The Sail

by Landon Beach

  “Are you hurt?” He said. “Is there anyone else with you?”

  The girl’s legs started to wobble. She was out of breath and her eyes looked dazed. “No,” she said. “H-H-H-elp me.”

  “Take it easy,” Robin said. “Back up slowly and we’ll talk in the cockpit. We’re not going to hurt you. Okay?”

  “C-C-C-old,” she said.

  “Trist, get me—”

  “Already on it,” Trist said as he went up forward and brought back a towel and blanket from the v-berth.

  “Okay, just move back and we’ll get you warm,” Robin said.

  The girl started to back up, and Robin mirrored her movements. As she took a step back, he took a step up until they were both standing in the cockpit. The moonlight came out from behind a cloud and he could see her more clearly. Tall and athletic, she brought her hand up and pulled the wet hair away from her forehead. Around Trist’s age, maybe a little older. What was she doing out here?

  Trist’s head popped up out of the cabin and he threw the towel and blanket on the port bench.

  Never taking his eyes off of the girl, he said, “Trist, bring the night vision goggles up and give us a 360-degree scan.”

  Trist went below and was back up on deck in seconds with the goggles.

  “Please, sit down,” Robin said to her.

  The girl wrapped her legs in the towel and then put the blanket around her back and up over her shoulders. She sank into the cushions on the port bench, the towel shaking as she moved her knees up and down.

  Trist stepped up and positioned himself next to the mast where he turned the goggles on and brought them to his face. Turning in a slow circle, he swept the horizon and cliffs before searching the water around the boat. “I don’t see anything,” he said.

  Robin relaxed a bit. “Okay. Get her a bottle of water and a granola bar and then do another sweep.”

  Trist stepped down into the cabin and got a better look at the girl. He stood for a moment, transfixed.

  “Trist?” Robin said.

  “Uh, right,” said Trist. “On my way.” He went below.

  “Okay, it appears you’re alone,” Robin said. “Now, who are you and where did you come from?”

  Before she could answer, Trist rejoined them in the cockpit. He made eyes at her and then handed over the granola bar, bottle of water, and a banana. “Looks like you did a lot of swimming,” he said. “The banana will keep you from cramping up.”

  Trist headed back up to the mast to do another sweep.

  She tore into the granola bar and banana as if she had not eaten in days. Then, she downed the entire bottle of water. Catching her breath now, she looked around, her eyes frantic. “We have to get out of here.”

  Robin looked at her, puzzled. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”

  “Now!” She raised her voice.

  He gripped the shotgun tighter. “Calm down. There’s no one around here. It’s just us.”

  “Dad?” Trist said.

  “Yeah?” Robin replied.

  “I think I see a boat headed this way.”

  The girl screamed. “It’s them! We have to leave now.”

  “What kind of boat?” Robin said, his heart starting to race.

  “Powerboat, and it is moving.”

  Robin jumped up on the deck and joined Trist at the mast. “Take this,” he said, passing the shotgun to Trist. When his son had positive control of the weapon, Robin removed the night vision goggles from around Trist’s neck and looked through them.

  The boat was still far off but on a collision course with Levity. And Trist was right, it was speeding. He put the goggles around Trist’s neck and took the shotgun back. “Keep an eye on it,” he said and moved swiftly to the cockpit. The girl had the towel and blanket off and was about to stand up.

  “Okay, what in the hell is going on?” Robin said, his eyes reaching an intensity that froze the girl.

  She spoke. “I’m Jill St. John. I was kidnapped...two, three, four days ago...I don’t know. I was held in a cell in some cave up there,” she said pointing north at the cliffs behind the approaching boat. “Some psychotic woman helped me escape tonight. But they must have found out because they’re on their way.”

  “Who?” Robin said.

  “I don’t know, but she told me that they would do anything to get me back. She said it would be better to be dead than to get brought back there.” Jill looked at him and then at Trist up by the mast, scanning. “They will kill you and your son if they get here and I’m with you.”

