by Perrin Briar
“Grab that rag over there and stuff it in the hole.”
Jordan picked up the rag and shoved it into the hole. He wrapped it around the pipe several times, tying it off tight.
“How is it now?” Stan asked.
“Better.” Jordan looked at the fuel gauge. “But we’re low on fuel.”
Stan hopped down off the engine. “How much do we have left?”
“Not enough. What’ll we do?”
Stan looked Jordan in the eye and said, “We have to go shopping.”
“Right.” Jordan blinked. “Wait. What?”
28.
After Anne and Mary finished tying everything down they headed into the cabins. They were surprised to discover a thin stream of water dribbling down the stairs. They found the girls busy packing their things into a large suitcase. If Haven did sink, this was the only room that wouldn’t have been altered. Drawings had been scribbled over the walls like ancient cave paintings. Toys were strewn like confetti.
“Are you girls done?” Mary asked.
“Almost,” Jessie said.
Anne looked down to find water coming in from under the door. She sidled up to Mary. “A lot of water is getting in,” she said. “Maybe we should prepare the emergency raft – just in case.”
“I think you’re right.”
Jessie zipped up the suitcase. “Done.”
“Are you ready?” Mary asked, clapping her hands and forming a big smile on her face. “We’re going to go on a little adventure.”
“What kind of adventure?”
“We’re going to the storage room. Come on.”
“But our toys…” Stacey whined.
“We’ll get them later,” Anne said.
Stacey hopped down from the bed. The water came up to her ankles. She screamed from the shock and started crying.
Jessie hugged her close. “Sh-sh-sh. I’m scared too, but it’s only a little water. It can’t hurt us.”
Anne thought quickly. “Jessie, what are those rules you say when you’re shooting with Jordan?”
“What rules?”
“There are three of them,” Anne prompted. “They help you to be calm and relaxed.”
“I… I don’t remember.”
Anne took Jessie’s hands in her own. “Stacey’s very scared, but if you speak, I think she’ll be less scared. Can you do that?”
Jessie nodded. She closed her eyes in concentration. “Rule one. Always have a… a bullet in the gun.”
The boat lurched to one side, causing the door to drift open, cutting a swath through the deepening water. A jack-in-the-box on wheels played an upbeat tune as it rolled out into the corridor. Other toys slid along the floor and hit walls with dings, rings and clonks.
“Hold my hand,” Mary said, gripping Jessie’s hand tight. “You take Stacey’s hand, honey.”
They trudged through the corridor linked like a chain.
“Keep going, Jess,” Anne said.
“Rule two… Always have someone watch your back.”
Lights flickered, revealing the wall panels had sagged and fallen across the floor. Wires protruded and sparked.
“Follow me,” Mary said. She stepped on the wall panelling. It gave way under her weight. “Be careful.”
“Rule three?” Anne asked Jess.
“Rule three… Never give up fighting.”
They came to a door that looked exactly like the others. Mary pulled it open and the contents spilled out at Mary’s feet. Rolls of cello tape, blue tack, press pins, paper, card, wrenches, bags, duffel coats, blankets… Everything you would ever need to start a new life at sea. Mary and Anne searched amongst the fallen items.
“What are you looking for?” Jessie asked.
“The life raft,” Mary said.
“Isn’t that it?” Jessie said, pointing at something at the back of the room sticking out from the water. It was bright yellow and cigar-shaped.
“Looks like it,” Anne said. “Girls, come into the room. I don’t want you to get swept away.”
Mary took the yellow plastic material in both hands and pulled. It came out of the water about three inches, but appeared to be snagged on something. She pulled harder, and a wall unit that was bolted to the wall shook. Anne helped Mary pull at the life raft.
Jessie eyed the rocking wall unit with concern. “Uh, Anne…”
“One second, honey,” Anne said. “It looks like the raft is trapped under here.” They gave the life raft one big pull. It came free from the water like a salmon from a river. Anne caught it. “Got it!”
