Nothing.
A cold sensation hit my ankles suddenly, and I looked down to see water seeping from under the door. This wasn’t a joke now. We really were sinking.
I beat the door with renewed urgency. With each bang or shout, I felt like my chances were dimming. Where was Lucas? Was he dead? Had he abandoned the ship and then forgotten he had put me down here?
I discarded the last thought as quickly as it arrived.
Despite everything, I didn’t think he would just up and leave me.
That left the other horrible option: he was dead. Grief welled up in my chest, and I forced it down alongside my panic. Now wasn’t the time for me to think of anything other than a way to get out of here.
I raised my hand to bang again when the door suddenly opened, and I fell face forward into the cold water running down from the stairs landing. I raised my eyes and found Lucas, an AK in one hand and blood all over his clothing.
“Are you hurt?” he asked tightly.
I picked myself up off the floor. “No, I’m fine. Ship is sinking, though.”
“Yep,” he handed a box magazine to me. “You know how to reload this thing?”
“I might need a quick refresher.” I said.
“Here’s the release.” He showed me. “Then insert the magazine, bullet-side up, and pull back the slide. Point and shoot.”
I tried to memorize the steps. You’d think three steps would be easy to remember. But in the moment, I was having trouble.
“Stay behind me.” Lucas said. “If I go down, pick up the rifle and keep firing.”
My breath seized in my lungs as he dragged me up the stairs. The wind found the wet spots in my clothing as we emerged onto the top deck. The smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the moist air, mixed with the coppery tang of blood.
I froze when I saw Rocco lying on the deck, blood running from his body along the deck, and his eyes staring motionlessly at the sky.
He was dead.
Lucas gave me no time to process the information as he hauled me to the railing of the yacht. I nearly screamed as he fired four quick rounds at the unseeing enemy, swearing. He fired another burst, and threw the gun on the deck.
I handed my magazine to him, but he shook his head. “We need to jump,” he said quickly.
“Jump?” I asked as he stared at the churning black water of the Hudson. We were far from shore, certainly not any distance that either of us could cover. “I can’t swim that far.Youcan’t swim that far, not with your wounds!”
“There’s a jet-ski in the water,” Lucas pointed at the flipped jet-ski near the boat. “I’m going to jump in and pull it upright. We’ll be okay.”
“Lucas, I can’t do this,” I tried to tell him, but he was already climbing over the side of the railing.
Scrambling, I pulled out the pistol from my waist and clutched it in my hands, trying not to look at Rocco’s dead body.
Suddenly, things felt eerily silent. I could still make out thepop-pop-popof gunshots and hear the plinking of bullets against the yacht’s hull. But it was the sound of water splashing that I focused on.
Lucas was overboard.
I looked over the railing just as he was surfacing. He shook his head like a wet dog.
“Jump!” he shouted. “Now or never!”
I could feel it. It was hard enough to remain against the railing with the yacht listing badly now. I hated my life at this moment. Tucking the gun into my waistband once more, I climbed the railing, and looked down. For a moment, I felt like Rose from the Titanic.
Except I wouldn’t be jumping into freezing cold water, and Rose didn’t jump into the Hudson with people shooting at her.
On the other hand, if Lucas could get that jet-ski working, we wouldn’t be in the water for long.