Chapter Twenty-Two
Present: Day Five at Sea
“Get below,” Emma shouts.
As she steers the bow toward the wave, I stand still, paralyzed with fear. I stare into the darkness, envisioning the massive wave continuing to grow in size as it comes toward us.
“Palmer.” Emma tugs on my arm. “Come on. Get inside.”
She takes her phone from my hand. I tear my gaze from the water and allow Emma to pull me toward the cockpit.
“Beth,” Emma calls.
Beth spins around at the front of the cockpit. Emma points at Adam and Gigi who are working to unjam the mainsail.
“Tell them to get inside. There’s a huge wave coming!”
Beth whirls around and shouts at Adam and Gigi to get below.
“Hurry,” Emma yells, fumbling to unhook her tether.
Adam’s flashlight sweeps toward us.
“Here, shine this on mine.” Beth extends her phone to me.
I hold the light on Beth’s life vest while she unhooks her tether.
Adam and Gigi reach the back of the cockpit.
“What is it?” Adam asks.
“There’s a huge wave coming,” Emma says.
The boat rocks sideways on a swell. I reach for Beth, taking her with me as I fall to the floor.
“Shit,” Emma exclaims. “We’ve turned away from the wave. We need to hit it straight on! Go below,” she says to Beth and me while she shakily reattaches her tether. “I’m going to turn us one more time.”
“Emma, don’t! There’s no time,” I yell. But Emma is already halfway to the helm.
Adam’s flashlight shines on Beth and me, still on the cockpit floor. I get up and start down the companionway, praying Emma makes it back in time before the wave hits.
I turn when I reach the bottom of the stairs. “Come on, Beth!”
“My foot’s stuck,” she screams.
I press my palm against the wall as we heel over forty-five degrees. My gaze darts to Beth’s ankle, lit up by Adam’s flashlight. It’s wrapped twice in the mess of tether lines at her feet. I start to come up, but Adam holds up his hand. Gigi crouches beside Beth and works to untangle it.
“Everyone else get below,” he shouts.
Emma steps past them. I move aside as she comes down the steps. She pulls me toward the dinette.
“Sit down and hold on,” she says.
I cast a look over my shoulder. “Beth,” I call, relieved to see her figure start down the companionway.
“I’m coming,” Beth says.
The boat tips, sending Adam’s flashlight to the angled floor.
“Are we all here?” I ask.
“Yes,” Beth replies.
“Close the hatch,” Emma yells, lying against the wall beside me. “This is it!”
Cupboards fly open, sending dishes crashing to the ground as we heel over, now perpendicular to the water.
I grip the table, but it slips out of my hold, and I’m thrown against the window.
It’s as if I’m a part of the ocean, at the mercy of where it will take me. Like swimming, but without any control.
I hear something slam, and I pray it’s just the hatch as the boat flips, throwing Emma and me against the skylight window hatches when the ceiling becomes the floor. Pots and pans are thrown about the cabin while water spills over me.
I squeeze my eyes shut and think of my girls, realizing with horror that we’re completely upside down, submerged.
My mind flashes to the luxury sailboat that sank last summer while at anchor in the Mediterranean, taking several people down with it.
I suck in a breath, preparing for the water pressure to break through the windows.
Adam grunts. Beth screams. The boat sharply tilts again. My back hits the dinette table, knocking the breath from my lungs.
Glass shatters when a window bursts. Water rushes over my head while we begin to flip upright. Emma cries out. My heart hammers into my throat as I roll off the table onto the dinette cushions.
This is it. We’re sinking.
The cabin goes eerily quiet as water stops pouring inside. Adam’s flashlight shines against the wall in the corner of the room. I glance around the space in awe. It feels like we’re bobbing on the surface. Could the boat really have righted itself after capsizing?
I sit up carefully, grasping the edge of the table in case we flip over again.
“You guys okay?” Emma asks from the floor beside the dinette.
Beth groans near the companionway steps. “I think so, but I hit my head pretty hard.”
“I’m okay,” Adam says.
“Palmer, Gigi, you guys all right?” Emma grabs Adam’s flashlight and swings the beam toward the window above my head.
“Yes,” I say, still in shock that we didn’t sink. My heart thumps against my chest.
“We need to patch that window before we get hit by another swell,” Emma says.
Another swell. The words send a bolt of panic up my spine. There’s no way we can fix that window to make it watertight. If we get hit by another huge wave while we have a broken window, we’re sunk. Literally.
“Gigi?” Beth asks. “Are you okay?”
No response. Emma swings the flashlight beam around the cabin, illuminating me, then Adam getting to his knees beside the couch, and finally Beth sitting upright on the floor in front of the steps.
“Gigi?” I say, my chest tightening with fear.
We all made it inside. Didn’t we?
“Gigi!” Emma calls, whirling the light around the room for a second time.
“Didn’t Gigi come inside with you two?” I say to Adam and Beth.
“I thought she came down before me,” Beth says.
“I did too,” Adam adds.
Emma steps over the broken dishes to shine the light inside the two open stateroom doors on either side of the companionway. “Gigi,” she calls.
No, no, no, I think. She had to have made it down. She was right behind Adam. Wasn’t she? I thought the three of them had come down together.
I strain to recall the order in which all of us came down, but after Beth’s ankle got caught, everything seemed to happen so fast.
“Gigi,” I echo. Please let her be down here.
I thought I’d heard Gigi’s voice below, but now I can’t be certain. We were all so panicked, I must’ve mistaken Beth’s or Emma’s cries for—
Emma whips the light around the enclosed space. Above the glow of her flashlight, her eyes double in size. “She’s gone.”