The Graduation (18 page)

“I don’t really want to talk to him anyway,” he said. “It’s you I want to talk to. Do you want to talk, Polly?”

“About what?” she asked. Her wrist appeared to be hurting her. She stopped supporting the barrel of the gun with her right hand and hugged the cut to her side. The red light continued to flash above her head like an unholy halo. The smell of smoke kept getting stronger. Jessica decided to circle to the right, toward Maria’s side of the room.

“Alice,” Michael said, taking another step toward her.

“No,” Polly pleaded. “Stop there. He pushed… He told me—I’ll have to shoot you!”

“I don’t think so,” Michael said, ignoring her order to halt.

“But you don’t understand,” she cried, pulling back on the trigger with her left index finger. “You must stay here!”

“All right, Polly,” Michael said, stopping less than a yard from the tip of the shotgun. “Whatever you want.”

What followed next happened quickly and was confused. Jessica had closed to within approximately six feet of Polly’s left side. When Michael paused and began to reassure Polly everything was all right, Jessica took that as a signal that he was about to try for the gun. Since he had to cover three feet in the time Polly had to squeeze her finger a fraction of an inch, Jessica did not believe he would survive such an attempt. She decided to make a dive for the gun.

Jessica had barely begun to move when Polly swung the gun toward her face. The twin holes at the end of the double barrels were wide and black—very frightening. Jessica froze. Then Michael made a try for the gun. His heroic attempt was also stopped short. Polly was simply too quick for the two of them. She snapped the gun again on Michael, then onto Jessica, back and forth, holding them both at bay.

Then something incredible happened.

Jessica did not see Maria stand from her wheelchair. Maria was just there, up on her two feet, at Polly’s side, forcing the gun down. Unfortunately, whatever magic had suddenly given the small girl the ability to walk had not given her an extra dose of strength. Polly threw her off easily. Maria hit the side of her wheelchair, letting out a cry and falling onto her side.

But by then Michael had reached Polly.

He probably could have gotten the gun from Polly quicker if he hadn’t been so overly concerned with where it was pointed while he wrestled with her. It was good he took his time. Whether Polly did so intentionally or accidentally, the trigger was pulled.

The shot hit the side of the tall cabinet, ripping through the metal. Jessica thought she screamed. Maybe the whole room did. Except for Michael. He was in control. He had the gun in one hand, Polly’s bloody wrist in the other. Jessica noticed for the first time that the shotgun was caked with dried mud.

“Now you stop,” he said.

“I can’t,” Polly moaned, nevertheless collapsing into him as if he had just come to her rescue. Michael tossed the gun to Bubba and wrapped his arm around Polly.

“Let’s get out of here,” he called.

“You can walk!” Nick exclaimed, helping Maria up.

“Mike, there’s something I’ve got to tell you,” Bubba said. “Later,” Michael called, spinning the wheel on the door.

“I
can
walk,” Maria said calmly as Nick hoisted her into his arms on the off chance that her reclaimed legs might disappear.

“Did that goddamn Clark light the goddamn ship on fire or what?” Sara yelled over the din as once again they pressed toward the door.

“No!” Bubba shouted.

Everybody stopped. Bubba never shouted. “What is it?” Michael demanded. Before Bubba could respond, the heavy metal door swung open. It was Kats, grinning the full length of his greasy mustache. He stepped into the room as if he were captain of the ship.

“Are the kids all right?” he asked, pulling the door closed at his back.

Had he been expecting a royal reception, Kats was in for a big disappointment. Michael leaped to a quick conclusion. “You bastard,” he swore, throwing Polly to Jessica and drawing back his fist. “What have you started?”

“Hey, Mike, it was only a prank,” Bubba said, jumping in front of Kats, the dirty shotgun still in his hands. “Kats just let off a few smoke bombs to scare everybody into the lifeboats. There’s no fire. The ship isn’t sinking. There’s nothing to get shook about.”

“We have to stay,” Polly moaned softly in Jessica’s arms.

“Why?” she asked, repeating Michael’s question. Polly’s head sagged back on Jessica’s shoulder. She looked up at Jessica with eyes both sad and angry.

“You talked me into it.”

“Into what?” There was a hard lump inside Polly’s jacket. Jessica wondered what it could be. It didn’t feel like a gun. Polly’s gaze slipped past Jessica to the cabinet where she had gotten the shotgun.