There were snaps like broken fingers and metal groaned loudly as the wall unit tilted forward.
“Stacey!” Anne screamed. “Stacey! Look out!”
Stacey stepped back, but not enough as the wall unit landed with a heavy crash on top of her.
29.
Stan and Jordan carried the bulging sacks down the corridor. Jordan’s arms shook with the effort. The water, now up to the middle of his shins, didn’t help. They made it to the engine room.
Jordan tore open the bags and took out the first bottle of spirits. He handed it to Stan, who sat perched on the engine, pouring the spirits into the fuel tank. It came to the last bottle. A 1982 Chateau Lafleur Pomerol. Stan uncorked it and passed it under his nose. His nostrils flared with desire. It was a wonderful year.
“Sorry, Stan,” Jordan said. “We need every last drop.”
With a sigh, Stan upended the bottle. Once it was empty, he allowed himself to run a finger over the bottle lip and taste it. His eyes rolled back. “What a waste,” he said. “How’s the reading?”
Jordan looked over at the fuel gauge needle, now nosing the green safety level. “Better.”
A shrill buzzing sound startled them. Jordan opened an oil-smeared box affixed to the wall. The intercom phone was ringing. He answered it.
“Jordan, are you there?”
“Yes, Joel. I’m here.”
“Can you come up here please?” His voice sounded strained.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just come.” The line went dead.
Jordan turned to Stan. “Joel needs my help. Will you be all right here by yourself?”
“Should be.”
Jordan waded his way up the stairs. It felt like he was battling a waterfall. Emerging onto the deck, the heavy rain stung his face. The boat leaned dangerously over to one side, pushing Jordan forward. His shoes lost their grip and he slid to the railing. He gripped it with white knuckles to prevent himself from being thrown over the side. The boat turned in the opposite direction, evening out. Jordan took the opportunity to dash into the cabin.
Ankle-deep water washed over to one side of the cabin, papers and pens and pieces of Plexiglas in its wake. Joel stood with one hand on the wheel. He was the only object seemingly unaffected by the storm.
Rain slashed in through the open windows. The lights from the cockpit illuminated the huge swells outside, the vast liquid walls. The lightning flashed. There was a dark shape – what could only be the mainland – in the distance.
“It’s getting a bit hairy out there,” Jordan said.
“It’s not much better in here.”
The peak of a large swell smashed against the cabin, hitting Joel and Jordan full in the face, knocking them back. Joel kept hold of the wheel with one hand, the other gripped tight at his side. Blood oozed from between his fingers.
“You’re hurt,” Jordan said.
“I caught a splinter.”
“Looks a bit more serious than a splinter.”
“A shard, then.” He grimaced. “A wave broke through the Plexiglas and part of it cut me. I need you to take over from here.” Joel let go of the wheel and fell into a chair.
“You need to go lay down.”
“Do I heck. Give me a minute and I’ll be right as rain.”
Jordan reached for the phone and pressed the button for the phone in the corridor below deck. There was no answer. He pressed the engine bu
tton. It was answered within two rings. “Stan?”
“Speaking.” His voice was calm, relaxed. He could have been answering on a slow Sunday afternoon. “Is Anne with you?”
“No. Why?”
“Can you find her and send her up, please?”
“Will do.”
Jordan hung up.
“I said I’m all right,” Joel said.
“You’re never all right.”
A giant maw opened up before them as if the sea were attempting to swallow them.
“Hold on,” Joel said. “It’s going to get a little rough.”
30.
“It hurts! It hurts!” Stacey cried. “My leg! It’s stuck!”
“Anne, Jessie, come here,” Mary said, taking the lead. “On the count of three we’re going to lift this thing off Stacey, okay? Stacey, you try to pull your leg free. Ready? One, two, three.”
They attempted to lift the wall unit, but it didn’t budge.
“Let’s try again,” Mary said. “Ready? One, two, three!”
The unit moved perhaps an inch this time, but it wasn’t enough.
