He hadn’t realized until this moment how much he’d always depended on Artem for that.
“Adam?” Sara said, her voice sounding terrified and much more high-pitched than usual.
“I’m all right.”
“Adam, Cody—he isn’t breathing—”
Adam’s eyes flew open.
His friend lay on the deck where he’d been when Adam and Sara had let him go. He was very still. Unnaturally still, Adam realized suddenly. He hadn’t moved since he’d fallen. His chest wasn’t even rising and falling. Sara was right.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Oh, God, we choked him. We killed him. I choked him. Oh God, oh God—”
Adam ignored her. His memory of how to perform CPR was blurry, but he would have to try.
He began to administer chest compressions, trying to tune out the sound of Sara sobbing behind him. Trying not to pay attention to the fact that she was becoming increasingly frantic.
Trying not to notice Artem’s body, just a few feet away.
He breathed into Cody’s mouth.
He compressed Cody’s chest.
Come on, you bastard.
“Come on, Cody. Don’t fucking do this right now. Wake up. We need you. I’m not letting you go. What did I say? I’m not turning on you. I’m not letting you jump off this fucking ship and I’m not going to let you stop breathing either, so just open your eyes! Wake up!”
Cody didn’t move.
Adam fell back on his elbows, suddenly horrified. His best friend lay dead beside him. Cody had had his flaws, and he’d made it hard for them to live with him. But Adam had never wanted this.
And really, wasn’t it his fault in a way? He had conspired with the others to drug Cody. He had thought better of the plan, but he hadn’t said anything.
We had to do it.
He was a danger to all of us. Look at what happened to Artem.
But those thoughts didn’t put his mind at ease. Cody was still dead. Minutes ago he had been struggling in Adam’s arms, trying to free himself from their hold. He must have been trying to let us know he couldn’t breathe, Adam thought, horrified. At first he had been fighting to return to Artem, to continue his violent beating. But that had subsided, Adam realized now. His struggles had changed.
He couldn’t breathe.
He was trying to tell me.
I killed him.
He looked over at Sara. She was on her knees, her face in her hands, sobbing. As he watched, she crawled over to Artem and took his hand. Adam guessed she was feeling the same way he was. Seeing Artem dead was an entirely different category of horrible. He had always been the strongest of them all, Adam thought. He was the consummate survivor. He was the one who had given Adam faith that they might actually live through this.
And now he was dead.
It was like falling into a nightmare.
Sara was holding Artem’s hand, bending over his body. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Adam didn’t know what she was apologizing for, but in a way it didn’t matter. He, too, was filled with a regret so overpowering that he thought he might be sick.
Sara got to her feet, staggering slightly. “I can’t be here,” she said, her voice thick. “I have to…I have to go.”
“Go where?”
“I just want to be alone,” she said. “Please. I need to be alone.” She turned and ran up the stairs. A moment later he heard her cabin door close behind her. He guessed he wouldn’t be seeing her again until morning.
Adam looked up at the stars and shuddered. The last thing he wanted right now was to be alone.
It occurred to him that neither he nor Sara knew how to drive the yacht—but that didn’t matter now, did it? The yacht was dead. Unless they found some oars and started rowing, they weren’t going anywhere.
In all the time since the onset of the virus, Adam realized, he had never really been without hope. He had always felt that there was a chance for things to get better. As slim as that chance might be, it was there.
But now he could see nothing. It was as if, when the lights on the horizon had gone out, they had taken all possibility of anything good with them. It was almost hard to believe that the sun would come up tomorrow, that light would ever grace the earth again. The darkness around Adam seemed eternal and impenetrable.
He crawled across the deck to the table where, just half an hour ago, the four of them had sat down to eat cookies together.
He picked up a cookie, looked at it for a long minute, and threw it into the sea.
Then he picked up the cocktail Artem had made for him.
Six years. He had been clean for six years.
He drained the drink in a single swallow.
Chapter 18
The first step of the plan was to coax Cody out of his room.
It was mutually agreed upon by all of them that Adam would be the only one who might stand a chance at succeeding here. Even though Adam knew they were right, he was distressed. It was awful to find himself forced to deceive his friend in this way, to go to Cody at his lowest moment and try to convince him that he could put his trust in Adam, knowing all the while that he was going to betray him.
If I don’t do this, the betrayal he’ll suffer will be much worse, Adam reminded himself. They’ll ditch him on the shore. They’ll leave him to die. This feels bad, but it’s the lesser of two evils by far.
So he went up the stairs and knocked on Cody’s door.
“Hey, Cody?”
No answer. Fair enough. He hadn’t expected this to work on the first try.
He knocked again. “Listen, man, it’s been kind of a rough day, yeah? Come down and have dinner with us, okay? It’ll be really good.”
“Just oatmeal,” a mumble came through the door.
It was a complaint, but it was encouraging, and it was exactly the opening Adam had hoped for. “Not just oatmeal,” he said. “Oatmeal cookies. And peanut butter cookies. Sara’s been working on them all afternoon.”
A long pause. “How did she do that?” Cody asked. “We don’t have ingredients.”
