Dead in the Water (14 page)

Ramón bent down and scooped up her sneakers. “We’ll take these with. Let’s go.”

“Ramón, answer my question,” she demanded as she picked up the sockful of ammo and dropped it into her purse as unobtrusively as possible.

“The captain would never do a thing like this unless he had to.” He lowered his gaze to her hands, looked up again.

“Let’s go, then,” she said, and everyone activated.

Outside the companionway, they trooped behind Ramón. Men squeezed past them, shouting at each other. Donna understood there was a lot of concern about the pumps, and then someone yelled, “Barney’s dead!”

She tugged at Ramón’s sleeve. He smiled grimly.

“One of our pumps. We named it Barney Clark.” It took her a few seconds to connect the name with the man who’d gotten the artificial heart, how it had wheezed and clicked. She smiled grimly back.

“Brace yourself,” Ramón said as they reached the end of the companionway and he stopped at a thick hatch like the one next to the dining room.

“What?” Donna asked, and then he opened the hatch and stepped over the lip.

The deck was a mass of confusion and hysteria. The crew was panicking. Men drenched with salt water flew up from the machine room. Pumps wheezed in counterpoint to the alarm bells and the foghorn. The patchwork castle of containers rumbled and clanged, and the thick metal lines that held them in place strained, ready to snap.

The fog had gotten thicker. She could see no more than a couple inches in front of her. When Ramón stepped away from her, she had a sickening sense that he’d fallen overboard. A thick, sheeny layer of moisture coated her like a facial mask. Her bare feet curled at the sensation of the cold, wet metal beneath them. She flashed on Ruth’s Squishy Creature and wondered what it would feel like to step on it without any shoes. If there had ever been such a thing, which, of course, there had not.

“Everyone together?” Ramón’s voice carried through the murk. Donna said, “I’m here.” No one else answered. Her heart caught and she said, “Count off, everybody. One. Who’s behind me?”

“It’s me,” Ruth said in a shrill voice. Fingers brushed the back of Donna’s head. “I’ve got little Matty.”

“John? John?” Donna demanded.

“Yes. Yes, I’m here.”

A light flicked on in front of Donna. Vaguely she saw the outline of a man, a globe of yellow floating at the end of his arm.

“Follow the flashlight,” Ramón said. “Hurry.”

He aimed the beam to his right. Donna walked gingerly toward it, aware that now she was the leader. Walking into space, walking on the friggin’ moon. She held her hands out like a tightrope walker to balance herself as a swell of vertigo tipped her right, left. Then his hand grabbed her outstretched wrist. A series of jumbled images—rowing, fishing, enduring—shot through her head, onetwothree, cannibals—

—real deep and back down her spinal cord, real jumbled, desert island and sex—

With a racketlike series of cricks, a shape dropped from
somewhere in the air and dangled parallel with the deck. Boat, wooden, about ten feet. Getaway car. Its silhouette jiggled out of focus in the under-deepsea fog.

“It’s okay,” Ramón said gently. “We have a radio, and rations and water. We got a man overboard pole. It’ll be very safe.”

“I’m not afraid,” she said aloud, and as she spoke the words, she knew they were probably the biggest lie she’d ever told.

Except for the one she’d told Glenn: that there was nothing she’d do, ever, to hurt Barbara. If she got out of this, damn it, goddamn it to fucking hell, she was going to take him away from her. Life was too short for regrets.

“It’s okay,
mi amor.
” Ramón pressed her hand. Saying nothing, she stepped into the lifeboat.

It swayed beneath her weight. The bottom was wet and slippery. Boxes and plastic containers were stored everywhere, and she stumbled over them.

“Here,
cara.
” Ramón handed her her shoes. “They’re bringing you a life jacket.”

She sat down with her shoes in her lap. The bottom of her jeans soaked through immediately. Her heart lumbered much more slowly than she’d have expected in a major crisis.

Below the boat, the fog pumped and bellowed. The ocean made wet, slurping noises, as if it were thirsty.

Blackness
.

Thirst
.

Donna whirled around. “Who the hell keeps saying that?”

“
Cómo
?” Ramón asked. “
Sí, mi hermosa. Sí, como es.
” Donna understood enough Spanish to know he wasn’t speaking to her. The boat swayed, and white, bony fingers lunged for her.

“Help, help!” Ruth cried. “I’m falling.”

Donna squatted forward and took Ruth’s wrists. The woman’s face was an oval, nothing more. “You’re okay. Just sit down.”

“There are all kinds of things everywhere!” Her hands jerked in Donna’s grasp. “I have to get back out!”

