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

could not shake the feeling his neurological damage had unleashed a propensity for violence which had already existed. If Brad had been able to control his temper when he had been healthy, maybe the disease would not have presented like this. It had turned him into a flesh-eating monster. A rabid dog. A zombie.

The air cooled as the sun sank low on the horizon, bringing relief. The sails flapped in gusts of light wind. I had locked the wheel on a westerly course, which was the correct direction, but if the wind blew too hard and I did not make adjustments, we could capsize. Having the sails deployed with an unmanned helm would be catastrophic in a strong breeze.

I hung from the seat, halfway up the mast. What would I do when the sun set? If I fell asleep, I could fall. I needed to secure myself to the mast, but to do that, I would have to reach the top, ninety feet above the deck. My fingers and toes tingled, just imagining it. If I was going climb up there, I needed to move before dark, because it would be too easy to slip free of the stirrups once the sun set. I lifted the lower ascender and straightened. I moved the upper ascender and climbed higher.

“Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t look down.” I repeated it like a mantra.

I locked my eyes on the top of the mast—far, far away. My stomach fluttered and my arms tingled. My fine motors skills grew sluggish and my vision dimmed. This terrified me more than the shark. Well, maybe not. I repeated the process again and again, and the summit drew near.

Five minutes later, I reached the satellite and communications pods, charred black from the lightning strike. If another thunderstorm hit, I would have to get below. I put my hand on the largest pod and used it for balance. I climbed over it, reached the crest, and wrapped my arms around the mast. I was strapped into the ascender, but I had to secure my upper body to the mast, because if I nodded off, I could topple out of the harness and fall to my death.

What could I use?

I untied my bikini bottom and held the mast as I slipped it off. I pulled my body flush with the mast with my left hand and draped the bikini over my arm. I used my right hand and teeth to tie it to the mast. I tugged on it. It would not hold my weight, but it would tighten against my hand if I fell asleep and leaned away from the mast, and that should wake me. In theory.

I hugged the mast and pressed my cheek against the smooth surface. I wanted to close my eyes, fall asleep, and awaken back on Commonwealth Avenue to discover the past year had been a dream, a horrible nightmare. I craved the safety of my childhood bed but hiding from reality would not help me. Not now.

I stared at the horizon. A few days ago, I had been terrified pirates would attack us. Now I prayed for thugs to board our yacht. How fast circumstances and perspectives changed. Rays of sun pierced the surface around the yacht, illuminating twenty feet below, like a swimming pool. A dark object swam thirty yards off the port side. It had to be the shark. I followed it with my eyes for a long time, then the sun set and turned the surface opaque, hiding the denizens of the deep.

Looking at the deck made me dizzy but focusing on the horizon mitigated my fear. A fall would kill me but staring at the horizon tricked my primitive lizard brain. From ninety feet in the air, I could see eleven or twelve miles. Something caught my eye on the southern horizon. What was that? I strained my eyes and leaned forward. A light flickered.

A sailboat!

The mast light blinked on the horizon as the sailboat bobbed on swells, then it vanished. The sky became a canvas of colors, and my vision dimmed and blurred in the low light, but I did not take my eyes off the spot where I had seen it. Darkness fell, and I strained to see the sailboat again. I needed the light to be there, needed another person on the ocean with me, needed to know I was not alone.

My eyelids grew heavy and my body begged for rest. My head jerked once, twice, three times. My eyes shut and I could not open them. My breathing deepened, and I pictured Emma smiling at me. Warmth radiated through me, and my pain disappeared.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

I awoke in a panic and flung my arm into space.

“Help,” I screamed.

I jerked in the swing and remembered where I was and what had happened. I clung to the mast and wrapped my feet around the satellite array. My heart raced, as if I had awoken during a skydive.

Day eight of acute symptoms.

The sun had risen above the horizon and the wind had strengthened, filling our sails and heeling the yacht a few degrees to starboard. Waves splashed against the hull as our speed increased. We had escaped the doldrums. From the sun’s position, the yacht had drifted during the night and now pointed to the northwest. I oriented myself to find the other sailboat’s light but saw nothing. I scanned 360 degrees of horizon.

The other sailboat had disappeared.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins and I balanced on the edge of panic. I tried to calm myself. I had made it this far, and all I had to do was outlive Brad. Once paralysis set in, or he slipped into a coma, I could take control of the helm and make for port. He had broken his leg and would not last much longer. I just had to hold on.

I peeled my tongue off the roof of my mouth. I needed water and food, and my bladder