Uncharted (20 page)
The women clustered on the dock while Kevin and Mark helped the captain load the luggage. John stood at the bow and tried to get a signal on his cell phone. Kevin searched the horizon for signs of trouble as he handed luggage down to Mark, but apparently the spell of bad weather that threatened their plane had moved on.
Unable to reach whomever he was trying to call, John snapped his cell phone shut, then looked at Kevin and shrugged.
Kevin shook his head as he reached for another suitcase. John had made the right decision when he arranged for this boat. Professional people could only spare so many days, and Kevin
had
to be back at work next week. The thought of making up the lost time was enough to make his head ache, so he resolved not to think about those things.
Instead, he’d focus on his reasons for coming—to make his daughter proud and to honor his old friend’s memory. While he was here, he’d force himself to appreciate things like the brilliant sunset spreading itself across the western sky.
Maybe, for Sarah’s sake, he could even make peace with his ex-wife.
He laughed when a roll of duct tape fell out of an unzipped plaid suitcase that had toppled sideways on the dock. “Okay,” he called, picking it up, “who brought duct tape? Susan? Do you use this stuff in some bizarre beauty ritual?”
She scowled and shook a manicured finger in his direction. “That’s not funny.”
Mark picked up the suitcase, then grabbed the roll from Kevin’s hand. “Duct tape is incredibly versatile, you know. You never know when you’ll need it.”
Lisa leaned over a rickety-looking railing. “I read somewhere that a group of high school kids made their prom clothes out of the stuff. Until then, I didn’t know it came in colors.”
“Life is full of surprises.” Kevin reached for the last suitcase on the dock, then brought it with him as he stepped into the boat. “John, I think that’s the last of it.”
“All right, then.” John waited, his hands on his hips, as Mark helped Lisa, Susan, and Karyn on board. When they had all settled on the benches that lined the back of the boat, he knocked on the cabin door. “Captain? We’re loaded and ready.”
The captain’s son, Michael, came out and cast off the mooring lines. A moment later the twin inboard engines grumbled to life, and the boat idled away from the dock. When the vessel cleared the no-wake zone, the captain gave her the gas and the boat leapt forward, its propellers scooping a deep cavity in the turquoise water.
Kwajalein lay northwest of Majuro, the captain told them, so for a long time Susan pretended they were trying to catch the gilded sphere that was spangling the western sea with tints of red and gold.
The journey had been long, and they were all tired. Because they had to shout over the roar of the engines, after a while they stopped trying to talk and leaned on each other for support. Susan wrapped her arms around herself and rested her head on John’s shoulder. The dear old man was like a father to her, so he wouldn’t mind.
Though her body automatically braced for every bounce of the waves, Susan felt herself drowsing in the humid warmth. She drifted back to Houston, where she lay on a shaded chaise beside her pool and gritted her teeth as rap music pounded from the house next door—
Her eyelids fluttered open when the music—and the boat—stopped.
Disoriented, she lifted her head. Mark was standing, his shirt rippling and the legs of his shorts snapping in the wind. His eyes were focused on the horizon. Kevin was staring in the same direction; so were John and Lisa. The engines continued to rumble, though the boat was barely moving.
Slowly, Susan turned and saw that the horizon had gone the color of pencil lead. The sun had been swallowed up; the only light came from bright arteries pulsing in the distant sky. “Dear Lord.”
John glanced down at her. “No need to be alarmed,” he said, his voice even and controlled. “I’m sure the captain knows how to handle this kind of weather. After all, he makes his living on this sea.”
Susan gripped the side rail as wind brushed her cheeks with chilly fingers. “Where are we?”
“Miles from nowhere,” Lisa answered.
Kevin shook his head. “That’s not quite true. This area is sprinkled with atolls, some of them uninhabited. I can’t say I’m thrilled with the idea of playing Robinson Crusoe, but setting ashore on an island might be better than trying to beat this storm to Kwajalein.”
“How can the captain see anything?” Lisa asked. “It’s too dark.”
Kevin crossed his legs the confident way men do, an ankle resting on a knee. “I’m sure he has charts and a GPS. He has a radio. We’ll be fine.”
Susan glanced toward the stern, where a black and starry sky looked as clear as spring water. “Can’t we go back?”
“Storm’s coming up too quickly.” Mark squinted toward the charcoal sky. “They come up like this in Florida. Clear sky one minute; thunder, lightning, and hail the next.”
“Why’d we stop?” Lisa asked. “Shouldn’t we be moving out of this?”
Mark pointed toward the front of the boat. “You see how the waves are coming straight toward us? That’s called a head sea. When the waves get up to about five or six feet in a head sea, you’d better stick to idling. Unless . . .”
“Unless what?” Kevin asked.
Mark shrugged. “Unless the captain wants to take them on the stern quarter to head away from the waves. But if the wind shifts, that’ll be risky. And if the waves change direction . . .”
Susan peered around the boat, heavy with people and luggage.
She couldn’t make any sense of Mark’s answer, but one thing was clear: they were in trouble.
“Oh, God.” She closed her eyes and whispered the most fervent prayer she’d offered in years. “Get us out of here, please.”
As if in answer, the night sky above them melted into rain.
Lisa slipped her arm around Susan, who had begun to cry. Lisa didn’t exactly feel like laughing, but it wouldn’t help if both of them began to blubber. Beyond the bow, the waves looked like rolling hills. With each coming crest, the boat rose a little higher and fell a little farther.
The wind knifed at Kevin’s hair as he stood. “We’ve got to get below,” he yelled to Lisa and Susan. “Come on.”
Lisa nodded and grabbed for her shoulder bag, only to feel Kevin’s restraining hand on the strap. “Leave it. No room in the cabin.”
