In The End Box Set , Stevens, GJ [motivational novels .txt] 📗

his turn to the noise, the great boom of an explosion instinctively made us duck as a chaotic sound of water compounded the dull echo, then a voice, a call for help vanishing as quickly as it came.

Pushing past Sherlock, I rushed toward the river as another explosion sent a jagged bright orange metal gas canister shooting into the air like a rocket.

67

First through the gap, I turned left along the river, glancing up the side of a narrowboat bobbing up and down as if nothing had happened. Looking to the faded paintwork, I peered through the nearest round window into the darkness, but turned away as the stench grew stronger.

Slowing when I couldn’t see the danger I’d raced to, I looked along the line of three vessels, a white cruiser between two narrowboats. About to turn to continue my search, I followed movement in the water beyond the first and caught the dark soles of boots slipping under the surface.

Before I could jump in and grab on, I looked forward, seeing Shadow running my way from the last boat ahead. Rushing past the gleaming white hull of the middle craft, I half expected a silver-haired guy to be sitting in the covered canopy with a champagne flute in one hand and the other on the wheel.

But no. The only sign there had been any life was a dried bloody splatter across the hull and tow path.

Turning at the sound of footsteps behind, I saw Alex leading the way, rushing with Gibson and Sherlock running after, each searching for the danger.

Shaking my head at her raised brow, I turned back to the white boat bobbing in the water, twisting around at the sound of footsteps on wood. Passing the hull, I searched the gap between the next two, wincing at the sight of a bald head just below the water between floating splinters of wood. About to drop to my knees and push my arm out to help, I saw another at its side. Both heads turned up with their milky white eyes peering out of the dirty brown water, their hands raising and thrashing in my direction.

Staggering back, Alex helped me to my feet as I scoured the water. Hoping the shapes I’d seen beyond were just in my imagination, I turned my attention to the last boat.

Long and wide, each surface cracked and dried, it looked like a museum piece dragged from the riverbed. It lurched from side to side and just beyond the cabin door at the nearest end, sharp, splintered wooden beams protruded out where more of the boat should have been.

Rushing forward, I caught muffled calls and a flurry of activity from inside. Jumping past the damage, I grabbed the roof as my feet slipped in the slick of blood I hadn’t seen before I landed on the deck.

After steadying, I pushed open the door. Peering into the darkness, Jess’s dark hands gripped at a figure’s throat as they grappled just inside. Thompson fumbled on his backside, struggling to get traction on the slick floor as he tried to lean forward and grab at the double barrel of a shotgun at his feet.

Before I could react, a great shove pushed me to the side with Sherlock running past, his rifle raised at the tussling pair with his finger moving to the trigger.

Something in his look and how he’d acted before told me he wouldn’t hesitate to use this moment to shoot Jess.

Recovering my footing, I launched sideways into Sherlock’s shoulder, just as a single shot burst from the rifle. Dried splinters showered down as the wood erupted and Sherlock slipped in the blood with the force of my push and I followed, unable to stop myself from pinning the gun to his chest as I landed on top of him.

Pushing back, he lifted me up despite my weight and all the strength I could muster. Shoving me to the side, I landed heavily on the deck, and he loomed over me with the rifle aimed point blank at my face. For a moment I wondered what the nothingness would be like.

Closing my eyes, I thought of the calm that would follow. Not having to run or hide, or constantly be on guard.

When the sounds of the scuffle didn’t vanish into nothingness, I opened my eyes, watching Sherlock pull away. I half expected Jess to rip out his throat.

Instead, Thompson gripped Sherlock’s gun around the barrel.

With the sharp smell of the gunshot and metallic tang of blood mixed with wet sewerage hanging in the air, I turned to the doorway and to Alex standing with Gibson looking over her shoulder.

Shaking with the cold, Alex leaned over to offer her hand. Getting to my feet, Jess stood staring our way, wiping blood on her sleeve. The guy she’d held lay at her feet in a heap.

Thompson spoke, but it took me a moment to understand the words. “The guy came at us with a shotgun. Carr set off a booby trap. The gas canister. She saved me,” he said, moving his hand from Sherlock’s chest and offering back his rifle.

“Again,” I said, looking Jess in the eye. “She saved you again.”

“Yes,” came Thompson’s reply as he nodded.

“Where’s Carr?” I asked, but Thompson only lowered his head.

With the bloodied shotgun in my hand, no one spoke as we helped each other to dry land. It was then I realised there was no sign of Cassie and I turned to study our small group in case I’d missed her. I lingered on our sorry sight and Jess covered in blood again, wiping the drying mess from her face with a rag Alex handed her.

Turning around to the sound of an engine, white smoke puffed into the air from the back of the cruiser and I spotted Shadow on board. The note of