Chapters (45)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- Prologue
- 2046
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- About the Author
Alas, the dream is too late. The hope diminishes as the waves grow and wind screams through the rigging on the yacht. Sails torn and flapping. The boom loose and swinging with every pitch and toss. He fights just to keep a course into the waves, but each one becomes a monster to be defeated in a never-ending battle.
The crest is reached, buying him another few seconds of life, and in those seconds he teeters on the crest, holding position on a centre point of balance that enables him to see the miles of raging sea in every direction. Such a sight. Such a thing to see. It’s time. Minutes maybe. Say your prayers to the gods you choose for your time is done.
Down. Swooping with such speed that the air smacks into his face and he screams out in terror and joy at the sensation. Crashing into the bottom, sending a surge of water high into the air that rains down soaking him, but he lives and another monster is defeated.
Every seventh wave they say. The seventh is the biggest. He hasn’t counted them off but that thought enters his mind as he turns forward to face the next monster coming, craning his head up and up but the top cannot be seen. This is it. This monster cannot be beaten. Sailing up a skyscraper but to hell with it, he’ll be damned if he won’t die trying.
‘COME ON,’ he screams. The words are whipped away but my God it feels good to scream. ‘COME ON,’ he cries again, louder, and the grief bubbles to the top of his soul and he bellows at the wave still coming towards him and growing with every passing second as he sinks deeper into the valley. Loss, mourning, a life of excess and regret, all channelled to the vocal chords of his throat and with veins bulging he vents his fear to gain the first peace in many a year.
The bow hits and lifts, the sturdy yacht struggling valiantly to do the job it was designed to do and it goes up, dragging the middle and stern with it. Gravity-defying but still she goes on. He screams for her to keep trying. His fist pumping the air and she goes, she gives it everything she can, but the sea takes what it wants. The point of no return is reached. A single solitary second of contemplation and with respect he bows his head with a hat tip at being bested and the yacht begins the slide back down the wave. They sink stern first but the boat is not designed to move this way and she shifts to turn dangerously side on as the bow struggles to gain the lead. The wave bites, a gentle nip, but enough, and the boat is tumbling down and over on a wall of water. His life flashing in a sequence of images.