Daniel shoved both rafts away hard, tossed the boat hook to Breakers, and plunged into the cabin to get Melville moving again.

The rafts drifted off, hissing and crackling. The flames rushed up and around Rubio’s body, a final purifying embrace. I approved of this ritual, both horrifying and beautiful, but begged the wind to keep the odor of my friend’s burning flesh as its own grim secret.

Melville vibrated beneath us, and we veered away from the sheltering brick and headed uptown. Breakers leaned against the boat hook, like a gardener on her rake, musing over her handiwork. I drew Jandi into a sympathy hug as we watched the twin fires recede behind us, bright against the gray water, then fading, then lost in a mist of rain.

Suddenly Breakers jerked upright. “Hear that?”

“What?” All I heard was wind, rain, and engine.

She laid the boat hook down and snatched up her rifle. “Shots!”

“Where? C’mon. That’s just the fires snapping.”

“I know fuckin’ gunshots when I hear ’em!” She brushed her loose hair back, winding it into a tight bun. “You just don’t wanna hear ’em!”

She had that right.

Then Jandi caught it. He swiveled and pointed inland. “Sí! Por ahí!”

Breakers punched my arm. “Go tell him! Now!”

Now even I could hear it: a pop-pop-pop, rolling across the water.

I darted forward to the little wheelhouse. “Shots heard on shore!”

Daniel swore and beat a fist softly on the console. He peered past the slow arc of a window wiper. “Can’t see shit out there. Take the helm. Same course till I reconnoiter.”

He was back in five, drenched to the skin. He had Jandi with him. “Stay below, chico, no matter what, less I say different. This is Jenn. She’ll help you find something to eat while there’s a chance.” He nosed in beside me. “We have to go see what’s up.”

“Of course.”

We steered toward the gunfire, somewhere above 14th. As we neared, a line of water taxis streamed out of the cross-streets, pushing their motors as hard as they dared. Built for comfort, not speed.

“There’s people up on the canopies!” I gasped. “Fighting!”

One boat trailed smoke, while a frantic trio in its stern scooped pails of water to douse the flames. Visibility was crap, but one of them looked like Gracie.

“Heads down!” Breaker’s rifle cracked above us, once, twice, and a dark figure tumbled off the top of one of the taxis.

“Hope she’s sure who she’s shooting at,” Daniel muttered.

He moved in closer till we could see faces. Grace’s taxi ran past us, its fire under control. On the next boat’s canopy, two Smith women grappled with a big guy in a robe, trying to wrestle a machete away from him. Bloody water drained over the roof edge.

Breakers’ shout was as sharp as her rifle. “Nina! Rox! Down!”