The ship groaned again, deep and menacing.
“Sterling, I can’t hang around here all day.”
“Okay. Okay.”
“You can do this.” You can do this. That, too, was a mantra she’d repeated over and over in her life. At eleven, she’d taken up dancing as a form of therapy, and her high pain threshold had proved to be an asset when it came to grueling dance routines. Her body was the pillar of strength, however, her mind was a battleground between striving to succeed and giving up. Honing in on positivity was something she’d had to learn.
She was going to need it now.
“Sterling. Listen to me. You’re strong; you can do this.”
“I’m not! The only exercise I do is surfing.” His voice quivered.
“Lower your legs through the hole. Do it.” She changed her voice from encouraging to commanding. Some people needed that. Maybe Sterling did too. “I’m not moving without you.”
“Okay. Okay.”
Shuffling noises sounded above her, then his legs appeared in the gap. Madeline hooked her fingers into the grill and leaned out to grab his foot. “I’ve got you. Keep coming.”
He lowered farther and she wriggled her hand to his ankle, then calf muscle, then the back of his knee. “Good, you’re doing good. A little bit more—you’re nearly there.”
Another three inches and the tips of his Converse sneakers touched the same grill she was standing on. “That’s it, you’re here.” But his shoulders and head were still in the elevator. The last part was going to be the hardest.
Madeline wrapped her hand around his belt. If this all went to pieces, she wasn’t sure she could actually hold him. An image of him tumbling into the void below, arms flailing, mouth wide with a scream, slammed into her mind.
Jesus Christ! Focus, Maddy.
With her fingers clutching the grill, she tightened her grip on his belt and pulled him toward her. “You can do this, Sterling.”
“Okay, get ready.”
“I’m ready.”
He huffed out a forceful breath and a second later, his weight shifted.
Sterling swung below the elevator. He screamed as his hands slipped free.
She screamed and reached out. Desperate. Panic-driven.
He clawed at the air. His fingers snatched around her outstretched hand, nearly ripping her fingers off. Gritting her teeth, she roared an almighty growl and used every ounce of her strength to pull him in. But she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t strong enough.
Her heart hit sledgehammer mode as each terrifying second passed with brutal clarity.
Terror in the whites of his eyes.
Veins bulging in his neck.
Agony as her fingers clutched the grill.
Their united screams were amplified a thousand times in the chamber of hell.
“Grab on!” she yelled.
His breaths shot in and out. His eyes shot from her to the shaft below.
“Sterling!” Madeline forced calm into her voice. “Look at me.”
His darting eyes found hers.
“You can do this! Grab onto me and pull yourself in.”
“Okay. Yes. Okay.” Inch by inch, with the tendons in his neck bulging, he dragged his body toward her.
The instant Sterling’s feet were firmly planted on the grill beside her, he clutched his arm around her neck, pinning her to his chest. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Madeline sucked in the smoke-filled air, fighting for oxygen. “Are you okay?” Her voice wobbled with frazzled emotion.
“I am now. Thank you.”
United, their vigorous breathing echoed about the hollow shaft. When the elevator screeched with another collision, they jolted out of their embrace.
Despite her trembling legs, they had to keep moving. “Are you ready to climb down?”
“Yeah, but let’s see if we can open that door first.” He nodded at the bottom half of the doorway opposite them.
“Okay. Good idea.” She shuffled along the grill, inching toward the front of the elevator shaft. But it was pointless. The doors wouldn’t budge. She banged on them instead. “Help! Help!”
Sterling shouted with her. In the empty shaft, their voices were deafening.
If anybody was on the other side, they’d have to hear them. A prickle raced up her spine as the unwelcome words ghost ship crept into her brain again.
When they stopped yelling, the silence was creepy.
Something was seriously wrong.
After accepting that shouting was pointless, she studied the shaft, assessing the route downward. It looked easy. “Shall we climb down?”
