by Ray Wench
Mark leaned over the side to find Kendra, all the while pulling the pole in. To his surprise, the young girl still clung to the metal end. He put the gun back in his belt and hauled hand-over-hand. He looked around him. At least half a dozen boats were aimed at his position. Mark leaned across the gunwale and grabbed her slender wrist. He pulled the child up and over the top and dropped her unceremoniously on the deck before racing to the wheel. They had to get to safety.
He paused and looked upward. Shavonne screamed and her voice carried down to him. “Go! You promised!” Several men dragged her away.
Guilt struck deep at his heart, but he recognized the situation was lost for her. He could still save Kendra if he went now. He shoved the stick forward and the boat jumped, sloshing the collected water along the deck. Kendra coughed repeatedly and rolled with the water. He could do nothing for her at the moment, all his attention focused on escape.
He split two boats coming at him. A man on one side swung a long pole at him striking and cracking the windshield, but the force of the impact tore it from his hands and it bounced off the bow and into the water. The boats came about in seconds and joined the other four boats already in pursuit.
The echoes of gunshots flew over the water. He ducked in automatic reflex. He checked the heap that was Kendra. She lay sucking in air in between sobs. He looked back at the freighter. Shavonne was no longer in sight, but he would remember how brave she was and the sacrifice she just made for this girl. He wondered if Kendra would ever fully understand what Shavonne did for her.
Mark turned back to the endless dark water in front of him. Any shore, at this point, was just an extension of the water, blending into the long black surface. Should he try to find the same marina, or just find the closest harbor? In the dark he couldn't make an intelligent decision, so decided to just run until he thought he was close to land and hope he didn't hit anything.
How long until dawn? Did he have the gas needed to run till then? He glanced around. It didn't matter if he had enough gas, they would run him down long before. The pursuit vessels had spread out behind him. To alter course would allow them to flank him. The only path he had was straight ahead and that would only last until he hit land. They didn’t have until dawn.
Twenty-Two
“Watch out!” shouted Becca.
Bobby slammed on the brakes. The rear end of the SUV fishtailed toward the center guard rail. A semi-trailer had been set across the two-lane road. Whoever set the barricade had picked the perfect spot. Only a few feet remained between the trailer and the guard rail.
Bobby whipped the wheel from side to side to keep from rolling the SUV. They skidded sideways and for a scary moment thought they would smash into the semi. “Duck!” he shouted. If they hit it, the collision would shear off the roof. He pressed the pedal down and the tires caught, sending them forward, parallel to the trailer, aiming for the shoulder along the right side of the highway. He found little room to maneuver. A car had been backed into the space, between the semi and a cement barrier.
Braking again, the vehicle slid on the loose gravel and crashed into the wall. The impact sent curses and air bags exploding throughout the interior. Bobby was thrown forward, and smacked in the face. Stunned, he was unable to move for long moments.
As his vision and hearing cleared, he heard a multitude of moans within. An acrid chemical smell filled his nose and he sneezed. He fished for his knife, opened the blade and popped the airbag. He turned to his sister as he released the seat belt. “Becca, You all right?”
A hissing told him she had sliced her bag as well. She put a hand to her face and patted it. “Damn! That burns.” A thin trickle of blood descended from her nose. He looked in the back seat. Lincoln and Drew were shaking off the effects of the impact but looked fine.
He glanced at the semi. He’d thought they had a few more miles before reaching the barricade. In the dark, he misjudged their position. Bobby rolled his head, his neck cracking in protest. He lifted a hand and rubbed at the soreness before he opened his door. For a moment he feared the door would resist his efforts, but putting a shoulder into the attempt, the door creaked and opened. He put his feet on the ground, stood, but leaned against the SUV for support. He drew in a large breath, but before he could exhale a voice behind him said, “Don't you move. I've got a gun pointed right at your head.” Bobby stiffened. “Put your hands on the roof and spread your legs.”
