Torn (13 page)

“How long until we hit land?”

“We're hugging the coast relatively close while still staying out of sight,” Mercer replied. “I'd give it about five days. But it looks like we have plenty of fuel. Hopefully we can avoid hitting land, though. That'll be more dangerous.”

“Five days.” Davis's brow knitted. She'd known so many parts of their plan were a gamble, but now she was concerned about food and supplies. “We're really going to have to ration our water and the supplies we took from the other boat,” she said. “I think we only have three days' worth at best.”
Not to mention the inability to shower for that long,
she thought.

“I know,” Mercer said, his voice grim. “Believe me. It's just that I didn't know what kind of a lifeboat we'd be using, and this motor isn't strong. We can stop at a port if we absolutely have to.”

“And risk getting caught,” said Davis. Instinctively, she moved closer to him.

“We're already constantly risking that,” he told her.

“I don't know if I can wait five days, with or without supplies. I just want to get there, get the cure, and get home.”

He was quiet for so long that she worried she'd offended him somehow.

“I want those things, too,” he told her, his voice low. “But I'll miss you when you're home.”

Davis bit her lip, suddenly acutely aware of the water lapping against the side of the boat and Mercer breathing beside her, only an inch of space between them. She'd loved getting to know Mercer these past few months. In many ways, he'd been her only support. It would be impossible not to miss him. But that didn't imply anything bigger about their relationship. It was situational, she told herself.

“You should be counting your lucky stars,” Mercer told her, breaking the silence. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Who else do you know who can serenade you
and
navigate a boat
and
doesn't care that you spent the evening inside a morgue sack? Huh? These next five days could be a heck of a lot worse.”

Davis smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. He always knew just what to say to lift her spirits. And he was right—as impatient as she was to bring a cure back to Columbus, there wasn't anything she could do until they reached Durham, except make the best of her time with her friend.

She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her nerves and focus on the tranquility of the night. Even Mercer's humming sounded more melodic than other people's. She tried to do what her father had taught her when she was young: put herself in a good, peaceful place when she was anxious. Because if she didn't, in this case, all her anxieties would drive her crazy—anxieties over getting caught, getting thrown back into TOR-N.… She couldn't think like that. She closed her eyes, only to open them a second later when she felt raindrops.

“Hmm,” Mercer said. “We aren't exactly equipped for this.”

“What are we going to do?” she asked, looking up at him as rain trickled down their foreheads.

He gazed down at her, locking his eyes on hers. “What should we do?” he asked softly. His hand tightened on her shoulder, and Davis felt a pang shoot through her chest, realizing for the first time just how close he was. She looked up at him, her face inches from his. She could feel his warm breath through the cold, sleeting rain. It would take nothing to close the gap between their lips. She could feel him wanting it.

Davis drew back suddenly, reaching for her jacket. “I'm cold,” she said unnecessarily, looking away.

Mercer reached around her and helped her pull on her coat. She couldn't believe how close she'd come to kissing him. It felt wrong, bad somehow. Cole was dead, but she wasn't over him. He was in every animal-shaped cloud formation they'd once speculated over, every word or phrase that reminded her of him—even being on the water, which he'd loved. She almost laughed at that, because
that
she couldn't understand. The water beneath the boat was choppy, and all she could see around her was black. And yet, above her there was the night sky … and he'd adored that, too. She gazed up at it; it was mostly hazy from cloud coverage, but here and there she could pick up the clusters of stars he'd always admired. Her love for him was as strong as ever, and kissing Mercer would be like.… It just wouldn't feel right. Her heart thudded with the nearness of him. Until tonight, they'd just been friends. She loved their banter, how easy and comfortable they were together. So what was this? A breeze rustled her hair, and she realized for the first time that the wind had picked up significantly. She hugged her arms to her chest, and Mercer frowned as he fought to steer the boat. Large droplets of rain began falling faster. Davis hoped against hope they'd abate. They had a tarp for coverage—she'd seen it on the floor near where she sat—but would it be enough?

