Chapter 20
“You’re telling me we can’t call for help?” Rachel pants. At this point, she’s clinging so hard to Ashley that I’m worried she’s going to pull her sister over.
“Someone busted up the radio and the sat phone. The whole damn thing is fucked!” Trey yells, striding forward to inspect the damage as the storm rages outside the window behind him, blissfully unaware of our predicament.
This is not good. I had hoped to sneak away and use the radio to alert the authorities about Elena too, but that clearly won’t be happening now. I’ll have to continue to lay low instead.
“Be careful, those could be live wires,” Viv begs as Trey pokes at the control panel.
“Carl, are you okay?” This comes from Fiona, who is eyeing her boyfriend, leaning against the doorframe to the bridge like it’s the only thing keeping him standing.
Carl coughs, a strange, rattling noise that comes from deep inside. “I’m exhausted. I can’t believe this has all happened in one day. It’s too much.”
I hope he’s not sick. The last thing we need is an infection spreading across the boat while we’re all trapped here together.
“What about the rest of the yacht?” I ask, turning back to Trey. “Our electricity, our plumbing?”
Trey shakes his head. “That’s separate. Whoever did this sabotaged the control panels.
This is what makes Empress move. It’s how we communicate with other ships and the shore.
It’s also how we lower and lift the caissons.
This is going to cost a fortune to fix,” Trey moans, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes.
“That’s what you’re concerned about right now?” Viv scolds him. “We have a bigger problem!”
“We’re fucking trapped here!” Fiona shouts, shoving her pastel pink hair out of her face.
“We can’t call for help,” Ashley says, as if we need reminding. “The internet is out. The bridge is destroyed. Now what?”
“I mean, personally, I’d be interested to know who did this considering they’re probably standing in the room,” Piper says, finally speaking up, apparently intent on sowing discord every time she deigns to engage with the group.
The rest of us tense and look over at her, leaning casually against the captain’s chair.
She shrugs. “What? Didn’t think of that part? It’s pretty obvious the call is coming from inside the house. It’s not like one of the partygoers last night knew a storm was coming and decided to try to strand us out here.”
The party feels like it was a thousand weeks ago, not something that happened last night. I wish this ride would slow down a bit. I’d like to get off.
“Well, maybe that is what happened,” Rachel offers. “Someone drunk snuck in here, and maybe…maybe it was an accident, or they thought it was a prank—”
“Rachel, don’t be naive,” Piper snaps.
“But why…why would someone… Why would one of us do something like this?” Fiona asks. She’s drifted closer to Carl, concern in her eyes as she watches her boyfriend sway lethargically.
“I’d love to know the answer to that,” Trey growls, rounding on the group, deep gray eyes flickering between each of us as if hoping to read the guilt on our faces.
“It’s self-sabotage,” I point out, suddenly concerned they might point the finger at me, the newbie. “Whoever did this fucked themselves over as well. Why would someone put their own life on the line like that?”
“Exactly,” Rachel says gratefully, giving me a relieved look. “Why would one of us do this? It doesn’t make sense. It had to have been one of the party guests.”
“Okay, we all need to calm down,” Carl says, but his voice is jagged, and it’s like he’s saying it to convince himself as much as us. He’s trying and failing to take large gulps of air.
“Carl, seriously…” Fiona murmurs. “Are you okay?”
He waves her off, focused on Trey, who’s frowning at the captain’s chair. “I…I need to think. Let me…let me see if there’s a way to fix any of this. Maybe the radio isn’t smashed too badly. I need some time. And quiet.”
“That’s it, you heard the man,” Viv announces, clapping her hands together.
Her face is brisk and businesslike, but there are lines creasing her forehead, visible even through the thick layer of makeup.
“Rachel? I think we should figure out what food we have besides the mac and cheese Charlie found. Let’s get some dinner prepared. A feast will take our minds off this.”
“You sure a feast is the right move?” Piper drawls, sucking down the last of her drink, which she has carried with her this entire time. She clinks the ice against the glass in a way that sounds almost ominous.
My hands get cold as I sense her implication. “Maybe we should try to eat light tonight,” I agree, swallowing hard. “Stretch out what we have.”
I don’t want to drop the R bomb—ration—but I will if I have to.
Rachel looks confused, but a shadow passes over Viv’s face; she is realizing what might happen if we’re stuck on this yacht for longer than a few days.
