“It’s a lot cooler above decks,” I announced. Lance grunted. The door to the stateroom remained closed. Lola snored.

Sophia stood up.

“Fuck it. It’s hot down here.”

I turned, climbed the ladder, and held the door for her. She took a hand I didn’t realize I had reached out and let me help her to the main deck. There was a bottle dangling from her right hand.

“Thanks,” she said as she stepped up to the forward lounge, a little extra sway in her hips. I thought about what Lauren told me and wondered if that over-emphasis of stride and flex of buttocks was for my benefit, or just something girls did when they were drunk.

I sat down in the captain’s chair and watched Sophia stand on the forecastle, long hair hanging loose and blowing in the breeze. She held her arms out and turned a slow circle to let the air dry the moisture from her skin.

“God that feels better,” she said. When her circuit brought her facing me, she tilted her head and held out the bottle. I held up a palm and shook my head.

“Come on,” she said and walked closer, that same sway in her hips, breasts shaking slightly under the fabric of her halter top. I am firmly convinced every girl in the world stands in front of a mirror and practices that bouncing walk to maximize its brain-dimming effect on the male of the species. She stopped in front of me, arm outstretched, holding the bottle close enough to my face to read Sine Metu.

“I’d rather not,” I said.

“What’s the matter, you a lightweight?”

I frowned at her. “No, I’m just not a drunk.”

“Not yet. But you will be.” She giggled and took another pull from the bottle.

“You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.”

“Probably.” She turned and hurled the mostly-empty bottle over the side. I had to give the girl credit: she had an arm. The bottle sailed high and flipped over no less than eight times before it splashed down in the lake. I watched it float through the ripples and was about to say something about her future in professional sports when I felt a warm firmness press against one hip, then the other. When I turned my head, my view was obscured by the pebbled surface of Sophia’s breasts.

“Sophia …”

“Shut up.” One of her hands went behind my neck while the other pulled a string and let her bikini bottom fall away. A warm heat settled over my hips as she pressed her lips against mine, gently at first, then urgent and searching, forcing my mouth open, her soft tongue touching mine. She began to rock slowly back and forth, grinding her hips in a figure-eight.

My heart sped up until I thought it would burst. Fire roared through my veins. I ran trembling hands up Sophia’s back, then down to her ass and gripped her hard. She moaned against my mouth and reached down to fumble at my belt. I broke off the kiss and closed my lips over one of her breasts, sucking, swirling my tongue. She gasped and arched her back, fingernails digging into my skin, hips grinding faster and faster. I kissed my way up to her neck and bit down gently, eliciting a small, husky gasp. Seconds later, I felt her fingers wrap around me, gliding up and down, the warm wetness between her legs achingly close.

In that moment, I had a choice to make. I knew Mike would not approve of what I was about to do, nor would my father. Don’t do this, I told myself. This isn’t right. But her skin was so soft, and her taste sent my mind spinning, and her hand felt like magic as she kept our mouths together and stroked. Her heat was so close, all it would take was a lift, a bit of positioning, and then a warm, delicious plunge.

I wish I could say I stopped myself. I wish I could say I pushed her away and said, Not like this, Sophia. You’re drunk. If you really want to do this, come to me sober and we’ll see where it takes us.

That would have been the smart thing to do. The honorable thing.

But that’s not what happened.

*****

I awoke to the sound of static.

“Fox, this is Eagle, do you read? Over.”

My head rose from the bench, swirling with grogginess. I had been in the middle of a dream, a bad one, but could not remember the details. The world around me was dim gray, a cool wind blowing over my skin, and I had something firm and warm that smelled faintly of body odor and sex wrapped in my arms. Distantly, I wondered what all this talk of foxes and eagles was about.

“Fox, this is Eagle, come in Fox. Over.”

There are moments when you wake up in a strange place and nothing is clear. There is no recall. You feel disoriented, wondering where you are, how you got there, and what happened beyond the gauze of unremembered time. It is not a good feeling. Then the cobwebs clear, and you remember where you are, how you got there, and you spring up in a moderate state of panic, hand fumbling for the radio.

“Eagle, this is Fox,” I said in a voice thick with sleep. “Read you loud and clear, over.”

“Thank God,” Blake said. “Please tell me y’all ain’t in the cabin. Over.”

“No, we’re not. We took the boat and anchored out away from shore. Over.”

“Everyone all right? Over.”

“Yes. Can we stop saying over already?”

A chuckle. “I guess there’s no harm in it.”

“How are you guys?”

A silence. “We’ll talk about it when we get back.”

“I don’t like the sound of that, amigo.”

“Everything’s fine.”

“I know when you’re lying, Blake.”

A sigh. “Listen, those infected still have the cabin surrounded. We’re going to try something to get them out of there. Keep an eye out, but don’t approach until we give you the all clear. You copy?”

“Roger that,” I said. “What are you going to do?”

“Something probably not very smart. Shouldn’t take us more than an hour or so. We’ll be out of range for a while, but we’ll be back in touch with you as soon as we can.”

“Okay. I’ll let the others know.”

“Thanks, kid. Talk to you soon. Out.”

I hung the radio on its cradle and looked down to see Sophia staring at me.

After spending ourselves the night before, she had lain exhausted against me for a while, arms tight around my neck, her labored breath warm against my neck. Then she sat up, smiled sweetly, and told me she had wanted to do that for years. We kissed, and after a few minutes I felt a certain part of me come back to life, so I carried her to one of the wide benches where we made love again, slowly this time. Afterward, I got a blanket from belowdecks and we fell asleep to the sound of wind over water.

She reached up a hand to my cheek and smiled wanly. “My fucking head hurts.”

I laughed. Not just a chuckle, but a full-bellied guffaw that brought tears to my eyes and made my stomach cramp just a bit. Sophia slapped me, but without much enthusiasm.

“You’re such an asshole.”

I leaned down and kissed her. She smelled of sweat and sex and the whiskey she drank the night before, but I didn’t care. Something inside me, something ratcheting down with each passing day, something I knew was starting to fray at the seams, to pop its stitches, to bleed through the bandages, had finally let go. It felt good, and I didn’t ever want to feel any other way. I wanted to lay on that bench with Sophia and feel her soft lips against mine and forget the whole damn rest of the world.

I was beginning to consider an encore performance when Sophia gently pushed me away. Her skin was flushed, breath coming quickly, nipples erect against my chest. “Settle down, stud. We need to wake the others.”

I groaned and pulled her closer. “Do we have to? Can’t we just lay here for a while?”

When she looked at me, all the sarcasm and cynical mockery she’d shown over the last few weeks was gone. There was something else in her eyes, now. Something kinder, and open, and warm, and it pulled me in like a singularity consuming a star.

“Believe me, Caleb, there’s nowhere I’d rather be. But this is important. My Dad is out there. Yours too.”