Ethan watched Angela shut the door behind her, then closed his eyes. He pictured her ascending the ship, floor by floor, entering each room, asking for Annie. Could it be this simple? A human search engine, operating on his behalf? He smiled at the idea that Angela might accomplish in one afternoon what had eluded him for days, months. He imagined Annie’s face as Angela delivered the news, those crystal blue eyes framed by ever-widening eyelids. She would hurry down the stairs and burst through that metal door to find Ethan waiting, arms poised to hold her again.
Unless, of course, Ethan had misread Angela. Understanding people and their intentions wasn’t exactly his strong suit. Maybe instead of looking for Annie, Angela was looking for the captain.
Ethan opened his eyes, fixing them on the door. Any moment the captain could barge through, face blistered with rage, screaming like he did at those poor fishermen, set adrift as they helplessly watched their boat sink. Ethan had witnessed it all from behind a stack of Zodiacs on the rear deck, body shaking from the wind and from the realization that he himself could very well end up at the receiving end of that gun. He was not about to end up set adrift in the South Atlantic Ocean, not after having come this far. And he was not going to leave this ship without Annie.
So he’d returned to the storage room and prepared for an extended stay. He searched the boxes and found a few blankets, bottled water, a crate of organic potato chips. What a change from the Emperor of the Seas. From a hot tub to a cold floor, a king size bed to a cubbyhole hidden behind wooden crates. The constant dampness. The smell of brine. Moisture beading down the innards of the steel hull, patches of steel welded over patches of rust, a reminder of how tenuous these walls were and how near the ocean he lay. Yet it was all worth it. He was living an adventure now, just like Annie, and soon they’d be living it together.
During the late hours of the night, Ethan had ventured forth from his room to search for her. Careful to stay in the shadows, he avoided the lounge and the galley, the front deck and the bridge. He spent most of his time on the rear deck, hoping that she, too, was unable to sleep, that she might wander past. Needing fresh air, she would find him there in his crew t-shirt, covered in the dry, salty sweat of sacrifice, and she would forget everything that drove them apart.