Page 5

Chapter 5

Reveal Bearing

Sam

Land. Fucking Land. There’s a damn reef. And there’s nothing I can do about it. Absolutely nothing I can do about it. The squeal of metal against rock tearing at the hull makes my stomach flip. It’s raining again. It’s like it doesn’t know how to stop raining at night. That’s great when you have guests on board but not when you’re trying to navigate by the stars. Not that I’ve had control of the yacht for fucking forever. But this hunk of an almost ghost ship has at least had the decency to put me up on a reef next to an island. I’ve got one flashlight and one solar-powered recharger left. Other than that, everything is dead. I’ve spent the last weeks getting everything I can out of the ship. And I pitched a hell of a lot over the side of the boat. Anything I might need is here in the wheelhouse.

The wind smashes against the leeward side of the yacht. The waves push us up against the reef a little more with each one. I need to secure the ship. I’ve been dragging an anchor for weeks. I’m only fucking hoping that now, now it holds. But I can’t count on it. I pull my foul weather jacket closer around me. “Stay here.” I point to Penny. She’s lying on her bed. Her big eyes stare wide at me. “I mean it.” I close the door to the wheelhouse and fight with the wind to latch it. It’s fucking blowing. I hold on to the rail. With all the ship’s power gone, we’ve been listing since the first night. Our first miracle, whatever reef grabbed the hull has made the Rock Candy almost level. I’m not naive enough to trust it. I grip the side rail with every step. Peering over the bow, there might be a rock under the surface I can tie off to. But not in these waves, not now. I’ll have to wait for light. I fight my way back to the wheelhouse side door. I don’t pull off my coat, but I grab a flashlight and head into the belly of the ship. Down the stairs to the engine room. I run the light over the floor. There’s a small trail of water running down the middle to what should be to the drain. My light flicks over the silent engines, then I move to the walls. I can’t hear any water running, but the stream on the floor is coming from somewhere. Following the line—I find it.

Fuck.

There’s a foot-long crack in the interior hull. It’s seeping water. It’s not a lot. But even a single drip without the pumps running will fill the ship, eventually. This is more than a drip. Far more. I look around the space. Is there anything I haven’t stripped out of here? I’ve got two options: try and patch it to slow the leak or seal the compartment. If I work on the leak, I’m down here in the bilge. Another rogue wave like the one that pushed the Rock Candy up onto the reef and I could be trapped down here in a flipped vessel.

Fuck. Fixing this is just a band-aid. It’s got to look a hell of lot worse on the outside. I think of Calvin. He’s a genius with things like this. But I didn’t get to become captain without dealing with some shit. I can do this.

In the tool cubbies, I find an epoxy kit. It’s still in the wrapper. Like so many fucking things on this boat. I tear it open, tossing the plastic and paper wrapper on the floor. Holding the flashlight under my arm, I mix the two parts. Then I smear it over the crack. It’s water epoxy. It expands in the crack until the water slows and stops, but it’s not a fix. Next to the cubbies, there are several collision patches. They’re three-by-three-foot sheets that can be affixed on the outside of the ship with the same epoxy.

Fuck it. I grab one and the supplies I’ll need with them. Outside of the engine room, I pull the hatch shut and seal it. If my temporary patch doesn’t work, the hatch will slow down the flooding of the ship.

I put the kit down and second-guess myself. I go back and grab the second collision patch. The stairs going up top are straight, which is something I’m grateful for. Not having to fight the angle and the waves is fucking fantastic.

I leave the first patch sheet in the hallway behind the wheelhouse and go back for the second one. I’m sweating under my foul weather gear. When I get back to the wheelhouse, Penny is pacing. “Now? Now you have to go out?”

She jumps at the word out.

“It’s raining.” I look at her. She hates the rain almost as much as she hates swimming. “You sure?” She barks once and gives me half a sneeze. Her version of damn human, I said what I said. “Fine, let’s go. I clip her harness on her and take her out the back way through the massive salon and out onto the patio deck. It’s where guests would have had most of their dinners. The furniture is all slid to the side, and I’ve got the turf golf mat weighed down with two of the ugliest horse statues on the planet. Possibly. I might have already pitched the ugliest ones. That night is a bit hard to remember.

The killed tequila bottle lies on the end deck near the stairs to the swim platform. Rolling with the waves. “Go potty.” I point.

It’s raining sideways when I say it.

Penny looks up at me with her big brown eyes. And sits down.

