by Jordan Rivet
A surge lifted her up, knocking her roughly against the hull. She felt along the cold steel surface for something to grab on to as the surge carried her, aware of a stinging sensation across her side and arm.
As the wave ebbed, she plunged deep beneath the water, thrashing her arms as she tried to find her way. Another wave pushed her into the hull again, knocking the last breath out of her.
The surge of the sea was endless. She could barely see. Couldn’t breathe. She kicked and stroked, trying to get closer to the Catalina without letting the waves bash her against it.
The sea surged again.
Judith scrabbled at the frigid hull. Then there was a change, an edge. Her fingers closed around slim metal. It was the rung of the ladder. She hung on, gasping for breath each time the waves abated. She reached up. Grabbed. Next one. Her head cleared the water again.
She climbed a few rungs up the side of the Catalina, then looked back. The lifeboat had overturned. It whipped at the end of the rope like a fishing lure. Further out the fuel tank still hung on. There was no sign of Michael or the twentieth member of their party.
She clung to the ladder, her last ounce of strength gone.
Simon
“We really ought to move now,” Captain Martinelli said calmly, “if you wish to survive. We’re too close. We’ll get stuck in the sand if we don’t hit a rock and sink first.”
Simon stood beside him, trying to pierce the heavy gray curtain beyond the window. He couldn’t see the lifeboat from here. He didn’t know whether or not they’d made it. The captain stood still, hand on the helm.
“Any word?” Simon asked Vinny, who sat glued to the intercom.
“Nothing. They’re not answering.”
“Okay. Let’s go,” Simon said, avoiding Ren’s hard gaze. “And pray that everyone made it back on board.”
Judith
Judith felt the engine kick into high gear. They began to move away from the island, slowly at first. The propellers beneath the ship would be sucking at the water. It would be impossible to swim against that. Where were the others?
She should keep climbing the ladder, but all she could do was hold on. She had stopped shivering. That’s a bad thing, right? she thought vaguely. Shapes rose and sank in the water. Debris, seaweed, bodies. She couldn’t be sure what she was seeing.
Suddenly, a head popped up above the waves much further forward than she expected.
It was Michael.
He flailed about, taking gasping, panicked breaths, but he didn’t swim toward the ship. He trod water where he was. His eyes were closed, and he dragged a hand over them, as if trying to clear them of salt water. He still wasn’t swimming toward the ship. He must have salt in his eyes. He can’t see!
“Over here!” Judith didn’t have the strength to move, but she could shout. “Michael! Swim toward my voice! Hurry! The ship is moving!”
She was afraid the howl of the wind would drown out her words. She screamed louder, and Michael responded. He was a strong swimmer. He headed in her direction, stopping every few strokes to listen for her voice again. She shouted and screamed, guiding him to her.
Michael stopped swimming, but he kept getting closer. A current was sweeping him forward. He was moving too fast! He was going to be sucked beneath the ship.
Judith wrapped her legs around the bottom rung of the ladder and dove forward, launching her body back into the water. She grabbed Michael by the arm just as he was about to be swept away.
Judith had no strength left to pull him to her, but he grabbed hold of her arms and dragged himself toward the ladder. She simply hung on as he felt his way to the ladder and seized it too. Now she was the one clinging to him as he hoisted himself out of the sea.
“Can’t see,” he wheezed. “Salt.”
“You’re okay,” Judith said. “You’re on the ladder.”
“Let’s get on board.”
“Can’t,” Judith gasped. “Give me a minute.”
“I’ll help you. Tell me where to go.”
Judith clutched Michael’s arm and maneuvered around so that he could have both hands and feet on the ladder. She clung to his back and talked to him as he climbed.
“Halfway there. Careful, there’s an irregular bit here. Reach over it. That’s good.”
When they reached the top, hands appeared out of the darkness to pull them to safety. Together, Judith and Michael collapsed onto the deck.
Chapter 15—Aftermath
Judith
Judith became aware of people moving around her. The ship must be rocking, but she was too disoriented to be sure. There was water on her face, and her clothes were soaked. She lost her grip on Michael. Fog closed in around her.
Some time later a stinging sensation brought the world back into focus. Someone had moved her out of the rain. She was lying on one side with her arm stretched over her head. There was a blanket over her legs, and feeling was returning to them. Pain.
Judith’s arm and side hurt too, scraped raw by the rope. The nurse was dabbing her with iodine. A sharp chemical smell cut through the air. Each touch of the nurse’s cloth stung. From her position on her side, Judith saw that she was in the reception lobby, perhaps on the very same couch where little Cally had been born just over a week ago.
She couldn’t see Nora or Michael or any of the other people who’d been in the boat with her, because a round, matronly figure was blocking her view. Penelope was helping the nurse, Laura, to clean her scrape. Judith coughed, her throat raw from the salt water.
“Where is everybody?” she asked.
“Now, now, dear. You keep quiet,” Penelope said. “You’ve been through an ordeal. You’ll be fine when we get you cleaned up.”
“Did we get the tanks?” she asked.
“The men are keeping an eye on them. They won’t be able to bring them up until after the storm. You secured that last one well.”
