Chapter 19
Ellie was a mile out when she saw the explosion. At first, she thought she was imagining things, but when thick black smoke began billowing into the sky, she panicked, her blood running cold.
Oh, my God!
Was that for real?
She floored the tiller, coaxing every last ounce of strength from the outboard motor, her heart racing with disbelief. What had happened? Had they hit gas? Had a pressure gauge blown? More importantly, was anyone hurt?
From out here, it looked like a massive explosion. Great big clouds of black smoke were unfurling into the air like some monstrous beast.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
In a blind panic, she gripped the tiller, anguished tears running down her face. As she sped towards the inferno, she could only pray everyone was alright.
Phoenix? Boomer? Billy?
Suzi would have left by now, along with most of the other weekly workers, thank goodness, but what about the rest of the staff?
As she got nearer, she noticed another boat speeding away from the wreckage through the thick curtain of smoke. Black, sleek, and going at one hell of a pace, she hadn't noticed it before. It didn't look like one of the boats attached to the Explorer.
By the time she reached the burning jack-up rig, the black boat had disappeared into the distance, lost in the smoke. She slowed and gazed in horror at the debris floating around the base of the rig. An enormous, jagged gash had been blown through the center, the steel innards—pipes and wires—hanging down like garish metal entrails.
Cutting the engine, she bobbed amongst the flotsam, desperately searching for signs of life.
"Phoenix!" Her voice sounded hollow and insignificant amidst the backdrop of the raging inferno consuming the rig. "Boomer!" She couldn't see any bodies, but that didn't mean there weren't any.
Oh God, please let them be alive...
Tears poured down her face, making it hard to see through the stinging smoke. The rig burned ferociously, the searing heat scorching her skin even at this distance. The launch pad had disintegrated, and the great jack-up rig groaned mournfully as its twisted steel structure listed heavily to one side like a wounded beast.
How could this happen?
What should she do? With violently shaking hands, she managed to pull out her phone. No reception. That wasn't surprising since they relied on the Wi-Fi on the rig to communicate with the outside world. Fat lot of good that was now—it had all been blown to smithereens along with the rest of the structure. She should have brought a sat phone with her…
A short, anguished cry cut through the smoke, and she turned to see the second inflatable bobbing a few hundred yards away, having been hidden behind the remnants of the scorched rig.
“Oh, thank God!” She headed toward it.
Billy stood at the helm, frantically beckoning to her, his face a mask of shock. "Holy shit, Ellie. We just got off the damn thing in time."
"What happened?" She stared at him, wide-eyed, her mind reeling. He looked haggard, his face pinched and strained, as if he'd aged a decade in minutes.
"Phoenix found an explosive device of some sort under the rig. Boomer was checking it out when it detonated. They gave us a warning, and we got everyone into the boat. Not a second too soon." He coughed and raked a trembling hand through his hair, his eyes haunted.
Her voice was a hoarse, choked whisper. "What about Phoenix and Boomer? Where are they?"
He shook his head, his expression grim.
A wrenching sob caught in her throat as icy realization crashed over her.
"I'm sorry. I don't think they made it."
Please, no.
"We didn't even have time to get a mayday out. Nobody knows what's happened."
"I saw a boat speeding away from the rig as I was coming in," she said, her voice sounding hollow and distant to her own ears. How could Phoenix and Boomer be dead? It wasn't possible. Men like them didn't just die.
No, it couldn't be true. She refused to believe it.
"Really?" Billy seemed confused, his brow furrowing. "I didn't see anyone leave."
She shook her head, too stunned to continue, grief and shock numbing her senses. Maybe she'd imagined it? None of this felt real.
"There's another exploratory rig, the Discoverer, fifteen miles out," she told him, forcing herself to focus. "Have you got enough gas to get there?"
He nodded jerkily. "Yeah. I think so."
She gave him the coordinates, her voice sounding like someone else's. "Get the remaining crew over there then call for help."
"What about you?"
"I'm going to stay here and keep searching. They might still be alive." Even saying the words aloud felt like a foolish, desperate fancy, but she clung to that faint shred of hope like a lifeline.
