Chapter 8
Phoenix saw Ellie hanging onto the broken railing, the wind threatening to tear her away and send her hurtling over the edge, and his heart nearly stopped.
Fuck, no!
The thought of losing her to the heaving ocean below was too horrifying to even contemplate.
"Hurry!" screamed Suzi, pointing down into the frantic swells. "Billy’s down there and Ellie’s in trouble."
"Go! We’ve got this,” Boomer yelled as several roughnecks appeared to help him secure the crane.
Phoenix raced across the slippery deck, his brain already assessing the situation. It was nearly 1800 hours, and the storm was intensifying by the minute. Massive waves pounded the rig, sending sheets of spray into the air. The wind howled like a wild beast, tugging his clothes and making it hard to keep his balance. The last known position of the man overboard was directly below Ellie.
He grabbed a lifebuoy, fitted with a personal locator beacon, and sprinted to where she lay, clutching the railing. He saw her hold was firm, and she wasn’t in immediate danger.
Thank God.
"Billy fell," she sobbed. "He was trying to help me."
"Do you have eyes on him?" Phoenix yelled over the roar of the tempest. Now he knew she was safe he could concentrate on the missing man.
She shook her head, her face a mask of anguish. "No, but he went in right here."
Phoenix peered into the surging waves, straining to see through the driving rain. For a heart-stopping moment, there was nothing but frothing darkness. Then—there! A thrashing figure in the maelstrom.
"Got him!" He threw the lifebuoy toward the struggling form, praying the man could reach it.
Images of the two men he'd lost in Afghanistan flashed through his mind, their faces twisted in confusion and betrayal as they realized what he'd done. That he'd sacrificed them to save the others. Bile rose in his throat, and he swallowed hard, trying to focus on the present. This wasn’t Basra.
Shaking off the ghosts of his past, he grabbed Ellie and hauled her to safety, away from the treacherous edge.
"Get below deck," he told her, his voice brooking no argument. “I’ll save Billy.”
She stared at him with huge, haunted eyes, hair hanging in dripping tendrils around her pale face. "You can't take the boat out in this. It's suicide!"
"It's all right." He gripped her shoulders. "I've done this before. I have to try."
"You have?" Her voice was small, almost lost in the howling gale.
"Navy, remember?”
She gave a worried nod.
“I need you to get me that weather data you told me you had access to. Can you do that?"
She inhaled sharply and nodded, a flicker of determination pushing back the fear in her eyes. "I can access the rig's meteorological subsystem. Sea currents, wind conditions, everything you need."
"Do it!" He thrust a radio into her trembling hand. "Use this to update me. And Ellie?" He waited until she met his gaze. "I will bring him back."
She gave another jerky nod and disappeared down the stairs, clutching the radio like a lifeline.
Phoenix turned to Boomer. "I need your radio, and I need the inflatable in the water, stat."
Boomer, who had finished securing the broken crane, handed over his radio without hesitation. He knew the drill, they'd gone through it countless times in their SEAL training. Wordlessly, they began prepping the inflatable for launch, working with the speed and precision that only came from years of experience in life-and-death situations.
It was a battle to lower the inflatable into the seething ocean. The little boat would be tossed about like a leaf in the maelstrom the moment it touched the water. Gritting his teeth, Phoenix jumped down into it, nearly losing his footing on the slippery floor. Boomer followed a second later, his face grim as he took the controls and fired up the engine.
The inflatable bucked and heaved as they powered out into the frothing darkness, leaving the looming shadow of the rig behind. Phoenix clutched the radio and the receiver for the locator beacon, his knuckles white. "Ellie, I need that data!"
Her voice crackled over the radio, barely audible over the shrieking wind. "Current coordinates are 32.7 degrees North, 119.8 degrees west. Sea currents moving northeast at 2 knots. Wind from the southwest at 50 knots, gusting to 70."
Phoenix relayed the information to Boomer, yelling to be heard over the storm. "Wind direction is at odds with the sea currents! Factoring in their influence, I think he's drifting north-northeast!"
