Behind the Scenes: Crafting a Dockside Escape

I love sailing—maybe even more than writing. So when the two worlds collided in this scene from my in‑progress Gravity Gone novel, it felt like the story finally let me bring a piece of my real life aboard. Knowing how a sailboat behaves under pressure made crafting this dockside escape not just fun, but authentic.

Dockside Escape — Excerpt from Gravity Gone Book 3

The van hit bottom with a jarring impact, suspension slamming before it stabilized along the narrow strip between rock and water.

The strip of ground between the rock face and the water was barely wide enough for the van’s wheelbase, no guardrail, nothing between the passenger side and the bay, and Ray kept his eyes forward and his hands steady on the wheel as behind them the pursuing vehicle came down the slope too fast and too committed, its suspension slamming hard on impact, rear end breaking loose and sliding sideways before the driver caught it and brought it back in line. Still coming. Ray read the narrowing path ahead, the way the rock face crowded closer on the left, the way the water sat dark and immediate on the right, and understood there were no more exits, just the distance remaining and how long he could hold the van on the right side of both. “Hold on,” he said, and pressed the accelerator down.

That’s when Ray spotted a dock looming above. He stomped on the brake, but it was too late. The van skidded on until the roof of the cab slammed against concrete. The windshield spider-webbed but held, leaving them motionless and trapped.

“Everybody out!” Ray barked.

Angelina’s head lolled until she righted herself, unclipped her seatbelt, and—with Tessa’s help—scrambled free of the van. Ray herded them to the front and glanced back: the pursuing vehicle had slowed but pressed on. Ahead, a staircase led to a platform at the same height as the bridge they’d clipped. From that platform a ramp sloped down to a floating dock. Pleasure boats lined its edges behind a gated fence—by boat was their only exit.

He pointed. “Down to the dock.”

Tessa stared. “You can’t be serious.”

Ray said nothing. He looped an arm around Angelina and they moved down the ramp, Tessa just ahead, all of them scanning as they went. The gate was slightly ajar—a break. Ray shouldered through, and once they were clear he kicked it behind him and heard it click. The dock stretched ahead, and at the far end a sailboat sat tied and still, its lines coiled, its deck clean. The companionway hatch was open. Ray slowed. He called out toward it—not loud, but loud enough. “Hello? Anyone aboard?”

Nothing came back but the water moving against the hull.

They found a step stool and climbed on. Ray ducked toward the hatch and tried once more. “Hello?” The silence held. He looked at Tessa, then back at the dark opening, and started working out how to get Angelina below.

“Tessa—down first. Go.”

She went, and then there was a sharp crack below—something solid meeting the cabin floor—and then silence for a half-second before Ray called her name.

“Tessa.”

“I’m fine.” A pause. “Don’t—just send her down.”

Ray hesitated at the hatch. In the dim light from below he could see the dark streak running from her hairline. “Is that blood?”

“Pass her down, Ray.”

Ray got both hands under Angelina’s arms and guided her backward through the hatch, feeling the strain in his healing foot as he took her weight, lowering her until Tessa caught her from below. He heard Angelina’s sharp intake of breath—her side—and then Tessa’s low, steadying voice.

“Do you think they saw us?” Tessa called up.

“It won’t matter. I’m untying the boat. They’ll have to swim to catch us.”

“Is that smart? Don’t all boats have radios? We could call the Coast Guard.”

“Too slow.” Ray scrambled up the companionway onto the deck. Three dock lines. He could hear shouting—distant but not distant enough. He leapt onto the dock and worked fast, bow line first, then the spring, tossing each aboard. The stern line had gone taut against the hull as the boat drifted on some faint current, the rope biting hard, and he hauled at it with both hands until his palms burned. Nothing. He stepped out onto the line itself, forcing slack into it with his weight, and worked the loop free just as the line snapped back—missing his fingers by nothing. He thought of Angelina’s missing finger. Almost joined her. He shoved off with a hard push, struggled to get himself aboard, and dropped low into the cockpit. The shouting was closer now, but fog drifted in, and no one emerged under the dock lights.

Tessa’s head appeared in the companionway, her hair stuck against her cheek. “Did they see us?”

Ray stayed low in the cockpit, watching the dock lights shrink as the current took them. Voices carried across the water—sharp, close enough to matter. “Can’t tell. I can hear them.”

“So we’re not clear.”

“Not until they find a boat. Or decide to swim.” The fog was thickening, which was the one thing working in their favor.

“Ray.” She gripped the hatch frame. “We’re just drifting.”

The dock was maybe forty yards back now, the figures moving along it indistinct. “For now,” he said, and waved her back below.

“If you enjoy grounded, detail‑rich thrillers with a touch of real‑world adventure, you’ll feel right at home in the Gravity Gone Book

series.”