Seaswept (Seabound Chronicles Book 2) (15 page)

Chapter 19—The
Calderon Method

“
Have
you found out
anything about the Island, Neal?”

Esther twisted the
antenna on her satellite phone, still afraid the bridge would pick up the
signal somehow. Footsteps tapped through the corridor outside her cabin, making
her heartbeat quicken, but the promenade beyond the porthole was clear. She
stuck her ear closer to the speaker to catch Neal’s voice through the static.

“I’ve got evidence
of a few rock formations in your sector,” he said, “but I have no way of
knowing if they’re actually where the satellite puts them. Rust! This is so
frustrating.”

“Thanks for
trying,” Esther said. “Things are getting tense around here. We’ve been
searching the same patch of sea for almost a week. We’re getting low on fuel.”

Esther had been
checking in with Neal daily since the fight with the Calderon ship. He was
trying to plot their progress as they zigzagged around a relatively small area.

The Calderon
captive had provided approximate coordinates, but the Harvesters still hadn’t
found Calderon Island yet. Everyone on board the
Terra Firma
was getting frustrated, Esther included. Time might
have run out for David long ago. She hated waiting, not knowing.

“They still don’t
know you’re the inventor, do they?” Neal asked.

“Shh. Let’s not
shout about it.” Esther scrubbed at a drop of grease that had gotten into her
trousers. “How’s my dad doing?”

“Worried. Angry.
You know.”

Esther closed her
eyes, imagining her father doing push-ups in their cabin or scribbling in the
margins of one of his books. “I’ve given him a lot of excitement in the last
few months,” she said.

“Yeah, well.” Neal
breathed into the receiver. “He’s still good in a crisis. Judith is pissed. Cally
too.”

“Story of my life.
Anyway, I’ll keep you updated, as always.”

“Be careful, Es.
Over and out.”

Esther pulled the
antenna back in from the porthole, put the clunky device into her bag, and
pushed the bag under her bunk. She’d worked a longer shift than usual that
morning. Jacques had been pulling her aside for more intricate projects lately.
She was learning a lot, but she couldn’t shake the sense that he was testing
her.

She pulled down
the neck of her shirt to check the bruise on the back of her shoulder. The
purple shades had disappeared entirely and the bruise was now yellow green. It
looked like an algae bloom growing under her skin. Satisfied that it was
healing well, she lay back on the thin mattress and stuck her boots over the
end of the bunk, settling in for a nap.

Suddenly, a shock
wave rippled through the ship, tumbling her out of bed. She landed on her hands
and knees with a sharp jolt.

A volley of shouts
echoed through the corridor.

“We got company!”

“All hands on
deck!”

“We found the
salt-loving bastards!”

Esther picked
herself up off the floor as the door flung open. It was Zoe.

“We’re in for a
big one this time, Esther. Let’s move!”

She reached her
bunk in two long strides and began extracting weapons from their various hiding
places.

“What’s
happening?”

“Met a patrol of
some kind,” Zoe said. “Calderon boys. The Island must be close.”

“Finally.”

Esther grabbed her
raincoat and tool belt, slung her storm goggles around her neck, and followed
Zoe back out the door.

“I was starting to
think we’d be sailing in circles for the rest of our lives,” Zoe said.

Their steps rang
in the metal corridor. Shouts echoed around the ship. Esther felt a thrill of
excitement and fear.

“We were going to
run out of fuel soon,” she said, jogging to keep up with Zoe’s long strides. “I
thought they were going to give up.”

“That wouldn’t
happen if you’d install your magical energy system,” Zoe called over her
shoulder.

“Shut up!” Esther
hissed.

But it was too
late. Luke stepped out of the cabin directly in front of them. They stared at
each other. There was no pretending that he hadn’t heard.

“Seriously,
Esther? Your system?”

He seemed more
confused than angry. He stood very still as people pushed past them in the
corridor.

Their secret was
blown.
Shit!

“You’ve got to
keep this quiet, Luke,” Esther pleaded. Thankfully, no one else seemed to have
heard. They could trust Luke—she hoped. “Please?”

“What’s all this
been about then?” he asked.

Before Esther
could answer, the ship lurched, shouts ricocheting into the corridor.

“We got to get up
there,” Zoe said.

Luke didn’t
respond. Their lives and David’s balanced in his hands.

“Please keep it
quiet for now,” Esther begged. “We’ll explain later.”

Luke raised his
eyebrows. “All right. We’ll talk later.”

He pushed past
them, heading for the armory.

Esther and Zoe
exchanged worried looks. They couldn’t do anything about it now. They would
just have to trust Luke to guard their secret.

They darted onto
the deck and into pandemonium. Thick fog cloaked the sea. It was midday, but
the light was choked and strained. It was impossible to see more than a few
feet beyond the railing.

The Harvesters
darted around, weapons in their hands and fear on their faces. Some flailed
like decapitated eels, getting in each other’s way as they struggled with
safety locks and slings. A young man tripped in front of Esther, shouting as
his long limbs sprawled across the slick deck. Others moved with more purpose,
checking their weapons and climbing up the turrets and into the fog. They had
survived their first battle, and their manic energy had dissipated over the
past week. Still, they held their guns in tense hands.

This time the
situation was more serious.

“There are two of
them!” someone shouted.

“Where?”

“I can’t see
anything.”

Suddenly bullets
ripped through the cloud bank, seeming to come from all directions. A Harvester
screamed in the mist.

“Get that gun
pointed this way!”

“Incoming!”

“Salty rusting
sinking fuck!”

The big guns swung
back and forth, the Harvesters firing blindly. Boots pounded on the decks.

