He moves a little but only makes a grunting noise.
I shake him harder. “Zach. I need you to get up. We need to be ready!”
Nothing.
He won’t be able to move on his own. My only option is to dock this boat as best I can, then carry him out. This is going to be tricky.
As the shipyard approaches, I scan for the best spot to land. Next to one of the massive aircraft carriers is a floating dock. Moored to it are a few patrol boats. The dock bobs and weaves with the waves that splash against it. I get the sailboat close enough, drop the sails, and let the boat coast.
When we’re twenty feet away, I drop the anchor to stop the boat’s momentum. But the anchor doesn’t catch, and the boat keeps moving, heading straight for the dock. I try to course correct, but it’s far too late. The bow of our boat rams into the dock, and there’s a massive crunching noise as aluminum and fiberglass collide in an explosion of shrapnel.
The boat is taking on water through a hole in the bow. I throw our dinghy over the back and tie it down with a quick knot. Then I run to the cabin, splashing through the water that has already leaked in, and cradle Zach in my arms.
“Aiden?” Zach’s eyes flutter open as I carry him.
“Hang on, Zach. We’re getting close.” I keep my voice calm and soothing.
Back on deck, I set Zach into the dinghy, and I get in behind him.
As we paddle away, the sailboat sinks until, finally, only the mast is above water.
“Well, I guess it was a crash course after all.” I say under my breath.
Bit by bit, I paddle us to land. Massive aircraft carriers loom on either side of us, blocking the sun. I’m met with a new problem when we get to the dock. How will I get Zach and myself off the dinghy without tipping it over? Zach is like a one-hundred-fifty-pound sack of potatoes. Still, I hoist him over my shoulders in a fireman’s carry. The boat shimmies under my feet, but I grab the dock with my free hand to steady myself and crawl ashore. We’re on land.
Now to just find this damn place. DD4 and a red 3D rectangle. What in the hell could that mean?
I carry Zach up a long flight of stairs and along the main dock towering above the water. Eventually, I come across a sign readingDry Dock 2with an arrow pointing left.
Dry Dock 2. DD2.
“DD means dry dock!” I’m filled with hope. “Now I just need to find Dry Dock Four. We’re almost there!”
Zach responds with a barely audible grunt.
I keep on until I pass a sign that readsDry Dock3. Getting closer. Finally, theDry Dock 4sign is before us.
I turn and walk along the edge of the dock. It’s currently empty and falls a hundred feet. Peeking over at the precarious drop makes the hairs on my neck stand on end. I’m not afraid of heights, but this drop is bone-chillingly long, with no protective railing.
This is where they built these massive aircraft carriers. I saw it on History Channel. Once the ships were complete, they filled the entire dock with water until they floated on their own. But now, the dry dock is empty—just a massive hole.
Various buildings, cranes, and construction materials skirt the edge. I scan everything, looking for something that resembles a red rectangle. Then I see it. A hundred feet away, a bright red shipping container.A 3D rectangle. Against all odds, we’ve made it.
But as I approach, my worst-case scenario unfolds before me as Connor steps out from behind the container, holding a gun and wearing a smug expression.
Fuck.
I should have known. I should have been ready. But here I am, with my rifle attached to my backpack and Zach hoisted over my shoulder.
“Hello, Aiden. Finally here. Did you take the scenic route?” Connor aims the handgun directly at me.
I say nothing.
“Didn’t expect to see me?” Connor asks. “That code was easy to crack. Remember, I still have some connections at the Collective.”
I stare at him, frozen, not knowing what to do.
“But it was clever of the Collective to disable my biometrics.” He points over at a panel on the side of the shipping container. “I didn’t expect that. They still worked for me back in Boston after I ‘died.’” He makes air quotes to emphasize the word.