They jolted sideways as the waves tossed the boat more roughly. The rain was really coming down now, and the vessel felt completely at the mercy of the storm. “What are we going to do?” Davis shouted to Mercer, who was looking as worried as she felt. “I don't know how to sail through this kind of storm.”

“Neither do I,” he said. “I guess we just ride it out.”

They pitched from side to side until Davis clutched her stomach, feeling nauseated. She gripped the side of the lifeboat, which suddenly felt like a child's toy, as another wave pitched them forward. This time, though, they didn't simply ride it through to the next—they slammed into something hard, which spun the boat counterclockwise. When the boat righted itself it felt oddly weighted on the left side, which caused it to pitch down toward the water unevenly.

“Shit,” Mercer muttered. “There's a hole in the side of the boat. We must have hit a rock!”

“A rock? How flimsy is this thing?” She was genuinely concerned. The boat had seemed sturdy; it was made of metal or chrome or
something,
after all—not wood.

“It's a lifeboat, Davis! It's not meant for violent storms. It looks like the rock punctured all the way through.”

“What can we do?” Davis's voice was shrill, and she moved even closer to Mercer as the boat tossed in either direction.

“We need to patch it. Just a second.” Mercer stood, but Davis held out a hand to stop him.

“You navigate. I'll look.” She pulled herself unsteadily toward the plastic safe that rested near the bow. She dug around in the box until she found something in a plastic bag labeled
Waterproof Caulking Material.
“I'm not totally sure,” she told him, “but I think we can plug it with this. At least temporarily.” She scanned the directions on the bag, which indicated that the material was for patching minor holes. She handed the bag to Mercer, and he nodded, moving toward the side of the vessel where the hole was.

“It looks like it's just meant to be a temporary fix, but hopefully it'll hold us over until we hit land.” He leaned toward the hole, but again Davis pulled him back. “Let me get it! You need to keep us steady.”

He shook his head. “It's not an easy one,” he told her, motioning toward the hole. It was far down the side of the boat, almost kissing the surface of the water.

“It'll work better if I do it,” Davis told him. “You're too big to reach down there. You might tip the boat.”

“No way! It's too dangerous.”

“What choice do we have?” She plucked the caulking from his hands and shimmied over the side of the boat, bending in half and stretching her torso as far as she could go. The instructions on the packaging said it would adhere to the outer surface of the boat only—something about the way it welded to the external siding. She was just glad the hole was above water level. She felt Mercer's hands on her waist behind her, steadying her. “I need to move onto the side of the boat,” she told him, starting to climb over.

“No!” he shouted. “Are you crazy? You'll fall in.”

“Just let me do it,” she said, using her upper body strength to propel herself over the side to the thin ledge that encircled the exterior of the boat, unprotected. She balanced there, grateful for years of ballet training that enabled her to exert expert control over her muscles. She pushed the caulking into the gap made by the rock, all the while aware that at any second, they could hurtle into another sharp object.

She was just cementing the rim of the hole when she felt another jolt; this time it was the wind. There was nothing she could do; her fingers were ripped from their grip on the side of the boat and she was hurled into the air, her foot snagging on something as she went down. Then she was in the water, thrashing, unable to fight her way to the surface. She kicked her legs hard but found they were tangled up in something—reeds, or a rope?—and the more she kicked, the more she seemed to push her body further into the murky water. She gasped for air and inhaled water instead.

She panicked, fear coursing through her body and water filling her lungs. She felt herself choking, and for a minute she was certain she was going to die. Images of Vera and Cole and Fia and her father flashed through her mind, making her panic all the more. She reached out to the boat like she would have reached out to them, because they were the only reason she had to survive. Everything she'd done—all that she'd risked to find a cure and save the people she loved—was wasted. The realization gutted her. She couldn't accept it. She fought harder, scrambling to reach the surface, to no avail. Then she felt a set of arms around her, stabilizing her, and a voice yelled at her over the pounding of the waves, urging her to keep calm.
Mercer.

