The Ocean Dark

46

Dwyer felt like a cornered animal, tensed to bolt but with nowhere to run. Minutes had passed since his run up from belowdecks to the wheelhouse — all those goddamn stairs — and he should have recovered by now, but his chest rose and fell and his breath came too fast, and he knew it wasn’t about the exertion at all.

Miguel and Suarez were talking in quick, clipped tones, both of them just as tense as Dwyer felt. They looked like boxers waiting for the bell.

“Think,” Miguel said, staring at Suarez like he expected the guy to do a magic trick. “Come up with something. We can’t just leave them out there.”

“I’m thinking,” Suarez said. Another time he might’ve taken offense at Miguel’s tone — Dwyer had seen it happen before — but now he was focused. “The only thing we’ve got that can get to them is more lifeboats, and you saw that one go down. We send anyone else out there, the same thing could happen.”

Miguel rested his hands on the wheel, stared out at the water. “Shit, shit, shit.” He spun and strode over to the door, then stared out at the island, where his brother and the other four crew members were busy doing something on the beach. “What does that? Goddamn sharks don’t flip boats. Maybe an alligator would drag somebody down from below like that, but we’re in the Caribbean, not the fuckin’ Everglades. And the boat’s wrecked now. Whatever flipped it — and killed those guys — trashed the boat, too. What does that?”

Silence engulfed the three men in the wheelhouse.

Dwyer cleared his throat. “There’s only one thing we can do.”

Miguel and Suarez pivoted to look at him.

“What?” Suarez asked.

Dwyer fixed Miguel with a hard look. “We get our asses out of here. We fire up the engines and get on our way.”

Miguel looked more disgusted than angry. “Yeah, that’s helpful. You think I’m going to leave my brother out there?”

Dwyer gazed out at the island, pressed his forehead against the glass, and took a breath.

“The FBI are on our asses. They could show up at any time. We can’t send anybody else to the island without risking their lives, too. And whatever’s in the water, it’s hammering at our hull. I thought maybe it was just stupid, but now I wonder if maybe it — or they — think they can actually get through. So I think you have two choices, Miguel. You can get us all out of here, save the lives you can, or you can keep us here while you watch your brother die trying to get back to the ship, and risk the rest of our lives in the bargain.”

He heard Miguel coming for him, but didn’t turn in time. Miguel’s fist slammed into his temple, and as Miguel tried to follow up with another blow, Dwyer stumbled backward then sprawled on the floor. He looked up in time to see Miguel drawing the gun he carried holstered at the small of his back.

“You listen to me, you Irish prick,” Miguel snarled, upper lip trembling. “My brother’s worth a hundred of you. I’m not leaving here without him, and if I do decide to send another lifeboat out there, you’ll be its goddamn captain.”

Dwyer didn’t try to get up. He didn’t want to set Miguel off. Instead he glanced at Suarez, who seemed contemplative as ever, just taking it all in.

“Talk to him, Suarez.”

Suarez only shook his head.

“No?” Dwyer said. “You want to shoot me? Go on and do it, then. Better a bullet than dying the way those poor bastards did.”

Miguel gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring. For a second, Dwyer thought he would actually pull the trigger, but then he swore under his breath and lowered the pistol.

“You want to get out of here,” Miguel said, staring down at Dwyer, “and I’m not leaving without Gabe. So I guess you better start figuring out how we can both get what we want.”

Dwyer wanted to throw him through the windshield. Instead he held up his hands to make sure Miguel knew he wasn’t about to try anything stupid, and climbed back to his feet.

“You’re the man with the gun,” he said. “All right. I’m goin’ to assume Captain Rio isn’t going to just sit around out there. He’ll make a try, won’t he?”

Miguel frowned. “He’s not stupid. Why would he do that instead of waiting for us to figure out a way to get to him?”

Suarez slid his hands into his pockets. Somehow, he managed to look relaxed. “No, Dwyer’s right. The captain’s got a lot of guns. He’ll try to get back to the Antoinette as soon as possible.”

“I don’t get it,” Miguel said. “He should just—”

“There should be other survivors,” Dwyer explained. “From the Mariposa, or one of those other tubs, yeah? But there aren’t. Which tells us that those things in the water don’t always stay in the water.”

Suarez went to the wheel. “First things first then. We get this ship as close to shore as we can without running aground.”

Dwyer watched as this new information filtered into Miguel’s mind, and new fear blossomed behind his eyes. If the man hadn’t knocked him on his ass and then held a gun on him a minute ago, Dwyer might even have felt bad for him.

“Yeah,” Miguel said to Suarez. “Do it.”

Then he holstered his gun and went to grab the radio, probably for another conversation with his brother. As he picked it up, the door swung open, and all three of them turned to look.

Josh stepped into the wheelhouse, gun in hand.

“Fuck,” Miguel snapped, drawing his own weapon again.

The chief mate and the FBI man faced off across the wheelhouse, pistols aimed. As they did, Angie followed Josh through the door, her eyes haunted by guilt and terror.

Dwyer stared at her. “You treacherous bitch.”

She started to lower her eyes, then straightened up, raising her chin, meeting his glare with one of her own.

Josh backed into a corner where he could cover them all at once, but his focus remained on Miguel, who had the only other gun in the wheelhouse.

“Your timing sucks,” Miguel told him. “What now?”

“I think we need to talk.”

Dwyer glanced out the window, toward the island, and his eyes widened. Captain Rio had gotten the others onto the surviving lifeboat and they were pushing off from shore.

“Sorry to break it to you, guys,” he said, “but it may be too late for talking.”