Twenty
Tuesday, March 23, 7:03 A.M. CST
Parrot Tree Marina
Thomas startled awake as the Aggressor violently rocked back and forth, creaking like a dead pine splitting in a forest. Out of old instinct, he reached for a rifle beside his bunk, but no firearm stood there. Instead, he knocked over an air tank, adding to the noise.
Pulling his T-shirt on, he poked his head out of the cabin to find Mel on the deck, coffee cup in hand, gaze on the end of the pier.
Thomas ran a hand through his hair. “What was that? I didn’t think Roatan had earthquakes.”
Another crash sloshed coffee out of Mel’s cup. “That, son, is either an enormous boat or a tiny ship. Either way, it’s much too large for this marina.” The whole dock lurched, jerking the Aggressor along with it.
Thomas stood up on a bench