“Go look, Jessie,” she said. “You’ll see, it’s dark in there, like the tunnel we got lost in when we were small.”

The shotgun was in safe hands. The fire apparently didn’t exist. Yet the fears of the whole night suddenly coalesced above Jessica and fell over her in a smothering wave. Polly’s gaze had been moving to the cabinet since they had come down to this wretched room. Had Polly been pointing to something worse than a hidden weapon?

Jessica pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and handed Polly over to Russ, telling him to bind her wrist. Sara quickly moved to help. Everybody seemed to be talking at once. The alarm continued to blare. Jessica hardly noticed. The tall gray cabinet, its side ripped and twisted from the blast of the shotgun, held her attention. She stepped toward it.

The world exploded in her face.

Orange fire. Black water. And a naked fist of thunder. Time could have come to the Bible’s cataclysmic end. Except there came pain—terrible pain.

Since she was closest to the cabinet, the shock wave hit Jessica the hardest. Her eyes had no chance to absorb the blinding flash when she was literally swept off her feet and thrown backward. Her moment in the air existed in her mind all out of proportion to reality. It lasted forever, and yet it remained incomprehensible to her. She couldn’t fly.
Haven
didn’t carry nuclear warheads. What was going on?

Then she hit the far wall, and the agony almost consumed her. It pulsed throughout her body, shrieked inside her right arm. A long thick pipe had whipped loose from the ceiling and pinned her to the wall.

Flames danced in short-lived fury and tried to claim the ceiling. But the blaze could not go down. The ocean was pouring in. Jessica tried to draw in a breath and gagged on fumes. Dark numbing water swam around her ankles and up her calves. Cries wailed in her ears. Everyone was trying to open the door again, and this time they were in a hell of a hurry.

Jessica could hardly see. She had lost her glasses. There was a lot of smoke and the blast had knocked out the overhead lights. Yet the red light above the door remained functional, throbbing like a maddened heartbeat in the closing darkness. The fire was going out already. The water was rising. A shadow stumbled against her, grabbing onto the wall for support.

“We have to get out of here,” Michael said, taking her left hand and giving it a tug. Jessica screamed.

“I’m stuck,” she gasped. Out the corner of her eye, she saw the group manage to force the door open against the pressure of the rising water. For a few seconds, the water around her knees dropped. Then something crashed outside the hull and it quickly rose again, faster than before. The cabinet was gone; a gaping hole into the underworld had taken its place. She realized then how close she was to dying.

Michael pulled himself past her and tugged on the pipe pinning her right arm to the wall. It didn’t budge at all, and yet the effort somehow shot the pain in her arm into the region of the unbearable. She teetered on the edge of blacking out. It was only the swelling current, and the horror of drowning beneath it, that kept her conscious. Michael called to the others.

“Jessie’s stuck. I need help.”

Several had already escaped out the door, if it could be called escape; the flood was sweeping away everything that stood in its path, and who knew where it was taking them. Jessica could not find Bill or Clair or Bubba. But Sara and Russ were in the corner to the right of the door, fighting to hold up what might have been an unconscious Polly, and Nick was still hanging on to Maria, trying not to go under. It was only The Rock who seemed to hear Michael. He splashed toward them. Michael pointed to the pipe.

“We’ve got to bend this back,” he said.

The Rock grabbed hold of the pipe with his thick hands and pulled with everything he had. The pipe creaked. Jessica screamed again. The blood must be squeezing back over her shattered bone. She knew it was broken; it felt like a meaty pancake beneath the hard metal. The Rock leaned his head close to her ear.

“Can you pull it out?” he shouted.

“No!”

“Can you try?”

“It hurts!”

“Mike,” Nick called, one arm wrapped around Maria, the other hugging another steel pipe that had fallen from the ceiling. “Can you get her loose?”

Maria must have taken in a lungful of salt water; she was coughing horribly. Michael looked to The Rock, and to Sara and Russ struggling to save Polly. “I don’t know!” he called back.

“Theodore?” Nick shouted.

Who in God’s name is Theodore?

“I’m working on it!” The Rock replied.

“Tell them to go,” Jessica said.

“Not yet,” Michael said, fighting to get around The Rock in order to grab the pipe from above. “Not till you’re free.”

“Go!” Jessica screamed at Nick and the others. “Get out!”

“Jessie!” Sara called, flailing in the river flowing through the door. Russ had finally gotten a handle on Polly; he had her swung over his back. He looked as if he could get her to safety, but he glanced over at Jessica before he left.