“I don’t really know,” Adam admitted. “She said she was going to have to be creative, and they probably don’t taste…”
“Normal?”
“Like the cookies we remember from home, yeah. But still. It’s cookies. I haven’t had a cookie in…I don’t know. Months, seems like.”
The door cracked open. Cody peered out.
“Is everyone mad at me?” he asked.
It was a question Adam couldn’t answer directly without lying.
“They’re worried about you,” he said. “I am, too. That was scary.”
“I know I shouldn’t have done it.”
Which wasn’t the same as saying he wouldn’t do it again. “You don’t really think we’re in hell, do you?”
Cody shrugged bleakly. “Is there any point in differentiating?”
“I mean, yeah. If this is hell, that means you think we’re all just here to torture and imprison you. If you accept that it’s real life, it means you know we’re in it together.”
“I don’t think you’re trying to torture me,” Cody said. “Not really.”
“But you did?”
“I don’t know. It felt like it at the time. That fire…” he shuddered. “The idea that there could be that many deaths…”
“But we’ve known that for a while, really,” Adam said, speaking as gently as he could. “It’s been coming in on the news reports.”
“I haven’t been listening to those.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Maybe,” Cody agreed.
“Listen, you had a terrible day,” Adam said. “We all did, but you most of all, I think. Come down and have cookies with us. We’re even going to open a bottle of vodka.”
Cody opened the door the rest of the way, frowning. “Really?” he said. “I thought you wouldn’t want me to drink tonight.”
“I won’t pret
end it doesn’t worry me,” Adam said. “But I thought it might help you to take the edge off.” This felt like stretching the truth almost to the breaking point. The vodka would help Cody relax, yes—but only because of what Artem was adding to it right now.
“About before,” Cody said, “I really do want to thank you for coming in after me. That was…well, I’d be dead right now. And I guess what I’m saying is that I’m glad I’m not. I owe you one.” He clapped Adam on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it,” Adam said. He couldn’t even look his friend in the eye. If only he could count on this version of Cody to stick around. If only he knew that his friend would keep it together and remain sane and sensible. If he could, Adam would be able to cancel the plan that he, Artem and Sara had spent the afternoon working on.
But Cody’s mood had already flip-flopped too many times. Too often, Adam had thought Cody had accepted the reality of their circumstances, and too often he’d been proven wrong. He couldn’t keep giving his friend the benefit of the doubt, or they’d all pay the price.
He followed Cody downstairs feeling anxious and unhappy. Cody was going to feel so betrayed by this, when he found out what Adam and the others had done. He was sane and rational now, but he was far from stable. This was probably going to push him right back over the edge.
The smell of Sara’s cookies was overwhelming. It was as if they’d received a visit from another life, from the world in which they’d all grown up.
Cody came to the table and smiled sheepishly at Sara as she set down a platter. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he said.
Sara smiled. It chilled Adam to see how she could do that, how she could look Cody in the eye as if nothing at all was wrong. “We all go a little crazy sometimes,” she said. “It’s a tough time for everyone. And that was an awful thing we saw today.” She rested a hand on his shoulder as if she was his mother, soothing him after a nightmare, and not the woman who was about to slip him a tranquilizer.
If she ever turns on me, Adam thought, I’ll have no idea it’s coming.
Artem emerged from the kitchen with four drinks in his hands and set them on the table. Only Cody’s would be drugged, Adam knew. It was what the three of them had discussed. Adam, Artem, and Sara would be able to drink from their own cups so as not to arouse Cody’s suspicion.
Now Cody picked up one of the cookies and bit into it. “This is good,” he said. “It doesn’t exactly taste like a cookie…”
“More like a cracker, right?” Sara asked. “I didn’t have any eggs, so I had to improvise. There’s a lot of sugar and a lot of oatmeal—and peanut butter, if you try the peanut butter ones.
Cody did. “Oh, yeah, I like these ones even more,” he said. “I can’t believe Artem let you cook with the peanut butter. I thought we had to save that for emergency use only.”
Adam closed his eyes briefly. Did his friend have to antagonize the captain, even now? Shouldn’t Cody be begging Artem’s forgiveness for his earlier behavior?
Those two are never going to get along, he thought. It’s always going to be contentious until one of them gets the upper hand.
The horrible part was that neither of them ever would have gotten the upper hand without Adam’s help. Their resources were too evenly matched. Artem was smart and capable, but Cody really did own the yacht they were all depending on to keep them alive, and that went a long way.
I had to take sides, Adam realized. In the end, it was always going to come down to this.
That didn’t make it any easier to live with.
Artem raised his glass. “I’d like to propose a toast,” he said.
Sara immediately mimicked his action. Adam understood. They were encouraging Cody to drink. They were trying to hurry things along. He raised his own glass, but reluctantly.
Cody did the same.
“A toast to our survival,” Artem said. “A toast to everything that’s kept us going in this world, where so many have been lost. A toast to the chance circumstances that have protected us from the nanovirus. And a toast to the future, whatever it may hold.” He hesitated. “May we face it unflinchingly and always do what needs to be done to ensure our survival.”
