Twenty-Five Percent (Book 2): Downfall by Nerys Wheatley Page B

the dock, they found a medium sized blue and white boat that looked like they might be able to handle it. It was a little shabby, but looked solid, with a cabin in the centre and the words ‘Sea Holly’ painted on the side.
    Alex stepped over the small gap between the boat and the wooden pier, stopping when he reached the deck and the boat shifted under him. He hadn’t been on a boat for years and the movement was disconcerting. Micah jumped on beside him and looked at the deck.
    “You think it will take the weight of the bikes?”
    “I don’t think...”
    “Get off my boat or I’ll put this harpoon through both your chests!”
    Alex looked around for the source of the voice. It sounded like it had come from the cabin, but there was nothing to see.
    “Hello?” Micah called.
    “You and your white-eyed friend can leave right now or I’ll turn you both into a kebab.”
    And so it began. Alex rolled his eyes. Jean hadn’t mentioned him being a Survivor even once.
    “We need to get across the river,” Micah shouted. “We could use some help.”
    “He’s threatening to harpoon us,” Alex said quietly. “There are plenty of other boats.”
    “Yeah, but I thought we might have a better chance of making it across without drowning or getting swept out to sea if we have someone who knows what they’re doing at the wheel.”
    “I think it’s called a helm.”
    “And that is exactly why we need help.”
    “Go away,” the voice yelled. “If you want help, call the police.”
    “I am the police,” Alex shouted back.
    “I don’t care. Sod off.”
    “I don’t think he has a harpoon,” Micah said. “First, what would he have a harpoon for this far from the sea, and second, if he does, why is he hiding?”
    “Do you want to test that theory?”
    A flicker of doubt crossed Micah’s face. “Well...”
    “Excuse me? Sir?”
    Both of them looked round at the sound of Jean’s voice. She was still standing on the dock, waving in the direction of the cabin.
    “I know this is an imposition, especially under the circumstances, but if you could see your way to helping us I would be terribly grateful.” She smiled.
    Alex and Micah’s gazes returned to the cabin.
    “Um...” The unseen man paused. “None of you is infected?”
    “Oh, no,” she said, “most definitely not.”
    There was another pause. “Well, alright then. For you.”
    “You’re so kind,” Jean said with another smile.
    “Why can’t we do that?” Alex muttered.
    “Because we are burdened with Y-chromosomes,” Micah replied.
    Alex helped Jean onto the boat as a man stepped from the cabin. He was in his fifties or early sixties, his greying hair cropped short and a few days of white stubble on his face. His hands were empty.
    “I thought you had a harpoon,” Micah said.
    “I thought you wanted to steal my boat,” he shot back.
    Alex waved a hand at the boats surrounding them. “Why would we pick yours?”
    The man glowered at him. “Are you saying my boat’s not worth stealing?”
    Alex paused, at a loss as he realised there was no good answer to that question. Thankfully, Jean came to his rescue.
    Walking over to the man, she held out her hand. “This is so kind of you. I’m Jean and this is Alex and Micah.”
    The man took her hand, not even glancing at Alex and Micah. “Everett Johnson.”
    “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Johnson.”
    Something approaching a smile cracked his face. “Please, call me Everett.”
    Alex and Micah glanced at each other. Micah did an eyebrow shrug.
    “Well,” Alex said loudly, “we’ll go and get our bikes.”
    Everett looked at them sharply. “Your what?”
    Alex nodded in the direction of the bikes parked back on land.
    Everett’s eyes widened. “You can’t bring...”
    “This is so very kind of you,” Jean said, placing her hand on his arm. “These two young men saved my life and are taking me home. Your help is invaluable.”
    He looked down at her, then back at the bikes.