Page 30 of One Last Chance

“The son grabbed me and climbed into the sling. Put his legs around me, and the chopper lifted us out. By the time I got on deck, my hands were frozen, the radio on my helmet frozen. Another rescue boat radioed in that they were picking up the guys in the lifeboat. But there was still that guy in the water, right?”

Wait—was that water near the edges of the ceiling board, coming out of the toilet?

Shoot. Not watertight.

“So what happened?”

“My crew chief wasn’t going to let me go out again, but I pushed out and refused to come back in, so they lowered me down. I searched the sea for twenty minutes until they reached bingo and had to haul me up. By then I had hypothermia and was nearly a casualty.”

Yep, water. It ran across the boards of his cabin.Shoot.

“The Coast Guard censured me and put me on leave. But I was a little messed up in the head, all that time in the water, the frustration sort of . . . I don’t know. Sometimes I still hear the mom screaming, the kid crying. It got inside me and . . . anyway, the Coast Guard decided I should take more time off. Like, permanently.”

He was going to have to ditch. He’d already stood up and now searched for a flare or a buoy.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Well, I’d wanted to be a rescue swimmer all my life, since I was a kid and I saved another kid from drowning—at the time, I thought I was some kind of hero or something.” He found a flare. Blew out a breath. “Maybe I am Jack after all.”

“Desperately trying to survive?”

“Something like that. Listen. Um. So, I’m taking on water here. And . . . I think I’m going to have to swim out. Any luck on the radio?”

“I’ll try again, but . . . are you sure? It sounds like you’d have a better shot inside the boat.”

He stood in water to his ankles. “Pretty sure.” Although he thought he would have sunk faster. “Maybe there’s more air in the captain’s cabin.”

“The longer you can wait to get in the water, the better, probably, right?”

She had a point.

Silence hung on the other end while he ripped one of the cushions from the bench. Supposedly flotation devices, but he wasn’t holding out hope.

“Axel?”

“I’m here.”

“I tried again. Sorry—still no signal.”

“What time is it?”

“Nearly midnight.”

He found a waterproof bag amidst the pillows and picked up the ham. Shoved it into the bag. Maybe if the next compartment wasn’t flooded . . .

“Axel?”

“Yeah?”

“Just checking. You were quiet there.”

“I’m trying to figure out how soon I abandon ship.”

“Oh. Okay, listen. Look around you. There’s got to be something you can use to self-rescue.”

“I have a flotation cushion and a flare.”

“How about a life raft?”

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