“We’ve got to, man,” he said, his smile fading, his grip crushing. “We’vegotto.”
I nodded, feeling abruptly intense, like he’d handed me his urgency.
“I’m gonna surf.” Samuel looked at the water. “Wanna go?”
“Already did. It’s choppy, but decent.”
Samuel waved. I watched him go, knowing there was nothing Samuel could do until tomorrow’s noon. Nothing but wait.
And surf.
Behind Samuel, a head-high swell pitched and rolled. It peeled down the line, crisp and full, cleaner than this morning. Much cleaner.The wind, I realized. It had shifted. The crosswind was gone, taking the chop with it, like the ocean was celebrating Kevin’s verdict too.
As I scanned the ocean, I spotted Rives. The sooner I could talk to Rives and deal with Bart, the sooner I could get back to Charley.
“Wait up, man,” I called to Samuel. “I’m in.”
We trotted over to the stash of boards propped by the Shack. Finless wooden planks, made by someone who was here before me and which will be used by others after I’m gone—unless I break the board, which I sure as hell better not do. Breaking a board feels like bad karma, and God knows we don’t need any more of that.
I grabbed my favorite, the thinnest one, about two and a half meters long. No fins to carve with, but that’s okay. My Burton boards back home don’t have fins either, and they shred the snow just fine. Water, snow. Whatever. Give me a board, and I’m good to go. It’s the best part of Nil.
Or was.
I thought of Charley and her golden eyes full of fire. I replayed the morning until we hit sand.
“Time to thread the needle,” Samuel said.
“Absolutely.” I nodded.
There were two heaps of black rocks, like bookends, where we always put in to paddle out. You get a sick rush heading out that way, because you have to time the waves or risk getting crushed, and if there’s one thing about Nil that I get—I mean really get, way down deep in my core—it’s that she’s all about the timing.
I shot through the walls of black, scoring a surge of survivalstoke, and worked my way through the swells. Close to shore, Rives bailed in the flats. Bart was nowhere in sight. Not surprising since he didn’t surf, but I’d guessed he’d be around, trying to make his case to Rives. Or worse, to me.
Beyond the break, I waited for Rives to paddle back out. For the first time in days, the lineup was packed. With people, with energy. With the heady vibe that Kevin had made it. It was killer, and yet I couldn’t stop thinking about Charley.
Charley, standing on the beach, chin raised in defiance.
Charley, studying my face, ready to bolt.
Charley, lying on the bed, knocked out cold.
“Rives!” I waved him over.
“Hey, bro,” he said, pulling up on his sled. “Already heard. Good news travels fast.” He grinned.
“Definitely. Listen, what’s the deal with Bart?” I asked. The sooner I could settle it, the sooner I could get back to Charley. “Nat said you guys got into it about watch?”
Rives nodded, looking pissed, which was rare. “Last night I couldn’t sleep, so I came outside. Bart was sacked out by the fire. I’m talking full-on REM. All but two torches were out. I woke him up, told him to get his butt in bed, that I’d finish watch myself. Told him I’d talk to him after I cooled down. So this morning we had a little come-to-Jesus meeting. I told him he was off watch duty. That for someone so eager to get out on Search, he was doing a piss-poor job of showing he was worth taking. I mean, would you want Bart as your support? When he sleeps on watch?” Rives shook his head, disgusted. “Especially when, for all we know, the tiger’s still out there, prowling around. And by now that kitty’s hungry.”
Rives shrugged, his anger waning. He never stayed pissed for long. “Anyway, that’s how we left it. He’s still whining. I’m just over it. But, listen.” Now Rives looked uncomfortable. “There’s something else. And it happened last night, on Bart’s watch.”
CHAPTER
12
CHARLEY
DAY 13, DAWN
