Up From The Deep Vaughn Jackson (book club suggestions TXT) 📖

of a lot of bruises,” she paused, “and this.” It was obvious that her efforts to indicate the wound put her in a lot of pain. Raymond held up a hand.

“I can see it from here.” He let out a pained laugh.

“Right,” she said. “Point is, I’m alive. Thanks to you.”

He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. “That’s good. Very good.”

“Why’d you do it? You could have left me and got down the ladder before the platform sank.”

He opened a single eye and stared into her intense gaze. “It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Now, I won’t lie, I’m kind of regretting it.”

Greenwood stared at him, blinking, and then broke into a laugh so hard it made her clutch at her side before it broke into a painful sounding cough. She wiped tears from her eyes. “You’re gonna tell me you risked your life on a spur of the moment decision.”

“Ninety percent of being a detective is acting on gut instinct. Sometimes it gets you hurt, but sometimes you save someone’s life.”

“And sometimes both happen.” Shah entered the small cabin and gave them both a concerned look. “Glad to have you back with us, Captain Dehane.”

“Ha! Back.” Raymond coughed, pushing himself up on his elbows. It felt like someone was shoving a hot iron bar down his back, forcing it down inch by inch as he rose. Finally, he set his back against the wall of the cabin. “A little support?” he gasped, motioning to a nearby pillow.

Shah gently leaned him forward and slid the pillow between his back and the wall. Raymond groaned with the extra movement. But once the pillow was nice and secure, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Where are we?” he asked. “Near a bar, I hope.”

Greenwood covered her mouth to stifle her laugh.

Shah’s brow furrowed. “With the amount of morphine we had to pump into you, I don’t think—”

“A joke, Commander, to cope. But please, where are we?”

“Exactly where we were, minus an oil rig,” Commander Shah said, clearing his throat and looking decidedly embarrassed at not understanding the humor. “I figured it would be best to wait for evac here.”

“I would have made the same decision. And how long have we been here?”

“Only about an hour since the rig went under.”

“Anything interesting? Any sign of Bae Ling’s body?”

Shah shook his head. “Nothing to report, it’s just the ocean. And there’s too much large debris to safely navigate. Hitting the water from that height,” he paused, casting a wary glance out at the grey ocean, “it’s unlikely she survived.”

Both Raymond and Greenwood gave a solemn nod of agreement.

The boat shuddered and gently rolled to one side, then tipped back to the other. Raymond braced himself to keep from rolling onto the floor. “Is a storm coming?”

“Clear skies all around,” Shah said, looking out the window. “Why?”

“Something feels off about the motion of the waves,” Raymond said, craning his neck to look outside. For a clear and sunny day, one with little wind, the ocean swelled and churned as if their boat rested in a great pot being stirred by an angry god. “I used to sail quite often. I know the ocean.”

A rogue wave hit the boat sending Raymond sprawling to the floor. He gasped as electric pain shot from the middle of his back down to his toes. A good sign, but an unwelcome one at the present moment. Shah’s feet flew from under him, but he caught himself before hitting the ground.

The commander scrambled to his feet, and with an excruciating assist from Greenwood, managed to return Raymond to his previous position, strapping him in place with some rope and duct tape, but leaving his hands free.

“And now I feel just as much a prisoner as you, Mr. Ishii.”

Masahiro Ishii had been curled up in the corner of the cabin, trying to stay as silent as possible. He must have hoped that no one would acknowledge him. His wrists were tied together down by his ankles and his eyes were puffy and red from crying. He gave Raymond an emotionless look before returning his gaze silently to his shoes.

Overtop of the roar of the ocean, a sound like concrete grinding on metal rose to a deafening crescendo. Raymond clamped his hands over his ears. As suddenly as it started, the noise stopped.

“Is that still the platform?” Greenwood asked.

“It should all be underwater by now,” Shah said.

One of the other officers burst into the cabin. He began speaking German at a rapid-fire pace while flailing frantically and pointing outside the cabin.

“Peters, no one can understand you when you talk that fast. Calm down!” Shah grabbed the man by his shoulders and shook him. “What’s wrong?”

“The water,” he said in broken English with a thick accent. “It is rising. Like a mountain.”

Shah let go of him and bolted out of the ship’s cabin. No sooner had he walked out, he mumbled, “My god.”

Raymond struggled to see what the commotion was about. Peters had not been joking. The water, no more than a mile away, peaked like a great wide mountain. Thunder split the air and the water mountain exploded sending a shockwave that knocked the boat forward. The wooden structure creaked and groaned under the force. What truly struck fear into Raymond’s heart was the sound that came next. Deep and guttural, like the cry of a whale played from inside a massive meat grinder. A deep shadow appeared beneath the surface of the water where the “mountain” had been.

“We need to go. Now.” Raymond’s head swiveled from person to person as he shouted out the window. “Can any of you sail a ship?”

Spencer Chaplin, the youngest officer, hurried to the open window. “Is it, uh, much different than flying a plane, sir?”

“I trust you’ll figure it out. Now learn quick, and get us out of here, Chaplin.”

Raymond watched the shadow grow until it was at least ten times the size of the sloop. The water around