Boomer nodded grimly and adjusted their course, piloting the little boat over the mountainous swells with white-knuckled control.
The receiver in Phoenix's hand crackled and beeped, the sound barely audible over the roar of the wind and waves. He stared at it in disbelief for a second, hardly daring to hope. The locator beacon!
"I've got a signal!" he shouted, squinting at the screen. "Bearing 025, range 200 meters!"
"Roger that," Boomer acknowledged, steering the inflatable in the indicated direction. Phoenix kept his eyes glued to the receiver, terrified the signal would disappear and they'd lose the beacon—and Billy—in the vastness of the enraged sea.
The receiver flickered, and the signal wobbled. Phoenix's heart leaped into his throat. "Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath, willing the signal to hold. Seconds stretched into eternity as he stared at the screen, the wind and rain lashing his face.
Then, just as he thought it was lost, the signal strengthened again. "There!" Phoenix pointed at a patch of turbulent water ahead. "Slow down!"
Boomer eased off the throttle. The inflatable crawled over the waves, wallowed in the troughs. Phoenix stood, heart pounding, as he scanned the heaving surface.
There, in the beam of their searchlight, a figure clung weakly to a lifebuoy, battered by the churning sea. Relief surged through him, followed instantly by a fresh jolt of fear. Getting to Billy would be one thing, getting him safely back to the rig would be another.
"Hang on, we're coming!"
They pulled alongside Billy's struggling form. Phoenix leaned precariously over the water, arm outstretched. For a terrifying second, he thought he wouldn't reach him, and the sea would claim the struggling man before he was hauled to safety. Then he grasped Billy's jacket. Heaving with all his strength, he dragged the spluttering, half-drowned man into the inflatable.
Billy collapsed on the deck, retching up seawater, his skin ghostly pale under the stark beam of the searchlight. Phoenix crouched down next to him, checking him over with shaking hands. The man was breathing but shivering violently, his lips tinged blue with cold. A livid bruise stood out on his temple where he must have struck something during his fall.
"Billy? Can you hear me?" Phoenix had to shout over the storm.
Billy's eyes fluttered open, unfocused. "C-Cold," he managed through chattering teeth.
Phoenix exhaled a shaky breath, relief and exhaustion hitting him like a physical blow. "Just hang in there, okay? We're going to get you back to the rig, get you warmed up. You're going to be fine." He reached for the survival blanket stowed under the inflatable's bench then tucked it around Billy's shivering form, trying to still the violent trembling.
He looked up at Boomer. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Boomer nodded, his face drawn and exhausted. He turned the inflatable in a wide circle, aiming the bow back toward the looming shape of the rig.
The journey back was a nightmare. The little boat struggled against the massive swells, and seawater slopped over its sides. Phoenix crouched over Billy's prone form, shielding him from the worst of it.
After what seemed an eternity, the rig loomed before them, a fortress of steel battered by the wind and waves.
As they drew near the launch zone, Phoenix and Boomer observed two figures bracing against the elements, waiting to assist. Together they tethered the inflatable to the hoisting straps and signaled the crane operator to commence the lift. Gradually, the vessel ascended toward the platform, laboring against the howling winds. The boat heaved and pitched as it was pummeled by the relentless storm.
“How is he?” Henderson asked, once they got to the top and the boat had been secured in the bay.
"He's alive," Phoenix reassured him as they transferred Billy's shivering form to the main deck. "But he needs medical attention."
“Help me take him to the clinic,” Henderson ordered, as two other men came to help. “Good job, guys.”
Phoenix looked out at the storm-wracked night, the wind howling like a wounded beast.
It was far from over.
The storm was intensifying, the worst yet to come. But for now, they were all safe. That was the main thing.
Phoenix straightened, wincing as his abused muscles protested. He met Boomer's eyes, saw his own exhaustion and grim determination reflected there. "We did it, brother. We got him."
Boomer gave a relieved nod, then raised his voice over the screaming wind. "Let's get under cover."
Together, they secured the inflatable and retreated below deck to wait out the worst of the storm.