The great white seemed as shocked as he was when he popped out.
But the shark was busy trying to open his can of juicy sweetness and had his vast jaw locked around the container. Aleksey somersaulted around and shot back up into the hole. Heaving himself in, Ben tugging under one armpit, he saw the shark recover and move incredibly quickly. It flicked and darted, and pain shot across his shin as he hauled himself into the air.
They didn’t waste time examining this new wound. He still had his foot and that was all that mattered. Ben had his too. And he was Benjamin Rider-Mikkelsen, and he was physically perfect and he was his warrior angel. Ben kicked again and again at the stairs, not flagging, panting, swearing, sweat running down his bare chest, all his muscles rippling as he attacked it with a savage, desperate fury. And he won. He always did. The stairs broke, and they seized a section and tied it to their makeshift rope. Ben’s face was creased with pain and with the realisation that he was the one who needed to do this—swim, throw, climb—but he could not, because he was now not the same as he had once been—and never would be again.
Aleksey couldn’t face thinking about this, so he didn’t. It was one of his best strategies and one that he’d made no promises to Ben about whatsoever: ignore any aspect of reality you don’t like. It had saved his sanity as a child many times, and it would work for him now.
‘Oh, fuck.’ They both ducked, held their heads as if that would help, but instead of a bang and shudder, he heard Ben scream, ‘Shit!’ spun around and chorused, ‘Fuck! Shit!’ The shark had learned. It had come up from beneath, a projectile from the darkness below, and it was in the hydrosphere with them! Its entire snout fit inside the opening, and it tried to gnaw and snap at the structure which was preventing it from doing more.
In a moment that Aleksey knew he would remember for the rest of his entire life, which wasn’t looking to be very long just at that moment, a sight that even he could not improve upon in the retelling later with the children, Ben suddenly lashed out with his booted foot and caught the twenty-five-foot great white shark a mighty dropkick to the face. Right between the eyes.
The shark contorted itself in a spasm of fury and sank back into the deep.
Aleksey gathered the rope, squeezed Ben’s thigh, possibly for the last time, and dropped into the water. The metal stair piece slowed him rising, but he finally surfaced, glanced up, swung his incredibly powerful shoulder and arm and flung the shard of metal over the rail. He tugged experimentally and it caught. He was now hanging onto a very thin chain of knotted clothing. He did not think it would take his weight. He pictured the splash he would make falling back into the water, remembered the movie he’d watched with Ben, pictured seals being tossed into the air, even for a split second recalled the moron’s contention that sharks came up onto beaches and caught wary sunbathers. He gingerly tugged once more. Then he glanced down.
He could see a huge open mouth coming at him from the darkness below.
He shot up the rope. The metal hook slipped, jumping from its rung. He dropped a metre, heard himself swearing from a great distance as if he wasn’t in his own body but heaved himself high enough to grab the rail with one hand. As he lifted his feet, the shark broke the surface, shooting fast and high out of the water. A drip of his blood landed in its mouth; its teeth were up to his waist; it started to snap its jaws shut on the coppery taste, but the sea saved him.Rogue Wavelived up to her name and swung on a sudden deep swell, and he was lifted, and the huge fish only grazed him when its mouth closed, arching and plunging back into the water, rocking the boat once more with the might of its descent.
He heaved himself onto the deck, his heart racing so fast his vision was white his ears ringing from pounding blood. Staggering to his feet, limping, he slipped and slid on blood to the ladder and began to climb up to the sundeck. When he got to the control panel he thumped the up button and slumped down, not wanting to see what he could see very well lying on the smooth white fibreglass. Nothing happened. He shot back to his feet and thumped the controls once more. Fiddled with them, tried others. There was a brief grinding sound, but nothing.
The shark attacks had fatally damaged the mechanism, knocked the hydrosphere out of alignment, and it couldn’t—wouldn’t—rise. He flung himself down and shouted, ‘It won’t work, Ben. Swim for it. I’ll pull you up.’
