Dark Island Book 1 (Complete)

Chapter 9

Goosebumps covered my arms as the boat teetered on the crest of a mountainous swell. Tilting forward, the boat dropped through the air like an elevator in free fall.  I clenched my teeth, gripping the doorframe until my knuckles went white. When the boat slammed into the trench, a towering surge of spray crashed over my head. Pushing back wet strands of hair, I wiped my eyes.  Together, we battled the strong wind until the door finally clicked shut. Harold staggered and grabbed hold of the steering wheel.
"You're the only one who knows how to use the radio. " said Harold.
"Okay, I’ll get help.  I will send out an SOS. “I panted, my heart hammering. A flash of lighting illuminated the night sky. I switched on the radio and picked up the microphone. I jumped when violent clap of thunder cracked above me, as if someone had snapped a bullwhip just inches from my ear. With shaky fingers, I tuned into channel 16. My voice broke as I forced myself to speak.
"Mayday, mayday, mayday!  This is wind dancer. Can anybody hear me? “I gripped the receiver tightly with both hands.  "Somebody, please answer!”
No response. I threw a terrified glance toward Harold, who was pulling at his wet shirt.
"Do you have the right channel?" he asked, his gaze focused on the intercom.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and nodded.  Water streamed off my hair and down my face.  I steadied myself against the cockpit wall, using it to keep my balance as waves crashed violently over the bow.
"Try again.” said Harold.
Surely, someone will hear us. I inhaled and kept trying, repeatedly, until the radio crackled, fuzzy with static.
"Vessel in distress, this is Silver Bullet.  What assistance do you need? "
I gasped.  Thank goodness, somebody answered. I grasped the microphone to quell some of my trembling.
"Please help,” I croaked, my throat dry and sore from shouting. "Our friend fell overboard and is missing.  We are sinking.  Please send the Coast Guard... The navy... Anybody! "
Barely able to discern the radio chatter from the static, I held my breath as I tried to make out their message.
"I will notify... Navy...  Your location? "
Said the voice.
"What?” I shouted "You're breaking up! "
The boat pitched, and I grabbed the back of the captain's swivel chair.  As it spun around, I fought to keep my balance. I hung on as another wave slammed into our vessel like a giant fist.
My breath came fast and shallow, misting the rain streak windowpane.  My stomach twisted at the thought of what might be happening to Ronnie out there in the storm.  I shook my head, but the thoughts wouldn't quite go away.
"Stay calm as you can", said the deep, comforting voice.
"Make sure your EPRIB is operating so a satellite can pick up the radio waves and we can find you.  Hold on.  Help is coming."
"Harold, you know the orange walkie-talkie thing mounted outside the cabin?” when he nodded, I continued.
"Take it out of the brackets and turn it on.”
"I'm on it!” Harold threw the door open and sped out into the blanket of rain as lightning flashed across the sky.
"You need to give me your latitude and longitude coordinates from your navigation chart or global positioning system,” said the voice on the radio.
I glanced down at the GPS nestled in the controls and gulped.  A tiny crack ran down the digital screen. Why now? It was fine earlier.  I glanced around; nothing had fallen. I pressed a red button.  The small monitor blinked and turned black.  I screamed into the microphone, “GPS not working!"
"Okay, I’m going to get you through this step by step,” said the man.
"For starters, look at your compass.”
The needle on the deck compass spun around counter clockwise. I tapped on it, and the needle jumped back and forth erratically. What is going on?  This isn't the freaking Bermuda triangle, right?  Then it hit me, since the arrival of those lights most of the electronics stopped working.
"It’s not working either, it's just... Going crazy. "
"Can you tell give me a specific landmark near you? " the voice asked.  I frantically looked around the cabin.  I needed to keep my cool and think.  My gaze fell on the far end of the wall.  I darted over and ran my finger across the waterproof chart.
In two steps, I reached the desk and grabbed the microphone.
"Where somewhere west from the Southern Ocean.”
Silence. 
A burst of static.  More silence. I blinked water from my lashes, waiting, hoping. "Hello?  Hello?  Are you there? "
No response.
I tried once more, pressing the button in a frenzy as my heart jack hammered against my ribs.  No, this can't be happening. Not now.  Still nothing.
I dropped the microphone and whipped around to face Harold. "It went dead.”
He didn't say a word.
Ronnie's life depended on that call.  His life depended on that precious communication. Harold steadied himself against the wall, holding up the orange emergency beacon.  Don't worry. The transmitter is on.  They'll pick up our signal and come get us. The boat creaked and groaned, making me flinch.  I wiped a circle clean on the fogged window.  The lights flickered and went out.  Every muscle tensed as I blinked, blinded in the sudden darkness.
"Crap! We lost the generator." I ran a hand along the wall until my fingers wrapped around a metal handle.  I rummaged through the top drawer and fumbled for a flashlight, when a lightning bolt shot across the sky. A wave crashed over the bow and rolled down the deck with the momentum and force of a mighty tsunami. I ducked as the sea of water smashed through the large cockpit window, slamming into me like a semi-truck. I gasped, coughed, and then gasped again. The cold water reached my waist. Wind howled through the broken window. The back of my throat felt dry, and a rush of heat swept over me in spite of the cold water soaking my clothes.
"Maybe we should head below deck until rescue comes. If we stay up here, we'll be swept overboard."
"If this boat sinks, that cabin will be your coffin." said Harold
He made a valid point, grim as it was.  I sucked in a sharp gulp of air. "Meeting a watery grave in Davy Jones's locker isn't happening."
I knew the waves were going to rip the boat apart.
I needed to come up with a plan, and fast.  "Can you shine your light over here?”
He nodded, "What are you looking for?”
I rummaged through more drawers, my voice growing frantic. "Our ticket out of here.”
I pulled out a red plastic flare gun. Is anyone ever going to come help us?  I smeared the fogged window and pressed my face against the cold glass.  Ronnie wouldn't be able to survive much longer, wherever he is.  I peered through the rain into the blackness beyond. I pointed the flare gun high into the air, tightened my fingers around the trigger and just as I was about to pull the trigger, the storm had dumped another wave onto the deck knocking my feet out from under me and sending the gun flying from my hands. The boat lurched; I tried to regain my balance but was struck by a piece of heavy equipment. My leg was stuck, busted and burning like crazy.  Harold came running towards me, pulling the piece off of me.  I manage to get my leg free.
"Jack!  Are you okay? "