Bobby did as commanded, lowering enough to catch Becca's gaze. He motioned to the side with his head. She slid into the well and waited. The voice said, “You others get out of the car. You,” he nudged Bobby in the back with something hard, “open the back door.” Bobby did. “Both of you slide out this way. Don't try no tricks, ’cause I will shoot you.”
Drew exited first. Trying not to be obvious, Bobby kept his body directly in front of the gunman's line of sight hoping to block Becca's exit. He watched the man's eyes but if he was aware of Becca's presence, he didn’t show it. Drew moved off to the side and let Lincoln step out. “Now, you two, turn around and put both hands on the roof like this other fella.” As they did, the man said, “Hey, wasn't there another one in the front seat?”
“No,” Bobby said, “it was just me in front.”
Running footsteps pounded toward them. “Hey, Antone, you got one. Aw, man!”
“Benny, sound the alarm. We gotta let everyone know we got them.”
A sudden blare from a trumpet pierced the night, making Bobby cringe. Benny didn’t appear to have the skill to play a tune. He blasted out alternating notes. Bobby wondered who was being alerted and how many would answer the call. He craned his neck to find where the responders would come from, looking for an escape, knowing his sister would strike at any second.
Lights to the left gave him one answer. Flashlight beams danced across the ground from the far side of the barricade. They descended from a slope on the right side. Bobby thought he could make out the outline of some buildings above the roadway; perhaps an apartment complex or condos.
“Whatcha'all got in there?” Antone said.
Benny inhaled to blow the horn again. Bobby tensed, ready to spring, hoping the gunman wouldn't notice. The first notes escaped the horn but ended abruptly.
Silence for a moment, then, “Benny? What'd'ya do, swallow that mouthpiece?” Benny didn’t reply. Bobby readied, turning his hips. “Benny?”
Bobby sprang. He found his target two steps back and drove his shoulder into the man's midsection. The gun exploded over him. He tackled the man and climbed to his gun hand. Grasping the wrist, he banged it on the ground to dislodge the weapon. A disturbance of air in front of his face gave him pause until he felt the man below him go slack. Bobby looked up to see Becca withdrawing the blade from his body. With an icy nonchalance, she wiped the blood from the blade on the man's shirt.
Bobby pushed to his feet. “Hurry! Everyone back inside. There's more coming.” He jumped into the front seat and tried to restart the SUV, but found it refused. He hadn't thought the collision or the damage was that extreme.
Drew said, “It might have an automatic shut down after a collision.”
Lincoln got out and ran for the parked car. Bobby kept trying the turn the engine over while watching the approaching flashlights. There had to be several dozen, not fifty yards away. The motor started and with relief he put the stick in reverse, but the SUV did not budge.With a sinking feeling, he realized it was the car's engine that started, not the SUV.
He hopped out and called to the others, “Quick, help me push this out of the way.” The three of them took up positions near the front. The angle was uphill, but only slight. Between them they got the SUV rolling.
Multiple, excited voices drifted to them. Bobby withdrew his handgun and fired two warning shots over their heads. Lincoln reversed the car just as fire was returned and stopped on the far side of the SUV using it for cover. “Unload the SUV,” Bobby said. Becca crouched at the front bumper of the SUV and spread out shots
at various distances toward the crowd. A barrage of gunfire came their way, many striking the SUV. In less than a minute, their gear had been transferred to the new vehicle. “Becca! Let's go,” Bobby shouted.
Becca laid down her own barrage and as her magazine emptied, bolted for the car. Lincoln backed up before Becca could shut the door. He turned to the left to put the semi between them and the shooters. Spinning the wheel hard, sent the car in a one-eighty-degree turn, jammed the pedal to the floor and rocketed forward, a hail of bullets pinging off the body.
Becca spun in her seat. “Everyone all right?”
“Fuck!” Lincoln said.
Drew just nodded, but looked dazed. She noticed a dark line on his head. “Lincoln, turn on the dome light.” He glanced at her in the mirror like she was crazy. “Just do it, I need to see.” The dome light came on and Becca leaned into the back. Drew had a large gash on the side of his head. “Oh, Drew, you're hurt. Why didn't you say something?”
