The sun was peeking above the horizon when Mike woke up. He looked at the clock next to the bed. 7:15 a.m. He rolled over. Miriam’s feet were next to his face. On the other side of her feet, Brice’s mouth hung open. He snored. After spending two hours helping load the last of the gear and supplies onto the yacht, the three of them spent the night on the king size guest room bed, head to foot to head.
His entire body aching, Mike maneuvered himself from the bed and onto the floor. He stretched, lifting his hands to the vaulted ceiling. He bent at his waist and touched his toes.
“You do yoga?” asked Miriam. She was sitting on the opposite end of the bed, facing him.
“No,” he said.
“You’re in good shape.”
Mike’s face warmed at the compliment then grew redder at the thought of her seeing his embarrassment. He smiled. “Thank you. Nice of you to notice.”
“I’m not hitting on you,” she said. “I didn’t mean it that way. I was just… I was…”
He let her flounder for a few more seconds. Then he laughed. “I’m kidding. Don’t worry about it.”
They laughed. For Mike, it was the first time in the last two days. It felt good.
“We’d better get downstairs,” he said. “We’re leaving at eight o’clock.”
“I’m going to shower,” said Miriam. “Might be the last time for a while.”
Mike took the hint. He woke up Brice and led him downstairs. Miriam shut the door behind them.
Early morning light bathed the living room and adjacent kitchen, shining through the east-facing windows. Betsy was in the kitchen filling empty milk jugs with water.
Brice plopped onto the sofa.
Mike walked into the kitchen. “Do you need help?” he asked. “I can carry those to the boat if you want.”
Betsy turned off the faucet and capped a jug. Then she began filling another one. “Mike, is it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How do you know Miriam?” she asked. “With all of the commotion and the packing I neglected to ask. Are you dating?”
Mike ran his fingers along a deep gray vein on the white marble countertop that forked along the surface. “No. We have a mutual friend. A woman I work with.”
“What do you do?”
“Radio sales,” he said. “Same as Brice.”
She raised an eyebrow and checked the water level in the jug. “You sell radios?”
“No, ma’am,” Mike said. “We sell advertising for a radio station.”
She chuckled. “Oh, I see. So how did you meet Miriam? How long have you known her?”
Mike hesitated. He tried to smile but worried it came across as fake. “A couple of days.”
Betsy’s eyes widened with surprise. Or was it shock? “Days?”
“Yes,” he said. “I was helping a woman who was hurt when a helicopter crashed. I needed first aid supplies because the woman was bleeding. I saw Miriam. We didn’t know we had a mutual friend at the time, but she had a first aid kit from her Uber driver. And she…”
Mike stopped when he noticed the blank look on Betsy’s face. The water was bubbling over the top of the filled jug and running down its sides into the sink. He understood in that moment her concern. His stomach tightened and a sinking feeling settled into his body. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t get on the boat. Neither could Brice. That familiar wrench in his gut told him he was stepping into conflict he didn’t want. Part of him wanted to slip out the front door without saying another word.
She’d agreed to share her safety net with two complete strangers. And they weren’t just strangers to her, but to a cousin with whom she had only the barest thread of a connection. And he was bold enough to take a spot on her boat, be a drain on her family’s resources. He took a deep breath and exhaled.
Mike motioned to the water. “Ma’am.”
She cleared her throat and turned off the faucet. She blinked and poured some of the water into the sink before capping the jug.
“I get it,” said Mike.
Betsy took a towel and dried her hands. “Get what?”
“You have limited supplies,” he said. “You have kids to worry about, and here comes this cousin with two strangers, barely friends, and you’ve offered to help them. You’re risking the longevity of your safety to help two people you don’t know from Adam.”
Betsy’s grip tightened on the bundled towel in her hands.
“If you don’t want us to go,” Mike said, “Brice and I will stay here. We could watch your house. If you don’t want that, we’ll leave altogether. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Not when the world is going to hell. You’ve got enough on your plate. And you’re helping Miriam and the TV reporter. I don’t want to feel like an unwanted burden of whom you’re going to be suspicious or resentful. I just—”
She held up her hand, asking him to stop talking. The hint of a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. She inhaled deeply and slowly released the breath. It looked to Mike like she was buying time to collect her thoughts and find the exact words. “Mike, do you have family?”
