Page 114 of Shadowing You

Ethan, of course, hadn’t understood a word, but Mei Lin had still been awake. She’d translated, telling him the ride would take seven to nine hours to the EEZ. He forgot what it stood for—something economic zone, he thought.

“There, we will transfer to another boat.” She turned to the fisherman and asked him a question, then related his answer to Ethan. “We will get from this boat to another boat, though he says he doesn’t know how.”

Ethan had noticed the careful blankness on the man’s expression. It was the same kind of expression Ethan himself wore in the ER when he suspected a terrible diagnosis for a patient but didn’t want to say it until it was confirmed.

One more thing to worry about.

They weren’t in China anymore. He tried to be thankful that the Lord had brought them this far and not worry about everything that could still go wrong.

Easier said.

His wife’s cheeks were too red, her breath coming too fast. He needed to do something.

Maybe Lao Wu had a fever reducer. The fishermen who’d come to the ER back in Virginia seemed to keep well-stocked wheelhouses. Maybe that was a universal thing. Out here on the water, anything could happen.

Ethan stood and stepped over Mei Lin on his way to the steep stairs. He’d climb up, and when he was in front of Lao Wu, he’d point at his head and make a face that conveyed pain. Seemed like the universal sign for a headache.

He was on the bottom step when the hatch banged open, and cold, salty air poured into the stuffy space.

Lao Wu leaned over the opening, blocking the light and shouting something. Whatever the man said, it was urgent.

Ethan turned and dropped to his knees beside Mei Lin.

“Wake up. Sweetheart, wake up.”

He shook her shoulder.

Her eyes opened—glassy and slow. She tried to sit up but didn’t make it.

He got an arm under her shoulders. “Easy. Easy.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heel of her hand against her temple. He’d seen that look often enough—a fever-headache that pulsed and pounded with every movement.

Lao Wu shouted again from the hatch.

Her head came up. “It’s time.” Her voice was thin, the words scratchy as she held her hand to her neck. “We have to hurry.”

Lord, help her. Help us both.

He grabbed their backpacks, shouldered his onto his back, then stuck his arms through hers and held it on his front. His bag held the evidence. It was the only one they couldn’t lose.

“Go on,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

She crawled up the steps, using both arms and legs to lift herself from one to the next.

Ethan stayed close enough to catch her if she slipped.

They emerged into a world of light and chaos.

After all those hours in the dim yellow box, even cloud-filtered daylight made him squint. The wind whipped him by the collar and pushed. He held Mei Lin’s arm, terrified it would carry her right over the railing.

Ocean in every direction, gray water and gray clouds and a thin slice of sun fighting to break through. The deck was wet and slick. The boat rolled like it was trying to buck them off.

Lao Wu was at the rail, shouting at another man and pointing toward something off the port side.

Ethan peered in that direction.

A boat was coming in fast.