Page 14 of Wayward (Wrecked #4)

Foul Air

Calvin

I bang loudly on the inside of the door like Holloway told me to do when I’d finished cleaning everything up.

And it was for at least thirty seconds, before a cat did its thing again.

The door opens, and an engineer scowls at me.

The head engineer, by the stripes on his shoulder.

Do I blame him? Fuck no. If someone took my workshop away to house a dozen cats, I’d be pissed as hell as well.

“You’re finished?”

“Yeah.”

“Already?” He steps into the room to inspect my work, and it takes every ounce of me to not take one of the wrenches from the wall and clobber him over the head with it.

“Yeah, what’s the point of doing a job if you’re not good and quick?”

“Hmm, yeah, true. Good enough for now. Put the garbage bags in the hall.” He peers around the room, putting his foot up to stop a large tom from jumping into the hall.

He stands and watches while I place the full bags next to the door.

“Come on, then. You can wait in the engine room for someone to come pick you up.”

“I appreciate it.” I more than appreciate it. It gives me a chance to scope out more of the Rosewood. Because while I’m all in for playing nice right now, that’s not going to last for long.

He radios for someone to come get me and motions for me to move down the hall ahead of him.

He’s carrying a gun, judging from the bulge in the back of his belt.

Not something I’d want to have strapped to me in an engine room.

But then, I’d never work for a guy like Z.

And I sure as hell wouldn’t stay somewhere an ass like Collins is welcome.

I haven’t seen much of the deck crew, but I’m wondering if they care as well. Kennedy the chief stew doesn’t appear to.

“Sit there. Don’t move.” The engineer points to a small stool against the wall, away from the control panel. There’s a crowded counter and shelf behind me.

“Got it. I’m Green, Calvin Green.” I sit on the stool next to a small bench. There are two other engineers monitoring stations on the other side of the room. I take in a breath.

The old guy nods without giving me his name and wanders away.

But there’s something up. Something’s not right. Then again, maybe it’s just my nose coming out of the cat room.

My eyes flick around the engine room. It’s state of the art, for sure. Clean. But I still can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. “Nice engine room.”

“Aye.” He nods without looking back at me.

“Stopping for fuel soon?” My eyes run over an open logbook on the counter next to me.

He glares over his shoulder and purses his lips.

He doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t deny it.

I skim the page the logbook is open to, finding documentation of the transfer of fuel from one tank to the other.

The last date is from yesterday. Or at least what I think was yesterday. And both of the primary tanks are low.

The chief engineer lumbers across the room and shuts the logbook, moving it to the shelf above the table. “Keep your eyes and hands to yourself.”

I suppose Hawk’s dad is going to be the only friend we have on the yacht. Fucking Hawk. How did he not tell us his dad is the captain of the Rosewood ? Like we would have said anything. It might have made a difference. Then again, it might not have.

I take in another breath while waiting for my babysitter. “Do you smell that?”

“Cat shit? Yes, I can smell it. I’ve been smelling it since the howling things were brought on board.” He sneezes on cue.

He’s right. It smells like an underfunded animal shelter down here, but there’s more. “No, it’s a faint scent of acid. Have you checked the battery rack?”

One of the guys near the back takes off his hearing protection. “What did you say, Tom Hanks?”

I run my hand over my beard. Tom Hanks from the movie Castaway . Whatever. Our experience is going to have people saying that over and over to us. I get it. I shrug at him and run my eyes over each part of the equipment around the room.

The head engineer steps closer to me, and for half a second I think he’s going to punch me, but he swings around and faces the inside of the engine room and stands with his hands on his hips, his chest pointed upward.

“You know, I do smell something, now that you mention it.” He heads over to the battery rack. “Fucking hell. Shut the engines off.”

“No,” I yell. “Don’t do that. You need to vent the room first. You might have a buildup of hydrogen, depending on how long they’ve been leaking. Shut the engines off, and you could get a spark.”

“Damn. Belay that order. Get the room vented,” he yells and glares at me. It’s half thank you and half shut the fuck up.

The three of them are moving. Doing all the things they should. Turning off nonessential equipment, opening the louvers. Soon they’ve got the door propped open, and a fan appears from a storage area.

