emanated from the fantail, and he headed aft as the hull continued to roll. At the hatch opening, he recoiled in horror — the severed leg of Jorge lay on the steps.
Jorge!
Three of the four engines were burning. The one still running on the port side was chugging and bucking hard in its housing as it ate itself trying to provide horsepower to the propeller. Wide-eyed with fear, he stepped over his partner’s leg and entered the cockpit. Jorge was slumped motionless over the wheel, and his head and shoulders, peppered with shrapnel, formed a bloody mess that stopped abruptly where his back met the seat. The deck was awash with seawater as the boat turned to the right under the power of its one malfunctioning engine.
The heat from the fires, coupled with the gore of his partner’s body, drove Enrique over the side, but not before he grabbed a waterskiing vest for flotation. When he hit the water, he frantically backstroked away from the burning derelict.
The blood!
In his haste to get off the boat, he had forgotten he was bleeding heavily, and that fact filled him with more terror than seeing Jorge’s body in pieces. He jerked his head to the left and to the right in search of the shark fins he knew were only minutes away.
Then, he heard a strange noise. From the south and coming out of the sun, he saw a helicopter approaching. Rescue! He thanked God for his good fortune, and as the aircraft approached, he got into the vest, clipped it secure, and began to wave and shout.
“Aqui! Aqui!”
He watched the helicopter veer to the right and continue, not slowing down. It was a military helicopter, painted gray, and it appeared to be an American design. Yes, he had seen helicopters of this type flown by the American Coast Guard, but painted in the characteristic white and orange scheme. He splashed water up in the air to catch the pilot’s attention. As the helicopter flew past, he saw the pilot looking at him. And behind the pilot was a gunner — also looking at him.
* * *
As they approached the boat’s burning hulk, Lieutenant Todd keyed the ICS. “Thanks, Mark, I’ve got the aircraft.”
“You’ve got the aircraft,” Mark replied.
Todd now addressed the gunners behind him. “Guys, we are coming inbound for an assessment pass. Be ready to return fire. Bringing him down the right side.”
“Roger, sir,” Petty Officer Mike answered.
On the FLIR Mark saw movement. After a few seconds, he keyed the ICS. “Looks like we have a survivor.”
Todd lifted his visor and spotted splashing in the water near the hulk. “Oh, yeah, visual on the survivor. Don’t see any small arms. The boat looks like it’s toast.”