She relaxed into his grip, feeling him free her feet from whatever it was that was binding her. He wrapped her arms around his neck and swam the few feet back to their boat, hauling her body up to the rope ladder that hung from the back of the boat. He helped push her up and over the side before pulling himself up, and they dropped onto the deck, gasping for breath.

Davis coughed, hacking up water. She felt tears burn in the backs of her eyes, but she struggled to stay calm and breathe deeply. The rain was abating a little, but she was freezing. Freezing and terrified. She'd been certain she was about to die. She'd swum before—they all had, in basic athletics programs at school growing up—but this was so much more. So unpredictable, the way the waves had moved her body and she'd lost control. She gasped, realizing just how close she'd come to never seeing her friends and family again. She'd thought she knew how to swim, but nothing had prepared her for the volatility of the sea. It was like it had been a living, breathing monster with its own mind. She trembled, feeling her feet and hands begin to warm up enough to move again. Still, she was bone cold and having a hard time moving her body after the shock of it. She was alive. She sobbed at the realization of it. She rolled toward Mercer and welcomed his embrace as he pulled her toward him. His touch sent her back into a tailspin of emotions. He made her feel real, alive, human. All the things she'd nearly lost.

“I told you not to go,” he whispered into her hair, kissing her forehead and cheeks and ear.

“I did it, didn't I?” she asked. He looked around and laughed—sure enough, the boat had righted itself and didn't seem to be drawing in any water.

“You did,” he agreed. “Davis,” he whispered, pulling her closer. “I don't know what I'd have done if … if…” He sighed, and then said even more quietly, “I can't do this alone.”

She tilted her face toward his so she could see the expression in his eyes—it was one of fear and passion and relief. She felt all those same sensations. And it was true—she couldn't do this alone, either. They needed each other.

This time, when their eyes locked, she didn't resist. His lips on hers were gentle and searching, but strong. His kiss was warm and tender, and she almost gasped from the emotion of it. Surprised to realize how long it had been building up inside her, too. How badly she wanted it. She leaned into it more. He was confident and firm but not fierce, like Cole had been.
Cole.

She pulled away, gasping.

“I'm sorry,” he said, worry in his eyes. “Was that too much?”

“No.” She shook her head. “At least … I don't know. I don't know,” she said again. “You're my friend.” She knew her answer wasn't adequate, but she didn't have anything better. She didn't know what any of this meant. But the kiss had been very real and powerful. She couldn't process what she was feeling just then, or what she wanted, and Mercer nodded, seeming to understand. But he couldn't. He couldn't understand how her heart still felt toward Cole. Maybe she'd always love him. Maybe even though he was gone, that part of her, that part that loved him, was unbreakable.

The cushioned portion of the back end of the lifeboat was tiny and cramped, and the floor below it was filled with supplies, but they found space for both of them among the stacks of life jackets and fuel. Mercer unfolded the tarp to spread over them for warmth. The rain had abated to a slow drizzle, but it was enough to chill her all the way through. Exhausted and shivering, she collapsed next to him, allowing him to encircle her in his arms. There was barely space for the two of them down there; it was intimate and familiar. It felt like they were two parts of the same person. The thought that their friendship would inevitably be altered was terrifying.

That's why,
Davis thought as she began to fall asleep, her chin tucked against his shoulder. It was why she felt so deeply connected to him—they were similar people. They both understood what it was like not to fit in. It wasn't anything more than that. Even though she couldn't be with Cole, her heart was his. She knew it. Being with someone else felt like a betrayal. Lying with Cole on the hospital rooftop had been so charged; their love had been apparent in every kiss, every soft touch to one another's faces. It had been manifest in the way he held her, like she was a delicate thing.