The voice comes from a long way away. “Hang in there.”
It takes Prakesh a full minute to work out what’s happening. He’s lying in one of the boats, propped up against the prow. The boat is full of people and equipment, and Prakesh can see that they’re speeding across the water. He can hear the roar of the boat’s engine, feel it buck as it climbs the waves. There are three other boats, moving alongside, all of them packed with workers.
Another sound explodes across the water–a guttural roar, ripping through the frigid air. One of the boats tears in two, its surface shredding before Prakesh’s eyes. Its crew spill into the water, the surface churning with froth and blood.
Prakesh’s boat reacts instantly, veering to one side. Someone collapses on top of him, and that’s when the pain in his chest really wakes up. He tries to scream, but can’t get enough air into his lungs. There is something very, very wrong down there.
The boat changes direction again, digging into the water. The roar is coming in bursts now, seconds apart.
“Hold on!”
“Goddamn Phalanx gun—”
“It’s gonna cut us apart.”
“Turn. Turn!”
Prakesh hears the motor throttle up another octave, its pilot pushing it to the limit. But it’s not going to be enough. They won’t be able to outrun bullets.
He opens his eyes, and sees one of the other boats running straight towards them. Its pilot is panicking, turning the boat hard, desperately trying to get away from the hailstorm of bullets. Pain explodes through Prakesh as the boat collides with theirs. He feels the floor tilt underneath him, then it slams back down onto the water.
The bullets are sending up spikes of white froth, getting closer by the second. Prakesh can’t look away.