The Calling (2 page)

He charged up the crest of a swell, the water breaking over his head, and popped out the wave’s backside. When a wave trough reached its lowest point, he pushed himself to the side of the boat. As soon as the wave crested, he grabbed the railing and hoisted himself aboard. Inch by inch, he trudged toward the secured hatch, sure that if anyone were alive, they’d be hunkered down inside the cabin.

With one eye on the splintered mast, he unlatched the door and descended the steps into the living quarters. A trembling wide-eyed boy, about nine, stood by the galley. An inch of water sloshed at the boy’s feet, pitching back and forth to the sway of the boat. His blond hair was soaked, and the wet T-shirt under his life vest clung to his small frame.

Justin breathed a sigh of relief that the kid was okay. “I’m with the Coast Guard, son.” He scanned the room and spotted a man lying on the floor. He appeared to be unconscious, with blood oozing from a gash on his forehead.

“Your dad?” Justin asked.

“Yes, sir,” the boy said in a shaky voice.

Justin bit down on the fury threatening to choke him. What kind of father would risk their child’s life in weather like this? He strode to the man’s side and probed his neck for a heartbeat. “What’s his name?”

“Adam.”

The rocking of the boat made finding a pulse impossible. As he’d been trained to do, he lifted the man’s life vest, formed a fist, and rubbed the father’s sternum with his knuckles. If he was alive, the pain would snap him awake.

The man groaned, though his eyes didn’t open.

He glanced at the son. “Is it just the two of you?” The boy nodded stiffly. Justin tightened down the man’s life vest. “I’m gonna get you and your dad out of here, but I need you to do everything I tell you. Okay?”

The boy swallowed hard and nodded again.

“What’s your name, son?”

“Caleb.”

Justin forced a smile and tilted his head toward the hatch. “Let’s climb on deck.”

Before the kid could take a step, the boat dropped like a jumbo jet in turbulence. Justin’s stomach lurched.
Oh, hell
. They’d hit the bottom of a monstrous trough, and that meant only one thing—a mountain of a wave was bearing down on them.

Justin pointed to the galley table secured to the floor with thick bolts. “Caleb, grab the pedestal. Now!”

The boy obeyed, scrambling under the kitchen table. Justin wrapped an arm around the father’s waist, and with his adrenaline pumping, he dragged the man toward Caleb. Before he could dive under the table and secure himself and Adam, the wave hit.

Justin grabbed the mast that spanned from floor to ceiling. He pressed Adam’s body against the beam, his arms encircling the man and clasping the pole. The boat leaned hard, but he managed to stay steady.

The wave eased up.
Not so bad
, Justin thought. Then the next wave hit. The boat tilted farther and farther. Justin’s muscles strained against the force of gravity and the unconscious man’s weight. Just when he was sure his muscles would rip from one more second of exertion, the sailboat flipped.

Water splashed against the ceiling. Equipment, cups, and cooking utensils bashed into the cabinets and walls. The clattering of wood on wood and pinging of metal on metal filled the small space. Trapped upside down, Justin gritted his teeth.

He concentrated on holding Adam, while his tendons struggled against a force so great he waited for them to snap one by one. His breaths came hard and fast. He looked up and saw the boy, eyes squeezed tightly closed, clutching the pedestal with white knuckles. The kid’s face was blanched, and beads of sweat pooled in the creases of his forehead. Christ, no kid should have wrinkles that deep.

Screw Ty and his camera. It was time to end this.

His body began to hum with energy, a pulsing, throbbing extension of himself that permeated the vessel. As the force around him grew, Justin closed his eyes and filled his mind with an image of still, glassy water. He took deep, measured breaths and fully concentrated, the boy, the pain, the boat, all disappearing. Only a vast expanse of motionless sea spread out before him.

From his inner core, tendrils of energy traveled through the hull toward the rolling ocean. Like fingers, the power caressed the sea, stroking it, coaxing it to calm. The thrashing waves pushed on his force, trying to break his hold on the water, but he held firm, refusing to be subjugated.

He forced his will on the swells. The water obeyed.

The vessel shuddered. The keel slammed into his energy and submerged beneath the ocean. With a heavy moan, the sailboat righted itself. His consciousness suspended, Justin was blind to what was happening in the cabin. His mind, his senses, his being, belonged to the sea.

After the last swell tested his authority, and the ocean around the boat completely stilled, he opened his eyes. The boy’s raspy breathing filled the cabin.

“Head out, son.”

The boy nodded, scurried out from under the table, and clambered up the steps to the deck. Justin followed, dragging the unconscious man to the ladder. He slung Adam onto his back, held the man’s arms around his neck with one hand, and climbed with the other.

His breaths came in labored gasps by the time he reached the top of the ladder. When he hauled himself onto the deck, the real horror of the scene he’d created surrounded him. Waves crashed all around them, yet the sailboat sat in a still island of calm water extending in a twenty-foot radius. It looked like a damn miracle of God, and he’d done it, in broad daylight, with three crewmembers staring down on him.

Time to cut the show
.

He called back his energy, slowly, feeling the rise and fall of the waves as they crept closer. Then, like ripping off a Band-Aid, he let the full storm bear down on them. It was all or nothing with his power, no in-between.

“Off the boat, kid!” he yelled over the roar of the wind.

A twenty-foot wave rocked the boat, pitching it violently from side to side. The kid stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“Trust me. The water’s better than this place. We’re coming in after you.”

Caleb tightened the straps on his life vest, then nodded. Like a brave soldier, he hoisted himself over the railing and plunged into the sea.

Justin stepped toward the railing to follow when a massive wave crashed against the port side. The mast barreled toward him, the long timber flying through the air. The full force of the beam slammed him in the gut. The air whooshed from his lungs. A rib cracked. His insides burned like a gasoline-fueled inferno.

