Chapter 12

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1941

8:24 A.M.

They did as they were told: they ran like their lives depended on it.

Because they did. The rush of water joined the sounds of the battle. The flood was coming.

The crew sprinted down the corridor. One by one, the other sailors in their group broke off and sealed the waterproof hatches to lock the flooded areas.

Joe’s feet pounded the metal floor of the West Virginia’s corridors. The passageways and hatches began to blur together in his vision as he ran from the oncoming water.

Behind him, Commander Harper still shouted instructions while draped over Danny’s shoulder, trying to keep up, but Joe couldn’t really hear them over the blood pounding in his ears. He felt like if he looked back even for a second, the water would be there, a big wave with teeth of foam ready to chomp down on him and swallow him forever.

All that mattered was survival.

“There, up ahead!” yelled Harper.

Joe’s eyes zeroed in on the end of the corridor. There was a set of steep metal stairs leading up to a final doorway in the wall. There it was, their end in sight.

Joe felt an extra spring in his step—they would make it!

He took the steps two at a time and then helped Commander Harper up the stairs along with Danny. Once they were through the doorway, Joe put his shoulder into the door and pushed—

A cry rang out from behind the door.

Joe froze, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. That voice . . .

He pulled the door open and looked inside. Halfway down the passageway, Seaman Norman lay on the floor, clutching his ankle. His face was creased in a grimace of pain, and he slammed his fist into the floor while crying out. He tried to climb to his feet, but he quickly stumbled and collapsed with another shout.

“Joe, close the hatch!” shouted Danny.

Joe felt the metal of the door under his hand, cool and solid. He thought of Norman calling him “boy” and making that crack about how his father would never be anything but a cook.

It would be so easy to shove the door closed.

Too easy, thought Joe.

“Joe, no!” screamed Danny, but Joe was already through the hatch and halfway down the stairs by then. He sprinted as hard as he could toward Norman and skidded to a halt at the sailor’s side.

“Come on!” yelled Joe. He knelt, put his shoulder under Norman’s arm, and hefted the sailor to his feet.

“Kid, I’m done for!” shouted Norman over the rush of water. “Save yourself!”

“Not a chance,” said Joe. He knew the right thing to do, and he’d do it or die trying.

Together, they hobbled toward the staircase. At the top, Danny was calling for them to hurry, waving them on. Every step made Norman wince and grunt in pain, but he was making good progress, moving with Joe as fast as he could.

Joe was exhausted, but he forced himself to keep going. They were almost there. Just a little farther.

Then he heard a roar from behind them. In the doorway, Danny’s eyes grew wide.

Joe glanced over his shoulder and saw the water coming. It crashed around a corner, bounced off the wall, and rushed toward them in a foamy blast of dark blue. And it was moving fast, coming at them far quicker than Joe and Norman could hop.

Joe saw the oncoming wave as a dark foamy fist, about to punch them in the back and knock them out forever.

Then he remembered Kai’s instructions during their first surfing lesson. You just gotta roll with the waves, Kai had said. Sometimes, the water is going to come at you hard and quick, and you won’t know what to do. Then you just gotta ride it. The wave’s going to move whether you want it to or not—you gotta decide if you’re with it or against it.

He’d never fully understood what that meant before, but he did now.

There was no fighting against this column of water. He’d just have to ride it.

“Okay, Norman,” shouted Joe. “When that water hits us, it’s going to try to sweep our legs out from under us. Instead, we’re going to fall forward and ride it with our bodies. Just let it push you into the stairs and then get up them as quickly as possible.”

“Are you nuts?” shrieked Norman. “It’ll crush us in an instant!”

Joe felt droplets of water and mist prickle the back of his neck. There was no time to reassure him. “Ready?” he shouted.

“Wait!” said Norman.

Joe glanced back. The water would hit them in three—two—one—

“Now!” shouted Joe.

Just as the column of water smashed into them, Joe and Norman leaned forward and let it rush up around them. Sure enough, the water swept them up on their bellies and fired them down the passageway toward the stairs.

Joe didn’t realize how fast they were shooting forward until he slammed into the stairwell. His forearms and knees clanged hard against the metal stairs, and the water hammered at his back. But he held onto Norman’s arm for dear life, knowing that one slip might sweep the injured sailor away into the slowly filling passageway.

Thankfully, he quickly felt Danny’s hand grabbing his shirt, and he managed to pull himself and Norman up the staircase to help Danny drag them up out of the water.

Joe and Norman fell into the corridor, dripping and gasping, while Danny and Commander Harper pushed the door against the rising flood. For a second, foamy jets of water sprayed out from the sides of the door—and then it shut with a thud. Danny and Commander Harper collapsed with their backs against it, breathing heavily.

“Well done, Sailors,” said Harper between breaths. “We just might’ve saved this old girl from capsizing.”

“Yeah.” Danny panted. “Now let’s just hope we can make it out alive.”

Joe looked over at Norman, saw him gritting his teeth. “How bad is your ankle?” he asked.

“Hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt,” said Norman. “Other than that, it’s fine.” He glanced over at Joe, and the anger and pain behind his eyes softened a little. “You saved my life, kid. I owe you one.”

“You would’ve done the same for me,” said Joe.

Norman nodded slowly, his mouth a hard, straight line. “Yeah. Yeah, I would have. Hey, where’d your dog go?”

Joe felt hurt wash over him in a wave. He’d been so caught up in counterflooding the ship that he’d forgotten about Skipper. For all he knew, she could be hurt or dead. He nodded and tried to keep his cool, but he felt his throat go tender and his eyes sting.

“Hey, kid, it’ll be okay,” said Norman, obviously seeing how upset Joe was. “I’m sorry I even brought it up. You’ll find her. I know you will. Tough kid like you? No question.”

“I just hope she’s all right,” said Joe.

“She seemed like a smart cookie,” said Norman. He put a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Something tells me she’s somewhere playing it safe.”