But they still had a couple of miles to go and a bridge to deal with.

  “Spencer?” Rob moved to the weather deck, taking the spotlight with him.

  “Wait, not yet.” Spencer flipped the red cabin lights off completely, leaving them in the dull glow of the instruments.

  The whine of a two-stroke engine echoed off the water somewhere in the distance.

  “That way, I think.” Rob pointed off the starboard bow and traced a line through the air to his left as if he were watching the invisible boat cross their path. The recent cloud of smoke that had overtaken the trawler was making it difficult to see much beyond a hundred yards in any direction. If it were any thicker, Spencer might lose the trail of channel markers he was following. The numerous fires along both shorelines gave him points of reference through the putrid, almost opaque air, but even at a paltry two knots, he felt they were moving too fast for the current visibility. Spencer fought the urge to pull the throttle back even farther but resisted. As much as the conditions demanded he navigate cautiously, they also urged him on toward Kate.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  After another mile or so of pushing their luck in the dense, smoke-laden air, Spencer saw the outline of Sewall’s Point Bridge through the haze. They were too far away to tell if anyone was on the bridge, but he was glad to see it. Not only did the bridge mean they were getting close to their destination, but he could use the center span as a reference point to aim the bow.

  The last light on the green channel marker they passed on their port side wasn’t working. Streaks of white fiberglass and a busted bulb led him to believe someone had collided with the buoy, and in these conditions, it was easy to understand how. The last thing Spencer wanted to do was run over something and foul the Black Bird’s prop. The channel markers with working lights were no problem, but a busted beacon added another concern to Spencer’s growing list.

  “We’re going under that?” Rob moved out onto the starboard-side weather deck and tried to get a better look with the binoculars. “I don’t see anybody on it. But then again, I can’t see much at all, really.”

  If there was anyone waiting to ambush them from the bridge, Spencer didn’t imagine that they’d advertise their location with lights or anything else that would give them away.

  “It’s getting worse the deeper we get.” He pushed the throttle forward a half inch, bringing the trawler up to four knots against the rapidly ebbing tide.

  Rob shot him a look that conveyed his confusion about their increase in speed.

  Spencer explained his logic. “As long as I can see the center of the bridge, I know we’re good to go. Plus, the faster we’re moving when we go under, the better, I think.”

  “I agree. This is a lot more real estate to land on compared to your sailboat. What do you figure? There’s about twenty or thirty feet between us and the bridge?” Rob stuck his head back outside and eyed the roof of the pilothouse, then the bridge.

  “Something like that.” Spencer had already worked it out, and it wouldn’t be as much of a drop for someone trying to board them as he would have liked.

  Spencer pushed the throttle forward a little more and adjusted the wheel a few degrees. The channel here was narrow, at least for a boat that drew this much water. The clear span between the two sea walls that protected the bridge’s concrete support columns was 125 feet, officially. But the area of dredged channel with a depth suitable for the trawler was less than half that by far. At least he knew they’d be safe right down the middle, although he hated the uniformity of that route. Unlike with the Hunter, there’d be no need or room for lateral movement, even if he’d wanted to change things up.

  Spencer thought the reason they’d been so successful in discouraging any more attempts at boarding Restless on the eastern side of the Seven Mile Bridge was due to the tacking maneuvers they’d been forced to execute. The zigzag pattern of the Hunter had caught their attackers from above off guard, at least the ones who were trying to land on the boat. He’d seen the ill-intending survivors scramble to find new anchor points for their ropes as he tacked to make the best use of the wind and avoid the big catamaran they’d had to share the channel with. At the time, the maneuvers were nerve-racking and seemed like an added chore that put them at greater risk, but the constant jockeying for position might have actually been the reason they made it through without taking on any unwanted passengers.

  This time, Spencer would have no choice but to bring them under the bridge dead center of the midspan and exit the other side in a very predictable spot. The trawler was almost as long as the bridge was wide. They’d be going in and coming out almost simultaneously. Turning the boat might help reduce their exposure while passing under the structure, but that meant slowing down and increasing their chances of getting stuck. He wasn’t even sure the maneuver was possible. The Black Bird was equipped with a bow thruster, but working against the brisk tide with very little tolerance in the way of navigable water was just too risky.

  “We might want to get Nat up here for this.” Spencer originally thought the best and safest place for the run upriver would be down below, and that was probably still the case, but they might need all hands on deck if Nat would be willing to leave Maya alone.

  Rob didn’t respond immediately, and Spencer could tell what he was thinking.

  “Finn too. If someone does manage to make it aboard, he can be a pretty persuasive deterrent,” Spencer offered.

  “Let me go down and talk to her.” Rob laid down the magazine he was reloading and started for the ladder.

  Spencer hated to ask, but if they faced anything like what they saw in Marathon, it would be a good idea to have as much help as they could muster to keep any would-be boarders off the boat. Although Nat wasn’t much help in Marathon, Spencer had seen a change in the woman since then, and she’d played a role in taking control of the Black Bird when the pirates had attacked. He attributed Nat’s new attitude to her realization that other than Rob and Spencer, she was the only one standing between Maya and some of the unsavory characters they’d had the misfortune of running into.

