“Dr. Nassiri,” continued Jonah, returning to his seat as if nothing had happened. “I need you to throw everything that floats overboard. Alexis, I need a full security lockout of all vital systems without affecting our heading or speed. When you’re finished, which needs to be immediately, you meet me just outside the engine room. Understood?”
Shaking, Alexis furiously typed at the nearest console. Dr. Nassiri stood frozen, staring at his cousin’s bruised face.
“You going to pull a piece on me again?” Jonah shouted to Buzz. “Or are you going to start listening?”
“I will kill you,” growled Buzz through clenched teeth, holding his bruised face with one hand.
“Nobody dies today,” said Jonah.
Dr. Nassiri rushed out of the door and yanked the quick-release strap of the first life raft. It bounced off the side of the Fool’s Errand and tumbled into the ocean. As he struggled with the second, Jonah appeared beside him to help. In the distance, both men noticed a faint dot just above the horizon, and the distant whop-whop-whop of rotor wash.
“Doc, we’re out of time,” said Jonah as the second raft dropped. “Alexis!” he shouted. “Get below decks. Now.”
Dr. Nassiri and Alexis followed Jonah down to towards the engine compartment, past the heavy steel fire door. Buzz stood in the corner, bent over, still wincing as he held his hand to his face. Jonah opened the nearest supply locker and searched desperately. Dr. Nassiri watched his face light up when he came across three air bottles and a child’s Minnie Mouse snorkel. The bottles were each the size of a canteen, only with a built-in breathing regulator instead of a cap.
“I do not understand your plan,” protested Dr. Nassiri. Madness, all of this, letting the prisoner take charge with some strange course of action, a course of action he refused to fully explain.
“He’s fucking mental!” shouted Buzz. “He punched me!”
Jonah ignored both men, reached down and pried open a heavy floor hatch. Below it lay a massive cistern of filmy water holding drainage from the showers, kitchen sinks, dishwashing, and laundry, more than large enough to fit four persons. Dr. Nassiri suddenly realized the need for the pony bottles and the snorkel.
“That’s the greywater system,” said Alexis, still confused.
“Everybody in,” said Jonah.
Even over the engines, Dr. Nassiri could now hear the sound of the approaching helicopter. Looking at the water, the doctor saw Alexis transition from frightened to completely terrified.
Nobody moved.
Jonah cleared his throat with barely restrained fury at having to explain himself.
“Given our distance from Malta,” he began, each word dripping with anger, speaking as though to a small, disobedient child, “and the weight profile of a loaded Bell A212, the incoming helicopter — which will be over us in less than sixty seconds—has only fifteen minutes of hover time. That means that if the team onboard can’t fast-rope down, clear every room, and bring the ship to a halt within that time, they’ll be forced to re-board and clear out.”
“You want them to find a ghost ship,” said Dr. Nassiri, grasping Jonah’s plan. “No persons onboard, no life rafts, no way to change course, no way to escape, no way to stop the engines!”
“Exactly. And by the time they mobilize a second helicopter, we’ll be well out of range. Everybody in the tank — now.”
Dr. Nassiri took the first pony bottle from Jonah’s hands and bit onto the regulator. He breathed in, experimentally at first, and felt the cold hiss of pure air flow into his lungs. The oily water was actually a more pleasant temperature than he expected. Inside, the claustrophobic compartment was nearly completely dark save the light through the hatchway. There was nothing to hold on to as the tank rippled and jostled with the motion of the yacht.
Alexis slid in next to the doctor, her breathing short and choppy. Buzz splashed in next, grunting as he did so. He stuck the regulator to his pony bottle in his mouth and immediately ducked his head completely underwater. Dr. Nassiri saw Jonah save the Minnie Mouse snorkel for himself.
Jonah reached up and pulled the hatch shut, turning the interior of the compartment into a perfect inky-black as they heard footsteps on the deck above them. Dr. Nassiri’s under-stimulated brain played tricks, sending little imaginary flashes of light into his vision, the type of hallucination only seen in pure darkness. The doctor had to restrain himself from reaching up to test if the hatch could be re-opened from the inside to assure himself they would not be doomed to asphyxiate in a greywater cistern, clawing at the unyielding metal ceiling.
Dr. Nassiri felt motion swirling through the waters next to him, then Alexis’s hand as she grabbed his, intertwining their fingers. He tried to give her a little reassuring squeeze, but it was returned with a deathly tight grip. Her fright permeated the compartment, rapid breathing, short, twitchy movements, all the indicators of near panic.
A small splash and then a mumble.
“Oh, no,” whispered Alexis.
She’d dropped her pony bottle, leaving her to push her face into the air pocket at the ceiling of the tank.
Dr. Nassiri released her hand and touched the ceiling, pressing himself beneath the surface. He felt through the dirty water, pushing through food particles and grit until his fingers brushed against the smooth bottle. He slowly surfaced, and slipped the bottle into the engineer’s outstretched hand.
“I’m not so great with tight spaces. Or the dark,” Alexis whispered.
“It will be over soon,” said Dr. Nassiri. Bedside manner was never his forte. And why even comfort her, this strange female mechanic he’d known for mere moments?
“Thanks,” said Alexis. She took one deep breath, but it barely registered. She was still too tense. Her hand reached out, finding his again. Dr. Nassiri willed himself to be calm, to send a sense of peace flowing from his body through his fingertips and into hers.
Footsteps again, faster this time. The soldiers on deck were running out of time. Dr. Nassiri heard the fire door to the engine compartment open with a loud grinding noise. If they were able to stop the engines — if Dr. Nassiri and the other hidden passengers were discovered — he tried not to consider the possibilities.
Splashing noises came from the other side of the tank as Buzz surfaced and popped the regulator out of his mouth.
“I have to pee,” he announced to nobody in particular. Dr. Nassiri winced. Alexis giggled next to him, her teeth chattering with fear.
Jonah spoke next, his voice low and resonate with measured fury. “You all — everybody talking right now — you’re breathing my fucking oxygen. That’s what your air bottles are for. Stop talking.”
More footsteps, stomping. And the muffled echoes of men shouting at each other. Dr. Nassiri prayed for the hum of the engines to remain constant, just a little longer. The whop-whop-whop of the helicopter rotors returned for minutes but it felt like the sound lasted hours. And then, nothing. Nothing but the vibration of the engines, the faint splashing inside the tank, and the hiss of regulated air exiting the pony bottles.
“I goddamn hope you held it,” said Jonah, jabbing Buzz in the ribs with a finger.
He straightened himself up and cracked the grey-water tank hatch open a hair. Light sliced through the opening into the chamber, almost blinding Dr. Nassiri. In turning away, he caught a glimpse of Alexis, her blond hair dark and plastered to her face, her wide, beautiful eyes staring into his. Her gaze penetrated him more than the sudden blinding light, forcing him to look down and away. And then the moment was gone.