so much seawater in the bottom hold, the ship was sailing at a ten-degree list.
Gunner’s conclusion: there was a good reason the Taiwan Song was about to be broken.
It was falling apart.
* * *
THE SHIN-1 STAYED with them for the first hour. Circling overhead, the pilots used their radio to call the bridge and report to Nolan what they could see from 5,000 feet up.
But soon enough, the flying boat had reached its bingo point. It had to leave and fly the 1,000 miles back to Oman before it ran out of gas.
As the whole affair had been woefully unplanned, all Nolan could do was ask the Stormos to refuel and come back and meet them near the Lakshadweep Islands. This isolated chain was about 200 miles off the southwest coast of India and roughly 150 miles south of the ship’s position at the time. It was just about the only landmass other than India itself for thousands of square miles.
Though they knew nothing about the place, at the time it seemed to be their only chance at safe haven.
* * *
ALL THIS HAD happened about thirty minutes ago.
Nolan and Gunner had taken up their stations atop the bridge soon after the Shin departed and had been looking out for trouble ever since.
They’d done a lot of talking in that time, but Gunner finally asked Nolan the question that was on everyone’s mind:
“What do you think happened to her back there, Snake?” he said. “She’s not the same person.”
It was just about the only topic they hadn’t discussed since leaving Gottabang. Emma Simms’s sudden transformation from Bitch Princess into … well, into what?
“I got no idea,” Nolan said. “I know I’ve never seen anything like it—that’s for sure.”
“Concussions can do weird things,” Gunner offered. “Or drug withdrawals. Meth, coke, do weird things when you don’t feed the need. Or maybe the Shakas gave her a Mickey like the Ekitas gave Batman? The change was just as radical. Even more so.”
Nolan just shook his head. They had ninety-nine Untouchables on board. Confused and frightened, they’d been led down to the ship’s mess. All of them were either sick or malnourished, and none of them spoke a word of English. Even worse, when they were first brought aboard, they were convinced they were going to be thrown overboard once the ship reached deep water. Apparently this had happened to others like them who’d lived and worked at Gottabang.
The Senegals took a long time using pantomime trying to explain to the unfortunates that they weren’t being transported to their deaths, but rather they were being liberated. Still the Untouchables were terrified. It was only when Emma rose to talk to them that they calmed down and came alive.
Nolan and the others wouldn’t have believed it if they hadn’t seen it, but Emma had thrown herself body and soul into helping the sickly ninety-nine. She’d helped get them settled in the mess. She’d scoured the ship for sleeping mats, blankets or anything that would make them more comfortable. She’d taken Alpha squad’s MREs, as in “Meals Ready to Eat,” divided their contents and distributed the meager result to the starving people. She gave away her own ration of precious water, so there would be just a little more for them.
It was baffling and it was weird. The actress had done a 180-degree turnabout from her former self and they really didn’t know why.
“Was it a ‘Road to Damascus’ moment?” Nolan wondered. “Or…”
“Or … what?”
“Or maybe people like her can change…” Nolan said.
Gunner just laughed.
“I’m just afraid if she whacks her head again, she’ll turn back,” he said. “Then what will we do?”
* * *
THEY SAILED ON for another hour.
The heat became even more vile. The sea was almost too calm.
They could see nothing on the horizon in any direction. The radio had fallen silent; the only noise was the constant chugging of the ship’s single balky engine.
Suddenly Gunner elbowed Nolan. He nodded toward the railing on their port side.
Nolan saw that Emma had come up on deck, taking a break from the overcrowded mess hall below.
“Maybe this is your chance to get the 411,” Gunner said.
Nolan had to agree.
“If I’m not back in ten minutes send a search party,” he told Gunner.
Then he climbed down to the deck.
She was sitting against the bulkhead, her head on her knees. Her clothes were dirty and damp. Her hair was a mess. She was either asleep or quietly crying.