The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(16)

“Jay!” I called helplessly. “The water’s over the deck! Get out!”

“I’m coming!” came the muffled shout.

“Violet,” Viggo said, “get up there! I’ll hoist you!”

“We can’t leave him—”

“I know,” Viggo said, and the pain in his voice told me that he was feeling the same horrifying helplessness I felt. Then, without warning, he grabbed me around the waist and thrust my body up toward the roof, pushing my butt up so that I was forced to scrabble for the flat surface until my brother’s hands yanked me up the rest of the way.

It was just in time. With a wrenching crack and a sucking noise, a huge portion of the front deck cracked, and a surge of toxic water hissed up toward us. “Viggo!” I cried, but he was already pulling himself up by the frame of the door, the wave of water missing his boots by inches.

I scrambled to my feet to see the dazed faces of the rest of the group looking down at the flood that covered the deck, almost a foot deep and rising. Tim released my hands, helping Viggo to his feet and concealing his flinch when he touched him. “Jay?” Tim asked me, his eyes wide. I could only stare at him, a pit opening in my stomach. Behind him, I could see Owen already inflating the life raft, which apparently came with a tiny outboard motor; but his eyes were locked on mine too.

I didn’t have words. “I think—” I started, and then Tim’s eyes bulged and he cried, “Jay!”

I whipped around to see a hand grasping the frame of the door beneath us, fingers trembling. The front end of a whining, wriggling dog appeared from below, and Tim leaned forward to grab Samuel from Jay, whose other hand grabbed the doorframe almost before we’d lifted the dog out of harm’s way. The young man pulled his head and shoulders up, and Tim hurried to help pull him the rest of the way to safety.

Jay panted on his knees at the edge of the roof for a moment. Horrified, I checked to see where the contaminated water had touched him, but his clothes seemed dry. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief to see him alive, and Tim, a real smile on his face, choked out, “Water—how?”

A little grin broke out on Jay’s face. “I braced my feet on either side of the hall,” he said proudly. “It was a little hard with only one hand.” He looked down like it was nothing, but I saw his face redden slightly as everybody cheered. I was stunned. Only a genetically modified person could have done something like that.

The relief I felt was short-lived, though. I looked at the raft that Owen had leaning out over the rising water, at the size of it and the seven of us, and then at Viggo. Churning water had covered most of the cracking deck beneath us and was rapidly climbing the walls of the stairwell alcove.

“That’s not going to fit all of us,” I whispered, and Alejandro, who had come up behind to congratulate Jay, nodded, his eyes tired.

“It’s designed for four, not seven, but that’s okay,” he said wearily with a small, sad smile on his lips. “It’s better this—”

Before another word could come out of his mouth, Viggo turned, hauling back his arm and punching the older man in the face, being careful to catch him before he fell. I gaped in surprise as Viggo shrugged at me, carefully dragging the now unconscious older man toward the raft.

“He was going to say he should go down with the ship, and we just didn’t have time for the argument,” Viggo said as he passed Alejandro over to Ms. Dale and Owen.

“So you punched him?” I said, leaning unsteadily as the deck tilted more. It was angled so steeply now that it felt like I was one stumble away from rolling down and tumbling into the water below.

“I did what I had to do. Besides… his wife would never forgive me if I let him go down with this rust bucket.”

I rolled my eyes, but I felt a smile drift across my lips. Everything was going to be all right. I looked down at the raft, now bobbing in the rising water. Jay and Tim were in front—Tim cradling Samuel—and Owen and Ms. Dale sat in the rear, with Alejandro sprawled in the middle. The little raft was already overloaded. Owen gave me a look, and I shook my head at him.

“All right,” I said abruptly. “Owen, you and Ms. Dale row everyone to shore. Then, Owen, you come back and grab us. We’ll try to stay out of the water until you get back.”

Tim’s face went pale and he shook his head rapidly, his dark hair flying. “No! Jay. Me. We jump.” He said it with such confidence that I almost considered it. Almost.

“No,” I told him, and he opened his mouth to object, but I wouldn’t let him. “Tim… Jay’s had enough close calls today. Please just listen. We’re going to be all right.”

I could sense Viggo about to insist that I squeeze aboard as well, and without hesitating, I turned and held a finger up to his lips. “Are you going to need a punch in the face, too?” I asked gently, enjoying his surprised expression. “I know that you’re going to insist on me going, and I’m going to say not without you, and it’ll go on and on. But really—I won’t leave without you, you won’t leave without me, and now we’re going to be stuck on this boat together, waiting for Owen to come back before we fall in and die.”

Viggo stared back into my eyes, the resistance dying out of his, and nodded.

Whipping back around, I sucked in a long breath. “Go,” I told the rest of them, my tone brooking no disobedience.