the lifeboat as it was tossed about on the tortured, churning harbor.
The ship groaned above them. Jo cried out in terror. "It moved! I saw it move! Hurry!”
Sweat dripped down Reese's face as he fumbled with the last simple knot. What should have been an easy fix—pull the short end, and the knot unraveled—failed. As he pulled the knot, part of the insulation around the wire fouled itself around the other side of the knot, hopelessly tangling the entire thing.
Around them, chunks of paint and steel dropped like hailstones from the ship as gravity pulled the aft end toward the ocean. Reese told himself they were simply barnacles falling off the hull and did his best to ignore the peppered surface of the water as little splashes erupted all around them.
Something plunked behind them, rocking the boat, and Jo squealed. A second later, she heard a hollow rubber sound and looked up.
“That's a rivet," she said pointing at a black object resting in the bottom of the boat. "Reese, a rivet just landed in the boat with us!"
&
nbsp; "Almost got it…” Reese said as he blinked sweat out of his eyes. "There!" he cried out in victory as the wire finally released and shot away from the lifeboat. Free of its tether, the lifeboat was easily caught by the next wave and dragged out toward the other side of the ship, closer to shore.
"I think we’re going to make it," Reese announced.
"Shut up!” Jo shouted. “Don't say another dadgum word—that's always the kiss of death…” Jo began. A sharp metallic scream, unlike anything Reese had ever heard, rent the air and Jo fell silent.
Reese looked up and—he actually saw it move—the aft end of the container ship quivered. Straps of metal popped loose, and rivets and bits of paint showered down on them like hail. One smacked Reese on the shoulder, and he cried out and ducked, covering his head. Jo did likewise and used the first aid pack to protect the back of her neck. The sound of the ship tearing itself apart was so loud, Reese couldn't warn Jo to hold on when the back end dropped suddenly.
An explosion of water dozens of feet high, sounding very much like Niagara Falls, rushed toward them. One second they were falling down the slope of a chest-high wave. The next, the aft end of the lifeboat shot almost vertical as a wall of water lifted them up and launched them forward.
In only a few seconds, the wave created by the aft end of the ship impacting the water carried them along the length of Fort Sumter. By the time the wave’s energy dissipated enough that the lifeboat was captured by the storm surge, they were at least 20 yards off the northwestern point of the fort and headed for shore.
Reese picked himself up off the floor of the lifeboat and wiped what he hoped was seawater from his face. "Well…”
Jo held up one finger to stop his words, then turned and threw up noisily over the side of the lifeboat. She wiped the back of her mouth, then leaned back against the rubber transom, and spread her arms along the aft end of the lifeboat "I swear, as soon as we get to dry land, I'm gonna kill you myself."
Broken Tide | Book 5 | Storm Surge Page 17