The heavy rusted iron grating of the municipal storm outfall blew outward with a screech of protesting hinges.
The speeder’s iron bumper struck the flappers, punching the iron bars wide open into the freezing Atlantic gale.
Sea spray and black harbor rain smashed into Julian’s face like handfuls of crushed ice.
“We’re through!” Mac Cole bellowed, throwing his weight against the handbrake lever. “End of the line!”
The steel wheels of the maintenance speeder locked against the rusted rails, skidding to a halt on the wet concrete apron of Harbor Pier Fourteen.
Julian pulled the wool blanket tighter around Clara’s neck, shielding her face from the biting wind.
“Ten fifty PM,” Julian said, checking the illuminated dial of his Seiko 5 field watch. “We made the surface with ten minutes to spare.”
“Look at that water,” Elena said, stepping off the speeder platform onto the salt-crusted cobblestones. “I never thought I’d be so happy to smell rotten seaweed and low tide.”
