Page 156 of The Session

“How’s it coming down there?” Mark shouted into the cabin.

“We haven’t been able to do much between concussions.” Lightman steadied himself on the railing and reached up, handing Mark a bottle of vodka with a flare wedged into the mouth with a fabric napkin.

“When you’re ready, just strike it and . . .”

“Throw it. I get it.”

“We’re almost there!” Tru shouted.

Mark peered through the broken windshield and saw the silhouettes of two flat cays.

His ears perked up at the sound of engines even louder than theirs, and he saw the pursuit boat fly over a wave and land almost on the back of their vessel.

A figure was sprawled across the bow holding a rifle while his mate gripped the railing and held the back of his belt to keep him from falling off.

Mark hurled the vodka bottle straight at them, not even taking the time to light the flare.

The bow of their boat rose into the air, and the railing hit the bottle, deflecting it before it had a chance to ignite.

At the same time, there was a loud bang, and Mark realized they and he had both missed their targets.

“I need another one,” Mark shouted.

“Here!” Lightman called, pushing another bottle toward Mark.

Since the last toss, Tru had made another turn, putting some distance between them and their pursuers.

Mark used the moment to strike the flare. The red glow blossomed and blinded him for a moment.

He used his ears instead of his eyes to locate the other boat.

With his left hand on the railing to steady himself, he cocked his right arm and then hurled the bottle toward the sound of the engines.

Mark watched the red flare as it sailed through the air in an arc, then smashed into the center console of the pursuit boat. The bottle shattered and the flare fell. For a moment, nothing happened. Then flames erupted.

The pilot turned the boat hard to starboard, creating a splash of water that fell into the boat and extinguished the fire.

“Goddamn it,” Mark muttered.

“Hold on,” Tru told him.

Mark gripped the railing.

Tru turned the boat hard right, straight down the narrow channel. The pursuit boat adjusted and followed.

She revved the engine back up, and they started skimming across the flat ocean, bordered by the shallow sandbars on either side.

Their pursuers also benefited from the calm seas and started to gain on them.

“They’re getting closer!” Mark shouted.

He could see the gunman and his helper reposition with the rifle aimed at them, waiting for a clear shot.

Tru spun the wheel to the right, then to the left.

Mark watched the pilot of the other boat try to match her trajectory, but it was too late. The boat flew up onto a sandbar and flipped onto its side.

“Good job!” Mark shouted.