Apr 17, 2018 6 min read

The story so far: It’s no longer a question: the Sea Wolf is pursuing Aaron and his fellow kayakers. As they try to hide in a large lagoon, a tidal rip hits Lisa and Aaron’s kayak broadside. They capsize.

• Chapter 14

The storm

I’d never learned how to do an Eskimo roll-and in a two-person kayak, I doubt it’s even possible. Instinctively, we pushed out of our cockpits and swirled around in the onrush of freezing, churning seawater. I didn’t know which way was up, and my lungs were on fire. I flopped and kicked and twisted. Then, with a bolt of adrenalin, I shot to the surface.

But where was Lisa? With our kayak bottom up, I thought maybe she was on the other side. All was confusion, with shouts ringing out and a paddle blade poking me in the chest. “Grab it! Grab it!” someone hollered.

But still, where was Lisa? Something brushed my leg. I ducked my head into the black water, saw nothing, tried to dive down but couldn’t-not with a life jacket on.

And just at that moment, there she was. Lisa burst through the surface, gasping for breath. I hooked her life jacket and, at the same time, grasped an outstretched paddle. Willie hauled me up by the back of my life jacket till I lay sprawled across the rear hatch. Cassidy, with one arm, did the same with Lisa.

Determined to save our kayak before it sank, Dad managed to snare the bowline and hand it to Willie, who pulled the sinking boat toward shore. Roger climbed out of his kayak, splashed through the shallows, and took the rope from Willie. He held our kayak in tow till the rest of us clambered ashore. Then Willie and Cassidy lifted one end of our boat, which allowed some of the water to pour out. Finally they dragged it ashore, lifted the other end, rocked it back and forth, and sloshed out the remaining water.

“Way to go, dude,” Cassidy said, staring at me. I gave him a stare right back.

Lisa and I were soaked to the bone, shivering like reeds in the wind. Everything in our kayak had been submerged. We could only hope that the storage hatches hadn’t leaked, and that our dry bags had kept our clothes and sleeping bags dry.

The dark clouds, bunched like purple grapes, blotted the moon and the stars, while the wind flung intermittent handfuls of rain. But behind the roar of the wind, we could hear another sound. Was it distant thunder, or the rumble of a motor?

Or both?

“You’ll die of exposure if we stay here any longer,” Willie said. “We have to find a campsite and build a fire. Pronto.”

Lightning branched through the clouds, and a moment later thunder boomed across the sky.

That’s when we heard it: the unmistakable sound of the Sea Wolf, somewhere off in the dark.

Dad said he could paddle now – though I could see, by the way he held his elbow, that he was still in pain. There was no time for Lisa and me to change into dry clothes – assuming we had any dry clothes – so we slogged back into our kayaks, paddled off into the darkness, and wrestled through hordes of whitecaps.

And there, to the east, was Hunter Island – lit up by a tremendous flash of lightning. But as the thunder rolled over us, the island sank back into darkness, and we figured we’d have to make a blind landing – until another bolt of lightning momentarily illuminated a small inlet, and we slid into it on waves of fear. The next moment, a gunshot blasted a hole in the night.

“WE KNOW YOU’RE OUT THERE!” boomed a voice through a bullhorn. “WE WON’T HARM YOU. WE JUST WANT TO TALK.”

“It’s a bluff,” Willie said. “They can’t see us. Keep paddling.”

So we paddled in frenzied rhythm through the gloom until Willie nosed his kayak into a slush of gravel-like stones.

“We’re in luck,” he said. “The tide’s out, so they won’t be able to follow us in.”

“Till high tide,” Roger said, sliding up beside him.

We buried our kayaks beneath fallen branches and kelp. Then, following the beams of our flashlights, we stumbled through thick forest till we found a small clearing. Exhausted, we dumped our dry bags and began gathering wood. My teeth chattered, and Lisa clutched her elbows as if she were trying to fly into herself.

Roger rigged a tarp like a lean-to over the smoky fire, while Willie fed it with our treasure of sticks that had fallen in the wind. He was just in time. With a tremendous clap of thunder, a brilliant shot of lightning cracked open the night – and the rain came driving down like nails.

But Willie was a wizard with fire. Though it sizzled and steamed, he managed to keep it roaring while Dad, Roger, and Cassidy pitched tents and Lisa and I tried to warm ourselves by the flames.

We hadn’t eaten, we were wet to the bone, and we were in the grips of a chill that shook us in a fist of cold iron. The rain lashed down and the thunder crashed. The wind moaned like the haunting song of a shaman, or a shaggy ghost bear lost between worlds. I put my arms around Lisa, but she just hugged herself, and we shivered so hard that we both started to laugh – a nervous laugh that wracked us like sobs.

Then Dad came with bad news. Huddling with us beneath the tarp, he said that seawater had leaked into one of my dry bags when we’d capsized – and my sleeping bag was soaked.

Willie handed me a mug. “Here, pard, this’ll put a fire in your belly.” I took a sip, then another, and the fiery tea burned a tunnel to the pit of my belly. From there it seemed to flow into my bloodstream.

That’s when I felt the barrel of a gun rammed up against my spine. I dropped my cup – and my mind squeezed down to a pinpoint of fear.

NEXT WEEK: Kidnapped