Nailer’s body shook with revulsion. He gave his father one last look then turned away, limping for where Lucky Girl lay bound.
He ran into her at the door, and almost screamed before he recognized her. She hefted his fighting knife. “Thanks for the knife,” she said. “Where’s-” She gasped.
Nailer pulled her out of the room, nearly dragging her. “Come on.” He hurried her down the corridor, half expecting his father to call after him again, but no more sounds followed them.
“Where are we going?” she panted.
“We need to get out.” He dragged her to a ladder that led to the upper decks. Suddenly the ship shuddered and rolled. The main mast had finally given way. They were completely upside down. Trying to get to the upper decks meant climbing down into the sea. “We’ve turned turtle,” he muttered. “We can’t go down.” He peered down into the hole. It was already half full of water. The next deck down would be completely submerged.
“Can we swim out?” she asked.
“Not in the dark. Not without knowing where to go.” The water was rising. “We’re going under,” he said. Despair filled him.
Nita stared at the water. “Then we go up, right?” She shook him. “Right? We go up!” She yanked his arm. “Come on! We need to find a way into the bottom of the ship.”
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“The ship’s sinking, right? Water’s getting in from somewhere. Maybe there’s a hole in the hull.”
Nailer nodded, suddenly understanding. He stopped her and tugged her in a different direction. “This way. We need to get into the holds. They’re this way!”
“How do you know which way to go?”
“I’m a ship breaker.” Nailer laughed. “Spend enough time tearing apart old ships, and you get to understand them.” They dashed into another corridor, then clambered up a ladder. They ran along the ceiling of another corridor, the floor running over their heads. “There!” He smiled as he saw the ladder that led to where the crew had been working on sealing the hold.
“Get ready,” he said as he put the fighting knife to the seals.
“For what?”
“A lot of water.”
Nita grabbed a brass fitting with one hand and his belt with the other. She nodded to him. “Ready.”
Nailer slashed the membrane that the crew had laid down in their vain effort to save the ship. The rubbery stuff parted. Water roared down over them. They slammed against the wall. Nailer clutched for Nita as the water tore at him. A moment later, the rush slowed to a trickle. It wasn’t as much as Nailer had feared. He guessed that a lot of it had already drained down into the ship from other points. He clambered through the hatch. “This way.”
“How did you find me?” Nita asked as she tagged behind. “When they caught me in the Orleans I thought I was done for.”
“Captain Candless-” Nailer broke off, thinking of the shots fired in the darkness, the spray of blood as the captain went down. “He had an idea of how to hunt for you.”
“And you came along?”
Nailer grinned. “Pretty stupid, huh?”
She laughed. “I’ll say.”
They threaded through wrecked cargo rooms, climbing over jumbled trash to reach the doors that were now upside down and above them. At last they dropped into the hold. Lightning cracked, illuminating a hole in the hull overhead. A ragged tear in the carbon fiber. Farther down, another hole showed, a testament to the success of Nailer’s plan. Seawater cascaded through the holes as a wave crashed across the hull, soaking strewn cargo boxes and jumbled equipment. Nailer squinted up at the torn hull. Lightning flashed. It wasn’t much of a hole. More of a crack. And it was high, too damn high.
Nita yanked his arm. “The cargo crates,” she said. “We’ll stack them.”
She grabbed a crate and dragged it below the hole. Nailer saw what she meant and rushed to help. They worked feverishly. Some crates were too heavy to move alone and others too heavy for both of them to lift. Nailer’s ankle burned with pain as he tried to move and stack the junk into a semblance of a tower. More water poured down over them. Nailer was gasping with effort and pain. Nita crawled up the pile of crates, reaching down as he handed up more boxes.
Another wave rushed into the hold. A big one, that nearly knocked Nita from her perch.
“We’re going under!” Nailer shouted over the storm roar.
Nita stared at the hole above her. “I think we’re high enough.”
“Then jump!”
“What about you?”
“You have to go first. My ankle might not make it. When you get up, gimme a hand.”
Nita nodded and crouched, teetering at the top of the pile. She leaped. A wave crashed down on her, but her hands caught the edge and held, and then she was clambering up and out of the hold. Nailer scrambled up after her. The crates were all uneven from the movement of the ship. His ankle was a bright blossom of pain. It was almost paralyzing. There was no way he’d make the jump.
Nita’s face appeared in the opening above. She extended her hand. “Hurry!”
He got his feet under him and crouched. Ignore the pain, he told himself. Just make the jump. He took a deep breath and sprang upward. His ankle exploded. His fingers caught the hull’s ragged edge. Slipped. Nita grabbed his wrist. “Hold on!” A wave crashed over, pouring down over them. He clung to the hull’s edge, coughing and spitting water. Another wave poured down.
Nita’s grip was slipping. “I can’t pull you up!” she shouted.
Get up! he told himself. If you keep hanging here, you’ll fall and break your neck. You didn’t come this far just to drown in the dark.
But he was so tired.
“Crew up, Nailer!” Lucky Girl shouted. “You think I’m going to pull your ass up here like a damn swank?”
Nailer almost laughed. He clawed at the edge of the ship, and slowly hauled himself through the hole. Nita grabbed him under his arm, yanked at his shirt, dragging him higher. He scrabbled for a grip on the slippery hull. Another wave surged over them, but he was braced this time, and when it passed, he clawed his way out with Nita dragging him. At last he swung his legs out of the hold, and clung, gasping, to the hull.
Rain poured down over them. Nita lay beside him, her black hair hanging like thick wet snakes around her face. Lightning cracked bright and hard, blinding after the darkness of the ship. More rain sheeted down. A hundred meters away, Dauntless lay anchored, churning in the storm.
“That’s where we’re going,” Nailer said.
“What? No water taxi?”
Despite himself, Nailer grinned. “You swanks always want it easy.”
“Yeah.” Her expression turned solemn as she stared at the Dauntless. “Sink or swim, right?”
“Pretty much.”
She squinted into the rain. “I’ve swum farther,” she said. “We can do this.”
She tore off her shoes and waited until the next wave surged over them, then dove with it, letting its force carry her forward. She bobbed like a fish. Nailer said a prayer to the Fates, thinking of the disappeared captain of the Pole Star, and followed her in.
The sea swallowed him in churn and roar. Every time he kicked, his ankle exploded with pain. He paddled frantically for what he thought was the surface. Waves tried to suck him down. He flailed, struggling to find air. Clawed at foam and came up gasping. Another wave sucked him down. He tumbled. He fought again to free himself from the hungry depths and came up coughing and sputtering. Sucked air. Kicked and gasped with pain.
“Float it!” Nita shouted. “Let the current pull you!” She was riding the waves beside him. One curled over her and she dipped under and came up again, swimming strongly. “Don’t fight it!” she shouted. And then she was up beside him, supporting him. Helping him swim.