  Spencer eyed the snub-nosed AK-47 in the rack. The weapon was less than ideal for Nat, but it was good at making a statement, one that said, I don’t have to be accurate with a magazine this size. He let her use his AR-15 last time but thought it best that he hang on to the carbine for what was coming. Spencer wanted the accuracy and maneuverability of a weapon he was familiar with while they went ashore. There was no telling what kind of resistance they’d run into, but he wanted any and all advantages he could give himself.

  Rob returned with Finn on his heels, eagerly jockeying for first place up the ladder. Jumping up onto the couch without hesitation, Finn made himself at home, turning his nose toward Ciro and taking a few exaggerated sniffs in the bird’s direction. Spencer wished he had a way of providing Finn some relief from the foul stench but understood the best thing he could do for the dog, and for the rest of them, was get on with what they had to do and get this over with.

  “He knows something’s up.” Rob shrugged. “I don’t think I could have gotten him to stay below deck even if I wanted to.”

  “And Nat?” Spencer glanced at their depth.

  “Just getting Maya down for the night. She’ll be up in a minute. We’re hoping Maya will sleep through most of this, if that’s possible.” Rob raised his brow with an eye roll.

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Spencer glassed the fast-approaching bridge and nudged the wheel to port.

  As soon as Nat was topside and ready, he’d speed up and try to shoot under the bridge as fast as possible. There was still no sign of anyone waiting for them, but that didn’t mean anything to Spencer. Although the pedestrian walkway was devoid of any people, the solid concrete barrier just behind the walkway made for excellent cover.

  “We’ll leave both of those for Nat.” Spencer tilted his head toward the AK-47s in the gun rack.

  Rob nodded but didn’t say anything. Spencer could see that he was concerned, and he had every right to be. The look on the man’s face only served to perpetuate the guilt Spencer already felt about putting the family through this. He reminded himself that they knew the deal before leaving Marathon, but that did little to calm the butterflies in his stomach or the knot in his gut.

  The sound of Nat’s footsteps ascending the ladder was all the motivation Finn needed to get up from the couch and wait at the top of the landing, tail wagging and tongue hanging out so far it looked like it might touch the floor. The sweltering heat they’d encountered inshore was unexpected, and it was making them all feel uncomfortable and move a little slower. Nat carried three fresh bottles of water. She handed them out and acknowledged Finn with a head rub before saying anything.

  “She’s finally asleep.” Nat expelled a weighted sigh. Spencer was sure it had more to do with what lay ahead than frustration over getting a reluctant child to go to sleep. “She was overtired. Took a little longer than usual, but I think she’s going to sleep pretty solid for a while.”

  “Thanks for the water.” Spencer shook his head and ran the condensation-covered bottle of water over his face. “The farther we go upriver, the hotter it feels. Ninety-six degrees and climbing. It was eighty-seven at the mouth of the inlet.”

  If there weren’t already enough reasons to make their visit here brief, the oppressive heat was reason enough alone. Another environmental side effect of the EMPs, Spencer assumed. It made sense, with the artificially low ceiling of ash and smoke hanging over their heads. It was only June, and at this hour, the weather should have been much cooler, even for Florida.

  Rob pulled the AK-47 from the rack and went over its operation with Nat, making sure to let her know that she had the other rifle at her disposal as well if she wanted something a little more accurate. The plan was for them all to remain in the pilothouse for the pass under the bridge, ready to take action if need be. And now that they were all here, it was time to do just that.

  “Ready?” Spencer looked at his reluctant crew members and got a nod from each of them before pushing the throttle forward and coaxing the diesel from a dull rumble to a solid roar. He used the spotlight to glance back at their prop wash for a split second. They were churning up a lot of mud, but that was expected with only a couple feet of water between the boat’s keel and the river bottom. Spencer watched the mud-colored bubbles swirl around the stern for a second before killing the light and returning his attention to the bridge ahead. Clogging the sea strainers was a real risk, but it paled in comparison to the risk they were about to take.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Spencer expected trouble by now, or at least to see a head or two bobbing behind the concrete barrier running the length of the bridge. Maybe they’d gotten lucky, or maybe his fears were the result of paranoia over what they’d encountered in Marathon. After all, by the looks of things, any survivors left in Stuart clearly had their hands full, like Rob had said earlier. There was a good chance no one would care about an old, rusty trawler sailing up the Saint Lucie River. These people truly did have bigger problems. Spencer had built the moment up in his head so much he was almost disappointed when they passed under the bridge without so much as being noticed.

  “Well, that went better than expected. Maybe Stuart will be different.” Nat pulled her sun buff down and took in an unencumbered breath of air during a rare smoke-free moment in the pilothouse.

  But as the last few feet of the Black Bird slipped out from under the concrete and steel overpass, Spencer heard a vehicle on the bridge above, followed by the squeal of brakes. Nat had spoken too soon. He knew it wouldn’t be this easy.

  “See that buoy flashing red? Keep it just off the starboard bow.” Spencer waved toward the starboard side, just in case there was any question, and then pulled the throttle back to its previous position, slowing them down to just a few knots.