“Sure.” He actually sounded chirpy. He flashed a grin, the terror of moments ago completely gone from his eyes. “Got nothing else to do.”
She chuckled. “That’s true.”
They moved together, taking the rungs one at a time, keeping in pace.
At a point she’d determined was about halfway, she paused to glance down.
But something weird caught her eye. The light below was flickering.
Her heart slammed into her chest.
That’s not emergency lighting below. Or the glow from the engine room.
It’s fire.
Chapter Seventeen
By the time Gunner had doused all the fires in the engine room and returned to the bridge, the moon was high in the sky, the ship’s sway had become more pronounced and a mob of passengers had crowded into the restricted area inside the bridge. Many were wearing life vests. Many had cell phone screens lit up. All seemed angry. Clenching his jaw and his fists with equal intensity, Gunner charged through the unruly mob.
Every step was hindered by people clutching at his arms and barking questions.
“Is the ship sinking?”
“Are we going to be rescued?”
“Who killed the Captain?”
“Do we need to abandon ship?”
Ignoring them all, he headed for Officer Sykes who was at the front windows, scanning the ocean with the binoculars glued to his eyes. Captain Nelson was still on the floor with Gunner’s jacket over him, and four passengers were practically standing over his body like he was nothing but a roll of carpet. He fought the urge to yell at them to get back.
Considering the bedlam around him, Sykes appeared very calm, but when he turned to Gunner, his wide eyes and angry scowl confirmed his distress.
“Captain McCrae, am I pleased to see you.” His lips drew to a thin line.
Gunner touched Sykes’ shoulder. “What’s our status?”
He shook his head. “Nothing to report, sir.”
After a curt nod, Gunner turned to the crowd who were still barking questions at him and raised his hands. “Attention! Attention, please!”
“Do we need to abandon ship?” A man of line-backer proportions was at the front of the mob. The straps securing his life vest were under serious duress.
Ignoring his question, Gunner waved his hands, seeking silence. “Please, I need your attention.” The din continued. “Quiet!” Gunner bellowed.
Their shouts continued.
“Please! Quiet down.” It took four more attempts before they adequately hushed. “Thank you. My name is Captain Gunner McCrae.”
“What happened to the real Captain?”
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Gunner forged on. “I will make a major announcement very soon on the Lido deck. That’s the top deck where the main pool is.”
He turned to Cloe and Quinn who’d managed to make their way to his side. “Would you two like to direct them?”
“Of course, Captain.” They spoke in unison, and just the way they looked at each other, with love in their eyes, had his heart aching for his wife. Adelle was his everything. Gunner would be nothing if it wasn’t for her. Oh God. He’d do anything to find out if she was okay. But he couldn’t allow his anguish to drag him down that rabbit hole.
The passengers needed him. His crew needed him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Cloe and Qui
nn will guide you.” He indicated to the couple and they put their hands up. “Follow them. Please also help us by telling anyone you see to go to the Lido deck. Okay? Go! Now!”
Cloe nodded at Gunner and wriggled her eyebrows. “See you at the other end.”
Gunner nodded. “Yes. You will. Thank you.”
With her hand raised, Cloe began pushing through the crowd. “All right, everyone follow me. Let’s go.”
Gunner was impressed with her booming voice. For a small woman, she sure could command attention.
The passengers did a collective pause as if undecided over what to do, and then gradually, they turned and shuffled out of the bridge. A hand wrapped around his wrist, and Gunner glanced down to a frail elderly woman who was clutching an illuminated cell phone like it was a life source. Her smoky-gray eyes were riddled with so many spider veins they looked to be bleeding. “Captain, are we sinking?”
He touched her shoulder and felt the bones beneath. “No, ma’am, we are not. What’s your name?”
“Bronwyn. Bronwyn Applegate.”
“Okay, Bronwyn, please keep with the crowd. I will make an announcement very soon at the Lido deck.”
