The Sentinel by Jeremy Bishop Read Free Book Online Page B

time her lip is quivering. She can barely speak. “You… you…” She gives up on speaking and throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around me and sobbing loudly into my sweater.
    Now I know how my father felt. He wasn’t an affectionate man and I always went out of my way to hug him. He got all rigid and uncomfortable every time I did, and I find myself doing the same thing now. But I’m not my father. My heart’s not completely made out of stone. So I force myself to give Peach a pat on her back. She covered up the murder of several fishermen, spied on me, and unknowingly helped set me up to take the fall for a murderous act of anti-whaling piracy, but she’s still human.
    Unlike McAfee. He’s a monster. And I’m going to make damn sure he hangs for the things he’s done.
     

 
     
     
    8
     
    We’ve been floating at the mercy of the Arctic wind and waves for nearly five hours. During the rest of the sleepless voyage, we turned our attention away from the drama of our escape and the men who left us to die. None of that will matter if we don’t survive, and there’s the possibility that they didn’t make it, either.
    We’ve just finished taking an inventory of all the supplies included with the raft, and I’m a bit surprised. The eight-person raft has included eight, 16-ounce bottles of water and eight, 1000-calorie food ration bars. So we won’t starve.
    Yet.
    But there is so much more—a first aid kit, a fishing kit, sun block, flares, smoke signals, several small packages of moist wipes, two small jackknifes, four reflective blankets, sea sickness tablets, mini-binoculars, two LED flashlights, and more. They’ve even included a deck of playing cards to keep people from going crazy and killing each other. But they’ve also included a small Bible, so maybe the last person left alive can be forgiven. When I saw it, I thought of so many jokes to make—most of them inappropriate given our dire situation—but I couldn’t decide between them, so I ended up staying silent. Which was a good thing, because when Jenny saw the Bible she picked it up, put it in her pocket and looked a little less fearful.
    As a stiff breeze rattles the life raft tent, I hold out a small magnetic compass included with the raft. I turn it side to side, watching it spin. I have no idea which direction we’re heading. It doesn’t really matter, since there isn’t much I can do about it. There are two collapsible paddles, but I don’t think they’d get us far.
    Peach finishes putting the supplies back in their individual pouches. When she turns back toward me, her attention moves to my side. “What’s that?”
    I turn around and see the backpack labeled “Survival” poking out from behind my back. I’d been leaning against it all night. “Found it with the life raft,” I say.
    “What’s in it?” she asks.
    “No idea,” I say, pulling it out from behind me.
    She sees the handwritten label. “That’s Chase’s handwriting.”
    “Open it up,” Jenny says.
    I unclip the top flap and unzip the zipper. I look in and smile. “Jackpot.” I take out ten high protein energy bars. Beneath them is a device I don’t recognize. I pull it out. “No water, but there’s this.”
    “It’s a water filter,” Jenny says, taking it from me. “Looks like it desalinates, too.”
    “Great,” I say. “So between the water filter, the protein bars, and the fishing kit we’re going to live long enough to become hairy lesbians.”
    Jenny and Peach both laugh, and Peach adds, “Hey, I can bat for both teams in a pinch,” which sets Jenny laughing enough that the life raft canopy shakes like one of those inflatable bounce houses full of sugar-high kids.
    When I reach into the pack and pull out the next item, smiles fade. It’s a big black folding military knife. I disengage the blade lock and pop out the five-inch blade.
    “Holy shit,” Jenny says, “That’s a serious knife.”
    “Mm,” I mumble, wondering why Chase