Scarred Survival (Scarred Series Book 5)

by Jackie Williams

  With the sail now doing its job, Gemma held onto the rudder as she suddenly noticed a white strip in an ocean of grey. She squinted as she checked that the white line didn’t disappear. It remained in sight and she pulled the rudder as hard as she could, aiming for the tiny slither of shore.

  David gripped the arm rests as Ryan flew fast and low across the French countryside before swinging the helicopter out towards the coast. He kept his eyes on the screen in front of him and watched as the small blinking dot suddenly steadied just as the helicopter flew out over the raging water.

  David nearly shot from his chair.

  “They’ve sunk! Look, it’s not moving! For God’s sake hurry!” His eyes scanned the horizon before he turned his whiter than white face towards Ryan. The man was shaking his head.

  “More likely that Gemma found them a spot to land. Look, that’s an island of some sort just ahead of her.”

  The relief puffed out of David until he suddenly noticed that the island appeared to be moving across the screen. He looked as though he was about to be sick just as Ryan suddenly swore loudly.

  “Fucking hell! That’s not an island.”

  David peered through the window-screen into the ever darkening sky. His face paled as his eyes met a terrifying sight. His heart stilled in his chest as his words burst from his mouth.

  “Oh my God! Go faster!”

  Ryan nodded as he saw that they were closing rapidly on Gemma’s signal.

  “I’m doing everything I can. Just a couple of hundred metres according to the GPS. Nothing much out here that I can see though. Damn boat’s too small and the clouds are blocking the last of the light. I’ll fly as low as I can, but we could still miss them. Keep your eyes peeled just in case Gemma can let off a signal.”

  Just as he spoke a flare shot up from their right. Ryan immediately turned the helicopter and followed the signal back to its source.

  The light was fading fast as evening set in. Gemma guided the boat as best she could, but it her arms were tiring rapidly and the wet had chilled her to her bones. She was only glad that the children had remained inside the big protective box, but she was worried that they wouldn’t find a safe haven before darkness fell. There was no way that she would be able to steer the boat under cloud cover this thick with no moonlight to guide her. She cast her eyes across the rolling horizon yet again. A speck swayed in her vision and she immediately turned the sail and aimed for it.

  The wind howled across the waves. She fought to keep the boat moving towards the tiny island, but she didn’t appear to be making any headway. Frustration set in and she cursed the Brittany weather. She was about to swear aloud when a sudden, lusty wail reverberated through the box containing the children.

  The lid immediately popped up and Fran stood there with her fingers in her ears as Robbie took Luc from his bag and climbed out of the box. The baby bellowed a sound louder than Gemma could ever have imagined. She winced. How could that racket come from such a small child? The noise of the waves crashing against the boat was momentarily blotted out as Luc yelled his protests into the wind. Even Robbie looked shocked.

  “Cor! He doesn’t sound this loud at home. I bet he’s either wet or he’s...” He bent his head to the area near Luc’s bottom, then sniffed before he pulled a disgusted face. “pooped! Yuk!” He held the baby away from him.

  Fran’s lip suddenly quivered and she began to cry. Her face turned pale and she clutched her stomach. She gave a great wail, leaned over the side of the box and promptly emptied the last of her stomach contents in the bottom of the boat. Before Gemma could comfort the child another wave hit them square on the side and Robbie slipped in the vomit as he took a step to steady himself. He landed against the side of the box but managed to keep Luc safe in his arms.

  Gemma grabbed the boy and lifted him back into the box.

  “You’ll have to stay in there, Robbie. I won’t be able to steer the boat and keep an eye on you. We can change Luc as soon as we reach some land.” Her heart sank as she stared around her. The island appeared to be little closer.

  She quailed at the thought of dealing with Luc in weather like this, his little body would chill in no time at all. She reached over to close the lid of the box again. If nothing else, the children could shelter in it until they were rescued.

  It was only as Robbie moved again that she heard a thunk from the bottom of the box. Fran bobbed down and came up again holding a flare gun. Gemma nearly passed out as Fran looked straight down the gun’s muzzle.

  “What’s this for Gem?”

  Robbie pressed Luc to his shoulder and grabbed the gun from his sister.

  “That’s for sending up a flare. I think I should hold it. Girls shouldn’t touch guns.”

  Gemma fought the preferable option of passing out and reached out to Robbie.

  “Sorry, Robbie, but neither should small boys carry guns while they are looking after their baby brother. You had best pass that over. It’s not the same as a gun with bullets, but it could still cause some serious damage if it goes off close to you.”

  Robbie frowned and pulled his hand back.

  “But Gem...” He didn’t get any more words out.

  Luc bellowed loudly, his face now a frightening shade of red and Gemma was about to suggest that Robbie hand the gun over immediately, when a roaring, whizzing sound swept past her face, lifting her hair and just missing her ear. She spun around as a bright yellow light filled the sky. Her eyes followed it as it sped up into the air and hung there for a few moments before slowly fading as it fell back down towards the waves.

  There was clunk in the box as Robbie dropped the gun. She looked back down and saw a worried little face peering up at her.

  “Oops! That wasn’t meant to happen. I hardly touched it, Gemma, honest.”

