Jonah leapt into space. The water rushed up to meet him with incredible speed, air swooshing past his ears, while holding onto the rolled-up human leather as tightly as he could.
Clinch those buttcheeks shut, thought Jonah a split second before impact. Tumbling through the frothy water, he stared up at the surface nearly fifteen feet above him, white foam and dark sediment surrounding him. Everything was dark and cloudy, he couldn’t see, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Despite his twisted ankles, he managed two hard kicks to the surface, popping up beside the doctor. Too stunned to be angry, the doctor treaded water beside him.
A lone lifeboat from the Erno Rubik approached from the side, slowing as it reached them. Inside, Dalmar Abdi stood at the bow, bare-chested with a rocket-propelled grenade strapped to his back. Behind him, several more lifeboats fled towards the distant shores of Somalia, abandoning the fight.
“My friend Jonah Blackwell!” Dalmar reached down to pluck both men out of the water. “And my brother Hassan the Butcher! I am so pleased you have lived. Jonah — I believe this makes three times I have saved your life.”
“But who’s counting?” said Jonah as he slumped into the bottom of the fiberglass boat.
“I am counting!” said Dalmar. “You shall name your firstborn child after me!”
“What if it’s a girl?” asked Hassan, collapsing next to Jonah.
“Ha!” shouted Dalmar with a frighteningly gregarious laugh. “Then Jonah must name her Dread Pirate Dalmar Abdi! A good name for a woman, she will bear many grandsons!”
With that, the pirate commander kicked the lifeboat into gear, speeding towards the Scorpion as she lay surfaced several hundred yards away from the mortally wounded island. Behind them, the smallest of the three platforms collapsed into the sea, sending out a massive tidal wave through the floating debris and oil. Fires broke out in the other abandoned platforms, sending columns of inky-black smoke skyward as thousands of survivors watched from the still-floating runway.
Alexis waited on the forward deck of the submarine, weapon slung behind her back, waving the lifeboat in. Dalmar beached the craft against the deck and helped Jonah and Hassan out, one after another.
“I knew you were alive!” Alexis shouted, throwing her arms around the doctor. Hassan smiled and embraced her back despite the pain in his battered body.
“Let’s get you inside,” said Alexis. “Vitaly says a US Navy carrier group is inbound to rescue survivors.”
“I should not be here when they arrive,” said Dalmar. “My men are returning home, but—” he turned to Jonah. “May I join your crew, Captain Jonah?”
“Welcome aboard,” said Jonah. “I could always use another potato-peeler. Doc — let’s go. We have to move.”
Arm encircling Alexis’s waist, Hassan ignored him, staring at the stricken city like Lot’s wife lamenting the destruction of Sodom. “I’m going to watch,” he said, his voice far away. “I believe I’ve earned the right.”
Jonah turned to see Anconia Island, still gleaming in the morning sun. The remaining two platforms failed in sequence, both halves of the city collapsing into the water with the roar of an earthquake, spilling into the sea as the floating runway detached with the sound of snapping steel cables, setting the crowded platform adrift. The debris settled, slipping beneath the waves. And within moments, it was as if the glittering island had never graced the face of the earth.
EPILOGUE
The Scorpion slipped through the luminescent fog of a cool Puget Sound morning, the sky and the surface of the ocean blending together in a seamless gradient. Silently navigating a hidden cove, the sub slowed as it approached the massive concrete dock of a long-abandoned shipyard. Jonah opened the top hatch to the conning tower, squinting against the glare. The submarine bumped up against the dock and he scrambled down the exterior boarding ladder onto the deck, pulling long mooring lines out of hidden compartments and roping the bulky length of the vessel against the concrete wall.
Hassan brought a heavy leather briefcase out of the conning tower as Jonah inspected the ropes at the docking cleats. Satisfied with his work, Jonah took the briefcase from the doctor and hopped onto the dock, walking up the length towards shore.
Frizzy brown hair blowing in the sea breeze, Marissa Jenkins purposefully strode out to meet Jonah, anger building with every step. Her eyes stared daggers and were matched by the pursed scowl of a scorned ex. Jonah suddenly found himself remembering that he’d never technically broken things off.
“Hey Issa,” said Jonah, trying to break the ice with a broad smile.
Marissa stopped dead and slapped him squarely across the face, hard enough to leave a bright red handprint.
“Ow!” protested Jonah. “What was that—?”
“You said you were bringing a ship in for repairs,” said Marissa with an accusatory tone. “That is a submarine. Do you have any idea how much trouble I could get in?”
“So we’ll throw a tarp over it,” said Jonah, rubbing his stinging face as he set the briefcase down. “And it’s nice to see you, too.”
Hassan and Alexis walked down deck of the submarine. The engineer slipped her hand into the doctor’s as the two jumped onto the dock to join Jonah.
“Hey,” said Jonah to the pair. “Where’s Dalmar and Vitaly?”
Hassan gave a pained look. “They’re… uh… still…” he began.
“I think the technical term is banging,” added Alexis, squeezing Hassan’s hand.
“Banging?” asked Jonah.
“Like a screen door in a tornado, Cap’n,” said Alexis.
Marissa shook her head in irritation at the whole situation even as she gestured to a collection of shipping containers and bulky equipment crates on the shore next to the concrete dock. “So everything you wanted is here — air lifters, winches, arc welders, plasma cutter, gantry cranes, newly rolled high-strength steel plating, and all manner of electronics. It’s everything you’ll need to repair your… ship. We’ll bring in a diesel barge in a couple of days to top off your tanks.”
“Much obliged,” said Jonah. “I’m very impressed.”
“Well, you’d better not fuck me on payment,” said Marissa. “Because I’m out serious money on this, especially the rental deposits. Keep in mind you already disappeared on me once.”
“It’s covered,” said Jonah, snapping open the briefcase and swiveling it around to show the contents to Marissa.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Those are… gold bars. Lots of gold bars.”
“Ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent pure,” said Jonah. “Had them assayed myself.”
“What in holy hell am I supposed to do with gold bars?”
“It was either this or Indonesian rupiahs,” said Hassan. “Or Burmese kyats—”
“This will be fine, thank you,” interrupted Marissa, taking the suitcase from Jonah and closing it. “So how did you get this much gold?”
“You’d be very surprised what collectors pay for black market human skin these days,” said Jonah.
“Ugh! I shouldn’t have even asked,” said Marissa, putting her index finger and thumb on the bridge of her nose and squeezing. Jonah recognized it as a symptom of an early-onset tension headache.
Sweaty and still buttoning their shirts, Dalmar and Vitaly emerged from the conning tower, waving at the rest of the party.
“That reminds me,” added Marissa, pulling half a dozen folded-up loose leaf pages of printer paper from her back jeans pocket. “Jonah told me to run your names, see what the authorities have on you.”