Page 132 of Tides of Fire

A strained shout rose past the stern, from the water.

Zhuang.

Seichan sidled low to the stern.

Gray followed her, leaving Kadir with Yeung. Once at the back, Gray lifted high enough to peer over the rail. Down in the water, the fingertips of Zhuang’s outstretched arm had snagged the edge of a bumper. His shoulder was black with blood. His good arm held Guan-yin’s head above water.

Around them, spiked balls of coral battered at them. Each strike drew pained flinches. Zhuang looked upward in agony—but not from the sting of the attackers. He clung hard to Guan-yin’s limp body.

“We must get them out of there,” Seichan warned.

Gray nodded, but he knew doing so would leave them exposed. He stared back at the wheelhouse, then turned to Yeung. The deputy understood and switched back to his assault rifle. He would cover them as best he could.

“We go quick,” Gray told Seichan. “On my mark.”

10:52A.M.

In the wheelhouse, Heng knelt beside one of the Falcons. The man’s hand was a mangle of bone and blood. Heng cinched a tourniquet around the man’s forearm, using his own belt.

Captain Wen stood guard by the door, his assault rifle held high. He kept his gaze fixed outside, clearly waiting for a moment to ambush the stragglers out there.

But Wen had left his own back unguarded.

Xue stormed up behind him. “What were you thinking? I gave no orders to shoot, to break our truce.”

Wen ignored him. “I have my standing orders. From higher in command. To destroy the enemy when given the chance.”

“From whom?”

Wen shook his head, refusing to give out this information. Heng knew there were competing factions within the PLA. Some leaned toward accommodation and compromise. Others were obdurate and bloodthirsty. It was an internal war, waged behind the scenes as fiercely as any battle against a foreign power.

“I gave you as much leeway as feasible,” Wen said with a scowl. “But this was clearly a waste of time, and it ends now.”

“This insubordination will not go—”

“The lives lost will be placed at your feet, Major Choi. The blood is on your hands for pursuing such a folly.”

Heng finished his ministrations and stood up. He stared out the rear window and spotted a commotion at the stern. Half hidden by a low steel bench, Gray and Seichan lunged into view. They leaned over the stern rail, their arms reaching down.

“Now to put an end to this,” Wen said.

He cracked the door open and pointed his weapon.

Outside, a figure popped up from behind the bench and shot three-round bursts into the window and frame. It drove Wen back. Behind the shooter, Gray and Seichan dragged a limp and sodden figure to the deck. The group dropped back out of sight.

Wen sneered. “That won’t work a second time.”

10:54A.M.

Seichan crouched beside her mother, who was sprawled at her knees. She rubbed one of Guan-yin’s hands between her palms. “M?,” she moaned, her voice that of a plaintive child. “M?, th?c gi?c.”

Her mother slipped in and out of consciousness. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes dazed. She had lost her niqab and scarf. Her dark hair clung in damp strands across her face. The purple scar and tattoo stood out starkly as shock drained blood from her face.

“Stay with your mother,” Gray said. “I’ll get Zhuang.”

Seichan lowered Guan-yin’s hand to the deck. “We do this together. On my mark this time.”

Gray’s upper arm seeped blood from a deep graze. He could hardly bear weight on his left leg. His pant leg was dark with blood. He couldn’t do this alone.

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