His hand went to his head. He touched the spot and stared at his red fingers as if confused by what he saw. “Drew? Drew! Can you hear me? Bobby check him. I think he's got a concussion.”
Bobby leaned across the man, examined the injury, and looked into Drew's eyes. “Hey, buddy, you all right?”
Becca turned and rummaged through the glove box, finding a wad of napkins. “Here,” she handed them over the seat. “Press these to the cut.”
Drew flinched away at the contact and the pain seemed to snap him from his fugue. “I'll hold them,” he said. Bobby released all but one. He poured water from a bottle onto it and said, “Let me wash it.”
Drew held still while Bobby wiped the blood away from the cut. The flow was steady. “Yeah, looks deep. He's gonna need stitches to close this.”
“I tossed the first aid kit in the back somewhere,” Becca said. “Get some butterfly bandages on it to try and stop the bleeding.” She leaned into the back seat and rummaged through the equipment. “Here,” said Becca.
For the next fifteen minutes, they worked to stop the bleeding, while Lincoln drove. Checks through the rear window showed no sign of pursuit. His mind worked hard to find the alternative route they'd used earlier, as he tried not to think of his father and the added danger their delay might cause. Where ever you are, Dad, stay safe, we're coming. I promise.
Twenty-Three
Sporadic gunfire chased him in the dark. Few shots came close, leaving Mark to wonder why they wasted the bullets. A thought struck him. He altered course. The immediate response was two rounds fired off, well wide, his suspicions confirmed: they were herding him and wanted Kendra back, and didn't want to risk hitting her.
They obviously knew the lake better than he did and what he faced, but it couldn't be too dangerous, because if he ran aground, Kendra might be hurt. Maybe they hoped he would see the danger before he hit it, but in the dark, how was that a reasonable conclusion? Mark had few options and the longer he ran, the less time he had before land forced him to stop and the pursuit would pen him in.
He narrowed his gaze in a futile attempt to penetrate the dark. Again, he panned the boats, still traveling in a straight line behind him. They’d made no effort to close the gap in the last twenty minutes, intent on keeping him moving in the direction they chose. He had to find an out somehow. Maybe he could use the dark to his advantage.
“Kendra!” The girl did not respond, no longer even whimpering. She lay on the deck curled in the fetal position. “Kendra, please, come here. We have to make a plan or those men will capture you again.” Still the girl lay still. “Kendra!” Mark shouted. This time her little body twitched. Without speaking, she got to her feet and moved closer. She seemed zoned out, like some zombie.
“Can you swim?”
She stared at him.
“Look, Kendra, we have to find a way to reach safety. Can you swim?” She managed to stay afloat out on the lake, but she needed to be able to swim for shore.
She tilted her head upward to look at him. Even in the dark, Mark saw the tears well. He softened his tone. “Shavonne went to a lot of trouble to get you away from those men. She did it for you, to get you to safety. I made her a promise that I would take care of you, but I need your help. Can you do this? For Shavonne?”
She nodded and wiped at the tears that now fell.
“Good. I need you to be brave and strong. Okay?”
She nodded again. “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“You asked if I could swim.”
“Oh, right. Are you a strong swimmer?”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
“Look around the boat and see if you can find any life jackets or other flotation devices. Hurry.”
Kendra turned and scampered off. Mark studied the area off to the left. If they hit land, it would come from that direction first. He veered a few degrees away picturing that he was now running more parallel to the shore.
Kendra came back holding two life jackets. Mark saw the problem immediately. They were orange and could be seen in the water, even in the dark. He thought of another potential danger. They had to swim past the last boat in line or risk being seen or run over. He glanced at his gas gauge. The needle pushed E. They didn't have long, one way or another. If they could get over the side without being seen they might be able to buy enough time to reach shore and make their escape.
