alive. Her head pierced the water's surface a few hundred meters from the boat. Behind her, she heard loud splashes. Her companions were jumping into the water. The situation required her to force Hector's hand. One and then two gunshots resounded, followed a handful of seconds later by one last splash.
Elaine swam without looking back, forcing herself to keep the Colombian in her view. He remained in the same position. With each breath, she stared at him like a goal to achieve. Less than five meters away, she dived under the boat. She didn't know what he would decide at that moment.
The window that opened up to the seafloor, once meant to satisfy tourists’ thirst for sensational views, ran along the hull. She put her hands on it. Hector's deformed silhouette appeared at the bottom of the small ladder. He didn't shoot, as he wouldn’t risk putting a hole in the window. The many layers of transparent polymers and plastic would burst on impact, creating a waterway.
The captain didn't seem to her like the type of person ready to die at the helm. Not more than letting the helpless stragglers on board. She made out their shadows near the gangway ladder. Hector walked back and forth and passed his hands through his hair. He put his shotgun on the table and re-joined the deck. Elaine passed under the hull and came to the surface on the other side.
“Over here,” cried Masters, who had stepped on the boat first.
The butt of his 45 was sticking out of his soaking canvas clothing. He helped Dewei climb up. The brown-haired woman that accompanied them looked at Hector who, arms crossed in front of the cabin door, looked her up and down.
The young man in the red t-shirt, still in the water, turned towards her. “I'm Bruce.”
“Elaine.”
He smiled at her. His freckles and small, rolled up nose were characteristic of many adults his age. He climbed up the rungs and turned around. “We owe you our lives.”
Elaine gave a hint of annoyance and refrained from saying anything. Her intuition told her that on the contrary, they weren't done with this yet. Far from there.
Hector showed himself to be categorical immediately: he didn't authorize anyone to go inside. He also required them to not cover the solar panels positioned on the rounded roof and to not obstruct the path of the mast. The survivors accepted these rules. Even Masters, who expected to have a confrontation with the Colombian. He asked him to give him his gun. The marine looked at the outstretched hand with the intensity of a wild animal ready to pounce on its prey. Elaine encouraged him to give in to the captain’s demands. He gave him his 45.
The stressful part over, they sat down on the front deck, territory free of obligations. She brought Dewei a scarf. He remained squatting, back against the railing. “Are you cold?”
On the smooth face, similar to that of a porcelain doll, she detected a sort of agreement. She covered his shoulders. The boy scribbled a few words in his notebook.
Where are we going right now?
“As for that, I don't know anything about it. To Rio?” she proposed, all smiles.
The joke didn't seem to reach him. He remained stony-faced.
In front of them, the trio made up of Masters, Bruce and the woman were presenting themselves.
“I'm Alva Keen,” the woman declared. “Well, that's my stage name.”
The colonel pinched his lower lip in a desperate gesture. The young man came to his rescue. “I saw you in concert at the Miami
Winter Conference
, five or six years ago. You were a hit there. Afterwards, you disappeared from the electro scene.
The reactions of the soldier amused her and Elaine savored the moment. He seemed more like the type to hang out in a jazz bar in New Orleans than someone who hung out in Florida's popular night clubs.
Elaine got up and looked at Hector, seated at the helm. The wind tousled his dark mane of hair.
Dewei had asked the right question
, she reflected. Often, it was necessary to obtain
Elaine swam without looking back, forcing herself to keep the Colombian in her view. He remained in the same position. With each breath, she stared at him like a goal to achieve. Less than five meters away, she dived under the boat. She didn't know what he would decide at that moment.
The window that opened up to the seafloor, once meant to satisfy tourists’ thirst for sensational views, ran along the hull. She put her hands on it. Hector's deformed silhouette appeared at the bottom of the small ladder. He didn't shoot, as he wouldn’t risk putting a hole in the window. The many layers of transparent polymers and plastic would burst on impact, creating a waterway.
The captain didn't seem to her like the type of person ready to die at the helm. Not more than letting the helpless stragglers on board. She made out their shadows near the gangway ladder. Hector walked back and forth and passed his hands through his hair. He put his shotgun on the table and re-joined the deck. Elaine passed under the hull and came to the surface on the other side.
“Over here,” cried Masters, who had stepped on the boat first.
The butt of his 45 was sticking out of his soaking canvas clothing. He helped Dewei climb up. The brown-haired woman that accompanied them looked at Hector who, arms crossed in front of the cabin door, looked her up and down.
The young man in the red t-shirt, still in the water, turned towards her. “I'm Bruce.”
“Elaine.”
He smiled at her. His freckles and small, rolled up nose were characteristic of many adults his age. He climbed up the rungs and turned around. “We owe you our lives.”
Elaine gave a hint of annoyance and refrained from saying anything. Her intuition told her that on the contrary, they weren't done with this yet. Far from there.
Hector showed himself to be categorical immediately: he didn't authorize anyone to go inside. He also required them to not cover the solar panels positioned on the rounded roof and to not obstruct the path of the mast. The survivors accepted these rules. Even Masters, who expected to have a confrontation with the Colombian. He asked him to give him his gun. The marine looked at the outstretched hand with the intensity of a wild animal ready to pounce on its prey. Elaine encouraged him to give in to the captain’s demands. He gave him his 45.
The stressful part over, they sat down on the front deck, territory free of obligations. She brought Dewei a scarf. He remained squatting, back against the railing. “Are you cold?”
On the smooth face, similar to that of a porcelain doll, she detected a sort of agreement. She covered his shoulders. The boy scribbled a few words in his notebook.
Where are we going right now?
“As for that, I don't know anything about it. To Rio?” she proposed, all smiles.
The joke didn't seem to reach him. He remained stony-faced.
In front of them, the trio made up of Masters, Bruce and the woman were presenting themselves.
“I'm Alva Keen,” the woman declared. “Well, that's my stage name.”
The colonel pinched his lower lip in a desperate gesture. The young man came to his rescue. “I saw you in concert at the Miami
Winter Conference
, five or six years ago. You were a hit there. Afterwards, you disappeared from the electro scene.
The reactions of the soldier amused her and Elaine savored the moment. He seemed more like the type to hang out in a jazz bar in New Orleans than someone who hung out in Florida's popular night clubs.
Elaine got up and looked at Hector, seated at the helm. The wind tousled his dark mane of hair.
Dewei had asked the right question
, she reflected. Often, it was necessary to obtain
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