“Just go!” Jessica yelled. “I’m almost free.” Her brave lies amazed her. She had always thought brave people were not afraid. The water was now up to her waist.

Russ left with Polly and Sara. Nick got out with Maria a few seconds later. It was down to the three of them.
Haven
’s alarm cried on. It was a death cry. The floor lurched to the side. Jessica could not bring herself to tell The Rock and Michael to also flee. She almost wished Polly’s shotgun blast had caught her in the head. The thought of coming to the end choking beneath the sea was too much for her. She had to fight not to faint.

“We have to pull at the same time!” Michael said. He was to her right, his hands on the pipe above her head, while The Rock was directly in front of her, gripping the pipe inches below her trapped arm. The Rock had decided upon a strategy. He had his feet planted to either side of her waist; he would be able to use the strength in his legs to pull harder.

“Let’s do it!” The Rock shouted back. “One! Two! Three!”

They pulled. The pipe creaked again, and she screamed again. It made no sense—freezing on the outside like this while she burned on the inside. The water level passed her breasts, heading for her mouth.

“You must pull, too!” Michael yelled at her, probably not knowing he was asking her to pull her bones apart.

“I can’t,” she wept. “It hurts.”

He let go of the pipe and grabbed her chin. Through the pain, the smoke, and the haunting red light, she hardly recognized him. “Please, Jessie,” he said.

He was begging her. She couldn’t let him down. “I’ll try.”

Michael repositioned himself. They counted to three again. The Rock leaned back and howled as if he was on a football field. The pipe squealed. Jessica closed her eyes and prayed for it to end. She pulled.

My God.

The pain was not natural. It soared upward like a light beam fleeing the spectrum. Perhaps it momentarily yanked her soul out of the top of her head. She might have blacked out. She didn’t feel her arm snap free. The next thing she knew, she was bobbing loose, with Michael holding on to her. She opened her eyes.

“We’ll be all right,” he said.

“Honestly?” she asked.

They had outwitted the pipe none too soon. Even as they turned to leave—holding on to the wall to keep from being sucked down—the water level passed the top of the door. That was a problem. Not only did she not know how to swim, she did not know how to hold her breath underwater. She was really a pathetic girl to have to rescue. She stopped.

“What is it?” Michael asked behind her. While freeing her, The Rock had accidentally taken in a mouthful the wrong way; he was caught in the throes of a coughing fit.

“I’m afraid,” she said. Her one healthy arm was hardly able to hold on against the power of the current pouring through the submerged door. The ceiling was less than two feet from the tops of their heads and getting closer. The red light would go under next and then it would be pitch black. The Rock continued to choke. Michael spoke with amazing patience.

“There is nothing to be afraid of. This is a big ship. It will take a while to sink. Once out of here, we’ll be halfway home. Go on, just hold your breath, let go, and duck down. It might even be fun.”

“All right,” she said. But she didn’t move. Michael turned around to The Rock and patted him on the back as if he were a baby needing burping.

“You OK?” Michael asked.

The Rock nodded, although he was obviously far from OK. He had taken in a lot of water. She was killing them all. The Rock motioned for them to get going. Michael reached for her hand that was holding her in place.

“Michael,” she said anxiously.

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

“No. You go first.”

“Close your mouth, Jessie.”

“But—”

“Close your mouth.” He pulled her protesting fingers loose. She did close her mouth, but forgot to duck down. It didn’t make much difference. The current took hold of her and pulled her under. She was in a washing machine set to black and tumble. Water shot up her nose.
Nothing
could have been worse, not even burning at the stake. Panic consumed her reason. She was smothering! She had to take a breath! Not even the knowledge that she would drown if she did could stop her. She opened her mouth, tasting the salty cold, her bitter death. It was over. She couldn’t bear it. She started to suck in.

Then she burst to the surface riding a foaming wave toward the huge fuel tank.

“Eeh!” she screamed.

Michael had caught the same wave. He grabbed her uninjured arm, and the wall, preventing her from a nasty collision.

“The ladder’s around this room,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “We’re going to be fine.”

