It was the next morning that a small group used two of the dinghies to return to the Bergensfjord, which waited at anchor a thousand yards offshore. There had been some disagreement on the matter—the ship contained all manner of usable materials—but Lore was firm and, as captain, had final say. We let her rest, she told them. It’s what Michael wanted.
She had not, in fact, opened Michael’s letter until their second day on the island, by which time she had begun to suspect what it said. She could not say why this should be so; perhaps it was merely her sense of the man. Thus it was without undo surprise, only a pleasant sense of hearing his voice, that she read the three simple sentences the letter contained.
Look in aft storage locker #16.
Scuttle the ship.
Start over.
Love, M
The storage locker contained a crate of explosives, as well as spools of cable and a radio detonator. Michael had left instructions for their proper distribution. Caleb and Hollis ran the cables through the passageways while Lore and Rand distributed the explosives throughout the hull. The fuel tanks, now nearly empty, were full of highly combustible diesel fumes. Lore turned on the mixers, opened the valves, and set the final charge.
There was no further discussion about what would happen next; the job was Lore’s. The men returned to the dinghies. Lore took a final tour through the ship, its silent rooms and passageways. She thought of Michael as she walked, for the two, Michael and the Bergensfjord, were one and the same in her mind. She was sad but also full of gratitude, for all he had given her.
She ascended to the deck and headed aft. The detonator was a small metal box operated by a key. She removed the key, which she wore on a chain around her neck, and carefully inserted it into the slot. Rand and the others were waiting below in their boats.
“Goodbye, Michael.”
She turned the key and dashed for the stern. Beneath her, explosions were ripping through the hull, headed toward the fuel tanks. She hit the fantail at a dead sprint, took three long steps, and launched.
Lore DeVeer, captain of the Bergensfjord, airborne.
She entered the water cleanly, with barely a splash. All around her, a beautiful blue world appeared. She rolled onto her back and gazed upward. A few seconds passed; then a flash of light lit the surface. The water shook with a muffled boom.
She emerged just a few yards from the boats. Behind her, the Bergensfjord was in flames, a huge cloud of black smoke soaring skyward. Caleb helped her in.
“That was a nice dive,” he said.
She sat on the bench. The Bergensfjord was sinking from the stern. As its bow lifted clear of the water, exposing its massive, bulbous nose, shouts went up from the beach; the children, thrilled by the marvelous display, were cheering. When the hull reached a forty-five-degree-angle, the ship began to slide backward, accelerating with astonishing speed. Lore closed her eyes; she did not want to witness the final moment. When she opened them, the Bergensfjord was gone.
They rowed back toward shore. As they approached the beach, Sara came jogging down the sand to meet them.
“Caleb, I think you’d better come,” she said.
Pim’s membranes had ruptured. Caleb found her underneath a tarp hung between trees on one of the thin mattresses they’d stripped from the Bergensfjord. Her face was calm, though damp in the tropical heat. During the last few weeks, her hair had grown incomparably thick, its color deepening to a rich chestnut that flared with red in the sun.
Hey, he signed.
Hey yourself. Then, with a smile: You should see your expression. Don’t worry, I’ll be done in no time.
He looked at Sara. “How is she really?” He was signing simultaneously; no secrets, not now.
“I don’t see any problems. She’s only a little short of her due date. And she’s right: for a second birth, things tend to go faster.”
Theo’s birth had taken forever, nearly twenty hours from the first contraction to the last. It had just about crushed Caleb with worry, though less than a minute after Theo hit the air, Pim was all smiles, demanding to hold him.
“Just hang around,” Sara told him. “Hollis can look after Theo and the girls.”
Caleb could tell that there was something the woman wasn’t saying. He moved away, Sara following.
“Out with it,” he said.
“Well. The thing is, I’m hearing two heartbeats.”
“Two,” he repeated.
“Twins, Caleb.”
He stared at her. “And you didn’t know this until now?”
“Sometimes it happens.” She reached out and took him by the upper arm. “She’s strong—she’s done this before.”
“Not with two.”
“It’s not so very different until the end.”
“Good God. How am I going to tell them apart?” A foolish concern, and yet it was the first thought to enter his mind.
“You’ll figure it out. Plus, they might not be identical.”
“Really? How does that work?”
She laughed lightly. “You don’t know the first thing about this, do you?”
His stomach churned with anxiety. “I guess not.”
“Just stay with her. The contractions are still far apart, there’s really nothing for me to do at this point. Hollis will keep the kids amused.” She gave him a parental look. “Okay?”