He gave a somber nod, but she could tell by the grim set of his face that he thought that tragically unlikely. Still, she had to try. She couldn't rest until she'd seen their bodies with her own eyes.
If there was even the slightest chance...
She swallowed hard over the painful lump in her throat. "Send help, Billy. Go. Now."
He gave a last nod, turned the lifeboat in the direction she'd given him, then set off, the engine sputtering to life. She watched it chug slowly away until it faded into the billowing smoke.
Alone, her tears came in earnest. Great, wracking sobs that shook her entire body as the horrible reality sank in.
God, please don't let him be dead.
She couldn't believe it. Wouldn't believe it.
She drifted listlessly around the debris field, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Every now and then she'd stop and call out his name. Boomer's name. But nothing. All she got in reply was the tortured groaning of the rig as it kept tilting to one side, and the smell of scorched metal.
What was that?
A faint tapping sound could be heard in the eerie silence.
She froze, listening hard, hardly daring to breathe. There it was again.
Tap-tap-tap. Taaap-taaap-taaap. Tap-tap-tap.
Was that an SOS? Or was her battered, shell-shocked mind playing tricks on her? Was it just the metallic death throes of the gutted rig as it sank slowly beneath the waves?
Ellie restarted the engine with fumbling fingers and moved warily in the direction of the tapping.
"Hello?" she yelled through the smog, her voice cracking. "Anybody there?"
Tap-tap-tap. Taaap-taaap-taaap. Tap-tap-tap.
That was definitely an SOS. Too rhythmic and regular to be caused by the remnants of the rig collapsing in on itself.
Then she saw him, and her heart seized in her chest.
He was lying in the water, clutching a plank of wood. He'd made the banging sound by tapping a piece of steel piping onto what was left of the base of the structure.
Phoenix!
"Oh, my God. You're alive!" She steered the inflatable boat toward him, then reached over and tried to haul him in. He was barely conscious. A deep gash in his hairline leaked blood over his face, and there was another on his arm.
Shit, how was she going to get him into the boat? He was heavy—a dead weight—and unable to help himself. She heaved with all her might until finally she had half of his bulk on the edge of the inflatable. With one last pull, she managed to tip him over the side, and he collapsed into the bottom of the boat.
She dropped to her knees beside him. "Are you alright? Phoenix, speak to me. Can you hear me?"
He tried to open his eyes, but when he did, she noticed they were glazed and unfocused. He was concussed. How badly, she didn't know.
But at least he was alive.
"Where's Boomer?" she asked him, but he didn't respond. He passed out, and if it wasn't for his shallow breathing, she might have thought he was dead.
"Wake up." She gently shook his shoulders. "Please, Phoenix." She'd read somewhere that you shouldn't go to sleep with a concussion because you might never wake up. Whether it was true or not, she had no idea, but she thought she'd better try.
He didn't move.
"Don't die on me," she whispered, smoothing back the hair on his forehead and inspecting the gash. "Don't you dare die on me." It wasn't too deep, but there was swelling around it. That might be what was causing the concussion—or the blast from the explosion. Either way, he needed medical attention, and now.
She didn't have enough gas to reach the Discoverer, but Billy would send help as soon as he could. She estimated half an hour for him to make the journey, another half an hour for them to send a vessel to come and get them. After that, they'd send a rescue crew, the Coast Guard, and forensics from the mainland, but that would take much longer.
Ellie chugged around the base of the rig, looking for Boomer. If Phoenix had somehow managed to survive the blast, maybe he had too. But she couldn't see him in the water. He wasn't hanging on to the burning rig, either.
She took a shuddering gasp. He obviously hadn't made it.
Turning her attention back to Phoenix, she tried to make him more comfortable. "Help is on the way," she whispered. "Hang in there."
A low hum caught her attention. Looking up, she saw a black dot coming toward her. Was the speedboat she'd seen earlier coming back?
Yes, it looked like it. Low, sleek, and black. It sped across the ocean, getting bigger as it came toward her.
Thank God. Help was coming.
Tears began to fall afresh. Phoenix was going to be okay.