The old guy is talking to the bridge. It’s killing me to not help. More engineers appear and then a guard. Of course it’s Collins, the asshole who fired at Zane.

“Did you cause this?” Collins grabs my arm.

The head engineer stops in the middle of talking to a level one engineer. “What the fuck. No, he’s the one who noticed the problem.” He scowls at Collins.

But the asshole Collins has half of my bicep in his hand. “Sure.”

“It’s true. I’m Turner. Thank you, Green. I’d like to say that I would have smelled it as soon as you did. But . . .” The engineer shakes his head. “Thank you.”

I nod. Because I get it―he’s going to be reliving today for a while. Just like I’ve revisited the issues with the Rock Candy in my dreams for a year. Only this time it wasn’t sabotage, just a bad battery and a room full of engineers with allergies.

“Whatever. You want him as a crew member? You’ll need to fish him out of the water when Z has him sinking to the bottom.”

The old guy’s glaring at him. But there’s no point. Hotheads like Collins never see anything but what they want to see.

“Thank you,” the engineer says to my back.

I glance back and incline my head to him. He does the same back to me. Maybe I’ve won him over. Saving his job might have something to do with it.

Collins takes me up to our cabin. He opens the door and tries to push me in but doesn’t have the muscle to move me any faster than I want to.

“You’re back!” Haley jumps up from the port window as the door to the corridor slams shut.

“Yes.” I wrap my arms around her neck and kiss her cheek before she buries her head in my chest.

“The yacht’s slowing. We’re docking. I’m thinking we need fuel,” she says into my shirt.

“Yes, they’re taking on fuel. We’re somewhere in Taiwan.” I let her go, and we join Easton at the porthole.

“How long will this take?” Easton asks. “The fueling, I mean.”

If he’d ever come on a trip with his dad for more than a day, he’d know fueling takes forever. “At least eight hours.”

Haley nods and raises her eyebrow at Easton.

“I didn’t doubt you.” Easton pulls Haley to him. “Honestly.”

“What did they make you do?” Haley asks.

“Nice one, Swimmer Boy. Don’t ever doubt Haley.

” I laugh and grab Haley’s waist. I press my nose into the crook of her neck and try not to think about what might have happened if I hadn’t detected the acid of the batteries.

They would have noticed soon enough. Right?

Of course they would have. “Cat boxes. Dante’s the new Rosewood chef, and Sam was in the galley too. ”

“And Zane?” Haley sinks to the bed.

“He was in the galley when I left. Holloway took me down below, but he said he was coming back for him.”

She nods and moves over to the window again.

We slowly approach the dock. We’re on auxiliary power and are inching along.

I can almost see the port, if I squint. This has got to be frustrating to them too.

The crew of the Rosewood . Because they’re not going to fix the batteries and take on fuel at the same time.

Though now that they know there’s an issue, it’s not a hard problem to fix.

Fuck them. I don’t give a damn about them.

Even when Haley moves to the bed, I can’t pull myself away from watching the approaching port.

And that’s the problem. The closer it gets, the more I realize that this isn’t going to be a place where we can blend into the landscape.

The fueling station is a concrete building a long way down a pier and nowhere near land.

It’s discreet. Just the type of place a yacht like this would want to fuel.

Our porthole is below the dock. Above us, I can see the legs of the crew moving along.

They’re taking on supplies too. It’s hard to tell from this angle.

I keep waiting for one of the other guys to appear.

But then, if they’re taking on food, that will keep Dante busy for a while.

There are long shadows of what I’m assuming are guards along the edge of the dock.

Fuck.

After a few hours, the yacht rocks while being tied up. And Easton and Haley appear back at my sides.

“Do you think?” Haley looks up at me. And I know what she means. Do I think we can escape here? I want to tell her about the Rosewood’s captain. But there’s no way. I’m not writing it, or even spelling it on her stomach. If Hawk’s dad is going to help us out, it could mean his life.

“No,” Easton and I say together.

“But we could―”

The door opens, and Z’s standing there with his hands on his hips. Several guards are behind him, but it’s the scowl on his face that worries me more.