The Extinction Trials(64)

And she had problems herself—in her own mind. Each morning, she awoke to dried blood caked on her lip and cheek—and a pounding headache. Each time, she quickly ran to the bathroom and washed it away before Blair or Cara spotted it.

She didn’t want anyone to know she was getting sicker.

She had learned to spot when the nose bleeds were starting and would duck belowdecks and wait in the bathroom until they stopped.

She found Owen waiting outside after one such episode.

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“No.”

“You’re lying. I can’t read your face, but I know your bladder hasn’t shrunk and the skin below your nose is raw from wiping it.”

“I’m just seasick.”

He exhaled. “Well, I hope you will keep me informed of any side effects of your seasickness.”

She nodded as she thought: what would we even do about any side effects? There were no hospitals out here. No pharmacies. And no cure in sight.

That night, as she lay in bed thinking, she attempted to mentally retrace what had happened to her. She had awoken in a bunker. Station... She couldn’t remember the number. Station 19? Yes, that was it. Or was it?

And before that... what had happened? She had been sick, she knew that, and in the hospital. Someone had visited her? Who?

The memories were slipping away as though washed away by time. And time was gaining on her. How much longer before she didn’t remember anything—who she was, what she was doing out here on the sea... who the others were—who Owen was? And what they had shared on that deck before they reached the container ship. In a way, she was adrift too, and she needed to find a cure. Soon.





Chapter Fifty





In his stateroom, Owen woke to shouting above.

He jumped out of bed and raced up the narrow stairs.

Will was crouched on the floor where parts of the computer console from the cockpit were strewn from the table to the couch. Owen heard the roar of the engine, so he knew they were still moving. For whatever reason, the boat seemed to be okay without the computer.

Alister was towering over the younger man, hands on his hips. “You’re tearing it up!”

“I am not tearing it up,” Will said, his voice calm.

Alister pointed to the parts. “Let me guess, the cockpit self-destructed because it is smart enough to know we’re lost at sea.”

“First,” Will replied, “we are not lost at sea. Second, I disassembled the ship’s computer to take an inventory of its parts to identify elements that could be extracted and taken with us when we make landfall.”

Alister scoffed. “Like I said, tearing it up.”

“You are not the only one who can fix things, Alister.”

Owen held up a hand, stopping the argument that he knew was about to erupt. “I thought you were a programmer?”

“Yes. But I also have a working grasp of computer hardware.”

Owen heard footsteps on the stairs and turned to find Maya climbing up, running her thumb and pointer finger on her eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Wonder boy tore the ship apart,” Alister muttered.

“What parts are you interested in?” Owen asked Will, ignoring Alister.

“The radio,” Will replied. “If I can extract the radio, maybe it will work on land. We very well might need to call for help.”

Alister closed his eyes and blew out a breath. “Assuming this mutilated mess actually works on land—and I doubt that very seriously—you could just as well be calling someone hostile to us.”

“A working radio gives us the option of using it,” Will said. “Not a requirement. As such, I feel it should be used only when we have nothing to lose.”

Owen pointed to the cockpit. “The ship’s still running?”

“Yes. The nav system and engine controls are still online. Only the display is off. Removing the radio components necessitated deactivating it.” Will held his hands out. “We will not need to change course any time soon—not before I’m done.”

“Hurry, just in case,” Owen said. “You never know what we’re going to run into out here.”

“If the past is any indication,” Alister muttered, “we’re going to run into nothing out here.”





When it was time for his shift to start, Owen found Will on the deck and the cockpit computer reassembled.

“I’m sorry for the commotion,” Will said.

“Not your fault,” Owen said as he wiped the weariness from his face. “It’s Alister. He’s particular about the boat.”

“Yes,” Will said slowly, “he is.”

Owen sensed something there—a subtext—and he would have given anything to have been able to read it.

“Any luck with the radio?”

“Yes,” Will said. “We have what I believe is indeed a working radio. Time will tell. I’ve also extracted one of the solar panels from the roof. It may prove valuable as well.”





The day passed like the ones before, with one exception. Maya was going below decks more often. When Cara went to check on her, they stayed below a long time.

It gave Owen an unnerving feeling. Maya was slipping away. Getting sicker. They were running out of time, in more ways than one.