PART 18: THE RECKONING ON THE WATER
Mark scrambled across the slick, metallic deck of the commercial ship, his white lab coat fluttering wildly as he reached the bridge.
He slammed his hand onto the emergency ignition sequence, the massive twin diesel engines of the vessel roaring to life with a deafening rumble.
The thick mooring lines snapped under the sudden, immense tension as the ship began to violently pull away from the concrete pier.
He was attempting to escape into the international waters of the Atlantic, where the federal warrants would take months to execute.
I handed the titanium drive to a senior FBI agent, turning my gaze toward the moving vessel with an unyielding purpose.
“Dr. Vance! Stay back! The ship is moving too fast!” Thomas called out as he secured Sophie inside an armored transport vehicle.
I didn't listen; I sprinted down the length of the pier, my trench coat flying behind me as I reached the very edge of the concrete drop-off.
With a final, desperate surge of physical momentum, I lunged forward across the freezing void, my hands catching the rusted iron railing of the ship’s stern.
The impact slammed my ribs hard against the metal casing, sending a wave of sharp pain through my body, but I refused to let go.
I hauled myself over the railing, pulling a compact digital override module from my suit pocket as I marched toward the bridge.
Mark was standing at the steering console, laughing hysterically as he watched the lights of the Boston harbor fade into the distant mist.
“I am free, Selena! You can't touch me out here! The Apex Group has shadow networks that will rebuild everything!” he screamed.
He turned around, his eyes widening in pure, unadulterated horror as he found me standing in the doorway of the command cabin.
I didn't say a single word; I simply walked forward and slammed the digital override module directly into the ship’s main control matrix.
The self-replicating virus I had coded into the drive instantly flooded the vessel's automated navigation and steering systems.
The massive engines violently backfired, thick black smoke erupting from the exhaust stacks as the steering wheel locked completely to the left.
The commercial vessel spun out of control, its massive iron hull slamming violently into a hidden stone reef just outside the harbor channel.
The force of the collision threw Mark across the cabin floor, his head striking the metal bulkhead with a sickening, heavy thud.
He lay there bleeding, his legs pinned beneath a collapsed steel equipment rack, his arrogant eyes finally filling with absolute terror.
The water began to rapidly flood the lower decks of the ship, the cold Atlantic ocean reclaiming the floating laboratory of Project Morpheus.
I stepped over his flailing arms, looking down at his pathetic, broken form with a gaze that was completely dead, completely frozen.
“Please, Selena... save me,” he begged, his voice sounding like a broken child's whisper as the water reached his waist. “We can start over.”
“The woman you are begging died six years ago in that house in Portland, Mark,” I whispered, turning my back on him forever.
May you like
I climbed the outer ladder to the upper observation deck just as a federal rescue helicopter hovered directly overhead, lowering a steel cable.
I hooked the harness around my waist, lifting off into the stormy sky as the black commercial vessel sank into the dark abyss below.
