Furious by Jeffrey Higgins (top 10 novels to read TXT) 📕

I awoke to a rumble, blissfully unaware for a moment, before I remembered my circumstances and adrenaline surged through my veins. How long had I been asleep? I stood, and pain stabbed my neck and shoulders from sleeping on the bench.

Something felt wrong.

A breeze blew in from the south and the sky darkened beneath thick, black clouds. I picked up the binoculars and scoped the ocean to port. A flash backlit the clouds.

Lightning.

Despite being stuck in the doldrums, a storm had appeared out of nowhere and headed directly toward us. I inhaled deeply to subdue my growing panic. I did not possess the skills to get us through a storm. Brad had reefed the sails and used the sea anchor to keep our bow into the wind, but I would have trouble doing it. He had also explained something about lowering the sails and riding out a storm below but warned we could capsize. My hands shook.

I had about twenty minutes to prepare. I jumped online, searched for sailing techniques, and found a website listing my options. I could reef the sails, use storms sails to navigate, heave to, or lie ahull. Gusts blew harder, and the storm came fast. I had to act.

Since I had already lowered the sails, I decided to ride out the storm below, where I could take care of Brad. I turned the ignition off, and the motors stopped. I dug out the sea anchor and threw it off the bow to keep us pointed into the wind and surging sea. It took less effort than Brad had needed during the last storm, because the weather was not yet on top of us.

I sealed the companionway behind me and ran through the yacht battening the hatches and stowing everything loose in the cabin. I carried a two plastic bottles of Evian into our stateroom and monitored Brad.

He mumbled as he slept, and his skin beaded with perspiration. His eyes opened, and he shouted as if he was delirious or having a nightmare.

The yacht pitched as the waves grew. The patter of rain hitting the deck increased in frequency and volume. I had first seen the storm thirty minutes ago, and it had already arrived. Maybe its speed meant it would blow through fast. The doldrums were known for weather extremes.

I wrapped my arms around Brad as the boat tossed us. He opened his eyes and looked up but did not seem to recognize me. Drool dripped out of his mouth and onto his tee shirt. A low groan slipped from his throat, almost a growl. I hugged him close, avoiding his saliva, and shut my eyes.

The hair on my body rose, as if I had become weightless. Energy radiated around me, and my skin tingled, then a deafening crack filled my eardrums. I bolted upright.

Lightning strike.

The charred odor of an electrical fire tickled my nostrils. Light gray smoke curled through the air above us. I jumped off the bed and ran into the salon. Black smoke poured off the instrument panel above the chart table. Flames flickered inside it.

I retrieved the fire extinguisher from under the sink and yanked the safety pin free as I shuffled to the chart table. The wall ignited and heat warmed my face.

I aimed at the center of the control panel and doused it with dry chemical foam. The flames resisted for a few seconds, but the foam suffocated them, and the fire retreated. I emptied the extinguisher, and the fire died. The panel smoked, then stopped.

I panted from the exertion and sweat glistened on my skin.

The storm surged outside, and the cabin bucked like a wild horse. My heart beat out of my chest. I checked the rest of the cabin, but nothing else burned, and we did not appear to be taking on water. The thunderbolt must have hit the lightning rod, which directed the bulk of the charge into the ocean. I used handholds to reach the chart table and threw myself into the captain’s chair. The cabin reeked of burned wires, and I gagged.

The fire had charred the instruments like a toasted marshmallow. I pushed the power button. Nothing. I hit several of the buttons. Nothing worked. The storm had fried the electronics, which meant no internet, no radar, no maps, and no AIS alert system. No Skype.

If I could not navigate or call for help, we were dead. I picked up the satellite phone and heard a familiar beep. The phone still worked.

Thank God.

I leaned on the chart table, put my face on my forearm, and wept.

The boat rocked less as the thunder moved past us, and the storm quieted. I climbed the stairs and opened the hatch. The showers had reduced to sprinkles, and the inky clouds moved behind us, dumping curtains of rain in the distance. The sky cleared to the south, and I exhaled.

I donned my harness and made my way to the bow to retrieve the sea anchor. I pulled on the line and dragged the anchor toward me. It weighed a ton, and the taut line cut into my hands. My muscles ached and my skin burned, but the anchor drew closer. I hauled the anchor until it floated under the bow, but I could not lift it.

I leaned over the lifeline and strained with my legs and back. The anchor broke the surface and seawater poured out, dumping its weight, and it flew toward me.

I lost my balance and stumbled, waving my arms in the air. The lifeline caught the hollow of my knees, and I tumbled into space. I reached for the edge of the boat, but missed, and plummeted through the air.

My feet splashed into the water as my safety harness tightened and dug into my shoulders and waist. The tether strained against the lifeline, and I swung like a pendulum back toward the hull.

I threw up my hands and slapped them against the side to protect my head