Chapter 33 - The Leviathan in the Fog
The roar of twin marine turbines drowned out the sound of the wind as Daniel hot-wired the skiff’s ignition console, jamming two exposed copper wires together until sparks flew and the 300-horsepower outboard engine roared to life.
He slammed the throttle forward. The skiff’s bow reared up out of the water, slamming back down with spine-jarring force as they skipped across the rolling gray chop.
"Head down, Lily!" Daniel yelled, pressing her into the narrow footwell beneath the steering console. He grabbed an orange life vest from an emergency locker and wrapped it around her like a cocoon, tucking her securely out of the line of fire.
"Daddy, they're coming!" she screamed, pointing past his shoulder.
Behind them, cutting through the mist like predators of the deep, the two stealth interceptors were closing the gap at fifty knots. On their forward decks, automated remote weapon stations swiveled in unison, their twin heavy-caliber barrels locking onto the skiff’s wake.
*Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!*
A stream of armor-piercing rounds stitched a line across the water fifty yards behind them, geysers of white water erupting into the sky.
Daniel’s mind was racing, but it wasn't running on panic. It was running on cold, algorithmic calculation. Lines of trajectory, wind drift, and hull velocity superimposed themselves over his field of vision. He didn't know how he knew these things, but he knew with absolute certainty that if he kept a straight line, they would be shredded within twelve seconds.
He yanked the wheel hard to the starboard side. The skiff banked at an impossible angle, its gunwale scraping the foam as a wall of lead tore through the empty water where they had been half a second prior.
"You want me?" Daniel snarled, his voice guttural. "Come take me!"
He locked the skiff's steering wheel in place with a tie-down strap, scooped up the dead operative’s assault rifle, and dropped to one knee at the stern. He had no scope, no stabilizing mount, and the boat was bucking beneath him like an unbroken stallion.
He closed his left eye. A series of green diagnostic symbols flickered in the periphery of his right eye—retinal HUD overlays, hardwired into his optic nerve.
*Distance: 120 meters. Relative speed: 48 knots. Wind: Northwest at 15.*
"I am Daniel Cross," he whispered fiercely to himself, defying the machines inside his own skull. "I am her father."
He squeezed the trigger.
Three single, perfectly spaced rounds cracked through the morning air.
The first bullet struck the optical sensor of the lead interceptor’s turret, shattering the glass and blinding the targeting computer. The second round pierced the pilot’s viewport. The third severed the hydraulic steering line.
The lead interceptor pitched violently to the port side, caught an incoming wave broadside, and flipped into the air in a catastrophic barrel roll at sixty miles per hour. The hull disintegrated upon impact with the sea, throwing a wall of flaming wreckage and debris into the path of the second pursuing boat.
The second interceptor swerved violently to avoid the burning debris, its stern sliding out as it lost momentum.
Daniel didn't celebrate. He turned back to the wheel, grabbing the throttle. But as he looked ahead, the salt spray cleared, revealing the sheer, horrifying scale of the vessel they were fleeing.
They weren't escaping into open water.
The massive stealth warship had maneuvered. Its immense stern gate was open, yawning like the mouth of a mechanical leviathan. Powerful internal bilge pumps were sucking millions of gallons of ocean water into its wet dock, creating a violent localized whirlpool that caught Daniel's small skiff in its inescapable vortex.
The engine screamed as Daniel threw it into full reverse, but the current was too immense. The skiff was dragged backward, sliding down the churning funnel of water into the shadowed belly of the beast.
May you like
The stern doors slammed shut behind them with the hydraulic thud of a tomb being sealed.
***
