Chapter 8 - The Sacrifice
The pounding on the door intensified to a deafening barrage. Sparks flew as someone outside applied a blowtorch to the hinges.
Silas pried open the heavy iron grate on the floor, revealing a dark shaft leading downward. "Go!" he commanded.
Elara hugged him fiercely, burying her face in his shoulder. "Thank you," she sobbed.
"Survive," he whispered back.
She lowered herself into the dark shaft just as the steel door above exploded inward. From the darkness of the lower bay, Elara looked up through the grate. She saw Silas stand tall, his hunting knife gleaming, as Thorne and five armed men poured into the room.
Silas roared, charging them. Gunfire erupted, deafening and bright in the enclosed space. Elara clamped her hands over her ears and ran. She ran through the pitch-black lower decks, guided only by the memory of the ship's layout and the adrenaline surging through her veins.
She burst out of a side hatch and fell into the freezing water, swimming frantically toward the zodiac raft tied to the side of the hull. She pulled herself aboard, her teeth chattering violently, and yanked the ripcord.
The motor sputtered, then caught, roaring to life.
From the deck of the ship above, Thorne emerged, his face splattered with blood. He aimed a rifle down at her raft.
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"Shoot the engine!" he screamed to his men.
Bullets hit the water around her, spraying her with freezing mist. Elara ducked down, hitting the throttle. The raft shot forward into the fog, leaving the rusted leviathan and the echoes of the gunfire behind. She didn't know if Silas was alive or dead, but she knew his sacrifice would not be in vain. She gripped the locket so hard it dug into her palm. She was going to the peak.