  “Tell me more, anything.”

  “We have to get out of here!”

  “Jill, they’re on a powerboat. By the time we got our anchors up, they’d be on us.”

  “Can’t we cut the anchor lines and motor to the beach where we could hop off and make a run for it in the woods?

  “We could cut the aft line, but the forward rode is chain. Plus, they’d beat us to the beach.”

  She looked up at the mast and then around the deck. “Can’t we turn off the lights?”

  “They’ve already seen us. Their course was headed straight this way.”

  She started to cry.

  They didn’t have much time. How could he protect her and Trist? They couldn’t run. He glanced at the water. The boat would be here before he could rig any dive gear. He couldn’t radio; they’d be monitoring all channels and get to him well before any help would. No, they’d have to hide below and he could act like he was sailing the boat alone when they arrived. It was the only option he saw.

  “Trist, what do you see?” He said.

  “They’re closing in. It’s a big Bayliner. I can make out a few men in the bow.”

  Shit! “Get down here now!”

  Trist obeyed and scurried down into the cockpit.

  “Everybody below.”

  Jill went first, then Trist, then Robin.

  “You two are going to hide. Hopefully they don’t have any night vision goggles aboard and didn’t spot any of us above deck. I’m going to go topside with a bottle of rum and act like I passed out up there and that I’m sailing alone.”

  “Dad—”

  “Listen. No matter what you hear, stay hidden. If something happens to me, you wait until they leave—give it an hour or so. Then you check topside. If there is no sign of them, then you raise anchor and motor south at full speed until you see the first house. You pull in and get help.” He grabbed their arms. “Got it?”

  “Where are we going to hide?” Jill said.

  “Follow me,” Robin said.

  They arrived at Robin’s berth and he reached underneath and unsnapped the cushion at both ends. Then, he raised it up. Underneath was a Jacuzzi tub he had put in for him and Levana. “Get in,” he told them. “It’s gonna be tight. You’re both so damned tall.”

  Trist got in the tub and turned on his side, putting his back up against one of the long sides. Jill went in right behind him and curled herself into a ball with her back up against Trist’s chest. They barely fit.

  “Now, if everything goes well, I’ll come down and let you know the coast is clear when they’re gone. Then, we’ll get the hell out of here.” He paused, holding the cushion above the tub. Still no sound of the approaching boat. He looked back down at them. “Jill, can you tell me anything else about the people who held you?”

  She twisted her neck so that she could make eye contact. “There were the two men who kidnapped me, a guard outside my cell that the woman slipped something to, and a few men down by the dock inside the cave that she distracted while I swam out.”

  “What was in the cave? How did you swim out?” He took a box of shotgun shells from a cabinet overhead and started loading both pockets of his sailing sweater while listening.

  “There was a small powerboat and a larger one. I slipped into the water while she started to talk to the men. She had told me that the cave wall that led out to the open water was a false wall that could be raised to let the boats out
and that when the wall was down, she had overheard that there were still a few feet of clearance underneath the middle of it but that it was thirty feet or so underwater. It was so far... I found the center of the wall and it took every part of my breath to get to the bottom, squeeze under the wall, and surface on the other side. Then, I swam as much as I could underwater until I reached the cave entrance. I swam out and saw a huge yacht anchored far offshore to the right and then a house high on the cliffs above. I decided to go the other way. I wanted to get ashore and start running, but it was all rocks and cliffs as far as I could see. So, I started swimming for all I was worth to the south. After an hour, I saw your masthead light—”

  Robin held up a hand. “Shhh.” He could hear the faint hum now of the boat’s engine. He gave Trist’s arm a loving squeeze. “Okay. They’re almost here. Stay quiet.” He lowered the cushion and the cabin looked again like a normal double berth with a set of varnished cabinets that ran along the starboard bulkhead.

  He dashed into the salon and grabbed the blanket Trist had been using on the bunk. The sound of the motor was getting louder.

