Jake Morrison's Arc

Chapter 14 of 54

Jake sat up on the deck. His leg still ached where the tentacles had gripped it. Marisol knelt beside him, her hand still in his. The sea rolled under the yacht. She was the goth girl he'd saved with his garbage truck days ago. Now she'd just put a spear through the thing that almost dragged him under. She'd saved his life. He looked at her and saw she was shaking a little, though her face stayed hard. "You okay?" she asked. "Thanks to you." Jake caught his breath. He remembered what she'd yelled at the creature. He'd been half over the rail, but he'd heard it. "Did you really mean that? When you called me your man?" Marisol met his eyes. A slow smile broke through. "Only if you want to be." Jake closed the space between them. She leaned in. They kissed on the wet deck, the wind pushing at them, the sea wide and dark around the boat. For a moment the wretches and the miles ahead didn't matter. A cough interrupted them. Marcus stood by the wheelhouse, wrench back in his hand, one eyebrow raised. He was the mechanic who'd once held Jake at gunpoint with an empty gun. Now he wore a tired grin. "When you two lovebirds are done," Marcus said, "we could use you up here." Sofia smacked his arm. She'd stepped out from the wheel, her ponytail loose from the fight. This was her father's boat, and she knew the water better than any of them. "Hey," Marcus said, rubbing his arm. "They can do that later." Jake stood and pulled Marisol up. "He's right." He walked to the wheelhouse. "How's our fuel?" Sofia's grin faded. She tapped the gauge. The needle sat low. "That's the problem. My dad kept charts, but I don't know how far this tank goes. Eighty miles is a lot." Jake studied the gauge, then the open water. No land in sight. No harpoon left to fight what swam below. Just fuel they couldn't trust and a course they had to hold. "Then we plan it right," Jake said. "We pick the straightest line to the island. No detours. We burn as little as we can." Sofia nodded and spread her father's charts across the console. Marcus leaned in beside her. Marisol pressed close to Jake, her shoulder against his. Four of them now, bound tighter than an hour ago. Jake set his finger on the marked island, eighty miles out. "This is where we're going. All of us." He looked at Marisol. She looked back and didn't let go of his arm. The course was set. But the fuel gauge kept dropping, and the sea between them and the island ran deep and full of things that swim.