Pacifica by Kristen Simmons

Author:Kristen Simmons
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

CHAPTER 18

ROSS SAT huddled beneath a tarp while the boat sliced through the low clouds, listening to Marin hum to herself. It wasn’t quite a song, but more like a one-sided, wordless conversation with her boat, or maybe even the sea itself. He caught whispers of it on the wind, and when he moved, and the tarp crinkled, she would abruptly stop and glance back, as if surprised he was still sitting there.

He couldn’t stop thinking of the Armament, and what had become of the ship. He imagined Captain Ingold and the other crewmen floating facedown in the water and fought off a chill that had nothing to do with the heavy, salted breeze.

He should have tried to do more. Something his father would have done. Tried to negotiate, or used the radio, maybe. Part of him felt compelled to call the mainland now and tell his dad what had happened, but when he asked for Marin’s radio he found that she had none.

His comm was gone. He had no way to contact his family.

Maybe it was for the better. He wasn’t sure what he’d say at this point anyway.

His thoughts slid from the captain’s suspicion to the steward’s words about the gyre and the special detail taking the prisoners. How many of them were innocent, like Adam? How many Shorelings thought Ross’s father was a criminal, like Marin had alluded? He felt like he was looking at a picture from behind a veil; a complete image existed, but as much as he focused on it, it remained unclear.

“Hey,” said Ross, his throat dry and voice rough. “Stop the boat.”

She turned back, one hand still on the wheel. Her hair bobbed in tight, wet curls around her chin. It wasn’t raining anymore, but misting, and the bare skin of her arms and chest glistened, even in this dim light.

“Can’t stop.”

He rose to his knees, shucked the tarp, and then stood, steadying himself with both hands on the least sharp-looking piece of the motor. The boat hit a swell and jostled him sideways. Her weight only shifted from one leg to the other, which didn’t irritate him in the slightest.

“We need to talk.”

Her mouth tilted up.

“So talk.”

At the next wave he gave up trying to stand, and sat on a crate fastened to the siding. “I can’t think like this. Just slow down for a minute.”

“And risk the Armament throwing me back in a cell? I don’t think so.”

His neck grew uncomfortably hot. His hands too clammy. Anger took control of his words before he had a chance to think them through.

“I could have left you in that cell.”

His stomach turned again, both from the steady thunk, thunk, thunk of the hull smashing down over the waves and the reminder of what they had just left behind.

“I could have left you in that iceberg,” she said with a shrug. “But I didn’t.”

He recalled the feel of his lungs squeezing, of the panic contracting inside his body as he fought to swim to the surface.

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