Ben, staring up at him, his face pale but set, nodded and turned. At that exact moment the shark hit again, and Aleksey felt the shuddering as he lay starfished on the deck. Ben was thrown against the side, seemed plastered there, and Aleksey knew why when he realised the entire tube was now twisted totally out of alignment. Before either of them could move a muscle, the glass exploded, shards flying up and out, a vast belch of pressurised air hitting the surface, white and frothing, and then he saw the shark’s fin, coming at this new disturbance like a battering ram from hell. It must have pictured a dozen seals splashing and frolicking. It salivated on all the blood, driven by its frustration, thwarted, enraged—and it came for its reward. Aleksey dropped without using the ladder to the hull, heard once more an out-of-body scream, gripped the rail, lowered into the water, saw an arm, seized the hand, felt it grip him, and he heaved. Something somewhere in his body gave, a ripping of muscle, but he used the pain to pull harder, lift higher, and Ben slumped like a huge fish landed alongside him just as the shark hitRogue Wavefull on, sending a shudder jumping from hull to hull across the superstructure of the beautiful catamaran.
And then it was over. They were lying on a gently rocking boat, and Aleksey could see a seagull circling elegantly overhead.
They were still grasping hands. The hold was so tight it actually hurt, but he wouldn’t have let go for all the treasure of the Aztecs. That’s just the way they were together.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-THREE
His out-of-body distancing himself from what was happening continued for some time. He helped Ben climb the ladder and eased him through the door to the galley, sitting him carefully down at the table. Without allowing himself to think, he went back out and picked up what mercifully still lay on the sundeck, despite the destruction that had happened around them. They were stuck fast by dried blood. Carrying them cupped in his hand, he returned inside, located a first aid kit and ripped open some sterile swabs, gently cleaning around the precious objects. Ben watched him blank-eyed and dazed as he sat at the table. When he was satisfied, he carefully wrapped his cherished charges in gauze and then put them in a plastic bag. Only when he was satisfied they were clean and protected did he open the freezer and pull out a bag of frozen vegetables. Laying the plastic bag inside a storage box, he packed it around with the frozen peas and snapped the lid on. Turning around, he discovered Ben had his head down on his arms. Aleksey went over and ran his fingers through the short hair.
‘Come.’
Ben lifted his head, blinked once then rose to his feet. He was in shock, exhausted, in considerable pain, but he was needed, and he never backed away from a challenge. Never had, never would.
Carrying his precious treasure under one arm, they went to their cabin and grabbed clothes. He was more used to undressing Benjamin Rider-Mikkelsen, but he could do it the other way around when needed.
Finally, they climbed into the remaining zodiac and began its descent to the water. They peered anxiously down, and Aleksey knew they were both wondering how much this black shape on the surface might resemble a seal from beneath. When the rubber touched the water, Aleksey wasted no time unhooking it, but even so heard a whispered, ‘Hurry up,’ from his companion. He started the engine and gunned the throttle towards St Mary’s. Ben, after a few moments on this heading, rose from the seat and came to join him at the wheel, holding on tightly with his good hand. ‘No.’
‘Yes. It will only add an hour. I will leave you there—only because you will slow me down and so I must be rid of you.’
Ben let go, braced his legs against the bounce, reached down and cut the engine. ‘Yeah, again, you aren’t fooling anyone. Remember, I know you better than you know yourself. Light Islandnow, Nik. It’s who we are. Who we’ve always been.’
‘No! You are who I am, Ben! You know this!’ He flung his arm around wildly. ‘None of this is even real if I don’t have you! I will take you to—’
‘I’m not dying. This is as nothing compared to what might happen to Miles. I’ll survive—one way or another.’
* * *
The trip to Light Island was one of the most miserable hours Aleksey could ever recall spending, and when he thought back to being shot, stabbed, sodomised, drowned, frozen, starved, suffocated and beaten, he realised that this was some achievement. Despite clutching his storage box as tightly as Miles did his rucksack, it gave him little comfort. He knew some things about first aid, had given emergency treatment many times to wounded colleagues, but this was new to him. Ben was standing pressed tightly to his back, one arm wound securely around his chest as he seemed to find this easier than holding onto the rail. He could have sat, but Aleksey knew very well why Ben was monitoring him, staying awake, checking their course. He was standing by him, in more ways than one.
Finally, the island came into sight.
He saw a dark speck on Revival Sands and knew without a shadow of a doubt that Miles had added another delay tactic by making them walk rather than bringing their boat around to where they needed to be. Perhaps he’d even persuaded the man to search the caves, and smiled, despite the circumstances. Ben had his forehead resting down on the back of his neck but lifted his head when he sensed the engine dying. ‘Land there, too. We might be able to follow their trail.’