  Gemma swore to herself. The flare gun was fitted with one emergency cartridge and Robbie had just used it.

  She swallowed back her disappointment. It wasn’t Robbie’s fault. Guns of any kind were fascinating to children. She only hoped that someone had seen the flare, though being this far off shore and out in obviously dangerous weather, she wasn’t going to hold her breath over it.

  “Don’t worry, Robbie,” she said, with more conviction than she felt. She was about to press her hand to top of Robbie’s head and put the lid back on the box when she noticed Robbie looking at her hand. She attempted to hide the injury behind her back but it was too late.

  “Gemma, your hand is bleeding.” His face paled as he saw the ragged skin on her knuckles.

  She gave a grim smile.

  “It’ll be okay. Just needs a couple of plasters.”

  Robbie ignored her and peered closer.

  “That looks really bad. I think I can see your bones. Do you think that you will need another metal hand now?” He asked with the morbid simplicity only a child could muster.

  Gemma felt her heart thud hard inside her chest. She didn’t think it was quite as bad as Robbie made out and could only hope that her flesh would recover.

  She was about to answer and reassure him when she noticed that Fran and Robbie were looking over her shoulder with saucer round eyes. Fran lifted a finger and pointed upwards. Gemma spun around again and nearly fell over backwards.

  Being momentarily deafened on top of Luc’s yelling and the roaring waves must have masked the sound, but hovering not fifty metres above them was a very shiny helicopter. Even in the dim light she could see a white face peering out of the open door.

  She turned back to the children, but they had both disappeared into the box. The lid slammed shut though she thought that she could hear a muffled, panicked voice.

  “That was papa! He’s going to be as mad as hell with us!”

  A higher pitched voice immediately replied.

  “Not with me, he’s not. This wasn’t my idea. You made the plans.”

  There was a loud snort.

  “Traitor!”

  Gemma would have laughed if their predicament w
asn’t so serious. She stopped listening to their argument, only relieved that David and Patrick had come to their rescue. She had never been more relieved to have had a GPS chip in her phone. Picking up a length of rope she ignored the pain in her fingers and tied it around the box, through the handle and sealed it shut for when it was lifted into the helicopter.

  She looked up again. David was shouting something out of the door and pointing distractedly, but there was no way that she could hear a word. A rope began to descend with a harness attached. She braced her feet against the sides of the boat and reached up, impressed by Patrick’s flying skills. It wasn’t as if he had the chance to practice much, if at all what with all the cooking he did, but he must have had some refresher lessons at some point, unless flying a helicopter was a bit like riding a bike; something you never forgot.

  She tried not to think about it. It didn’t concern her directly anyway. She was only going to get the children to safety anyway before sailing the boat back inland as soon as the storm quieted. She grabbed hold of the harness and pulled it over to the box. Another waved rolled beneath her and she had to catch hold of the box before it slid across the floor of the boat again.

  Attaching the harness securely wasn’t as easy as she had hoped, but there was no way that she could afford to get it wrong. She lashed the webbing around the box in both directions, pulling the clips as tight and testing the tension as much as she could before she looked up again.

  The downdraft from the helicopter blades flattened the waves and whipped her hair across her face. It took a few seconds before she could see clearly. David was practically falling out of the helicopter door in his eagerness to return his children to safety. He waved his arms frantically, looking somewhat like a demented windmill. Gemma gave him her best thumbs up and he began to haul in the rope.

  It was only a few moments before the box began to lift from the boat. She steadied it as she watched as it rise, desperately praying that her efforts on the knots had been enough. She didn’t think she could live with herself if anything happened to the children.

  She could see David hauling furiously, hand over hand. It was obvious that he was going to send the harness back down for her, but she waved him away. His mouth was moving fast, shouting some form of words. Gemma squinted as she attempted to understand him. He was trying to communicate something important, but she had no idea what could possibly be more important than his children. She stared up again. He looked as though he was threatening her...Shouting that the box had better not tip.

  The box touched the underside of the helicopter and David used his enormous upper body strength, earned from years of living without legs, to heave the box into the cabin.

  Gemma breathed a sigh of relief as it disappeared through the doorway and was about to turn away to look for a safe haven when the main light of the helicopter suddenly lit up something strange. Patrick had turned the helicopter into the wind. His lights flicked on and off quickly as if sending out a signal. Seconds later the beam veered sharply away from her, flashing over the water and Gemma’s mouth dropped open at the sight of the terrifyingly huge wall of white that appeared out of nowhere, only meters from her boat.

  Her shocked eyes took in the incredible sight that bore down on her. It was as though a massive iceberg was sailing towards her.

  David hadn’t been hoping that the box didn’t tip. He’d been bellowing, ‘There’s a fucking great ship!’

  The prow of the supersized Plymouth to Roscoff ferry, sliced through the water right in front of her tiny boat. Gemma stumbled backwards in complete shock as the wash of the mighty vessel at first pushed her boat away from the thirty thousand ton cross channel ferry, moments before she realized that she didn’t stand a chance. The ferry was travelling at a speed that would outstrip her in seconds. The gigantic craft lifted on the next wave and Gemma did the only thing she could. She dived over the side of her boat and thrashed her arms in the icy water.