  Next, he stowed the night vision goggles in the cabinet above the chart table, then grabbed a bottle of Captain Morgan Black. He poured half of it down the sink, took an enormous swig, and then put the top back on. His sailing knife was still in its case on the chart table and he picked it up and threaded the end of his belt through the case loop and then ran the end through a belt loop and finally buckled it. He headed topside with the shotgun, rum, and blanket.

  He crept down and slid over the top companionway step and onto the cockpit deck. Spreading the blanket out, he laid the shotgun next to him and propped the rum bottle up in the corner. That was everything, except...

  ...Jill’s towel and blanket!

  He reached up pulled them down from the bench. What to do with them? The boat’s motor roared as it approached. He had it. Carefully, he opened the opposite bench up about six inches and pushed the towel and blanket underneath and into the cooler. He set the bench down.

  The boat’s motor slowed and Robin listened. They were circling the boat. As he heard the boat near the bow, he chanced a look and saw a spotlight searching the water in all directions.

  The boat turned again, and Robin laid back down. He waited as it made one more loop in the opposite direction. The sound got farther...and farther away...

  Maybe they’d leave?

  The sound started getting closer again. He tried to control his breathing and began to sweat.

  The engine suddenly cut to idle. Then, he heard the first voice.

  “You want us to tie up, Keach?”

  He could hear water lapping against both hulls. It was now or never.

  Robin stood up.

  23

  He held the bottle of rum in one hand and attempted to look unsteady, grasping the helm at last. A spotlight blinded him.

  “Get that light off me, man,” he said taking a drink of rum.

  The spotlight moved away, and Robin watched as the cabin cruiser pulled up alongside. There were two men in the stern—both had handguns in holsters on their waists—one at the helm, and two up forward.

  The larger of the two men in the stern spoke. “Mornin’, my friend.”

  “Mornin’,” Robin said back. “What’re ya fellas doin’ wakin’ my ass up?”

  The man laughed. “We do apologize, sir.” He pointed at the bottle in Robin’s hand. “You been tippin’ that back tonight?”

  The two men up forward started moving aft.

  “Yessir,” said Robin. “Just had a pull to steady up. Now what’s the deal? I wanna go back to sleep.”

  “Well, we lost something,” he said. “And we were hoping you could help us find it.”

  The two men hopped down into the stern, which was now only a few yards away from Levity’s port quarter. Robin could see that they had their handguns drawn but pointed down at the deck. He could take out those two right away, but he’d have to reload. How fast could he do it? If he had the element of surprise...maybe in time to get shots off on the other two before they drew? That still left the helmsman, who he had to assume was armed too.

  “What’s with the pistols?” Robin pointed with his bottle of rum, then took another swig.

  The helmsman spoke from his position above at the fair-weather console. “Get a load of this guy, Keach. What an idiot.”

  The larger man’s eyes swiveled toward the helmsman and then set back on Robin. “Now, now. Let’s not offend our helper,” Keach said.

  “Helper?” Robin said, sitting down. The shotgun was a quick grab away. “You still haven’t told me what you’re missing.”

  Keach took a step forward. “We know you’re not alone, fella; we’ve got night vision goggles—could see your mate when he was standing by the mast. Could see you standing in the stern too. What we couldn’t see, however, was if there was anyone else onboard.” He clasped his hands together. “So, we’re going to board your boat and search it in a minute. It would be smart of you to call your mate topside right now so we don’t have to waste time. If we search and find no one else, then we’ll be on our way. If we find someone else—well, then you’ve got a problem.” He paused. “Now, the way to avoid all of this is to call them both up here right now. We’ll collect our wayward little friend and then be off.”

  They would never let them survive. Looking into the men’s eyes across from him, he was sure of that. Whoever these sick fucks were, they would not get Jill or Trist without a fight. He felt the adrenaline spread throughout his body.

