Page 46 of Wild Tempest

Jack looked at me like the notion was absurd, but his damp clothing made the fact undeniable. “When did I do that?”

“You should go back to your stateroom and lock yourself in. We may not be alone on this ship.”

He contemplated it a moment.

“Come on. I’ll help you up.”

“I’m not an invalid,” he muttered, attempting to stand. Weak, and with the motion of the swells, he fell back to the sofa.

I took his arm and helped him to his feet. We staggered back up to Level 02, and I helped him get situated in his bunk. I handed him a bottle of cherry sports drink. “Stay hydrated.”

He frowned at me. “Yes, mother.”

Jack took a few reluctant sips, then reclined in his rack. He closed his eyes and rolled on his side.

“Holler if you need anything.”

Jack gave me the thumbs up.

“Lock the hatch,” I said on my way out.

I returned to my stateroom and locked the hatch. After peeling out of my clothes, I slipped into bed with Tempest. She stirred but didn’t wake.

The storm still thundered and rumbled the ship. I managed to get back to sleep. Crazy dreams swirled in my brain.

When I woke in the morning, the boat was still. It almost felt unnatural. Surreal.

I climbed out of the bunk, trying not to disturb Tempest. I unlocked the hatch and stepped into the corridor to check on Dale and Jack. I was met by the barrel of a twitchy pistol.

29

"What are you doing on my boat?" an angry man growled with crazed eyes.

He was about 6’1” with short dark hair that receded slightly. His brown eyes filled with rage. In his early 50s with a muscular build, he was still dangerous. By the smell, the guy hadn’t had a shower in a while.

"So, this is your boat," I said calmly. "May I suggest a few minor improvements?"

I don't think he liked my sense of humor.

The comment threw him off guard, and his brow knitted. His finger wrapped tight around the trigger. On edge, it looked like he had guzzled a pot of coffee or snorted an eightball.

"Dad?" Tempest said, stepping to the hatch.

Paul aimed the gun at her. Not exactly what I would have expected, but then again, Paul didn't appear to be in his right mind. He hadn’t cleared the virus. It was a frightening thought. Maybe the pathogen left the victim in a permanent state of psychosis.

"Dad, it's me. Tempest.”

Paul squinted at her, still not recognizing her.

"Your daughter!" she said.

"I don't have a daughter." Paul grew angry and fired the pistol.

The muzzle flashed.

The bullet snapped past my ear and drilled into the hatch, narrowly missing Tempest.

She ducked into the stateroom.