Jeremy Robinson - Island 731

Hawkins had no reason to doubt the man. If Bray was an expert on any two things, it was biology—including the history of the science—and his home state. “But what could be learned by binding the turtle’s shell with a plastic band?”

“Adaptability,” came Joliet’s voice. She stood in the open doorway, clutching the frame as the ship rose up on another wave. “To see how the growing turtle’s body would adapt to the constriction. We know the intestines elongated, and the muscle groups separated, but there is still more to uncover, like how the turtle’s neurology and nervous system were affected.” She looked at Bray lying in the bed. “You know, it’s easier if you stand.”

“I know, I know!” Bray threw his legs over the side of his cot and sat up. He looked about to say something when he groaned and held on to the top bunk. “I hate both of you.”

“It’s possible the turtle would have lived far longer if not for all the plastic it consumed.” Joliet frowned. “While I would never condone the experiment, there is a lot to be learned from it.”

“Might as well benefit from someone else torturing the animal, right?” Bray asked. “I thought you Canucks were all touchy-feely, leave-your-doors-unlocked types.”

Joliet’s face scrunched up with anger. “Hey, this is different!”

“Not to PETA,” Bray said, his grin revealing that the dig was in jest. “That was for making me sit up.”

Joliet was still fuming when she looked at Hawkins and saw his smile. He tried to erase it, but failed. He sensed her frustration with Bray extend to him.

“Have either of you seen Kam?” she asked.

Bray answered quickly. “I didn’t think he was your ty—”

“ Bray ,” Hawkins warned. Continuing the roast of Joliet might help the man keep his supper down, but it wouldn’t end well—for either man, it seemed. “Not since we left the lab. He looked a little green. Probably in his quarters trying to forget what the inside of a loggerhead looks like.”

“Well, he’s not.”

Kam, like the three of them, was nonessential to the ship. As a technology intern, his official duties included software updates and hardware fixes, but since the systems on the Magellan were fairly new and up-to-date, Kam most often found himself cleaning, or fetching coffee. Hawkins wondered if the young man’s performance in the biolab was an attempt to elevate his status, and perhaps be invited to take part in endeavors more rewarding than brewing the perfect cup of Folgers Classic Roast.

“Why are you so worried about him, anyway?” Bray asked. “He’s a big boy.”

“Asks the man hiding in his room with his big, strong Hawkins to take care of him.” She said the last part with a pouty face that made both men grin. “Try to deny it, but you like Kam as much as the rest of us.”

Bray just stared.

“You show him your god-awful magic tricks,” she said. “He’s sat through each and every one of your boring Webcasts. And I know he helped you with the Saran Wrap prank. I caught him in the hallway, keeping watch while you covered the toilet.”

“That little shit,” Hawkins said. He’d been on the receiving end of that prank. He’d gotten Bray back, but now he had to get Kam, and it seemed, Joliet, who’d kept her mouth shut.

“Fine,” Bray said, and then groaned as the ship tilted forward. “I like the twerp, but I’m not his mother. I’m not going to Hulk smash my way through the ship just to find him. Maybe he’s in the head?” Bray asked with a groan. “I might be headed there myself.”

“Checked there, too,” Joliet said.

“There are nearly forty bathrooms on board,” Hawkins noted. “Maybe he wanted privacy?”

Before anyone could answer, the ship listed sharply to the side. Hawkins fell forward, landing on Bray in the lower bunk. Joliet spilled to the floor, sliding until she slammed to a stop against the wall.

As the ship righted itself, Hawkins pulled himself off of Bray. “That’s not good.”

“What the hell happened?” Bray asked.

Joliet pushed herself up, leaning against the wall. “Wave hit the starboard side. The ship must have turned.”

“Aren’t you supposed to steer into the waves?” Bray asked. “Why would Drake let the ocean T-bone us?”

The ship rolled hard again, pushing Hawkins back onto the bed. When it passed, he said, “He wouldn’t.”

Joliet made for the door. “Something’s wrong.”

Hawkins stumbled out of the room behind her.

“Where are you going?” Bray asked.

“The bridge,” Hawkins answered as he moved down the hall.

“Oh, hell,” Bray muttered and gave chase.

Hawkins paused with Joliet at the bottom of the staircase leading up. They hung on to the railings as the floor shook and a loud rumbling echoed through the ship.

Bray stumbled up and took hold of Hawkins’s offered arm. “The hell is that?”

“Waves are breaking against the hull,” Hawkins guessed.

“Doesn’t sound like water,” Bray said.

Joliet started up the stairs. “That’s because it’s not just water. The ocean is full of a million floating projectiles.”

Hawkins realized that they were in a very precarious situation. At two hundred seventy-four feet in length, the Magellan wasn’t a small ship, but the right storm could sink even the largest vessel. Worse, they seemed to be out of control and the ocean was full of debris, some of it rock solid. Rescue in the middle of the Pacific was fairly unlikely on a good day, but surrounded by endless miles of garbage, they’d never be found.

He kept his thoughts to himself as he motioned for Bray to follow Joliet up the stairs. Halfway to the top, the ship shook from a massive impact. A loud bang from the top of the stairwell was followed by a swirling torrent of sea water.

The roiling water carried a slick of worn plastic chips past Hawkins’s feet with enough force to sweep them out from under him. If not for the railings he clutched by both hands, he would have toppled down the stairs. He felt thankful that Joliet and Bray had been holding the railings, as well, or they would have all fallen together.

As the ship canted in the other direction, the flow of water stopped. We’re not sinking , Hawkins told himself, a wave just found a way inside.

“Mark!” Joliet shouted from above. She’d reached the top of the stairs on the main deck and fought to stay upright on the sharply tilting, very wet floor. “A door is open!”

Hawkins reached the top of the stairs right behind Bray. Nearly horizontal rain whipped into the hallway, stinging his face. Had Joliet lost her balance and fallen, she’d have been tossed out the open door, over the rail of the main deck, and into the torrid ocean. As the ship tilted, pushing them away from the open door, a flash of lightning lit the scene outside the door.

A cresting twenty-five-foot wave laden with garbage reached out for them like a giant. They were about to be pulverized. Hawkins struggled to climb the steepening floor, hoping to reach the door before the wave.

“Take my arm!” Bray shouted. He held onto the stairway railing with one hand and stretched out the other to Hawkins. “We’ll both pull.”

Understanding what the man had in mind, Hawkins reached forward and took Bray’s hand. They pulled in unison, accelerating Hawkins up the incline. He’d covered half the distance when his speed dropped quickly. The ship was still listing. Desperation fueled his leap and he caught hold of the open metal door with the tips of his fingers.

Thunder boomed through the opening door, so close that it made his ears ring. But it didn’t slow him because he knew the next boom would be the wave striking the ship. He pulled himself up the door, found his footing, and pushed against the heavy metal. His progress felt impossibly slow, but he managed to get the watertight door closed. The first drops of the descending wave hissed against the hull as Hawkins took hold of the locking wheel and gave it a spin.