  Her metal arm was heavy, next to useless and her injured hand was in agony, but it was swim or die. At that particular moment she thought that dying was the most likely thing to happen. She kicked her legs furiously, fighting to the last as she felt the sudden drag of the water behind her, the noise of the swirling propellers giving her the exact incentive she needed to use every last breath of energy to haul herself further away. She felt her legs being dragged backwards and fear of being sucked into the rotating propeller blades gave her a moment’s panic, but seconds later a great wave of water swept over her head, cutting off her breath and forcing her forwards into the darkness.

  She came up gasping, lungs burning in pain and heaving the salt water from her stomach as she bobbed in the freezing water, the hundred and thirty metre long vessel disappearing into the distance as it made its way into the harbour. Gemma would have breathed a sigh of relief, but another huge wave crashed down on her.

  Ryan scanned the whole area, the beam of his search light creating near blinding flashes as it reflected in the darkened water.

  “Where in God’s name is she?” He yelled over his shoulder into the cabin.

  David leaned out of the craft and peered into the gloom.

  “I can’t see a damned thing. I can’t even see the boat any longer!” He yelled back at the pilot.

  Ryan took his eyes off the vast expanse of sea below him and glanced at his screen.

  “Her GPS is still signalling so she must be there. Keep looking!”

  David took a quick look over at the desperate pilot, not wanting to think about the consequences if they couldn’t find Gemma.

  “Fly over the ferry’s wash once again. The foam trail is making it harder to see but there’s a chance I can spot a bright yellow life jacket in it.” David felt the helicopter dip and turn once again. The pouring rain pelted in at the open door.

  He’d been thinking of letting his children out of the big box, but had changed his mind in the last few seconds. Gemma wouldn’t have sent the box up so tightly tied and secured with life jackets if there hadn’t been something precious in there. He wasn’t going to let any of them fall out of the tilting helicopter just because he was desperate to haul them all into his arms and never let them go ever again.

  Ryan came through on his headset once again.

  “Was she even wearing a life jacket? How many was she carrying on board?”

  David turned to the box. Five life jackets were tied around the big rectangular box. One on each side and another on the handle on the top. He assumed that Gemma had made the children wear one each too. The boat was only equipped for eight.

  He wasn’t sure that he could form his words.

  “I think she put them all on the kids. I don’t think she kept one for herself.”

  Silence greeted his ears as the helicopter banked again before Ryan finally spoke, his voice now filled with gritty determination.

  “I’m not giving up. Gemma’s a strong woman, she can hang on for a few minutes longer. Keep looking.”

  David stared at the back of Ryan’s head. He’d known desperation in his time and felt for the man in the cockpit, but this situation wasn’t looking good. Even though it wasn’t particularly cold weather, the Channel was chilled at the best of times; without a wet suit for protection and a life jacket for buoyancy, however strong she was, Gemma would be struggling very soon.

  He turned back to the open door and scanned the waves yet again.

  Gemma tried to focus on the rising moon, but it swayed in and out of her vision, its light seeming to bounce across the waves. She shook her head and felt a shiver run through her body as she trod water. Her legs were tiring rapidly and her shoulders screaming in pain with the effort of keeping herself afloat. Another wave tossed her backwards and this time she couldn’t fight it. She’d done everything she could. The children were safe and that was all that mattered to her. Her eyelids drifted shut and she breathed in deeply just wanting to fall asleep, but the harsh salty water burned in her throat and she coughed herself
awake again.

  The wind whipped sharply at her, flattening the water around her and suddenly the moon shone blindingly brightly right on her face. She threw up an arm to cover her eyes but in the merest second before she saw her worst nightmare come to life.

  His impossibly square jaw was turned towards her, his pale eyes pleading with her as the helicopter appeared to touch the waves that surrounded her. Her gaze shifted as she noticed her friend, David, waving frantically at her. What was he doing in that helicopter? She had to get him out. It was going to crash and they were all going to die!

  She screamed up at him to jump out of the doomed craft, but she could see that David had tied himself to the fuselage. She glanced back at the pilot. He was staring at her, his mouth moving slowly, opening and closing over perfect white teeth. It was as if she could hear his voice, his beautiful, tender tones whispering in her ear.

  Trust me! Gemma, please trust me! I love you!

  She blinked the salty brine away. How could he be there? He wasn’t meant to fly yet. He wasn’t healed enough to control the helicopter. He’d lied to her. This had to be dream, a nightmare. She was about to wave him away, but David’s gesturing only became more wild. He looked utterly furious with her, his brows contracted hard over his uneven nose, his blue eyes glaring at her as he suddenly threw out a long line.

  It slapped the water beside her, but she didn’t move to take it. Even if she had wanted to, her arms felt too heavy, her whole body too tired. The line sank out of sight and she was about to turn away when something hit her side. She flung out her arm to ward it away but the webbing was already entangled around her limb. She tried to move her prosthetic arm. Shock rolled through her as she realized that the electronic pads no longer operated. While she could move the limb, she had no control over her finer movement. Her elbow remained immobile and her fingers rigid.