  It wasn’t Spencer’s desire to slow them down, especially with people on the bridge, but ten knots was way too fast with Nat at the wheel. He would have stayed at the helm and opted to try and put a little more distance between them and the bridge, but the sudden pocket of clean, clear air made it impossible to get far enough away before being spotted—if they hadn’t been spotted already.

  Spencer and Rob made their way out through the back door and onto the rear weather deck, weapons ready. The sounds of doors slamming and faint voices culminated in the appearance of three dark figures standing at the rail of the bridge. One of the silhouettes was unmistakably carrying a long gun, although Spencer was pretty sure it was a shotgun. And even at only a few knots, the Black Bird was leaving the bridge behind in a hurry. He and Rob watched as the darkened figures talked among themselves.

  Spencer watched the trio on the bridge through his red dot sight, finger on the trigger. A couple of days ago, he wouldn’t have dreamed of pointing a loaded gun at anyone in the civilian world, but the fear of making a mistake, or the possibility that he might be overreacting or misjudging these three, was nowhere to be found. Instead, his mind was filled with images of them making sinister plans for the trawler’s return. That was something he and the others would have to consider. They might have slipped into Stuart unchallenged so far, but the Black Bird would eventually draw the attention of someone with the fortitude to take action or at least try. Everything that went upriver had to eventually return, and the three people watching the boat from the bridge knew that as well as he did.

  “Do you think we’re the reason they’re here?” Rob asked.

  “I’m not sure. But why else would you be out on a bridge in this? I’m thinking they meant to get here a couple minutes ago.” Spencer lowered his weapon and held his hand up to shield his eyes from the falling debris.

  “Good point.” Rob let the shotgun fall to his side and began backing up toward the door behind Spencer. Another cloud of smoke was slowly overtaking the trawler, and the people on the bridge were fading from view and range if all they had was a shotgun.

  Spencer didn’t waste any time getting back up to speed. There was still a mile or so to go before they reached the big section of bay that Kate’s parents lived on. The river opened up from here, but the channel remained as narrow as it had since the Jupiter Island wildlife sanctuary. Everything from this point on, like before, was a manmade, dredged channel. While the chartplotter was cooperating, Spencer took note of the shallow areas around the channel, and they were surrounded by seven- and eight-foot depth readings on either side of the narrow cut. There was one overly optimistic nine-foot, eight-inch mark that Spencer was reluctant to trust for more reasons than one.

  “Go on, get.” Spencer shooed Ciro from the chart table to verify what the glitching plotter was reporting.

  He recalled jumping off the paddle board to play with Finn in the water and cool off, and he could have sworn the river was nowhere near that deep between the channel and Kate’s parents’ house. On one of his dives, he’d retrieved a discarded beer bottle from the sandy bottom to dispose of it properly and was pretty sure the water never exceeded much more than seven feet on the east side of the manmade artery.

  He knew the bottom contours in the bay changed with seasonal storms and dredging operations by the Army Corps of Engineers. Add the outgoing tide to the equation, and Spencer had zero confidence in venturing out past the channel, even if it was tempting to think he could get much closer to Tom and Debbie’s. They might make it a few hundred yards, but they might not make it back. And if anchoring in the bay for an extended period of time was risky, getting stuck in the mud and having to wait for high tide to escape was asking for trouble.

  Rob watched from the open doorway as the bridge faded from view, along with the potential threat of an attack. “They’re still watching us.”

  “Let ’em. They can’t touch us now,” Spencer boasted, although he knew the victory was temporary.

  He was willing to put money on those people being ready for them the next time the Black Bird went under the bridge, and there would most likely be more of them once word got out that there was a functional vessel in the river, one sizable enough to evacuate a large number of people. The thought of facing another bridge full of desperate survivors gave Spencer a sick feeling in his gut, but there were too many other things to worry about right now besides whom or what he’d have to face on their return to the ocean. There’d be ample time later to fret over their extraction from Stuart. And there was plenty that had to go right first.

  Spencer spotted the last buoy, or at least what he assumed would be the last buoy. The green marker, number twenty-one, sat at the outside of the sharp turn in the river as it changed direction and headed west toward Lake Okeechobee. The buoy also marked the end of deep water and, as it happened, the beginning of Hoggs Cove, where Kate’s parents lived. They wouldn’t have been able to travel much farther upstream in the trawler even if they wanted to. And at a current depth reading of nine feet, they were already pushing their luck as far as Spencer was concerned.

  “That’s our target.” Spencer pointed out the flashing green buoy to the others and began to ease the throttle back. He was sure they were kicking up plenty of debris from the bottom but didn’t want to use the spotlight to check anymore unless it was an emergency.

  “Still planning on dropping the anchor?” Rob asked.

  “Yep. I’ll be ready for you to do your thing up there in a few minutes. I hate to send you out again, but it’s about that time.” Spencer inched the throttle farther back.

  “It’s unavoidable.” Rob shrugged and adjusted his mask.

  “I’ll go with you. I should probably know how this works,” Nat offered.