  “C’mon,” the helmsman yelled down. “Waste this loser and let’s get on with it.”

  The boats were now side by side, the aft rails just a few feet apart.

  Keach raised his eyebrows. “Well?”

  Robin raised his bottle in a toast. “Gotta hand it to you fellas—”

  He dropped the bottle and pulled the shotgun off the deck. Both outer men started to raise their weapons, but Robin was faster and he didn’t hesitate. Two loud booms sounded as he blasted the two men, blood erupting from their chests, and their bodies fell backward toward the cabin cruiser’s deck. Robin grabbed two shells out of his pocket and started to reload. He could do this.

  He snapped the barrel closed and went to raise the gun when he felt a body hit him square in the chest.

  Keach had jumped over the railing and now wrapped his arms around Robin. The shotgun fell to the deck. Out of the corner of his eye, Robin could see the other man in the stern raising his weapon—and yet another man emerged from the powerboat’s cabin. Still four men left. He had only one option.

  Robin latched on to Keach’s body and with one massive exertion pulled Keach and himself back over the starboard rail and into the water.

  They sank a few feet, still locked together. Robin tried to free himself, but Keach was also strong and made it impossible. He wondered if Keach had his lungs though. They surfaced and both men took in a breath.

  The other men were now at the rail with their guns aimed down at the water. However, the two men in the water were too close to each other and they would risk hitting Keach if they shot.

  Robin pulled Keach back under and kicked down as hard as he could. They didn’t get far as Keach knew what Robin was attempting to do, and he began to try and free himself. Robin saw his opportunity. Suddenly, he let go of Keach with his right arm and Keach began to break away. But Robin had already grabbed his sailing knife from its sheath and with one strong kick he grabbed Keach from behind, swept his arm around Keach’s torso, and plunged the knife into Keach’s stomach. Keach let out a scream of bubbles. Robin pulled the knife toward him with all his strength, and the water around them started to feel warm as Keach’s blood poured out.

  Keach tried to pry the knife out of his stomach but was unable to. His strength began to weaken and he put all of his energy into surfacing. Feeling this, Robin kicked with him and soon their heads broke the surface. Robin took a huge breath a
nd then dragged Keach back under. A few feet down, he pulled the knife out and then ripped it across Keach’s neck. He felt Keach’s body twitch and then stop.

  Holding on to the dead man’s body with one hand, he kicked until they were underneath the hull. Then, he followed it forward and surfaced quietly beneath the pulpit. The two men were still bent over the starboard rail with their guns trained on the water. The searchlight from the powerboat swept the water in front of them. The beam moved to the water off the stern and Robin eased away from under the bow to get a better view.

  He saw a body slam into one of the men from behind. It was Trist! He went to kick forward, but before he could let go of Keach’s dead body beneath him, he heard a thump. Then, the helmsman’s voice:

  “That skinny kid dead?”

  “No,” one of the remaining men replied, “but he’s got a nice bump on his noggin now.”

  “Out cold?” The helmsman said.

  “Yeah.”

  “What about Blake and Jenson?”

  “Dead as dead can be,” said the helmsman looking down into his own stern. “Christ, what a mess.”

  Robin could hear the helmsman jump down into the cabin cruiser’s stern. “Tie him up,” the helmsman said, and Robin watched the man receive a coiled line and then bend over and go to work.

  The boat tipped to port and then tilted back to starboard as the helmsman came aboard Levity and helped the third man to his feet.

  “Little shit jumped me,” said the man while rubbing his back in the spot where Trist had slammed into him. He saw Robin’s shotgun on the deck next to him, and he picked it up. A sweet Winchester.

  The helmsman snatched it out of his hands and threw it into the water.

  “What the hell? No finders keepers?”

  “Shut up,” the helmsman ordered. He arrived at the rail and turned on a hand-held search light. Robin retreated back directly underneath the bow as the man swept his beam in slow arcs away from the boat. “No sign of Keach and that other bastard,” the helmsman said.