flying board.

Alex and Felix had held onto each other from the moment of collision. Alex had gotten ahold of rope from the sails of the back sail and wrapped herself around in it. Then Felix. Now that they were upside-down, they were hanging from the ropes, tangled up together.

"Any ideas?" he called out.

The flying board was still attached to Alex's feet, turned off.

She didn't have any ideas.

She was happy that if they fell, she had the board, though she wondered how well it would work in this sandstorm. Their ropes slipped a little, then caught. They screamed.

Their screams were cut short, because the sands were so thick. Alex's lungs felt constricted. She had trouble breathing, sand smothering.

Felix, whose torso was tied around by the ropes, had free hands. He took out a knife and went to work on his long shirt sleeve. He cut it completely away, gave it to Alex.

"Tie it around your head!" he yelled.

A gust of wind, accompanied by a mess of sand, slapped her across the face. She blew out, spitting. Then tied the shirt around her head. For the first time in the last few minutes, she felt like she could breathe. A person could die breathing in too much sand.

Felix cut off another length of sleeve for himself.

Now they were only blinking against the sand.

Beneath them, they heard and saw a small boat go by, about twenty feet below their dangling feet. It was powered by what looked like an outboard motor. It passed them, then disappeared in the thickness of the sand.

"Did you see that?" Alex yelled.

Felix nodded, searching with his eyes for the boat.

That's when their ropes came loose.

They fell, the ropes untangling, for fifteen feet.

The ropes caught, which was painful for them.

They were dangling much lower now, swinging. Still caught in a tangle of rope, significantly less length wrapped around them.

With the wind being as powerful as it was, and the ship's engine still taking them forward, they were swinging pretty good—and spinning now. Spinning and swinging. Through the powerful sands. Beating against their eyes and bodies.

Alex felt she would be sick.

Then the rowboat materialized from out of the sand.

At the same time, Alex saw another one from the corner of her eye, toward the front of the ship. The more immediate one was passing beneath them—only ten feet this time.

She saw a man with a blue scarf tied over his face, wearing sunglasses, flying the boat. He aimed a pistol up at them, fired a few shots as he passed. Alex rotated their bodies, trying to move out of the man's aim. The shots rang out over the noise of the storm. Alex looked away, covering her head, not that it would help much if a bullet hit her.

Then the boat disappeared into the storm once more.

"He's gonna come back around," Felix yelled—which was good, meant Felix wasn't dead.

They were spinning more than ever now. Wind hit them from the opposite direction, counteracting and slowing their spin. Alex realized what they had to do to avoid getting shot.

They had to cut loose from the ropes.

And fall from the ship.