Chapter 44 - Blood on the Horizon
The first spotlight struck our stern five minutes later, a blinding pillar of white light cutting through the driving rain.
A megaphone boomed across the roaring waves, amplified by the storm: "Vessel *Sea Hawk*, cut your engines and prepare to be boarded under maritime security code 4-Alpha. Any resistance will be met with lethal force."
"They're hailing under an offshore corporate registry," Declan growled, spinning the wheel hard to starboard. The interceptor leaned violently into a five-foot swell, spraying white water over the cabin glass. "They're going to ram us or shoot our rudder out."
"How far to territorial waters?" I shouted, bracing the baby securely inside an emergency padded survival pack strapped against my chest.
"Twelve nautical miles!" Daniel shouted back. He grabbed a flare gun and two tactical rifles from the deck rack. "Once we cross the twelve-mile boundary, they risk a federal incident if they fire heavy munitions. Until then, we’re in the wild west."
A heavy burst of automatic fire echoed across the water. Tracer rounds tore through the night sky, perforating our starboard hull with loud metallic clangs. Wood splinters and fiberglass fragments flew across the cabin.
"Declan, cut the deck lights!" Daniel ordered, kicking the cabin door open and stepping out into the gale.
The darkness swallowed our boat as Declan killed the exterior lamps. Daniel leaned over the stern railing, waiting for the following crest. As the lead pursuit vessel surged over a wave, its prow rising high out of the foam, Daniel fired.
He didn't aim at the hull. He aimed directly at the lead vessel's high-intensity halogen spotlight.
The spotlight shattered in an explosion of blue sparks, momentarily blinding the helmsman of the lead boat. Blinded in the gale, the vessel veered erratically to port, its steel bow crashing directly into the flank of the second pursuit craft. The screech of tearing metal and the muffled roar of an exploding fuel bladder rolled over the water, leaving a burning slick on the sea behind us.
"One down!" Daniel yelled, lunging back inside as another volley of bullets shattered the cabin's rear windows.
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Declan grit his teeth, bleeding from a glass cut on his forehead. "The third one is flanking us from the shallow shoals! They know the local reef lines better than we do!"
Ahead of us, through the storm, the faint, sweeping beam of a mainland lighthouse pierced the fog: Cape Disappointment.
