Read Online Shattered Sky by Neal Shusterman - Free Book Online

money, but by the accent. Winston smiled knowingly. People were always surprised when he spoke their language, whichever language that happened to be.
    The boatman then gazed forlornly at his glass-bottom boat. Business had obviously been slow. The man stared at themoney in Winston’s hand, then sighed. He shoved the bills in his pocket. “Yesterday, four men from the cruise line come in by helicopter,” he explained. “Fancy suits, very important-looking. A friend of mine, he takes them out there, and as soon as they get near the ship, three of them pass out cold, like someone poisoned them or something. The one man left—he is the one they let on the ship. My friend waits and waits in his boat, but the man doesn’t come back, and the other three, they don’t wake up. Then he hears the man screaming on the ship, he doesn’t wait anymore. He comes back, goes home.”
    â€œAnd the other three men?”
    The old man shook his head. “The hospital. Still they don’t wake up.”
    Winston pulled out a roll of bills, and handed the boatman a twenty, but kept his billfold out. “How much for you to take me out there?”
    The boatman shook his head. “I told you—I don’t go out there.”
    Winston slowly began flipping twenties. “You’re telling me you’re afraid?”
    The boatman began to scratch his beard stubble, thoughtfully at first, and then nervously, as the number of bills increased. “It’s drugs. Some drug lord took over that boat. You go out there, he cuts your throat—maybe mine, too.”
    â€œI thought you said it was haunted.”
    â€œThat, too.”
    Winston had flipped four bills, he flipped a fifth to make it an even hundred. The boatman began to sweat. “¿Estas loco, eh?”
    Winston flipped another bill. The boatman took one more glance at his passengerless boat, and sighed. He took the money, and let Winston on board.
    They pulled away from the port, leaving behind the commotion of tourists. The sea was calm, and although the glass-bottom boat wasn’t the fastest vessel, Winston was grateful for the time it gave him to prepare for what he might find. As they got closer and closer to the white behemoth, Winston could hear music growing louder as they drew nearer. Upbeat salsa. Cruise music. The kind of music that summoned images of streamers and balloons, and drunk couples sweating a hot lambada. He could see people on deck now, leaning on the guard rails. Bathing suits, sun hats, and everyone seemed to have a drink in their hand.
    â€œIf that’s haunted, the ghosts must be having a hell of a time,” said Winston. The boatman reserved judgment.
    The ship loomed before them now, a massive thing that just kept growing as they got closer. The anchor was down, but the lower gangway doors were all closed. “No way on, my friend,” said the boatman.
    â€œGo around a few times.”
    Reluctantly the boatman turned the wheel, and began to circle the great ship.
    Winston moved out to the center of the boat, where he could be seen from the Horizon ’s deck. It also made him a target, but he was willing to take that chance. The boat circled twice, and by the time they came around to the starboard side for the second time, the aft lower gangway door was opening.
    â€œNow they kill you,” said the boatman. He set his engine to an idle, and they coasted to the gangway door. Just inside, two unusually corpulent crewmen greeted them with disapproving frowns.
    â€œShe says you’re not welcome here,” barked one of them.
    Winston grinned in triumph. So he was right—it was Lourdes! “Tell her she owes me five minutes of her time.”
    â€œI suggest you turn your boat around, and go back where you came from.”
    The boatman looked first at the guards, then at Winston. His eyes were pleading.
    The men wore earpieces. Winston guessed that they must have been