knife.

Alex and Felix were slowly spinning now, wrapped up in the ropes, stuck. Alex knew they had to get unstuck because the flying-rowboat-guy knew where they were now.

"I'm gonna cut us loose," said Alex.

"What?" Felix asked, first curious. Then, "What?"—indignant. "Are you crazy?"—incredulous.

"Calm down," said Alex, pulling the knife from her belt.

Over the wind, over the sand, over all the noise, Alex could hear the rowboat returning. It would appear any moment and ram them—she knew it would. She'd seen the front of the boat—steel-plated.

"You're insane," said Felix.

She was cutting away at the main rope around her torso, as fast as she could.

Alex was just happy she carried this knife. Was the only weapon she had on her person. "You carrying a gun or anything?" she asked.

"No," said Felix. "Well, my knife."

"We need guns. Cut yourself loose."

"No! You can't trust that board in this storm. It's old."

The rowboat's outboard motor was getting louder, coming from her right. Of course, "her right" was changing since she was spinning.

The ship was still upside-down, but she noted that it was—or seemed to be—rotating. She glanced up for a moment as she continued cutting away at the rope.

"It's rotating," said Felix, following her glance. "You don't need to cut us out anymore." When she didn't answer. "Alex?"

Finally, she cut the last thread of the rope. In that moment, she became weightless—fell away from the ship, down, into the sandstorm. She heard the rowboat for a few seconds longer, then heard another rowboat from somewhere else—couldn't tell from where the sound was coming.

Her flying board wasn't on but was still strapped to her feet. She needed to turn it on, fly back up to Felix and cut him away from the ship.

She'd put the board's remote in her pocket. It was still there. "Thank goodness!" She gripped the remote, clicked the activation button. Nothing happened. She clicked it again.

Nothing.

*****

Felix was hanging there, alone now.

Rowboat was getting louder.

His chest—heart, beating in his chest—getting louder.

He was holding his knife but realized it wouldn't be much help. Alex had been right. Except that she'd fallen into the storm and was nowhere to be seen. He may well have been right—the old board might not work in freakin' sandstorms.

That's when a gunshot emanated from the dense sands. He saw the muzzle flash. The bullet tore into the deck of the ship above him.

Felix slashed at the rope over his head with his knife.

He was stronger than Alex, and in a few quick seconds, he cut himself away from the ship. He began falling just as the rowboat materialized from the thick storm, coming right at him.

The driver saw him falling and tried to find his aim, fired a few shots. Missed all of them. Felix fell into the darkness of the sands. With no flying board.

"Alex!" he immediately began yelling. "Alex!"

Then he just started screaming, until his improvised sleeve-mask tore away from his face. Sand began filling his mouth and nose. He couldn't scream. Only fall.