Love is Always Write Anthology Bonus Volume

wrong, a wallowing plunge worse than after the hit back in May. The smoke thickened as he struggled toward the ladder. The deck was developing a definite tilt, bow-end down. The space was tight, and filled with confusion. Daniel climbed toward his station. Then another explosion racked the Gageway , and he slammed against a bulkhead and then down on his back. He rolled over, trying to stand, and only made it as far as his knees. For a long time he knelt on a deck, no longer sure which one he had reached, shaking his dazed head.
    Someone grabbed him through the smoke and stuffed a life-jacket into his hands. "Put that on."
    The man was gone before Daniel could respond. Daniel stayed kneeling for a minute to work the kapok jacket over his arms, fighting to fasten the straps with oddly numb fingers. Then he struggled to his feet and resumed his climb. He must have been shaken by his fall, because he found himself on the main deck with no clear memory of how he got there. The deck was at an angle listing to port as well as bow down. Crackles and crashes sounded from below, whether from fire or damage or things breaking loose as the ship continued to roll, he didn't know.
    "Abandon ship!" Lieutenant Sherman appeared in the confusion. His voice was high-pitched but steady. "The PA's not working but the Captain's passed the order to abandon ship."
    The list to port was steadily getting worse. Already the port rail was down to the water. Some men climbed the slanted deck, heading for the starboard rail. Some huddled in indecision looking at the dark water creeping higher. Lights below flickered and went out, and the ship swiftly became dark except for the red glow of fires. Daniel peered forward, towards the sickbay, and the fires. As the old ship continued her roll he walked up the deck, and then crawled. A spare life-jacket tumbled past and he freed a hand to grab it mechanically. A moment later he gave it away, forcing it into the hand of a man who sat dazed on the heeling deck.
    "Put that on."
    The man didn't respond, didn't even look at him. Daniel cursed and wrestled it around the man as best he could. Only just in time, as the next lurch and roll of the dying ship pulled them apart. The last Daniel saw of the man was his body tumbling down the slanted deck toward the waiting water. No way to help. Daniel forced himself upward toward the starboard rail. He grabbed a lifeline and held tight as the port side dropped out from under him.
    For a long moment the ship stood on her beam. The men clinging to her starboard rail could see the long rust-red expanse of her hull above the water. Then slowly and inexorably she began going down. The cold Pacific waves rose ever higher, and almost gently floated them off the ship.
    The water was foul with oil. Daniel choked and gagged, fighting to keep his eyes and mouth above the surface. He swam blindly, trying to move away from the ship and the fires and the sucking slip of the water as she went under. Several times he paused to vomit, acid and water and oil filling his mouth with rank slime. The sky was pitch dark and a steady rain fell. The same rain that had sent him down to his quarters to sleep. Some nights he and Jacob had managed to find places to drop a blanket or a mattress near each other, up on deck out of the stifling heat down in the hull. Daniel wished with every fiber of his being that this had been one of those nights.
    No telling where Jacob was, in this heaving mass of water and men and debris. Sickbay was– had been– toward the bow, where he'd heard the first explosions. But Jacob's berth was further astern and he should have been off watch. Anything could have happened in the confusion. Daniel remembered on board the California, how one man died while another standing next to him came through without a scratch. A wave splashed his face, breaking him out of his thoughts. He swam doggedly on. When he finally let himself rest and looked back through stinging eyes, he could see no sign of the Gageway .
    He tried to turn slowly, treading water to raise himself higher. The rain made the scene waver and fade, and his eyes itched and watered. He blinked away burning tears, and more filled his eyes. Damned oily water making him tear up that way. He blinked again hard. Each time he crested a swell he tried to spot a light, a hulking patch of darkness, anything that might be the remains of his ship. But the only fires were a few low smoldering patches of debris on the