He landed on the deck with Adam beneath him.
Holy Hell
! He couldn’t breathe.

Justin squeezed his eyes shut.
Breathe, damn it.
A searing pain clenched his gut. Before full panic could set in, a powerful wave swept over him, twisting and thrashing his limbs. The surge forced him and the other man over the railing and into the churning sea.

Immediately, Justin calmed while surfacing, the soothing force of the ocean easing the inferno in his chest. His lungs expanded, filling with air, and though his ribs still ached, the helplessness he’d felt on the boat disappeared.

With his body under control again, he dove under a wave. When he popped out the backside, he spotted the boy and his father floating to his left. Caleb had one arm wrapped around his dad, keeping the man’s head above the waves.

Ignoring the remnants of pain stabbing at his lungs, Justin swam toward them. Ty was already lowering the bucket into the water ten feet away.

“Can you load yourself?” Justin asked Caleb, as he crossed one arm over Adam’s shoulder and down his chest.

The boy clutched his father tighter. “What about my dad?”

“I’ve got him, son. Get to the bucket.”

Caleb let go, and a wave slapped him in the face. He gasped for breath.

Justin reached out with his free arm and steadied the boy. “If I have to load you, your father could take on a lungful of water,” he yelled over the thunder of the sea and the beating blades of the helicopter. Seeming to understand, the boy swam toward the rescue basket.

Justin placed the dad into a cross-chest carry, supporting the man’s back with his body. He was safer out of Adam’s eyesight, because if the man became conscious during the rescue, he’d probably panic and try to use Justin as a buoy, potentially drowning both of them. And Justin didn’t want to knock the man out to save him.

With the father secured, Justin swam toward the basket. Caleb was already inside, his back resting against the iron grate.

Justin gave Ty the thumbs-up signal, and the basket ascended to the helicopter. He treaded water while waiting for Ty to unload the kid. As soon as the bucket hit the water again, Justin loaded up the dad and gave another thumbs up. He watched while the man was hoisted into the air and onto the helicopter, then sighed in relief when it was his turn. Even though he knew the inferno in his chest would resume as soon as he left the water, he was ready to leave the raging sea behind. He attached the cable to his hoist and moaned when the full weight of his body rested on the straps digging into his back.

Once inside, he fell to his knees on the cabin floor and watched Ty stabilize Adam. He wanted to help, but every inch of him burned too much to move.

“Straight to the doc,” Lieutenant Dale said.

Justin nodded, then grabbed a handlebar for leverage, lifted himself off the floor, and settled into a seat. He usually put up a stink over visiting medical, but not today. Besides, they’d all seen the mast knock the crap out of him. He ran his hands down his face and stifled a groan. They’d seen more than a piece of wood clobber him; they’d witnessed his abilities.

Ty finished securing the boy’s father and sat down next to Justin. “I told you to watch the mast.”

“I had an unconscious guy on my back and a twenty foot wave hovering over me.” He snorted. “Don’t tell me how to do my job.”

“You’re a reckless son of a bitch. You need to keep your eyes open.”

Even over the pain of his smoldering ribs, he felt his body tense. “Did you take any pictures?”

“I just want to know why the water miraculously calmed when the ship rolled.”

“Pictures or not?”

“Not.”

Justin relaxed. For another day, he wouldn’t be deemed the freak of the Coast Guard.

“Pact with the devil?” Ty asked.

“Something like that.” Only he’d had no choice in the matter. He’d been born into this pact. With a god.

* * *

Mandy’s heart hammered against her ribs as she stepped inside the bathroom stall and locked the door. With restless fingers, she pulled off her top and hung the pink garment on the hook by its collar. Her fingertips fumbled over her bra clasp twice before she finally unlatched it, slipped it off, and hung the strap over her shirt, the lavender lace cups dangling daintily next to her nurse’s top.

She stifled a disgusted groan. Stripping in a bathroom stall during her lunch break was ridiculous, but she’d never be able to focus on her patients with worry eating at her mind. After a steadying breath, she lifted her arm high over her head and massaged her right breast.

The bathroom door clinked as it opened. She froze. The sound of a woman singing in Spanish echoed off the tile walls. Even though a metal door separated her from the unwanted visitor, she felt as if she were standing naked on a New York sidewalk during rush hour. She wrapped her arms around her chest and peeked through the tiny slit between the stall and the door. A blur of purple fabric danced next to the sinks, the cleaning lady wiping up droplets of water and splatters of soap.

Mandy gnawed on her bottom lip. She should put her clothes back on and walk out, but every second she delayed the exam, her stomach knotted tighter. If she didn’t do it now, she’d just have to come back and finish later. Besides, Lori was waiting for her in the hospital cafeteria and would come looking for her if she took too long.

She sat on the toilet and lifted her arm over her head again. The tips of her fingers traced a path around her nipple, searching for the lump she’d felt that morning. She poked and prodded until she found the dense mass, a ball the size of her pinky nail and the texture of a frozen pea. She massaged it as if she could force it to crumble into oblivion, but it didn’t disappear.

“Thursday,” she whispered.

In two days, she had a mammogram scheduled, but that seemed like an eternity given the pebble of flesh beneath her fingers. She thought about calling and demanding an earlier appointment, but she’d done that before and her suspicious lump had turned out to be nothing.

She was probably just being paranoid, but as she ran her finger across the glossy pink scar that bisected her left breast, she wasn’t so sure. A year ago, cancer had almost stolen her life. Every day since her diagnosis, she’d been terrified it would come back and finish her off. The lump only added fuel to her panic.

“Whatcha doin’?” Lori’s voice carried over the stall.

Mandy shrieked and covered her breasts, mashing her palms to her chest. She peered up, her mouth agape.