Chapter 5 - Rising WatersThe low, ominous hum of the yacht's internal machinery shifted tone. Beneath their feet, a mechanical whine signaled the activation of the sea-valves. Water was being deliberately pumped into the lower hull compartments.
"You're insane," Maxwell said, scanning the salon for a manual override. The steel shutters were solid plate, impervious to body weight or ordinary tools.
"I'm practical," Thomas corrected, sliding the satellite device into his coat pocket and backing toward the engine room access hatch at the rear of the salon. "Enjoy your final moments of solitude, Uncle."
Before Maxwell could intercept him, Thomas slipped through the heavy bulkhead door and slammed it shut, engaging the exterior deadbolt.
Maxwell didn't waste time pounding on the metal. He turned and sprinted down the hallway into the master suite.
The little girl was shivering violently, her eyes wide with terror as the floor beneath them vibrated with the rising rush of water echoing from the bilges below.
"We have to move," Maxwell said, his voice urgent yet gentle as he scooped her up into his arms. She felt impossibly light, like a bird with broken wings.
"Grandma... is the boat sinking?" she whispered, burying her face against his expensive cashmere coat.
"Not while I'm breathing," Maxwell vowed.
He carried her back into the main salon. The water had already begun to seep through the floor vents, pooling across the cream leather flooring. The yacht was listing slightly to port as the ballast tanks flooded on one side.
Maxwell surveyed the room. The reinforced glass windows were unbreakable from the inside, but above them, leading to the upper flybridge deck, was a heavy tinted skylight designed as an emergency egress hatch.
May you like
"Hold onto my neck tightly," Maxwell instructed the girl.
Finding a heavy walnut chair, he dragged it beneath the skylight, climbed up, and threw his weight against the glass frame, using his heavy leather briefcase as a battering ram.
