Chapter Twenty-Two

Day Nine, Afternoon

Kate fired twice, each shot about three minutes apart. She could swear her heart stopped during the interminable wait. She had no idea how much time had passed when someone on the cruise ship sent up an answering flare.

"Look." She smiled at Ryan. "They see us."

Ryan looked toward the disappearing cruise ship and saw the smoke trail from the answering flare.

"Will they come get us?" she asked, without an answering smile.

Kate tempered her excitement. Sam was dead. Their rescue was too late to save him. She wasn't sure what she expected, but it was disheartening to see the ship fade into the distance. Realistically, Kate knew they wouldn't turn their giant behemoth around and come to the rescue.

"They will notify the coastguard and give our exact location," she promised and hugged her daughter. Help was coming.

The shark chose that moment to attack the stern again. After his visible burst of aggression, he went to the underside of the yacht and hit it. The list to the port side had returned, which wasn't good.

Kate decided to remove more water from the engine compartment while they waited for their rescue. Ryan didn't object when Kate told her she needed help again. They made their way to the engine room ladder. Kate went to the floor to lift the hatch. What she saw caused a terrible realization.

The water line was three feet from the hatch, which meant they were going down fast.

The elation she felt at seeing the flare disappeared. They had a life raft, but with the shark present, it was unusable. Kate could not risk the boat sinking before help arrived.

"If we caught one break, now would be the time," she muttered to herself. "Change of plans," she told Ryan. "We need to go back on deck."

"Where they can see us?"

"Yes," Kate replied, without showing the fear that was sinking deep into her bones, clenching her heart, and making breathing difficult. With the water in the engine compartment at such a high level, she could no longer power up the yacht. She switched gears because keeping Ryan alive was all that mattered now. She could manually pull up the anchor, even though it wouldn't be easy. Hopefully, before she got too far into it, the coastguard would arrive.

She secured a safety line to Ryan and didn't make a big deal of it when she didn't attach her own. She took an extra rope from the container and placed it on the swim platform before she lifted herself off the wheelchair and scooted next to it. Ryan stood beside the casting platform, holding onto the rail. Kate dragged herself to the anchor line and secured the extra rope. She then started the slow process of dragging her legs behind her back to her wheelchair on the deck.

Once she was in place, she secured a safety line to her waist and pulled steadily on the rope. Slowly, the yacht turned, but the list worsened. Heavy shaking, coming from beneath them, rocked the boat. It seemed unbelievable, but the shark had created a tear in the hull that it was systematically enlarging.

They were taking on water much too fast.

Her thoughts focused.

Kill the shark.

Hand over hand, her arms aching, her entire body fatigued, she continued pulling as the sun beat down on the back of her head. Slowly, the yacht moved inch by inch until it gradually swung around. Her muscles screamed, her back ached, and she didn't stop until the boat faced the anchor.

"I need you behind me," Kate told Ryan, beyond exhausted, fighting the knowledge that she might not succeed. "Now," she said, once Ryan got into position, "pull on the rope as hard as you can."

Ryan wasn't much help, but it kept her arms moving and, hopefully, her mind occupied. With a deep shuttering groan, the yacht listed a few inches more. The starboard side would have been better for this, but the path her wheelchair would take wasn't as wide, and maneuverability was limited. For now, they would work with what they had.

They pulled for what seemed like hours when they finally hit the chain section. The anchor ball helped, but it really needed the boat to do the heavy work, and that wasn't happening. Kate took a few minutes to rest and think.

"Mommy."

The tremble in Ryan's voice alerted Kate to the shark. She glanced up and looked straight into the dark eyes that had killed Sam.

"Grab your safety line and move toward the cabin," Kate told Ryan.

The wheelchair was pushed against the rail by the list, and she didn't like how close the shark was. She glared into the malevolent eyes, her fear replaced by fury. This monster wanted to kill her child, and that would not happen.

Her rest break at an end, she continued hauling in the chain.

The shark went under. A moment later, she felt a strong pull in her grip, almost tearing it from her hands. The pressure stopped suddenly, and thirty seconds later, the anchor ball moved with such force, she knew the shark had it.

White sharks had high intelligence. Even with its size, great whites didn't become a top ocean predator by being stupid. What this shark was doing, however, was too much for Kate's sanity. The fear she'd been fighting ebbed its way back to the forefront.

To gain control, she mentally reviewed the shark's behavior so her mind could grasp what was happening: She pulled on the chain—the shark went after the chain. It would know she was trying to escape. That's what prey did. The shark wanted to keep her from getting away. It was as simple as that. There was no otherworldly force at play. It was a damn shark. It was real. It bled. It could die. With a deep inhale, she focused on the end game.

The hard plastic anchor ball popped up. The shark took it down again, but it came back up quickly. Ryan moved closer and tried to pull the chain with her mother, but she was unable to lift the weight.

"Grab the other safety line and tie it to the chain every few feet," Kate told her. Thankfully, one of Ryan's first boating lessons was tying knots, and she had several in her wheelhouse. "It will keep the chain from falling back into the ocean," Kate explained.

While doing as her mother asked, Ryan's eyes glanced fearfully at the water.

Kate's entire body trembled with strain as she steadily pulled on the seemingly endless chain. She didn't pay attention to the rising heat or the shark. She had to get to the anchor. Her arms and back had started cramping when the anchor ball began moving closer to the boat, and some of the weight lessened.

The shark attacked the ball again, causing another heavy pull on the chain. The yacht was pulled in the direction of the ball, not the other way around. The shark was pulling them. All Kate could do was loop the rope around the rail and wait it out. When the resistance stopped, she slipped the rope free and pulled again. When the anchor ball returned to the surface, it was a chewed-up mess, but somehow the shark had not severed the rope that held it in place.

Kate used more rope to form a slight pulley system using the rail to bring the heavy anchor to the boat's side. She used the same method to get the anchor onto the deck. It clanged when it slipped from her fingers and hit the ground. Kate bent double in her chair for a moment to get her breath back.

She opened her eyes, her gaze drawn to something in the water brushing against the hull. Kate leaned closer and saw the dark material. It hit the side of the boat again, sliding through the water and she realized what it was. Sam's hat, the brown material wet and appearing darker, the side flaps waving, a horrifying reminder of what happened to Sam. She almost lost the tight hold she had on her emotions. With a steadying breath, reverently, she released the hook pole from the side rail. She lifted it to the water and hooked the soggy hat and brought it to the deck. Her fingers closed on it and water dripped as she brought it to her lap. She didn't feel the cold wetness, she didn't smell the sea water. She saw her husband, the man he was when she married him.

Unable to hold back tears, she leaned forward and sobbed. A small hand settled on her back and light circles rubbed across her shirt. Kate grabbed desperately at Ryan and pulled her closer.

Snapshots frozen in time tumbled through Kate's mind, images of Sam cycling like a reel of photos. The one she grabbed onto was of him holding a newborn Ryan with tears in his eyes, so happy to be a father, so proud.

"We're going to be okay," she gruffly told Ryan. "I promise."

Ryan gave her another hug before her arms slipped away.

From the position of the sun, they had been working for around two hours, but she now had the key piece for her plan to succeed if the first part failed. It was time to check the water level below deck. She stuck the wet hat beneath her butt on the wheelchair, unwilling to part with it.

Kate was afraid of what she would find below and needed a reminder of Sam with her.