“Come begging, my ol’mon? You smell ol’ Charlie’s cookin’ and think to sneak a little mouthful?” He grinned at the large dog and grabbed a chicken wing from the counter-top. “Don’t go telling Jack, now. You know how he hates you begging. I’m not supposed to encourage you.”

He held out the treat. Elvis sniffed at it, then backed up a step and gazed toward the open galley door.

Charlie frowned. “What’s wrong, my ol’mon? Don’t like my cookin’?”

Elvis backed toward the doorway and barked at Charlie.

“What’s the matter with you?”

Lisa appeared in the doorway. “Now he’s bothering you,” she said with a concerned look. Lisa was dressed in a bikini. She’d been sunbathing on the aft deck. “He woke me up when I dozed off and wouldn’t leave me alone until I shoved him away.”

Charlie turned off the noisy blender. “Must be missin’ Jack. The captain’s never left the ship for longer than a day before.”

“I guess.”

From the ladder to the lower deck, Robert climbed into the galley. “Is dinner ready? I can smell your cooking all the way down in the bilge.”

Charlie waved him off with an exaggerated scowl. “Your nose could smell bacon cooking from over the horizon.” It was an ongoing joke. The young marine biologist had the most remarkable metabolic rate. He ate four times his body weight every day but remained as skinny as a bamboo pole.

“So is lunch ready?” Robert asked, hungrily eyeing the stove.

“Almost.”

Robert glanced at Lisa, kneeling by Jack’s dog. “Is something wrong with Elvis?”

Charlie shrugged. “Missing the boss, we think.”

“He was pestering me all day. It wasn’t until I hid in the cargo hold that he left me alone.”

Lisa stood. “He’s been bothering all of us…and I don’t think it’s all because of Jack being gone. I think it’s something more.”

As if understanding her, Elvis barked and wagged his tail. He edged through the galley door, then stopped and looked back at them.

“What is it?” Lisa asked. She stepped toward Elvis, and the dog moved another few steps away, stopping again, egging her to follow him. Lisa turned to Charlie and Robert. “He wants something.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Maybe Timmy’s stuck down in a well.”

The trio moved after the dog. As if realizing his message had been understood, Elvis moved quickly, leading the group up the stairs to the bridge.

“Where’s he going?” Robert asked.

Elvis scratched on the door. Lisa opened it for him, and the dog dashed toward the small hatch to the communications room.

Lisa glanced at the others with a frown, then opened the hatch door.

“Must be after a rat,” Charlie said. “When he was a pup, he was always hunting them down. Better than any cat.”

Inside the small space, Elvis had his nose pressed against a door to a lower drawer. Lisa pulled it open. Charlie crowded next to her. The drawer was full of fax paper and old receipts.

“I don’t see anything,” Lisa said.

“Maybe he wants you to fax a note to Jack,” Robert joked.

Elvis nudged between Charlie and Lisa. He began pawing at the drawer, whining in the back of his throat. His digging became more vigorous.

“Okay, ol’mon. Let me help you.” Charlie shouldered the dog aside and pulled free the drawer. He set it on the floor.

But Elvis ignored the drawer and had his nose pointed into the empty space in the cabinet. Charlie knelt on hands and knees and peered inside, but it was too dark. “Pass me a flashlight.”

Robert grabbed one from the bridge and tossed it to Lisa, who passed it to Charlie.

With his cheek close to the deck, Charlie probed the light into the dark space. “If there’s a rat in here…” he warned. Then the light reflected off something hidden in the dead space beneath the drawer’s steel runners. “Oh, shit…”

“What is it?” Lisa asked.

Charlie swore under his breath. Leaning closer, he ran his light over the array of electronics perched atop a nest of tiny gray cubes. Red LED lights blinked at him. “I think I’ve found Elvis’s rat.”

Karen sipped from her water bottle as they rested inside a roofless building among the Chatan ruins. “Stories of a lost continent in the Pacific aren’t limited just to the islands,” she continued, snugging her water bottle into her pack. “During the period of the Chinese Warring States, ancient stories describe a huge land mass in the Pacific, named Peng Jia. A place supposedly inhabited by a people who could fly and who lived forever.”

“Uh-huh,” her companion responded.

Karen looked at Jack, who leaned out one of the windows. He soaked his handkerchief with cold seawater, then sat on the windowsill, draping the wet cloth over his sweaty face. They had been clambering among these ruins all day, going from one site to another, stopping only for a cold lunch of bread and cheese. So far their search had proved fruitless. They had found a handful of barnacle-encrusted pieces of pottery and broken bits of statuary, but no further evidence of writing or crystals. Just rock and more rock. The ravages of sea, sand, and currents had erased everything but the basalt bones of this ancient city.

“Tired?” she asked, realizing her litany of stories were probably falling on deaf ears by now. She sat down on the wide sill beside him. “Sorry to take up your whole day. Maybe it would be best if we headed back.” She checked her watch. “Hopefully, Miyuki has made some headway on the translations.”

Jack pulled the wet handkerchief from his face and smiled. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You’ve opened my eyes on a past I never knew existed out here. I’ve traveled these seas in search of treasures for over a decade, but never heard a tenth of these stories.”

“Thanks for listening.”

Jack stood. “But you’re right. We should be heading back.”

Karen glanced out the window. Dusk was falling. Long shadows crept across the waters. She nodded.

Jack helped her stand, his grip firm on her hand. They crossed over to the building’s entrance where their motorboat was docked. Jack worked the rope loose, while Karen tossed her backpack into the stern.

Rope in hand, Jack suddenly froze. “Did you hear—” Then he was flying across the small room, tackling her to the hard floor. “Stay down.”

She heard it, too. A high-pitched whistle that was growing louder. She lifted her head. “What is it?”

“Rockets,” he hissed, straddling her.

“What—”

Then the world exploded with a crashing roar. Jack rolled off her and peeked out the window. Karen joined him. Off to the south she saw a billow of smoke and bits of rock climb high into the sky. As they watched, another explosion blew apart one of the basalt statues far to the west. A stone hand flew across the setting sun.

“What’s happening?” Karen asked, cringing.

Overhead, a military jet streaked south. United States markings. Twin streams of fire bloomed as a pair of missiles were launched from the jet’s underbelly, screaming across the darkening sky. Other jets shot past, one winging low across the islands, trailing smoke.

Jack pulled Karen back down. “Something tells me the blockade around Taiwan just exploded.” Together, they crawled to a window. The southern horizon glowed as if a new sun were rising. “We’d better get clear of here.”

Another explosion erupted nearby, quickly followed by another. Karen’s ears rang with the echoing roars as she scrambled to her feet. Out the window the twilight sky was streaked with ribbons of smoke. They moved back to the door.

“Damn it,” Jack muttered. Their motorboat, untethered a moment ago, had drifted several yards away. He shrugged out of his own pack and kicked off a boot. “I’ll fetch it.”

Karen grabbed his elbow as he teetered on one foot. Another telltale whistle pierced their ears, much louder this time. Jack’s eyes were huge as he glanced at her. Together, they leaped away from the doorway and rolled behind sheltering walls.