There were more red lights on in the hall. Fortunately they were not blinking, nor were they about to go under. The water level was about three feet. It was, however, a torrential three feet; it was hard to stand. Glancing back the way they had come, Jessica noticed an equal amount of water gushing from the room beyond the one that had held them prisoners. The blast must have torn through the wall and the hull.
Haven
’s crew was at a minimum. Those on duty must have raced to the top deck the instant the smoke bombs had gone off to help evacuate everyone; obviously, none of the crew had had a chance to return to the hold and seal off the flooding section. Michael was wrong. This ship was going under soon. The floor lurched again as they began to round the corner.

“I hate ocean cruises!” she complained.

“They’re usually not this bad,” Michael said philosophically.

Someone had forgotten to turn off the engines. The turbines were freezing up and were not happy about it. The grinding noise vibrated the insides of Jessica’s skull. It was as if a whale had swallowed them whole and then been harpooned.

“Up you go!” Michael yelled over the noise when they got to the ladder. Every other deck on the ship had stairs except this one. The pain in her arm had not gone away with the pipe. The ladder looked as insurmountable as Mount Everest.

“I’ll follow you!” she gasped, trying to hold up her right arm.”

“You can do it with one hand,” he insisted. I will be right behind you if you fall.”

The rungs were smooth and wet. Her foot slipped before she had gotten halfway up and she banged her nose. It was a good thing Michael had his hand on her butt.

The next deck was dry. But their pace didn’t improve.
Haven
had gone beyond lurching to shaking. Twice they stepped onto the companionway only to be thrown off. Both times Jessica landed on her broken arm. She could actually feel the bones grinding against each other. All around them, the lights went out, including the emergency lights. Tears poured over her face. She couldn’t bear to move another inch. In the black, Michael pulled her off the floor.

“Think of the story we’ll have to tell our grandchildren,” he said, trying to give her courage. She clung to him. She couldn’t talk. He dragged her back onto the stairs.

As Bubba might have said, the gods were finally kind. They escaped the darkness, and the lower decks. Stepping onto the top deck, tasting the fresh air, and watching her close friends preparing to launch a lifeboat, Jessica almost forgot her pain.

They almost forgot something else. They were all aboard and lowering the small boat off the davit and over the side when Michael suddenly leaped to his feet.

“The Rock!” he exclaimed. “He’s still aboard!”

They were approximately twenty feet beneath the top deck, bobbing against the hull. The fog had cleared somewhat, and there was a hint of dawn in the misty night, but the bow of the ship was still invisible. Working the ropes together, Russ and Nick looked up and shook their heads.

“We can’t pull this thing up with everybody on it,” Russ said.

“And we’re going to have to get clear soon or we’ll get sucked under,” Nick said.

Michael caught hold of one of the ropes, the side of his head plastered with blood. “I’ll climb back up. I can’t leave him.”

“When did you last see him?” Bubba asked, sitting beside Clair.

“In that room,” Michael said.

“You can’t go back down there,” Bubba said.

“I can do it,” Michael said confidently. Jessica grabbed his leg with her good arm.

“No!” she yelled, feeling instantly selfish. The Rock had, after all, saved her life.

“I’ll get him,” Nick said. But Maria grabbed him.

“It’s going to go under any second,” she said.

“I’ll get him,” Russ said, gripping the rope and preparing to hoist himself up. It was Sara’s turn to stop her man.

“The hell you will,” she said.

“I’ll save him,” Bubba said gallantly. Everyone stared at him. He waited for a moment without budging an inch, then turned to Clair. “Aren’t you going to stop me?”

“You’re not that dumb,” she replied between chattering teeth.

“Don’t look at me,” Kats told everybody.

“I’ll go,” Bill said, getting to his feet.

“If he got caught in that room, he’s dead,” Bubba protested.

“He’s my friend,” Bill said quietly.

“I’ll go with you,” Michael said, undoing Jessica’s hold on his leg. But Bill stopped him.

“I can do this alone,” Bill said.

“You might drown,” Michael said, looking him straight in the eye.

“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. Stay here, Mike, you can’t do everything.”

Michael held his eyes a moment longer, then nodded. Before Bill climbed up the rope, he leaned over and hugged Jessica.

“I’m sorry,” he said in her ear. She kissed his cheek

“I’m sorry, too,” she said. “Come back to us quick.”

Bill had strong arms. He was up the rope and over the rail in a few seconds. Nick and Russ continued to lower the lifeboat. They hit the water a moment later. The swells of an hour ago had vanished. Yet the ocean beside the ship was in turmoil, bubbling like a steaming pool above a geyser about to burst. Nick and Russ disengaged the ropes and shoved off.