Douglas Preston - Impact

Abbey tied the lines to the rails and hauled Jackie back on board. The Marea was beginning to list.

"Is that going to work?" Abbey said.

"Might buy us time. We'll use Worth's boat to tow and beach her on the nearest island," said Jackie. "Follow me." She leapt from the Marea to the Old Salt , which was still tied up, engine idling, and took the helm, Abbey following. Jackie thrust it into full throttle. The engine roared, the boat straining forward, pulling the nine-ton Marea alongside it, Jackie adjusting the rudder to compensate for the dead weight.

"Where are we going?" Abbey cried.

"Franklin. We're going to run both boats right up on the beach. It's the only way. Abbey, check those cleats--make sure they hold."

While Abbey checked, Jackie pulled down the VHF and began broadcasting a mayday. "This is the Marea , Marea , Marea , position 43 50 north 69 23 west. My boat is sinking, we have a severely injured passenger. A second boat is on scene and towing. I require immediate assistance. Over."

She stopped broadcasting and waited. A minute later the response came.

" Marea , this is the Coast Guard station Tenants Harbor, responding. The closest boat to your position is the lobster boat Misty Sue , south of Friendship Long Island, coming to your assistance at ten knots. The Misty Sue will communicate with you on channel six. Over."

"There's nobody closer?" Jackie screamed. "We're sinking!"

"There aren't many vessels out there, Marea . We're sending out the Coast Guard RB-M Admiral Fitch from Tenants Harbor with a paramedic, over."

"I'm going to try to beach it on Franklin," Jackie said.

" Marea , what's the nature of the injury?"

"He's dead, I think. Head bashed in with a hammer."

A silence. "Repeat that, please."

"I said he's dead . Randall Worth. He shot up our boat and boarded. Attempted robbery. So we killed him."

A pause. "Is anyone else hurt?"

"Not really."

"This is a crime scene, then, and should be treated as such. Please be advised . . ." The voice droned on. They were barely crawling along at three knots and slowing down as the Marea continued to take on water. Abbey checked below; the blanket had slowed the flow of water but hadn't stopped it. Franklin was four miles away--at this speed more than an hour of travel time.

"Fuck!" Jackie said out loud, cutting off the Coast Guard and tuning to channel 6. "This is Marea , calling Misty Sue , what's your position?"

"Just coming through the Allen Island passage. What's happening?"

"I'm towing a sinking boat. I need more towing power. I'm looking to beach it on Franklin."

"I should be there in . . . forty minutes."

Worth's boat struggled to make headway, hauling the sinking Marea alongside of it. The Marea was now listing badly and their boat was losing steerage due to the deadweight.

"We've got to cut it loose," said Jackie. "When it sinks, it'll capsize us, pull us under."

"No!" Abbey said. "Please. We'll uncleat it from the side and retie it to the stern--and drag it behind us. We'll go faster that way."

"Give it a try."

Abbey untied the Marea and pulled ahead, attaching a cable from the anchor post to a stern cleat on Worth's boat.

"That cleat's not going to hold," said Jackie.

"Better than the other one."

Jackie eased up the throttle, letting the strain build gradually. The Marea was now listing so hard to port that water began pouring in one of the stern scuppers. Worth's boat roared and strained, the cable taut as a violin string, but still they were barely moving.

"Abbey, for God's sake it's sinking! It's going to pull us under!"

"No, please, it's my father's only boat! Just keep going!"

Jackie pushed the throttle all the way forward. The engine screamed with the strain, there was a crack like a shotgun blast and the cleat snapped out, taking a piece of the stern with it. Worth's boat leapt forward, the strain gone. Jackie threw the helm hard aport and brought the boat back around toward the Marea . But it was too late. With a sigh, the lobster boat settled onto its side, air rushing out. Then it slipped under the waves and vanished, leaving an oil slick behind.

"Oh my God," said Jackie. "Worth was still on board."

Abbey stared in horror, not quite able to grasp the awfulness of what had just happened. "My father's boat . . . it just sank ."

36

The peppercan buoy at the mouth of Round Pond Harbor loomed out of the drizzle, rolling back and forth in the rising swell. Abbey stood at the wheel of Worth's boat, following the Coast Guard boat Admiral Fitch into the harbor. It had caught up with them about a mile out--too late to be of any use--and the Coast Guard were now having a grand time "escorting" them back in. The fog had mostly lifted, leaving the world in a damp, depressing twilight. As the piers loomed into view, Abbey could see a mass of flashing lights in the parking lot above the waterfront.

"Looks like we've got a welcoming committee."

Inside the harbor, she throttled down and glanced over at Jackie. She looked terrible, her damp hair hanging down limp and dirty, dark circles under her eyes, her hands, face, and clothes covered with mud.

"What do we tell them?" Jackie asked.

"Everything except the meteorite. We were looking for Dixie Bull's treasure. Just like they think."

"Um, why not tell them about the meteorite?"

"There still may be a way to make money on this."

"How?"

"I don't know. Gimme time to work it out."

A long silence. "Maybe they can raise my father's boat," said Abbey, "and get it running again."

"Of course they'll raise it," Jackie said. "It's a crime scene and there's a body on board. But it's totaled, Abbey. It sank in a hundred feet of water. I'm sorry."

Abbey glanced at her friend and saw she was crying. "Hey, Jackie. Hey . . . You tried your best to save it." She put her arm around her. "God, I'm sorry I dragged you out on this wild-goose chase. It's like all the other crazy things I've gotten you into. I don't know why you stay my friend."

"I don't either," said Jackie.

"I love you, Jackie. You saved my life."

"And you saved mine and I love you, too."

Abbey wiped away a tear herself. "Aw, fuck it, we'll get through this."

As the docks loomed into view, Abbey could see at least a dozen cop cars had converged in the parking lot, parked willy-nilly, their light bars going. And behind them, on the lawn of the Anchor Inn, it seemed like half the town had turned out to watch them come in. Along with news crews and television cameras.

"Oh my God, will you look at all those people?" said Jackie, wiping her face and blowing her nose. "I look like shit."

"Get ready for your fifteen minutes of fame."

She could now hear the hubbub coming over the water, the murmuring crowd, the shouting cops, the hiss of police radios. Even the volunteer fire department was there, Samoset No. 1, with their brand-new fire truck. They were all decked out in slickers and carrying Pulaskis. Everyone was having a grand old time.

"RBM Fitch to Old Salt , come in," the officious voice hissed over the VHF.

" Old Salt here." It made Abbey almost sick to even speak the name of Worth's shit-can of a boat.

" Old Salt , the state police have requested you berth in position one at the commercial dock and immediately leave the boat, taking nothing. Don't shut off the engine or tie up. Law enforcement will board and take over."

"Got it."

"RBM Fitch over."

The Fitch eased up to the public dock, the Coast Guard fellows hopping out in their crisp uniforms and tying up with drill-like efficiency. Abbey brought the Old Salt up behind it. The state police were swarming the dock and they immediately hopped aboard, securing the boat. Abbey stepped off, Jackie by her side. An officer came up, holding a clipboard. "Miss Abbey Straw and Miss Jacqueline Spann?"