“That was Michael. The storm’s still going?”
“Yes, of course. Can’t you feel it? You were only out for a few minutes. You should get some sleep soon, though. Nurse Laura can take you down to the clinic in a bit if you like.”
There was a falseness to Penelope’s voice. It was determinedly cheery—incongruous given the circumstances.
“Did everybody make it back?” Judith asked, remembering that she had only counted seventeen people climbing the ladder, plus her and Michael. There had been twenty in the boat. Penelope hesitated long enough for Judith to know the truth.
“Who was it?”
Penelope glanced up at the nurse, then back at Judith, shaking her head sadly.
Simon
When the news arrived on the bridge, Simon’s heart sank. Odd to think about sinking after so long at sea. It had taken on a whole new meaning.
Manny brought the news. He had run up from the lifeboat deck to report on the team of twenty, now nineteen. Captain Martinelli didn’t react at all. He didn’t know her. Simon suspected he had lost all capacity to care.
It was Ren’s reaction that surprised him. Simon hadn’t realized that Ren and Nora were so close.
Ren turned as white as week-old ash. “Are you sure?” she said, her voice so quiet it was a wonder Manny heard her.
“Nora is the only one missing,” he said. “She was helping with the salvage. She was in the last lifeboat and could not swim to the ladder. We are thinking she hit her head . . . maybe on one of the fuel tanks.”
“Can . . . can we search for her?”
“We are far away now. We are sailing away from the island.” Manny looked over at Simon, seeking support.
Ren stared at Manny, digging her fingers into her keyboard. Her computer began emitting a piercing sound.
“Thank you, Manny,” Simon said. “Ren, I’m sorry. Are . . . are you okay to . . . ?”
She removed her fingers from the keyboard, silencing the wailing note.
“I’ll see us through the storm.”
She quickly repaired whatever damage
she had done to her computer, and soon she was responding to the captain’s instructions, helping to guide the Catalina safely away from the atoll and the funnel clouds. But she moved in a trance. As she deftly adjusted their coordinates and set a course for where the captain predicted the storm would break, tears began to drip down her cheeks. Simon didn’t know what Nora had been to her, but he could see that this loss cut deep.
Simon himself felt a sense of complete and utter failure. He had believed that if he could see this group to safety he’d somehow redeem himself for not being with Nina and Naomi in San Diego. There was no way he could have stopped the volcano, but he had begun to think he could keep the people on the Catalina safe.
He was wrong.
Judith
Judith pretended her tears were from the pain in her side and arm. The rope had scoured layers of skin away when it jerked out of her grasp. The injury was raw and ugly, but it was mostly skin deep. Bruises were emerging on the rest of her body from being bashed against the hull. She couldn’t move without pain, but she desperately wanted to be alone. She didn’t want to break down in front of the nurse and Penelope.
Nora was dead. Drowned. Lost.
She couldn’t process it any more than she could process the fact that her entire family—everyone she’d ever known—was likely dead as well. She had been in Nora’s position, floundering in the sea just a moment ago. It had been terrifying, but she was safely back on the Catalina now. Why wasn’t Nora? Why couldn’t Judith pop into the bridge and find Nora sitting there, holding hands with Ren or trying out some new idea on the ship’s computers?
Judith wondered if Ren knew what had happened yet. It was cowardly, but she didn’t want to be the one to tell her.
She sat up, every stretch and tug of her skin an agony.
“You should stay here, Judith, dear, until Nurse Laura can take you down to the clinic,” Penelope said. The nurse was checking on the rest of the group. The remaining eighteen. “The storm’s still tossing us around like a corn husk doll.” Penelope tried to force her back down without causing her further injury.
“I just want to go to my room,” Judith said.
“I need to check on my boys,” Penelope said. “I can’t take you there now.”
“I’ll go alone.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“I’ll help.”
Michael had appeared behind Penelope. He was completely drenched and still hadn’t rolled down the legs of his trousers. He limped toward her.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll—” Judith began.
But Penelope leapt on Michael’s offer.
“Would you? That’s ever so kind. She has to be so tough all the time, but she could really use a hand. Let this nice young man help you, dear, and I’ll send someone round to check on you.”
Penelope didn’t wait for a reply. She pressed Michael’s hand warmly and then handed him off to Judith.
“Here, put your arm around me,” Michael said.
“I can walk,” Judith said. “You’re the one with the broken foot. It’s my arm that’s hurt.”
“We’ll keep each other steady then,” Michael said.
As if to punctuate his words, the ship rolled violently, and Judith lost her balance. Michael caught her by the uninjured arm to keep her from falling.
“Okay. My cabin is on the eighth deck.”
Michael didn’t speak as they walked slowly to the stairs. The elevators had been switched off permanently in case they got stuck. He held her left arm loosely, offering support only when the floor tipped. The storm was in full swing now.
On the stairs every step was agony. The act of moving one foot after another pulled at Judith’s ravaged skin and took all of her concentration. Michael’s presence was calming, though he must be in as much pain as she was. They hobbled along together, giving each other strength, wrapped up in the simple act of walking home.