Sure, the hurricane is supposed to wear itself out with no landfall, but the slash of waves and the howl of wind outside don’t inspire confidence.
With no way to contact the outside world and limited food supplies, we have to be careful.
“You might be right,” Viv says slowly. “Come on, Rachel. I’m sure we can figure something out. Maybe you can mix up a good cocktail for everyone too.”
“Oh, sure!” Piper says, mimicking Viv’s breezy tone. “Maybe you can fix a drink for the person who screwed us over! Might as well, right?”
“That’s enough,” Fiona interrupts, stepping away from her boyfriend, shaking her head.
“I can’t believe one of us would do something like this.
We’re a family. I think Rachel is right.
It must have been some drunk party guest. We have to stick together.
That’s how we’ll make it through this. That’s how we always make it through. ”
Viv gives Fiona an approving look, nodding vigorously.
“That’s right,” she replies, glancing over at Trey, who isn’t listening, leaning over the busted control panel, shining his cell phone’s flashlight at the exposed wires and cracked screens.
“We need each other, after all. Let’s operate under that assumption.
For now.” She tacks a smile on the end her sentence to soften the weight of it, to erase the darkness that passes over her eyes at the words.
“I’ll stick around and help you out, man,” Carl says to Trey, nodding at Fiona and moving slowly to stand beside his friend. Carl’s steps are sluggish; he wasn’t lying earlier. He does look exhausted.
Fiona seems like she’s going to protest, but then turns and sashays out of the bridge without a second glance. Maybe she’s offended Carl chose to help instead of consoling her.
“Rachel?” Viv cajoles. “Come on.”
Rachel’s eyes are wide, and she stares at Ashley meaningfully, like she’s using twin telepathy to ask her to come with them. It must work, because Ashley says, “I’ll meet you up there and help out. I need to change into something warmer. Doesn’t it feel freezing to you? Can we turn down the AC?”
“Yeah, yeah, we can do that upstairs,” Viv says distractedly. “Rachel, now.”
As Viv, Rachel, and Ashley leave the bridge, I suddenly realize there is something familiar about the way Viv talks.
Sage’s older brother, who I only met a handful of times because he lived Up North, had a dog named Lacey. Lacey was very well-trained, and every time Sage’s brother gave her a command or spoke to her, he did so in a direct yet patronizing voice. The dog always obeyed him.
That’s how Viv talks to all of us. Like we’re her dogs.
It takes me a moment to realize Piper is watching me, the men now ignoring us and running through the checklist to see what on the control panel might be salvageable.
“What’s your plan, newbie?” she asks, shaking her empty glass again so the half-melted ice tinkles against it.
“I’m going to sit in my room and try to refresh the broken internet for thirty minutes and pretend I’m not having a panic attack.”
“I knew I liked you,” Piper says, smirking. “I’m going to get a refill.”
She flounces out of the bridge. The increasingly agitated sounds from the men at the control panel over my shoulder motivate me to follow her. Maybe I should go have a drink with Piper instead of sequestering myself in my room. There are things she needs to explain. Like the bracelet.
But when I reach the billiards room and slip into the hallway, she’s already gone.
How fast can she move? I think.
As I stride down the hallway, I realize that Ashley was right; it does feel colder on Empress now.
Maybe it’s because of the storm—we don’t have the usual balance of humidity and sun to even out the temperature.
Regardless, my thin lounge set isn’t made for what feels like fifty-degree weather, and goose bumps are prickling my skin.
As I pass by one of the bedrooms, the door swings open, something hard and viselike latches on to my wrist, and I am yanked into the room.
Behind me, the lock clicks.
“What the hell?” I yelp, facing Ashley, who moves resolutely in front of the door, blocking the exit.
She crosses her arms in front of her surgically enhanced chest, glaring at me.
Ashley’s room has the exact same layout as her twin’s, but her room includes a white leather love seat with green satin pillows near the door to her bathroom.
“What do you want?” I ask, sizing her up. Ashley doesn’t look particularly intimidating, but she’s definitely in better shape than I am. “You could have asked to talk instead of snatching me out of the hallway.”
“Fine. I need to talk to you.”
I can see Ashley’s entire body in her skintight clothes—no wonder she’s cold.
I decide to feign innocence. “About what?”