Hurricane Fever by Tobias S. Buckell Read Free Book Online

shift of the catamaran, the jerk-crack as it reached the end of an anchor’s pay out, or as it yanked against the stern ropes.
    At two thirty in the morning, Roo saw something move out in the dark.
    He stood up, grabbed a pair of binoculars, and flipped them to night vision.
    In the gray and green he saw a forty-two-foot Grand Banks motor sailer moving unchecked across the harbor water.
    “Shit.”
    Roo said it with a half mutter, but Delroy woke up right away, eyes wide. He started breathing heavily. Damn, Roo berated himself. He was going to scare the kid if he wasn’t careful. Delroy was always nervous about storms. And Roo couldn’t blame him. They’d taken almost everything from him.
    On the other hand, Roo was a bit nervous as well. Cut loose, a wild boat was going to do damage in the anchorage. It was going to hole other boats. Probably sink them. At least break some of them loose. If it came for them, they might end up mangled by it. Their lives were in danger from it. It didn’t do Delroy any favors to try and hide him from the truth. The truth was going to be slamming around them soon enough.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Loose boat.” As Roo watched, the motor sailer struck a single-hulled yacht. They couldn’t hear the crunch, but Roo could imagine it well enough. He winced.
    “The wind’s pushing it up toward the dock,” Roo said. “But when the storm’s winds spin around it’s going to be all over here down by us. And bringing any ships it cuts loose with it.”
    The other boat’s mast shivered. Roo squinted and saw flakes of fiberglass fly off with the wind. The motorboat wallowed and scraped on, and he saw that it had gored the fiberglass hull of the yacht a few feet above the waterline.
    “It’s bad?” Delroy asked.
    “It’s bad,” Roo confirmed.

 
    6
    Roo opened the sliding door out to the rear cockpit. The winds had rotated with the shifting structure of the storm. No longer roaring in from over the hills around the bay, now they swept around and threw waves against the protected spit dividing the inner harbor and outer bay.
    The catamaran wasn’t bucking too hard, but he still staggered as it hit the end of its ropes and unbalanced him. Water slapped and churned in the mangroves behind them. They’d dragged a little bit closer, and normally he’d winch them a bit away.
    But he wasn’t as worried about the mangroves as he was the other dark shapes moving around near the docks. Shapes headed their way any moment now that the wind had changed direction.
    He untied the rear ropes and tossed the lines free. The Spitfire was now held in place by the wind coming at the harbor and the four anchors off her bows, two out in front and one off to each side.
    Roo pulled survival gear out from the cockpit lockers. “Delroy! Did anyone answer?” They’d been on the radio, calling to see if anyone was aboard the motorboat.
    His nephew paused at the border between cabin and cockpit. “No.”
    Roo grimaced and gave him a bright orange survival suit. “It’s cold weather survival gear,” he shouted. “But at night, in the water, even here you can still get hypothermia. So stay zipped up, and stay in the cockpit, okay?”
    Delroy swallowed and nodded.
    “Do not get on deck to help me,” Roo ordered. “If something happens to me, you get in the dinghy and head for the mangroves. Get as deep in as you can. The roots will protect you from the worst of it, the suit from the cold.”
    Once Delroy started pulling the suit on, Roo left him and crossed through the cabin as he zipped himself up. Bulky, plastic, overly warm, the survival suit was designed to be a personal lifeboat to anyone who fell overboard. Filters in the suit could suck in and desalinate ocean water. It floated. It kept you warm. It had a beacon to call for help. If you pulled and sealed the hood completely over your head in heavy waves, you could breathe inside the suit, it had oxygen scrubbers inside to recycle air for