At the door to Judith’s room, Michael didn’t hesitate. When she said, “This is me,” he opened the door and helped her inside, making sure she didn’t scrape her arm in the narrow doorway.
She avoided looking at Nora’s side of the bed, which was strewn with her spare clothes. Outside, the little balcony was slick with rain. The sky beyond it was pitch black, even though it was still late afternoon or early evening as far as she knew.
Michael walked Judith to the bed and helped ease her down onto the comforter. Without a word he knelt down and began to untie her shoes.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said.
“You shouldn’t bend over too much. You can help with mine next.”
“You must be hungry. You should get some food. The dining hall’s not far.”
“When the weather’s better,” Michael said. “I’m okay for now.”
He eased the running shoe off Judith’s foot. It was soaking wet and filled with sand. She should have kicked off her shoes when she ended up in the sea. It might have made the swim easier. She wondered if Nora had still been wearing her big combat boots.
Michael carried the shoes to the shower and returned with two dry towels.
“Do you have running water?”
“Yes, but we’re rationing.”
“You might want to take a hot shower to warm you up,” Michael said, looking pretty cold and wet himself.
“You were in the water longer than I was. You can use my shower if you want. We’re allowed five minutes.”
“Let’s get you settled first.” He carefully removed her socks—also full of sand—and then handed her one of the towels. “Here, hold this. Um . . . do you mind if I . . . ?”
His cheeks flushed, making the chiseled angles of his face look young. He probably wasn’t much older than Judith.
“I’m wearing shorts under these,” she said.
Her Catalina sweater was gone. It must have gotten ripped pretty badly by the rope. Penelope or the nurse had taken it off, leaving her in the tight black sports top she’d gone running in what seemed like a lifetime ago. She’d have to see if there were any clothes left in the gift shop.
Michael helped her stand and carefully peeled the cold, damp yoga pants down her thighs. She couldn’t bend down without hurting her side and arm, so she put both hands on his shoulders to keep her balance. She felt his hot breath on her legs as he bent lower to ease the wet fabric off her skin. When she sat down again, she avoided his eyes.
Michael wrapped the dry towel around her legs and rubbed them briskly. Warmth returned to her. She began to shiver, which she thought was a good sign.
“Do you have anything else to put on?” Michael asked.
“This is all I had when I ran to the ship,” Judith said. She glanced at Nora’s clothes piled on top of her suitcase, then looked away quickly. Nora was—had been—a lot shorter than her anyway. She wrapped the towel tighter around her legs and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders.
“Sit down and give me your foot,” she said.
Michael obeyed, pulling up the chair from the little desk and lifting his foot to Judith so she wouldn’t have to bend over. She began to work at the stiff laces.
Michael winced as Judith pulled the shoe off, followed by his sock. Deep-bluish bruises had begun to appear across the top of his foot. He must have twisted it badly when he leapt out of the way of the fuel tank.
“Where are you from?” Judith asked, trying to keep him talking to take his mind off the pain. She felt the bones in his foot gently. She didn’t think they were actually broken, but she wasn’t sure.
“A small town outside of Oklahoma City,” Michael said through gritted teeth.
“Do you think it was far enough away to escape the ash fall?”
“I’m more worried about folks running out of food. If the crops fail, it’s going to be rough for a while.”
“Is your family there?” Judith asked. She wrapped a hand towel gently around his injured foot and gestured for him to give her the other one.
“Yeah. My kid br
other graduates from high school this year. He’s a star football player. On his way to college on a scholarship. Everything I wasn’t.”
“You didn’t go to college?” Judith asked. She eased the shoe and sock off his other foot.
“Nope. Straight to the navy for me. Grades weren’t good enough for anything else.”
“You look like a football player too,” Judith said, bending lower over Michael’s feet. She tried to rub some warmth into the uninjured one. It helped her fingers regain some of their feeling.
“I’m nowhere near as good as my brother Matt was—is,” Michael said.
He frowned, meeting Judith’s eyes. She thought of her half siblings, wishing she had spent more time with them. The older one hadn’t been born until she was on her way to college, and she hadn’t really made a point of bonding with him, if you could even bond with a toddler. She should have been a better sister. The regret ached, a chronic pain that she’d been trying to ignore.
“So, did you live in San Diego?” he asked after a while.
“Yeah. I go—went—to college there. I was jogging along the boardwalk when the disaster hit.”
“I’d finished my shore leave the day before,” Michael said. “My buddies and I went up to LA to see the Avenue of Stars. Even spent a day at Disneyland. I’d never been there before. And now here I am.”
He removed his feet from Judith’s lap and began peeling off his own sodden clothes. He had all the muscles of a football player too. His broad, chiseled stomach was tanned but lighter than the deep, permanent tan on his arms and face. Judith looked down at her towel-wrapped legs. A small-town football player bound for the armed services, though? She didn’t even have crushes on that type of guy when she was a teenager. She supposed a lot had changed since then. Everything had changed.
When Michael went to dump his wet clothes in the bathroom, she noticed an anchor tattoo on his arm. There was something sweetly cliché about it. She felt a light flutter in her chest, soft as moth wings. No, there was no denying she was attracted to this man.
