Free The Rig 3: Eye of the Hurricane by Steve Rollins

and he knew the larger ships were nowhere in the area. Besides, the secretary would have to contact the DOD. He would manage to get things done faster than any member of the Coast Guard, but it would take time and persuasion nonetheless.
    He made the master set course for ‘The City’. It was hard to see anything outside, but the GPS worked. The USCGC Hurricane rode the high waves and he felt his stomach drop each time she plunged down into the water again. He had great sea legs, as did most of the men, but nearly all of the crew had balance problems now.
    Five miles from the rig, they held still. They could not drop anchor, so instead they began circling, trying to keep the ship as close to ‘The City’ as possible, keeping the cutter as close to the structure as he thought could be done. He saw the fire dying out and immediately ordered his man on the radio to try and reach them.
    A nurse responded to the call and told him the place had to be evacuated. She had heard some metallic groans and was terrified the place would collapse. And as she heard it, Commander Lovell saw it. He just managed to make out the shape through the pelting rain and thrashing waves. The whole structure was lopsided now. One of the pillars was crumbling, another was bending and slowly but surely the whole thing was toppling. The place was doomed, and so were the people inside if there was no help.
    The nurse reported there were a good hundred people still alive, a lot of them injured. They might be able to make it to the few rescue vessels, but there was already a note of panic in her voice. She knew the vessels were unlikely to be able to ride these seas. All those people would be lost if there was no help.
    The secretary of Homeland Security came onto the radio again, cutting through the nurse's appeal. He ordered the USCGC Hurricane back to port again. This time Commander Lovell did not ignore him. He rammed the button and swore at his chief. He could not let a hundred people die. He refused to let a hundred people die, even if FEMA and DHS would not help them. And the other side of the conversation went dead.
     
     
    Chapter Seventeen
     
    Dave felt it first. He could not see the man, but he knew he was there. It was that prickly feeling on the back of the neck, but amplified a hundred times. He had learned to trust that feeling and he found it never erred. He did not look around, but decided to check a window display ahead of them to see whether his instinct was right. And just before they turned the corner, he caught a glimpse of him. It was a dark man, not the fair-skinned, light-haired man he had exchanged fire with. The man wore the same sort of cheap suit, but he seemed far more in control, checking the corridors carefully ahead him. He did not have his weapon raised, even though it was drawn. He held it calmly by his side as he walked.
    Dave listened. There should be more footsteps coming soon. Joy noticed the change in his demeanor, but said nothing. They knew their friends would come to help, and Dave was sure he could hold this man, perhaps even disable or kill him in a fair fight. As long as they stuck together and did not panic, they would be alright. Then Dave's ears picked up a small noise from far away that made him feel more at ease. Vaguely and distantly, he heard the sound of Sheila's heels on the metal floor.
     
    ***
     
    Garcia slowed his run to a walk. He kept the gun low and moved surely. He was certain he was almost upon the two people he had seen on the camera. The thought struck him that he did not know where the others were, but he was not worried. Smith would have been handy in this situation. The man was sometimes good to have at your back, but the state he had been in had made him more of a liability than an asset. He was better off without him.
    It could be that the others would show up at his back, but that would mean they had planned to ambush him. He could not think of why they would do that, or that they