“Now, Ruth, just sit down,” Donna said firmly. “Sit.” She
reached for Ruth’s forearm and steadied her down beside her on the bench.

Ruth hopped back up. “It’s wet!”

“It’s from the fog. It’s all right.”

“Matt is coming now.” There was a whimpering. Ramón said, “Your papa is coming, too. There, you see? He won’t let go of you.”

More swaying. Matt got in, followed by John, and they huddled together soundlessly. Donna could hardly make out their shapes in the fog. God in heaven, how was anybody going to find them?

“Hey, dude,” she said to Matt. “Gimme five.”

Matt whimpered.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. Think about what you can tell your friends back home!”

“I don’t have any friends,” Matt replied, without a trace of self-pity.

“God, I did this. I did this,” John blurted. A thick, deep sob rolled out of him.

“Maintain, father,” Donna ordered him at the same time Ruth murmured, “There, there. There, there.”

“I never should have …” John trailed off.

“It’s going to be all right,” Donna insisted. She reached for her shoes and forced the right one on, balancing herself with her toes against the bottom. It curved sharply. A solid boat, she told herself. A damn fine solid boat.

The ocean sucked the fog into its mouth, spewed out salt spray. Quickly Donna put on her shoes, all the while thinking that she’d probably stand a better chance if she didn’t wear them; excess weight would only pull her down if they capsized.

The klaxon screamed, a shard of sound that sliced between her eyes and the bony ridge above them. Her ears vibrated. Ruth cried, “Why can’t they shut that damn thing off? Everyone knows!”

“It’s a distress call. For other ships,” Donna said. She had to repeat it twice before Ruth heard her.

Another stampede of footfalls, and then Ramón said, “I have the life jackets for Donna and the doctor. Put them on
immediately.” He spoke to someone, shouted a response, and said “Motherfucker” in Spanish. Prickles of alarm chittered up Donna’s arms and feet. What was he pissed off about? What was wrong?

“I am not getting in that thing.” Ah, the van Burens had arrived.

“
Señora
,” Ramón began.

“I can’t see, Daddy,” Matty said.

“Shh. It’s okay. It’s like Disneyland.” John’s voice faltered. Matt said nothing.

“Can you imagine what that little boat will do in the ocean? How long is it? Eight feet? We’ll capsize in ten minutes.”

“Darlin’, please.” Phil, with his gentle Southern drawl.

“No.”

“Elise, sweetheart, we must.”

“Shut up!” The sound of a smack. Jesus. She must have hit him. “Shut up, shut up!”

“Listen,
mi hermosa
,” Ramón said gently, “last time I was in my cabin, the water was up to my knees. There’s no way the pumps can work any faster. The cargo’s starting to shift. That’s more dangerous than the water we’re taking on.” As if to back him up, a scraping, screeching noise of metal on metal filled the air.

“We’re a cargo vessel. Those containers weigh tons,
guerra
. Tons. And when tons shift, the load is unbalanced. And when it’s unbalanced …” He took a deep breath. “It could slide sideways into the ocean and sink without a trace. Real fast.”

Elise said, “My cabin was bone dry.”

“That’s because we’re listing,” Ramón said. “Come on, Mrs. van Buren. Just get into the boat.”

“We’re going to sue—”

Donna stepped forward. “Get into the fucking boat. Right fucking now!” she shouted, stepping over feet and boxes. She slung one leg over the side of the boat and anchored her foot on the deck. Reaching out, she found a slender wrist beside Ramón’s ball of light and yanked.

“C’mon, c’mon, let’s hustle!” Donna said, practically dragging
Elise into the boat. “Phil, get your butt and your wife’s butt in here!”

“No! No!” Elise shouted, flailing at Donna. Donna made a fist and aimed, and connected hard with Elise’s cheek. The woman screamed, sagged, and collapsed into her husband’s arms. Shit. Donna hadn’t hit her
that
hard. And why wasn’t someone besides Ramón helping them, for Christ’s sake? Men were running everywhere, shouting orders, bellowing replies; the PA system crackled like a fire but the words it broadcast were indecipherable. If only someone would turn off all the damn extra noise, maybe the captain could make order of this chaos.

As if summoned by her thoughts, someone appeared next to Ramón. She saw the shadow in the flashlight. Phil and Elise sat numbly on the stern end of the boat. They were all facing each other, yet it was impossible to see anyone’s face clearly through the fog. Going to sea with a boatload of phantoms.

“Ramón, since you’re going first, Cap’n asked if you’d take Nemo.” The miserable
rawl
of a cat.

