The Sentinel Read Online Free PDF Page A

above the waterline so—”
    McAfee toggles off the radio, silencing Nicholson.
    What the hell ?
    “Get us out of here!” he yells at Jenkins.
    “I doubt they’re going to hit us twice,” I say, but my subconscious has just put together a puzzle my conscious mind had yet to realize existed.
    Thirty seconds.
    Mr. Jackson said thirty seconds. But the man is precise like a Swiss clock. The Bliksem struck after only five seconds. No way he’d be twenty-five seconds off target. So what’s coming next?
    “No time!” McAfee shouts.
    I see a telltale warning sign that tells me things are about to go to hell. I grab Jenny, and tackle her to the floor. Everything moves slow. I see her face contort with hurt, maybe because I was rough, maybe because she felt betrayed by my action, or maybe because she’s upset that a little person like me could take her down so easily. But her face morphs into abject fear before we hit the floor.
    The boom is louder than anything I’ve ever heard. Feels like someone just shoved fondue skewers into my eardrums. Every single window shatters. Shards of glass fly out like daggers. I see them pass over my head as I’m thrown against the far wall.
    My head strikes hard. I try to shake it off, but a pain-filled fog rolls into my head. As my vision fades, I see a fireball rise up past the shattered wheelhouse windows. Armageddon has come to the Arctic.
     

 
     
     
    5
     
    I come to with a deep breath that sends me into a fit of coughing. The air is no good. Tastes of smoke. When I open my eyes, that’s all I can see. Thick gray smoke rolls through the wheelhouse like English fog. I pull my sweater up over my mouth and nose and say, “Hello?”
    It seems a ridiculous thing to shout, like I’m some girl scout with a bunch of Samoas knocking on a door. So I step it up and shout, “Is anyone still here?”
    The idea that I’ve been left alone to die of smoke inhalation fills me with vengeful anger. But then, maybe everyone is still here and just incapacitated? A deep, yet feminine, groan comes from nearby. I try to stand, but fall to my side.
    The ship is listing. We’re going down.
    I return to my hands and knees and crawl toward the groan. I find Jenny face down near the door. The air is better here. The smoke is entering from the other side of the bridge and rolling out of the door.
    “Jenny,” I say. “Are you hurt?”
    “Head hurts,” she says, then moves her limbs. “Nothing broken, though. What happened?”
    “Explosion.”
    She looks confused for a moment, then her eyes go wide. She remembers. “You saved me.”
    “We’ll see about that,” I say. “We’re listing. Taking on water.”
    “We’re sinking?” she asks, her voice rising with panic. She knows as well as I do that just a few minutes in the Arctic Ocean is enough to kill. If the Sentinel goes down, we do not want to be on it when it does. There are inflatable lifeboats and survival kits on board, but time is short and I can’t leave until I know we’re not leaving someone behind.
    “I’ll be right back,” I say.
    “Where are you going?” she asks. “We need to get out of here.”
    “I’ll just be a minute.” I take a deep breath, then slide into the smoke. Crawling fast, I move through the wheelhouse. At first, I’m relieved I haven’t found any bodies—if there were multiple people to pull out, I’d probably die before finishing. I head for the back of the room and see an arm, limp on the floor. I crawl toward it, saying, “Hey!” But as I round the base of the map station, I see Paul Kennet’s face. A shard of glass the size of a trowel is embedded deep in his neck. A river of blood seeps from his neck and flows across the listing floor where it pools against the wall.
    The smoke is thick here, so when I see the body and suck in a quick breath, smoke scratches my throat and sets me to coughing. I’m about to head for the exit when I see a second body. It’s hard to identify because of the