Anne searched among a number of spare pipes and rods leaning against a wall and chose a short hollow pipe about half an inch wide. She shoved it between the shelving unit and the floor and put all of her weight onto it. Mary added her own weight. The shelving unit scraped against the wall like nails on a chalkboard. They pushed down harder and-
The pipe snapped. They fell face first into the water.
The boat listed sharply. The water coalesced around Stacey’s head. She gargled in panic.
“She’s going to drown!” Jessie cried.
Mary waded over and gently lifted Stacey’s head above the water. Stacey spat the water out and gasped for air.
“You’re all right,” Mary said. “You’re going to be okay.”
Anne picked up the snapped pipe. “Stacey, listen. I want you to put this in your mouth and-”
“But it’s dirty.”
Anne dipped the pipe under the water, rinsing it. “Better?”
Stacey nodded.
“Put this in your mouth.”
“Like a straw?”
“Yes. Smart girl. Exactly like a straw. Let’s practice.”
Stacey wrapped her tiny lips around the end. Throaty breaths wheezed from the end of the pipe.
“Keep your lips closed tight,” Mary said. “Don’t let any water in, okay?”
Stacey did it, and then released the pipe.
“Well done.”
“I’m scared,” Stacey said, lips curling down at the corners.
“We are too,” Anne said. “But you have to do this while we figure out a way to get this off you.”
“I don’t want to be a floater,” Stacey said, eyes shimmering.
“A what?”
“A floater. I heard Joel say it once. Those people who float on the sea. I don’t want to be one of them.”
Anne and Mary shared a look. They didn’t think the girls knew about them. Clearly they hadn’t been as careful as they’d hoped.
“You won’t be,” Mary said, running her fingers through her hair. “Because we’re going to get you out, okay?”
The cabin tilted. The water ran over Stacey’s neck… her chin… her mouth… nose… forehead… and she was gone from view. They listened to the hollow wheezing emitting from the end of the pipe.
“Let’s try and lift this thing again,” Mary said.
Stan splashed into the room. “Anne. Jordan needs you.”
“I can’t go. Stacey’s trapped.”
“I’ll help her. You go help Jordan.”
With only a moment’s hesitation, Anne turned and waded into the corridor. The water had risen quickly, the water level now up to her knees. And though she was too far away to hear the wheezing pipe, in her mind she could hear its deathly countdown.
31.
Joel ran a blood-smeared hand across his eyes. He looked so tired. “Do you think we’ll make it?”
“Of course we will,” Jordan said. “The land’s up ahead. We’ve got enough fuel.”
“The sea’s getting rough.”
“Let’s not worry about whether or not we’ll make it, and just make sure we do make it.”
Beads of cold sweat broke out on Joel’s forehead. He looked as pale as a Lurcher.
Joel fixed Jordan with his gaunt eyes. “We have to do anything we can to protect them, Jordan. You know that, right? Anything.” His tone was grave.
“I know.”
A moment passed in silence before Anne waded into the cabin. “You rang?”
“You need to take Joel down below,” Jordan said. “He’s hurt.”
“I’m fine,” Joel said.
Anne pulled his hand away and looked at his wound. “Doesn’t look fine to me. We need to get the shard out.”
Anne helped him out of his chair and led him toward the door. Just then, the lightning flashed in time to reveal a monstrosity of a wave upon them. Jordan’s eyes widened in horror. He turned to warn Anne and Joel. “Look out!”
32.
The wave broke across the hull and smacked Anne hard on the back, knocking her into the railing, hammering the air from her lungs. The boat tilted sharply, and she skidded over the side, arms and legs flailing. She fell toward the roiling mass below, the sea foaming at the mouth. She jerked to a stop in mid-air. Her body swung and banged into the side of the boat.
Joel had somehow caught her by the wrist. “Hold on!” he bellowed.
Anne brought her other hand up and took hold of his wrist. She swung her feet up to the side of the boat, but her trainers found no purchase and slipped.
