“Novak…”
He grunted in response.
“I think we’d better hurry,” Gail whispered.
Nodding, Novak pushed and pulled at the window. It wouldn’t open. He sighed, treading water, and then tried again. The window was about a foot above the surface, and the waves kept pushing Novak into the wall.
“Maybe we should check the other sides of the building,” McCann said. “Might be an easier way in.”
“I want to get out of this water,” Novak said. “The damn Jaws theme keeps running through my head.”
He pulled off his shirt and wrapped the wet garment around his fist. Then, gritting his teeth, he drew back his arm and struck the window with the side of his fist. The boat rocked back and forth from the momentum. The glass remained intact. Grimacing, Novak rubbed his hand.
“Shit. That hurt.”
Gail noticed that the waves were growing bigger.
“Hit it again,” she urged. Something splashed softly in the gloom.
Novak struck the window three more times. A spider-web pattern of cracks appeared in the glass. He struck again. On the sixth attempt, the window shattered. He leaned forward and sniffed, testing the air.
“Smell anything?” McCann asked.
Novak shook his head. “Mildew, but it’s real faint. I don’t hear anything, either. I think we’re okay.”
Gail noticed that his speech was different. His words were clipped—tense, as if he were in pain and trying to hide it. He clung to the side of the boat with his free hand. Gail started to speak, but Novak cut her off.
“Can you guys clear the glass out of the way, so we don’t cut ourselves climbing through?”
McCann stood up carefully, waited for the boat to settle, and then began picking shards of glass from the frame and dropping them into the water.
“Are you okay?” Gail asked Novak.
“No.” His face was pinched and the color had drained from his face. “I think I just broke my goddamn hand. That’s all we need right now, huh? When it rains, it fucking pours.”
“Shit.” McCann finished clearing the shards of broken glass out of the way. “Are you sure it’s broken?”
Novak shook his head. “No, but it sure feels that way.”
“Okay, well, I’ll go inside. Make sure it’s okay. Then I’ll pull you up. Gail can push on your feet.”
Nodding, Novak blinked water from his eyes.
McCann grabbed the windowsill and hoisted himself into the open space. His head and shoulders disappeared inside. He pulled one leg through the window, and was about to pull the other one through, when a shotgun blast filled the air, drowning out even the sound of the rain. McCann tumbled backward and splashed into the water, narrowly missing the boat. He vanished beneath the surface. Gail leaned forward but before she could cry out, an armed figure appeared in the window.
“Don’t move, motherfuckers!”
The stranger’s face was hidden beneath wet bandages. Only his eyes were visible, but they were covered by a pair of aviator goggles. He wore a hooded yellow poncho and his feet, legs and waist were covered by a pair of green rubber waders. His voice, guttural and angry, was a man’s. Smoke still curled from the barrel of the shotgun in his hands, and water dripped from the stock.
“Get your fucking hands up,” he ordered.
Gail did as commanded, but Novak refused to comply.
“That’s not going to happen,” he told their attacker.
The man pointed the shotgun at him. “Then you can go to hell.”
CHAPTER 45
“How about this instead?” Novak raised one hand as the shotgun centered on his chest.
“Both of them, motherfucker.”
“I can’t,” Novak insisted. “I think I may have broke my other hand.”
“He’s not kidding,” Gail said. “Please…”
Their attacker swung the weapon toward her. “Shut up. Both of you just shut the hell up.”
“Look,” Novak said, his voice calm and assured. “We don’t have anything except the clothes we’re wearing. If you want the boat, you can have it. You can take it and sail right on out of here. Just don’t kill us.”
The stranger didn’t respond. Indeed, he gave no indication that he’d even heard Novak’s offer. His yellow poncho flapped around his waist as the breeze picked up. Raindrops pattered against his green rubber waders. The wet gauze covering his face seemed to move on its own. Gail tried to see past his aviator goggles and into his eyes, but they were shadowed. The man twitched his shoulders, let the shotgun slip lower, and then cleared his throat.
“I want the boat. But that can wait. Come here, sweetheart. And don’t try anything funny.”
Gail felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. Everything seemed to stop. Even the rain. The waves became silent.
“Come on.” The man gestured with the shotgun. “Get in here.”
Lump in her throat, Gail moved toward the window. The boat rocked beneath her feet, nearly spilling her into the water. The man adjusted his grip on the weapon, holding it with one hand. He stretched his other arm out toward her and leaned forward.
“Take my hand.”
Gail did, trying all the while to keep her own hand from shaking. Her fingers closed around his wrist. The man leaned closer, and began to help her up. As he shifted his weight, Gail suddenly yanked his arm and flung herself backward. The attacker uttered a surprised cry and then toppled forward. Gail’s back struck the bottom of the boat. The man crashed down on top of her, driving the air from her lungs. The shotgun, still in his grasp, slammed against the deck with a ringing sound.
“You bitch.” His breath stank, and he smelled of mildew and sweat. “Now I’m gonna—”
Roaring, Novak erupted from the water behind them, and looped his uninjured arm around the attacker’s neck. The man tried to raise the shotgun, but Gail pried it from his hand. Then, Novak pulled him off Gail and into the water. The two of them slipped beneath the waves.
CHAPTER 46
Stunned, Gail wiped water from her eyes and blinked. Then she leaned forward and peered into the water, gripping the sides of the boat so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Sound returned—first the rain, then the cries of the birds overhead, and then the waves.
“Novak?”
Shadows moved beneath the surface, but she couldn’t identify them. Was it Novak and their attacker? McCann? A mermaid or shark-person or fuzzoid or other weird denizen of the deep? Shivering, she reached for the discarded shotgun.
Novak burst from the water, gasping and coughing. Screaming, Gail skittered backward. The boat lurched hard to one side.
“It’s okay,” he panted. Novak grabbed the side of the boat with his good hand and clung to it, eyes closed. “It’s okay. He’s dead.”
Gail opened her mouth to respond, but all that came out was a low, guttural moan. She closed her mouth, took a few deep breaths through her nose, and then tried again. Her voice still trembled.
“Are you okay?”
Novak nodded.
“What about McCann? Did you see him?”
“I’m right here.”
Novak’s eyes snapped open. Gail turned around and looked behind them. She gasped with relief when she saw McCann paddling toward them.
“Son of a bitch,” Novak said. “I thought he shot you.”
McCann shook his head, spraying water droplets as he climbed into the boat. “I thought he did, too. But he didn’t. When the gun went off, it startled me. I slipped and fell into the water. Where is he?”