Mike looked at the countertop. He didn’t want to look at her. “No. Both my parents are gone.”
“Siblings?”
“No.”
“And Brice?” she asked. “His name is Brice, right?”
“I think his mom’s alive,” he said. “She lives in south Florida. And he has an older brother in New York.”
“I see. Do you trust him?”
“He’s a good friend,” said Mike. “I trust him.”
She took another empty jug from the counter and uncapped it. With her thumb, she flipped on the faucet and ran the jug’s mouth under the stream of water. He’d misread her. Was she lost in thought instead of worried about what she’d allowed into her life?
“Mike,” she said, “you’re right. I’m not comfortable with two strange men joining us on our boat. It’s crazy that we would even consider it. We have limited supplies. There’s only so much space on the boat, despite its size. And I have my children to think about.”
“I understand,” said Mike. “I’ll tell Brice. And we can—”
“Let me finish,” said Betsy.
“Okay.”
“Anyone who would offer to stay behind to give up a better chance at safety is either crazy or has a good heart. Or both. You’re welcome on our boat, Mike. You and Brice. I get this sense, despite my apprehension, that there’s something special about you.”
Mike placed his hands flat on the countertop. The marble was cool under his sweaty palms. He looked Betsy in the eyes. “Thank you. I don’t know that I’m special. No more than anyone else. But I’ll do everything I can to earn your faith in me. So will Brice.”
“Good,” she said. “You can start by lugging these jugs of water to the boat. Take them into the galley and put them on the floor in the corner closest to the sink.”
Mike took two jugs in each hand, gripping the handles as best he could. Betsy led him to the sliding glass panel that led from the kitchen to the deck. He slid through the opening and she closed it behind him.
The air was warmer than the day before. The humidity was back. Or it was being on the coast. Either way, it felt good on his skin. The sun was above the horizon. He look east and crossed the deck toward the boat.
In some ways this felt like the end of the harrowing journey it had taken to get here. He’d seen more violence, more blood, and challenged himself more in the last two days than he had in a lifetime.
This was merely the start of his travels. The world had shifted on its axis and it wasn’t going to be the same for a long time, if ever. He believed that. After what he’d witnessed, what he’d experienced, he believed his life was beginning anew.
Mike Crenshaw didn’t know if this new life would be good or bad. It was certainly tipping in the direction of bad. The best he had was the hope he could tilt the scale in the other direction with a little luck and some help from the people with whom
he’d shove off in the next half hour.
***
He closed his eyes and listened to the lapping of the water on the side of the boat, the creak of its hull against the bumpers affixed to its port side. He prayed he was in the right place and doing the right thing.
He thought of his father. For all the man’s faults, and there were many, he’d given Mike the best advice anyone had ever proffered.
“Be good, do good.”
Mike opened his eyes. He was weary. His muscles ached. His head hurt. The words of his father echoed and he considered their meaning. Perhaps they were never more relevant than they were now.
He stepped to the edge of the dock, the last of the pressure-treated boards creaking under his weight. Mike looked at the name of the boat, painted in big block letters on its stern. He hadn’t noticed it the night before. He liked the name. It gave him hope. He repeated it as he stepped aboard.
“Rising Star,” he said. “Rising. Star.”
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Acknowledgements
Thanks to you, the loyal reader, for giving life to the stories I write. To my family, Courtney, Samantha, and Luke for your love and never-ending support. My publication team is unrivaled. Felicia Sullivan is a wonderful editor who gets the best out of my very rough drafts. Pauline Nolet fine tunes them perfectly. Hristo Kovatliev is a masterful cover artist who brings to life the concepts of each and every book. And Stef McDaid at Write Into Print creates beautifully formatted text. I’m grateful to my fantastic beta readers, Steve Kremer and Chris Manzke, for their help in making the manuscript so much better than it was before it reached their hands. Both are invaluable resources who are so much smarter than me. And as always, thanks to my parents, siblings, and in-laws who are my best viral marketers.
Table of Contents
Author’s Note
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
Acknowledgements
The Scourge (Book 1): Unprepared Page 27