Between Here and the Horizon(44)
“I have the kids in the car. Listen, can you let me know if there’s anything I can do to help?” I pointed back to the Land Rover, where I could see Connor’s pale, worried face over the dashboard.
Michael sighed, frustrated. “Sure, of course. I think we’re all gonna be stuck here like idiots, our hands tied behind our backs, but I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you.”
Back in the car, Amie was snoring and Connor was perched on the edge of his seat, knees up around his chin, sweater pulled down over his legs so they’d disappeared altogether. “What did they say? Is someone going to save them?” he asked.
“Yeah, bud. The coast guard’s on their way now. They won’t be long at all.” The lie was difficult to tell, since it was so big. No one was coming for the poor guys out on the water. No one would be coming until it was far too late. At that point, they’d be retrieving bodies, not survivors, and the inhabitants of the Causeway would have had to watch their friends and loved ones die.
******
Hours passed. Connor fell asleep against his will, binoculars still clasped loosely in his hand, and Amie continued to snore. I couldn’t have slept even if I’d wanted to. More men arrived carrying flashlights. Even more men arrived after that, carrying sea kayaks and what looked like wooden canoes. A couple of them tried to launch into the boiling ocean, but each time anyone tried they were cast back against the shore by the surging waves. At four, or maybe a little later than that, the sun began to rise, casting an eerie gray light across the beach. Even from the car, I could see how tired and hopeless everyone looked, faces pinched, foreheads creased into frowns so deep they looked now permanent.
Connor was covered in one of the blankets he’d brought from the cupboard in the hallway; Amie was tucked up snugly underneath my duvet. Strangely, I wasn’t cold, even though clouds of fog billowed out of my mouth every time I exhaled, and my hands had turned blue.
I was considering my options—to go home or to stay—when a rap on my window nearly startled the life out of me; Staring out of the window, straight ahead, out to sea, I hadn’t noticed Michael approaching the car, nor the large piping hot flask he was carry in his hands. I buzzed the window down, doing my best to find a smile for him.
“Coffee,” he said, as if it were some sort of secret password. “I figured you might need some.”
“Thank you.”
He handed the flask to me through the window, sighing. “The other ship, the tanker? It went down an hour ago. They only managed to pull two guys out of the water.”
“Oh god.”
“Yeah.” We both remained silent for a moment. And then he said, “It’s hard, y’know. It makes you angry. If they hadn’t gone to the tanker, if they’d come here instead…”
“No point in ifs, Michael.” He was right, though. Maybe if the contents of the tanker hadn’t been so valuable, the coast guard would have come to the Sea King first. Big oil companies held so much sway with the government. Owned half of the government. One word in the right person’s ear and all available resources could easily have been diverted to a lost cause, instead of a viable one.
“The sea’s calming a little. We’re hoping we might be able to get out there soon on some of the smaller boats. Until then, we’re just going to have to sit here and wait. Maybe it’d be better for you to get on home. Either way, whatever happens, people have died out there. With the current as strong as it is, the waves pounding the shore, bodies are gonna start washing up soon. The kids…” he said under his breath.
“You’re right. I should get them home. I just feel so…useless.”
Michael couldn’t quite look me in the eye. “You, me and everyone else standing on this dock, Ophelia. It means a lot that you came out, though. To the people of the island. Thank you.”
“Of course. I haven’t been able to do—”
A loud snarl of an engine cut me off, ripping through the air. Over the small rise behind the dock, a black truck appeared, charging toward the shoreline. I thought I recognized the vehicle, and Michael’s groan confirmed the identity of the driver.
“Sully. Perfect.” He clapped his hand against the side of the Land Rover. “I’d better go try and stop him from doing anything stupid,” Michael said. He didn’t sound too convinced that he’d be successful in his task, though. “I’ll see you later, Ophelia.”
From the sounds of it, he expected me to drive off and take the children home, but I didn’t. I watched as Sully’s truck careened down the slope and skidded to a halt, kicking a spray of sand and tiny pebbles into the air as the tires bit into the beach. He climbed out of the vehicle before it had fully stopped, hair wild, eyes wild, everything about him wild as he stalked toward the ambulance that was still parked on the pier. He broke into a run.
“Oh, shit.” Michael took off after him, running flat out, trying to cut Sully off, but it didn’t look like he was going to make it. I got out of the car, closing and locking it up behind me, thankful both the children were out cold, and I followed suit, racing toward the pier. Sully reached the ambulance a clear eight seconds before Michael, and he ripped open the driver’s door and pulled the guy who had been on his phone earlier out onto the wooden decking in a heap. I could hear Sully yelling long before I reached them.