“Oh, for crying out loud. It’s a covered deck. You’re hardly getting wet at all. Just go.” I don’t mean to yell. Really, I don’t. I’ve gone through the twenty-seven stages of grief, and I’m circling back around to the beginning. So much of this feels like a dream. A never-ending nightmare. I’ve gone from thinking we’ll be fine to knowing that I’m going to die to wishing we would just die. To thinking there’s hope. To, well, now. At least I have land. But what land? Judging from the few days I’ve gotten a reading on the stars, we’re in a completely different current. A direction no search party would ever look in when they find the rafts. They’ll come to the obvious conclusion that the Rock Candy is at the bottom of the ocean. Lost, with no beacon in place.

I just fucking hope Rocky finds the asshole who did this to us. That they slam them in prison for the rest of their fucking life. And then he sues the Aurora Oceanic ship builders, taking them to the cleaners. I glance at Penny. Rain is hitting the side of my face and running down my neck. “Now.” I point.

She moves over in slow motion and does her business. When we were on a regular ship, back in the day, one of the crew would take her twice a day to shore if we were able. And if not, she had a small grass pad on the swim platform. This is a big step up in the doggy bougie world.

“Let’s go.” Back in the wheelhouse, I decide to take one more trip out on the bow. I shine the flashlight at land but see nothing. There’s nothing left to do but hang my gear up and hope for the best. I’ll see what happens in the morning.

I’ve been sleeping in the wheelhouse on the floor with Penny. It’s easier to wake up and take measurements of the stars. But why sleep on the floor now? “Come on Penny, let’s go to a real bed.” Whatever happens happens.

I open the door to my cabin. I’ve pulled so many things out that it’s a shitty disaster. I toss the things off the bed and invite my dog up. She looks at me like I’m fucking crazy. Why have we been sleeping on the floor when we could have been in a comfy bed this whole time?

It turns out the sentiment of whatever happens happens is a lot easier to think and a lot harder to implement. I spend a good hour listening to the wind and watching the ceiling. Thinking about my brother Charlie. This is going to be hardest on him. He followed me into the industry. My parents, yeah, not going to think about my mom. Or my dad. Sure as hell not going to spend any time thinking about the round little cheeks of my sister’s kids. Lucy’s cute chubby toddler cheeks or Henry showing me his muscles. I don’t think about Haley’s smile or the smell of her hair. Fuck, in my head the rafts were found. They’re all back in port. They’ve taken planes back to the states or wherever they were from. Rockwell has dropped a big check in all their bank accounts. Fuck. Haley’s smile. Nope, none of that is going to come into my brain. The wind howls, and I try to not think about what I have to do tomorrow.

* * *

I ’m up before the sun. Looking out onto the island in front of me is like looking at the wall of Gibraltar. Or the side wall of the Panama Canal. It’s a sheer cliff. Straight up. The tide is out, and there’s about two, maybe three yards of sand exposed. But that’s it. Port and starboard of the ship are about the same, for as far as I can see. I’m on land but I’m not. And I’m leaking.

But there’s a few rocks on either side of the reef. Rocks that I might—will—tether to. I can pull myself off the reef and patch the damn hole. I take a deep breath in. I’m not giving up. Not now. Not ever. I need to live. I need to get this boat into the hands of someone who can turn it over for evidence. That’s what keeps me going.

I feed Penny more of the chicken. The freezers are now just barely cool. A few more days, and all the meat we have will be gone. But that’s tomorrow’s problem. “Eat up, fuzz face.” I scratch her head and fill my stomach too. It’s the last apple. I’m not going to have an issue with food. There’s enough canned goods for a year. I might be eating just tomatoes and canned beans, but it’s fine.

I change into my wets and find a snorkel and fins and jump into the water.

Penny barks and chases me alongside the swim platform. I know she’s not jumping in. She hates water that much. I wave to her, and she settles.

I kick over to the rocks. The water is warm and clear. Reef fish dart about. The water is warm. Another day, I’ll swim along the edge of the island and find how far the wall goes. I’ve seen plenty of islands that are pillars into the sky and nothing more.

Around the other side of the Rock Candy, I see it. The crack in the side. She’s resting on the reef. The spots aren’t huge, but any hole in a ship isn’t good. At low tide, the hole is out of the water. It’s going to be tough to patch. But what else can I do? I swim over to the stern of the boat and pull myself up onto the edge of the swim platform. I sit for a moment, my feet dangling over the edge while I take my fins off and look at the ocean behind the Rock Candy. I’ve come a long way. Stopping now isn’t an option. Penny puts her head in my lap, and I ask myself what would Calvin do? Not sit here. “Let’s get to work, girl.” This going to take a fucking long time. Ropes first, then crash kit.

Back in the water I go.