“Hear, hear,” Cody said, tipping his glass marginally.
Adam shuddered.
Artem drank.
Sara drank.
Adam brought his cup to his lips and mimed drinking, but did not swallow. The last thing he wanted right now was to be drunk.
Cody set his cup back down on the table.
Artem raised an eyebrow. “None for you?”
“I don’t think I should, to be honest with you,” Cody said. “After what happened earlier today.”
“Might be a good idea,” Sara said. “Take the edge off.”
“Yeah, that’s what Adam said,” Cody said. “But I don’t know. I just want to take it easy.”
Now he makes good choices?!
It was almost unbearable. Adam wanted to lunge across the table and knock the drugged drink out of Cody’s hand, to tell the others that they had to give Cody another chance. But what if I do that and he snaps again?
What if the next time, someone else got hurt?
BANG!
Adam dropped his drink. Sara was so startled that she slipped from her chair and landed on the deck.
Artem whirled around. “What was that?”
But the answer to his question was readily apparent to all of them. Along the distant coastline, the reassuring sight of the city lights was giving way to blackness. One by one, sections of the city seemed to disappear. A moment later, an ominous sort of quiet crept up around them. It seemed to press in on them. Although Adam could still hear the sound of the waves and his shipmates’ breathing, something was missing. It was as though the world was holding its breath.
BANG!
“That’s too loud to be a gunshot,” Sara said softly.
“I think it’s a bomb.” The thought sprung from Adam’s mouth before he was aware that he’d been thinking it. But of course it had been a bomb. What else could make such a sound? What else could cause such apparent destruction?
“Did it wipe the whole city out?” Sara asked. “Is that even possible?”
“It’s definitely possible,” Adam said.
“No, that’s not it,” Artem said.
“How do you know?” Adam asked.
“We would have heard aftershocks. Buildings and bridges falling. Things of that nature.”
“Are you sure?” Adam asked.
“No,” Artem admitted. “I guess I can’t be sure. Not until the sun comes up and we can see the damage for ourselves.”
Adam felt chilled. “Who would drop a bomb?” he said.
“Anyone,” Sara said. “If they were looking to contain the spread of the virus—”
“But the virus is a pandemic,” Adam said. “It reached that stage a long time ago. If it was confined to San Francisco, then sure, I could see it. A rival government trying to keep its citizens safe. But this is in countries around the world.”
“Which means,” Artem said, “that it was almost certainly an American strike force who did whatever was just done.”
Cody spoke, his voice wavering. “Our own military?”
“Martial law’s been in effect for weeks now,” Artem said. “If the military thought they’d lost control, if they had a better plan for helping the remaining survivors…”
“Honestly, I’m surprised it took them as long as it did,” Adam said.
“It’s so quiet,” Cody said. “It’s creepy. I wish we could hear something.”
“Why is it so quiet?” Sara asked. “Doesn’t it seem quieter than it was before the blast?”
“Your ears are adjusting,” Artem said. “Your hearing is sensitive right now.” And indeed, Adam thought, the captain’s voice did seem dull and far away.
“But it’s not just the quiet,” Sara persisted. “It seems…I don’t know. Something else is off.”
�
�It’s darker,” Adam realized.
“The lights went out,” Cody pointed out.
“I know that, but that shouldn’t make it darker all the way out here, should it?”
Artem stood up so fast that Adam jumped. He strode over to the side of the ship and leaned over.
When he turned back, Adam was struck anew by the darkness. He couldn’t see the captain’s face.
“The running lights are off,” Artem said quietly.
“Is the engine off, too?” Sara asked. “I can’t hear it.”
Artem disappeared up the stairs.
The other three looked at each other. No one spoke a word.
When Artem returned and sat down at the table, his face was grim. “Everything’s dead,” he said. “The engine’s off, and I can’t get it going again.”
“We finally ran out of power?” Cody asked.
“No,” Artem said firmly. “Couldn’t be. I checked the readings every day. We were nowhere near out. And the sun was out today. The ship would have charged. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Besides, that would be too big a coincidence,” Adam said. “Us just happening to lose power at exactly the same time as the mainland, but for a completely different reason?”
Artem nodded. “You’re right. That doesn’t add up either.”
“But then what happened?” Sara asked.
There was a pause, then Artem spoke.
“An EMP effect,” he said.
“A what?”
“An electromagnetic pulse,” Artem said. “It’s a side effect of powerful weapons, and it’s been known to cause massive blackouts. Whatever happened back on the mainland blacked out the whole city, and I guess we were close enough to shore that it got us too.”
“When will we get power back?” Cody asked.
Artem shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he said. “This kind of effect doesn’t just turn off the power grid. It wipes out the actual equipment. Everything the EMP hit is going to be dead now. That means no more lights on the mainland, no cars, no phones—if anyone’s even still using phones. It means our radio is out. For good. It means our running lights are dead and our engine’s never going to come back on.”
Escape The Dark (Book 1): Dark Tides Page 14