She stood, pulling Susan with her, and felt the deck rise beneath her feet. She teetered on the wet wood and clung to Susan to avoid losing her balance. She tried to lift her head and peer at the approaching storm, but the rain felt like needles flung to earth from some angry storm god.
Susan whimpered like a frightened puppy, and even Karyn seemed rattled. She was standing at the cabin doorway, squinting into the hold.
“Go!” Kevin shouted, pointing toward the hatch. “Good grief, woman, what are you waiting for?”
Karyn rushed forward, and Lisa followed. Then Kevin understood. The cabin was packed with electronic equipment and plastic ice chests. Captain Weza and his son barely fit into the space, so how were all of them supposed to shelter in this storm?
Karyn, always a quick thinker, lifted one of the chests—apparently empty—and passed it to Lisa. “Get these outta here.”
The captain turned on her, his careful English disappearing in a blizzard of Marshallese protest. Karyn shriveled before the man’s fury, but Mark wasn’t about to be cowed. Somehow he insinuated his bulk into the hold; Lisa felt his big hands on her shoulders as he pushed past her to confront the captain.
“Listen!” he roared, his face a glowering mask of rage. “You will empty this cabin! You ought to have life jackets, and you don’t. You ought to have safety lines, and you don’t. So you
will
toss this junk overboard!”
Captain Weza wasn’t intimidated. He whirled on Mark, his uplifted finger wagging inches from his opponent’s chin. Mark, who had never been a patient man, stepped forward, turned the captain, and wrapped his arm around Weza’s neck, lifting the shorter man into the air. Lisa gaped in disbelief as the captain’s rubber-soled sandals dangled above the floor, and the air filled with the sounds of gasping.
Michael Weza howled in protest. Lisa dropped the ice chest and clutched at Mark’s arm. “Please, don’t! Put him down!”
“Kevin!” Mark bellowed, not releasing his choke hold on the smaller man. “Find that roll of duct tape!”
Still holding Mark’s arm, Lisa pointed toward the hatch. “Kevin can’t hear you. He’s up on deck.”
Mark moved toward the companionway, pulling free of Lisa’s grip, and dragged the captain through the hatch. Lisa closed her eyes as thunder and pouring rain drowned out Mark’s shouts, then she felt an arm on her shoulder. Karyn stood beside her, reaching for the hatch cover as slashing rain poured in.
Shivering, Lisa looked at Karyn’s wet face. “What’s happening?”
Karyn pushed wet bangs out of her eyes. “I don’t know. Can you tell?”
Lisa put out a hand to steady herself as the ship rose. She strained to listen through the noise. She heard thunder, rain, and the edge of anger in men’s voices. Something shifted on the deck; something fell.
Beside her, Michael Weza approached the hatch, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. “My father!” he cried, fighting for balance as he looked at her. “What has he done with my father?”
Like a child, Lisa clapped her hands over her ears. She couldn’t stand this, couldn’t bear the look in this boy’s eyes or the sound of terror in his voice—
A thunderclap exploded, a force so powerful it shook the boat. When its baritone rumble finally faded, Mark lifted the hatch cover. “Lisa! Karyn!” His voice roared through the pouring rain. “Hand up those ice chests now!” Lisa automatically obeyed. Raindrops smashed against the deck and the steps, creating such a froth and spray that the resulting puddles seemed to boil. She reached for an ice chest and handed it up, hearing nothing but the pounding of her heart and the rataplan of rain on the roof. Michael Weza flattened himself against the locker beneath the equipment; his gaze darted from the radio to the women as if debating the wisdom of calling for help.
“Go ahead!” Lisa screamed, but she could barely hear herself above the hammering storm. “Pick up the radio. SOS, SOS!”
When the last ice chest had been tossed out, Kevin spilled down the stairs, drenched to the skin. Mark followed, his bulk eclipsing the doorway. Lisa craned her neck to see if he’d brought the captain and John down as well, but she couldn’t find either man in the crowd.
The kid lifted his chin and took a half step forward, every line of his body speaking defiance. “My father!” Even in the din, Lisa had no trouble hearing his high-pitched voice. “Where is my father?”
“Relax, kid.” Mark said, a half smile crossing his face. “Your father’s going to ride out the storm on deck.”
Lisa wasn’t sure what Mark meant, but the look on his face strummed a shiver from someplace deep inside her soul. Mark caught her gaze and smiled. “You see?” he called, bracing himself against the paneled ceiling. “We’ll ride this thing out and—”
A crackling roar choked off his words. The hull of the boat dipped suddenly, falling from its perilous seat on the sea, and the head-on impact broke the window next to the instrument panel. Lisa found herself flattened against Michael Weza, while Susan’s elbow dug into her shoulder. Suddenly lightning cracked, and once again thunder rattled her bones.
Lisa closed her eyes as the sea rushed in from the window and the hatch. Through the clatter and commotion she heard the shrill sound of her own scream. Objects and bodies slammed together, and despairing cries filled her ears. She fought for firm footing as water rose to her waist, lapped at her elbows, and chilled her shoulders, then the salty tang of seawater filled her nose. Completely submerged, she twisted, somehow understanding that her body was no longer positioned in the same relationship to sea and sky, then felt the paneled ceiling against her cheek. Bubbles danced in front of her eyes as she choked on the urge to flee, but how could she escape when she was pinned in by her friends?
She felt a sudden release of pressure at her side. She turned in time to see the bottom of Mark’s shoes moving through the open hatch. Susan floated beside her, a dazed mermaid with blue eyes and flowing hair that gleamed like gold in the still-burning cabin light. Karyn squirmed into view, her eyes wide, her mouth working. But the last thing Lisa saw was the terrified look in the eyes of the fisherman’s son as he struggled to reach his father.