She held his gaze for a couple of beats, then nodded and shuffled out of the bridge.
Finally, with some breathing space, Gunner huffed out a sigh.
Sykes’ shoulders sagged like he was deflating. “What took you so long, Captain, sir?” His eyes were fused with both anger and fear. “I thought they were going to kill me.”
“I’m sorry. It’s a mess down there.”
“Are we sinking?”
“That’s the only good news. The plane impacted a huge area. At least six decks. There was a flash fire in the engine room.” He squeezed his temples. “Everybody’s dead.”
“Oh jeez.”
“We’ve got no chance of getting power.”
“She’s starting to roll, sir, and without our stabilizers it’s going to get worse. And based on the increasing swell and that lightning ahead, I predict we are heading into that storm we were tracking before the power failed.”
Pain boomed behind Gunner’s eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What time is it?”
“Twenty-three forty-seven, sir.”
Nearly midnight. He’d been awake nineteen hours.
He opened his eyes and met Sykes’ glare. “We’ve just got to get through tonight. Come daylight, we’ll be able to assess the situation better.”
Sykes placed the binoculars on the table. “Are we abandoning ship, sir?”
“Have you seen any other ships?” He dodged the question.
“Not one, sir. Prior to the strike there were three we were tracking. It’s like they’ve all vanished.”
“If they are without power like us, then they’ll be impossible to see. Where’s the rest of the crew?”
“I don’t know. You’re the first to return.”
“The doc?”
“No, sir.”
Gunner frowned. The medical clinic was at the rear of deck four. He hadn’t gone near that section of the ship. He made a mental note to add it to his list of priorities. “Sykes, hear me out.”
Sykes stepped his boots shoulder-width apart, clenched his hands at his hips and drew a scowl on his face that was typical Sykes. “Sir.”
“We have nine hundred and twenty-two passengers on board. Plus two hundred and fifteen crew members. Our first priority is to keep them safe.”
Sykes nodded.
“Rose of the Sea would be much easier to spot in the ocean than a clutch of life rafts. At this stage, remaining onboard with food and facilities makes more sense than abandoning to life rafts where we will have limited supplies. Especially as we have zero confirmation of a rescue. Do you agree?”
“Sir?”
“Sykes, I’m asking for your opinion.”
“Sir, it’s not—”
“Cameron,” Gunner interrupted. “We’ve only known each other for twelve days, but you are the right man to help me. What we are going through is unprecedented. And if Captain Nelson was right about it being an EMP strike, and I believe he was, then that plane hitting us was the least of our worries. The entire continent could be in trouble and we may be stranded at sea for a very long time without any hope of a rescue. So, First Officer Cameron Sykes, do you concur with remaining onboard Rose of the Sea?”
Sykes’ body deflated even more, as if yielding to the pressure of such a decision. After an excruciating pause, he nodded. “Yes, Captain, I agree.”
Gunner touched his shoulder. “Thank you.” He huffed out a sigh. “Keep up the good work.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.” A frown drilled his dark eyebrows together. “Sir . . . please, don’t forget about me.”
Gunner paused at that. He was the second crew member to make that statement. Maybe it was because they didn’t really know him. If they did, they’d know they wouldn’t need to ask.
“I promise you this, First Officer Cameron Sykes. If I think we need to abandon ship, I will consult you first.”
He nodded, then sat down and positioned the microphone to his mouth. “Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. This is . . .”
As Gunner strode from the bridge, he silently prayed for an answer to that desperate call for help.
But his gut told him it was never going to come.
Using the phone for light, he made his way toward the stairs. His eyes snagged on the elevators and his brain shuddered to a halt. Those poor people would no doubt still be stuck.
Even if they had managed to find the escape hatch in the roof, they’d never get out that way. Blue Earth Cruise Lines had learned the hard way that the space above the elevator was an ideal stowaway spot. Lord knew how many times it’d been utilized before one unfortunate nineteen-year-old Venezuelan man had been crushed to death while attempting to flee to America. After that, all elevator service doors had been padlocked on the outside and only a select few crew members knew the combination.
