Burnt Sea: A Seabound Prequel (Seabound Chronicles Book 0) (17 page)

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 brother 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.