Wind swirled the
fog, briefly revealing Patrick in the prow, spraying bullets into the soupy
air. Zoe cursed and started toward him.

“I’m going to get
a few of these morons organized. Send Luke if you see him.”

“Good,” Esther
said. “I’ll—”

“You! Mechanic!”
the first mate hollered at Esther. She stood on an upper turret, partially
exposed to the gunfire, silhouetted against the fog. “The mount on this gun’s
jammed.”

“Go ahead,” Zoe
said, and ran to stop Patrick from firing aimlessly.

Esther grabbed the
ladder and swung up beside the first mate. “I got it,” she said.

She pulled out her
wrench and went to work. The gun stand was supposed to swivel 360 degrees, but
a chunk of hard rust had lodged in the mount. Esther hacked at it as a shell
hit the sea nearby. Water cascaded over them, leaving her hands slippery.

The fog took on a
life of its own, oozing around them and transforming the first mate into an
otherworldly creature. Someone screamed, a long, gurgling sound only partially
deadened by the fog.

“Hurry up,
mechanic,” the first mate said through gritted teeth.

“Almost there.”

Esther switched
her angle so that the barrel rested above her shoulder and pounded the wrench
again. She felt much calmer fixing this gun than she had holding one in the
last battle.

“At least we found
the bastards,” the mate said. “They’re defending something. It’s gotta be the
Island this time.”

The chunk of rust
shot free of the gun mount, and Esther ducked as the mate swung it around to
point at the attackers.

The fog broke for
a moment, revealing the two enemy ships. One was a midsize trawler outfitted
with a row of machine guns. The other was a small warship, not unlike the
Lucinda
. Neither one would be a match
for the
Terra Firma
alone, but they
attacked from two sides, and the Harvesters lacked the experience to counter
them effectively.

The two ships
sailed close to the
Terra
, sending
volleys across its deck. The first mate unloaded the machine gun over Esther’s
shoulder. Esther jammed her hands against her ears and stayed low.

Suddenly, the two
ships broke away and dashed back into the thickest fog. All gunfire ceased. It
was impossible to tell which way they had gone. This was the Calderon Group’s
famed assault strategy: dart in and bite like silver pike, then retreat.

“They know what
they’re doing,” Esther said.

She stood and
scanned the fog bank. The men of the
Terra
Firma
watched the mists, wide-eyed, waiting for the next assault. For a
long moment it didn’t come.

The fear was
palpable. Esther held her breath.

“They’re behind
us!” someone shouted.

The two ships
split through the clouds resting on the surface of the water behind the
Terra
. Gunfire screeched across the
deck. The crew ran to the stern to meet the assault. A figure went down beneath
Esther’s turret, but in the commotion she couldn’t tell who it was.

“Get down!”

The first mate
grabbed Esther’s shoulder and wrenched her to the floor as a shell ripped past
them, exploding on the upper deckhouse. Men screamed and metal tore like paper.

Sweat dripped from
Esther’s forehead to the slick floor of the turret.

“Thanks,” Esther
said.

“Go down there,
where you can be more useful.”

The first mate
stood and let loose another burst from the big machine gun.

Esther leapt down
to the main deck as shots hammered her eardrums, taking care not to step on the
fallen crewman. She checked his pulse, but the holes ripped through his body
were evidence enough. She picked up his machine gun and let him lie where he
fell.

She made her way
to the stern in a crouch, the gun propped inexpertly against her arm. As she
reached a group huddled behind the base of the harvesting crane, the gunfire
ceased. The Calderon ships melted into the mists again.

“Where they coming
from next?” one of the men said.

“Eat salt if I
know,” answered another.
      

Esther and her
small group rounded the
Terra
each
time the Calderon ships attacked from a new side. She couldn’t see any of her
friends. She fired, the gun jerking in her hands, not sure whether or not her
shots found their marks. Sometimes the ships came together; sometimes they
sailed in from opposite sides. There was no pattern or rhyme to their
movements, yet they acted perfectly in sync. With each assault, Harvesters
fell. The groans of injured men multiplied across the ship.

Esther was
exhausted, but each barrage pumped her up with more adrenaline, until her limbs
were shuddering. Sweat and saltwater drenched her clothes. Her fingers slipped
on the trigger of her weapon. The attack lasted about thirty minutes but it
felt like days.

Finally, the fog
began to lift, burned away in the afternoon sunlight. As the mist dissipated,
the Calderon attackers lost some of their advantage. Their outlines remained
clear, even when they pulled away. After a final barrage of shots, they
disappeared, sailing in opposite directions. The
Terra Firma
remained afloat.

Esther’s group
ended up back near the first mate’s turret. She climbed down the ladder on
unsteady legs and joined them. Esther felt a flash of relief that Liana had
survived. The woman had saved her life. She wasn’t sure she liked that feeling
of kinship. She had seen what this woman was capable of. Liana nodded at
Esther, then looked away sharply.

They scanned the
sea for any sign of their attackers but couldn’t see where the ships had gone.
Then a break in the clouds revealed a spire of rock in the distance.

The Island.

It was tall and
ominous, sitting on the horizon like the jagged edge of a conch shell.
Something metallic shone where stone met sea, perhaps the hull of a ship,
perhaps a structure.

“Looks
inhospitable,” Liana said.

“Think they’ll
come after us again?” Esther asked.

“I doubt anyone’s
come this close to their little hideout before, Esther. They’re attackers, not
defenders. Maybe they don’t know what to do.”

“Like us?” Esther
said.

Liana gave her a
hard look, then nodded. “They’ll regroup and attack with more force next time,
unless we hit them soon.”