I will rescue them.
But it would have to wait. There could be more than a thousand people waiting for him on the Lido deck. Oh god, I hope it’s at least a thousand. But with the amount of dead people he’d already seen, he dreaded it was much less. Regardless, every last soul was his priority.
He strode past the blackened-out day spa, the fitness center, and the coffee shop that was usually brimming with people, both day and night. When he pushed through a set of double doors, the sharp pain behind his eyes hit icepick intensity at the size and noise of the crowd. Hundreds of people were crammed into the area. Above the Lido deck, on the walking track level, hundreds more people were leaning against the remaining portion of the railing and looking down.
The weight of their survival was an anchor on his shoulders.
Every single one of them counted on him to know what he was doing. Anxiety barreled through him like a tsunami.
No amount of training could’ve prepared him for this.
The damage to the deck was shocking. Overhead, one of the railings dangled down like it was a flimsy cable tie and not high-tensile steel. The boat swayed to port side and the pool water sloshed onto shrieking passengers who scrambled from the soaking. Crunching on broken glass and trying but failing to ignore the grisly row of bodies lined up like felled dominoes, he aimed for the bar.
If the need arose for passengers to be corralled into one place, it was usually done in the grand theater. But without power and lighting, the theater was impractical. Out here on the open deck, where moonlight and working phones were their sources of illumination, was the only option.
As he squeezed through the crowd, people turned to him. Fear riddled their faces. Tears streaked their cheeks. Blood and wounds stood out like beacons.
Forcing himself to breathe, he pushed past a couple who were each holding a small child in their arms. Normally, he’d acknowledge every possible passenger with a confident smile, and a handshake when appropriate. Not this time. Instead, he lowered his ey
es and forced himself to keep on walking before his trembling knees crumbled him to the deck.
Of the two hundred or so crew on the ship, the bulk of them were in back-of-house services such as laundry, housekeeping, passenger entertainment, and food and beverage duties. Then there were those involved in running the ship—electrical, technical, engineering, and carpentry. Now though, only a fraction of the crew was gathered around the bar. The number of absentees had Gunner’s mind reeling.
Jesus! Were they all dead? Horror scraped through his veins.
Maybe they’re just scared and are hiding amongst the crowd. Yes, please let that be it. As he clung to that glimmer of hope, he vowed to flush them out. He needed all the manpower he could get.
The crew at the bar were wearing either all white uniforms or white and blue. Except for Cloe and Quinn, who were still in civilian clothes. Between them, they only had about ten phone lights.
All eyes turned to him as he approached. The distress in their eyes matched that of the passengers. They were scared. Hell, he was scared. Acid coiled in his stomach over the pressure to lead. To do the right thing. To keep everyone safe.
But he had no choice. He was in charge. How the hell did this happen?
Shoving the shit aside, Gunner eyeballed Head of Security on approach and swallowed back a giant lump of fear. “Mr. McMaster, we’ve got our work cut out for us. I trust you are prepared.”
The security guard puffed out his chest. “Yes, sir.”
“Good, okay. Listen up.” They encircled him and the surrounding passengers crowded in. Ignoring them, he tried to meet the gaze of each and every one of his crew as he spoke. He hoped they didn’t see the anguish in his eyes. He hoped they didn’t see through his façade. “We have a very serious situation. We have no power, no communications, and no engines. And it’s impossible to know how long it’ll take to get any or all of them working again.”
“But . . . but we have to,” a young crew member blurted. “I have to get home. My engagement party is in three days.” Cindy was bar staff. She’d served him a mocktail on his second night on the cruise and had waited with a dazzling grin for his approval of her drink. She wasn’t grinning now.
Waves of Fate | Book 1 | First Fate Page 13