The crashing waves beneath her churned up the loam. The veins in Joel’s neck threatened to pop as he strained to pull her up. She rose a couple of inches. The boat hit another swell and dipped forward. Joel’s blood caked her wrist, making a good grip nigh-on impossible.
Anne looked up into Joel’s eyes, ignoring the rain stinging her face. “It’s okay,” she said in a calm voice that surprised her. “You can let go.”
Joel shook his head. “No!”
“If you don’t, we’ll both die.”
Haven tilted, and Joel’s grip slipped again.
“It’s okay,” Anne said. “It’s okay. Let go.”
Joel’s arms shook and his fingers began to unfurl, his grip loosening. Haven banked sharply in the opposite direction. Joel’s grip grew strong again. He pulled hard and with Haven’s added centrifugal force, Anne flew up in a wide arc and landed on the deck with a heavy bump.
Anne and Joel lay on the deck panting for air. They looked at one another and chuckled with relief. Laughs turned to gurgles as a wave washed over them. They got to their feet.
Joel smiled. “That was close, huh?”
The world seemed to slow as Haven rose up another sharp bank. The wind howled. The rain stung their faces. They turned to head below deck.
Joel froze.
Another giant wave broke across the cabin, flinging boulders of white, taking Joel hard in the chest. He grunted at the impact. It knocked him off his feet, slamming him into the rail and washing him over board in one smooth motion.
Anne reached for him, but she was already too late. “Joel!” she screamed. “No! Joel! No!”
The sea rolled like the scales of a giant snake and whisked Joel away. Within seconds he was gone.
33.
In a single strobe of lightning the mainland was there. Trees were blown at a limbo-like angle. Solid shadows zipped through the air. Jordan’s stomach moved three feet behind him as Haven descended into a deep swell. Smaller swells cajoled her one way then another. Jordan kept the boat on course, heading straight for where he thought the mainland was.
At the bottom of the surf Jordan swore he could see the seabed. A mountain of water rose before him. The engine chugged, chugged, chugged its way up the incline.
“Come on!” Jordan said, gently brushing the wheel like a lover. �
�Come on! You can make it! You can make it!”
A flash of lightning struck nearby, and the world was bleached white. The hair on Jordan’s body rose at the electrical discharge. The boom of thunder rattled the wheel in Jordan’s hands, but still Haven scaled the vertical wall. Haven shuddered again, this time not from thunder but from the engine as it threatened to stall. She burst through the top of the swell and landed on an even keel. The mainland loomed large. He could almost make out individual buildings.
Jordan stroked the wheel. “Good girl, good girl.”
He heard the slosh of footsteps behind him. Anne looked every bit as tired as Jordan felt. Her hair stuck up on end, and she walked in small careful steps. She tripped on their old radio. Jordan caught her. Her eyes were red and swollen.
“Joel?” Jordan said.
She shook her head and hugged him close.
Jordan felt tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry it had to end like this,” he said.
“Me too.”
The boat plunged into a gigantic swell.
“What is it you wanted to tell me before?” Anne asked. “During the party?”
“I don’t think that matters now.”
“I want to know.”
Jordan looked away. “I was going to ask if you wanted to date.”
“Don’t you want to know my answer?”
The sea and rain pummelled the small cabin.
“Anne…” Jordan said, but stopped when she put her finger to his lips.
“If we can’t do what we want at the end of the world, when can we?”
Jordan fell into Anne’s big, deep dark eyes and was consumed for what he feared would be the last time. They were so close they shared one another’s breath. Anne’s hand crept up through Jordan’s wet hair. He brushed a strand out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ears the way he liked.
Anne kissed Jordan on the cheek, eyes glittering wetly. “Happy birthday.”
The sea squeezed itself into the tiny cabin and drifted between the two figures, forcing them apart. Their hands lost one another. Anne screamed, but the sound was enveloped by the relentless storm, wind and rain. Jordan put up little resistance as he was sucked toward an empty window and tossed out to sea.