“Nemo,” Matt whispered.

“Sure thing,” Ramón said.

“I’ll hold her,” Donna offered, reaching for the shape in the fog.

“Okay.” Ramón carefully laid the cat in Donna’s arms. The pregnant creature was sopping wet, and she fought as Donna gripped her on her lap. Her belly was distended and knobby. She meowed unhappily as Donna scruffed her behind the ears.

“Just don’t have those kitties on the open sea,” Ramón cautioned. Catching himself, he said, “We’re in the shipping lanes. All the life rafts are equipped with distress beacons. Ours was activated when the boat slipped down the davits. I doubt we’ll spend more than a couple hours out there, if that.”

“Yes, of course,” Donna said as the cat yowled and fought to get away. She dug her claws into Donna’s upper thighs, “Shit!” Donna shouted, and held her tight. To her right, Matt
was scrabbling into his father’s lap. Poor darling. Poor baby. In a tiny boat on a stormy sea …

“Will you help me watch the cat?” she asked him through clenched teeth. “She’s going to be a mommy and she needs a lot of care.”

“She sleeps with me now,” Matt said. His fingers brushed hers as he petted the cat. “She knows me.”

Donna managed a smile. “That’s good. Then you can let her know nothing bad is going to happen.” And get her to stop shredding Donna’s legs.

Matt’s head moved. Donna bent down and kissed his cheek. His hand jerked. Then he stroked the cat, who calmed not in the least. Grimacing, Donna looked past him to John, who was clutching his stomach. Uh oh, seasick already.

“I don’t suppose there’s any Maalox with the rations?” he asked Ramón. “There are rations? And water?”

“Ahoy!” The voice of Captain Esposito boomed tinnily through the fog. “Are the passengers in their launch?”

“Aye, sir, just about. We’re missing the
chico
, Kevin.”

“We’re putting him on the next boat. Prepare to cast off.”

“But, sir …” There was surprise in his voice.

“Cast off, damn you! Put to sea!” The man’s voice rose shrilly. “Get them away!”

Donna half rose, lifting the cat with her. “Kevin! Kevin!”

“Sit down.” Ramón scrambled into the boat. “Everybody, sit down and stay down. We’re going.” He called, “We’re off, sir.”

Loud bangs hammered the hull as they flew alongside it. Cries inside the
Morris
became shrieks and screams. A loud hiss: oh, Jesus, steam. Donna shut her eyes, trying not to imagine scalded men.
Burning flesh
.

Drowning flesh.

Beside her, John murmured, “Holy Mary, Mother of God, blessed art Thou among women.”

A Catholic, she thought vaguely. And she thought he was Jewish.

In her mind she saw drowning men, their eyes goggly like fish as they fought and clawed to get up the ladders and away from the water. Spinning slowly in their orbits, like a floating boy, like the wheel of fortune.

The waves crashed against the hull of the lifeboat. Jesus, how far above the water were they? The passengers tensed like a bunch of rodeo cowboys leaping onto the backs of wild bulls.

“Hold on!” Ramón said. He pressed something else and a loud pop filled the boat.

The cat screamed and clawed Donna’s forearms. Donna clutched her hard, and the cat worked her furiously. Elise sat frozen with Phil’s arms around her. Ruth twisted in the boat, gripping on to the gunwale. Matt cowered against his father, and John’s voice rose—

“Pray for us now, pray for us—”

Donna conjured up a bizarre image of a Neptune Cowboy God, prodding the ocean’s flanks with his trident cattle prod, poke that baby, that monster, that sucker, that thrashing mother!—

—and then they hit the water.

They roller-coastered away from the
Morris
, mountain, valley, abyss, Mt. Everest. Matt screamed and screamed and screamed. The boat spun in a circle, around and around like a carnival ride. The cat guttered Donna’s arms as she rolled with the frenzy, gasping, “It’s okay, kitty. It’s okay, kitty. It’s okay.”

A wall of black and gray, inky and poisonous, earthquaked around them. With a rush of panic, Donna realized that though the
Morris
was five hundred feet long, she couldn’t see the hull, or the superstructure, or the hundreds of containers that rattled and roared like caged beasts.

Rub-a-dub-dub, they swirled around and around, shot up, down. They were drenched, screaming, praying. Irrationally, Donna focused all her attention on hanging on to the cat, who fought her every inch of the way. Up and down, roller-coaster city, up and down, almost too far down into the
trenches of the waves. The stern dipped underwater, scooping up cold sea and brittle kelp and throwing them into the boat.