He had to make sure Kendra was safe in the water. He also had to be able to find her if they got separated. “Okay, here's what we're going to do. Go below and take off your shirt. Get into the vest and put your shirt over it.” She stood still. “Go! Hurry! We don't have much time.”
Kendra went below deck and once more Mark searched the horizon for any sight of land. He turned another degree to the right and checked the pursuing craft. Picking up their running lights, he noted two of the vessels to the right had edged forward from the rest of the line. They were getting ready to close the trap. He flicked the switch, killing the boat’s lights.
Kendra started up the steps, but Mark stopped her. Her shirt barely stretched across the vest. He pulled his shirt off. “Put this on over the top.” She did, the shirt hung too low, exposing an orange ring around her neck. It was the best they could do. They'd have to chance it. “Hand me that other vest.” Kendra did. Mark hung it from the wheel. Maybe in the dark it would fool his pursuers long enough for them to go past.
He made sure his gun was secured in his belt, with no idea whether it would work after being submerged. He could see nothing else they needed. “You ready?”
She nodded.
“We're going over the side together. Stay close to me and don't make a sound. Swim that way,” he pointed, “as fast as you can. If the boats get close, duck and let them pass. Can you hold your breath?”
She nodded again.
“When I say duck, take a deep breath and go under. Stay there as long as you can. Go sit by the side.”
He tied the wheel to keep a steady heading, squatted low and joined her. Lifting her, he said, “Put your feet over the gunwale. Hold on.” Mark slid his body over and hung next to her. “Ready?” He gripped her hand.
“I'm scared.”
“Yeah, me too. But it's better than letting those men get us. We'll be okay. I promise.” But even as the words left his mouth he prayed it was a promise he could keep. “Put your feet against the side. I'll count to three. On three, push off the boat as hard as you can. One. Two. Hold your breath. Push.” Keeping a strong hold on her small hand, he shoved off the bow. Kendra lagged behind, but as he hit the water, he still held her hand. Mark pulled upward to make sure her head broke the surface. She broke through with a choking cough. He covered her mouth and whispered, “Shh! They'll hear you. I'm going to let go of your hand. Swim fast.” He let go and waited for her to swim before stroking toward what he hoped was the shore.
The roar of the boats increased. Had the pirates seen them jump? They'd know soon enough. Kendra's small arms plowed through the water. Mark kept his pac
e slow. In only a few strokes, he knew they would not get past all the boats before they were upon them.
The approaching engines were thunderous. Estimating they had ten seconds before the line of boats reached them, Mark took three more pulls through the water, stopped and hugged Kendra to his body. He put his back to the boats to help shield her. “Get ready to duck. Okay. Deep breath. Now!”
He dragged her under despite resistance from the preservers, praying she had taken a lungful of air and could hold it. The sound of the engines was amplified underwater. He tried to go down deep enough to miss the propellers, but couldn't be sure. They weren't down ten seconds before Kendra struggled with a desperation that told Mark she was out of air.
Stuck with the choice of surfacing too soon and either being seen or hit by one of the boats or risking Kendra drowning, Mark kicked toward the surface. Kendra became more panicked with each passing second. The boats hadn't passed them yet. Time had run out. Forced to reach air, they broke the surface just as the boats arrived and a dark mass rushed toward them.
Twenty-Four
Mark yanked Kendra beneath the water, not knowing if she'd had the time to suck in air. It sounded like a thunderstorm passing overhead. Kendra's tiny body writhed against him, fighting to reach the surface. He refused to let her go. He thought about pressing his mouth to hers and blow a breath down her throat, but feared, in her panic, she'd swallow water too.
For an agonizing eternity, he waited for the boats to clear. He felt Kendra's body go limp and kicked hard to the surface. Kendra was unresponsive to his whispers and shaking. Shore was too far away. He had to resuscitate her, there.
Turning her, Mark pressed her back to his chest, placed his arms around her and, finding the sternum, put his palms under her rib cage and pulled. Once. Twice. On the third attempt, water expelled from the girl’s mouth and nose like projectile vomiting. She coughed and gagged, but this time it was a sound Mark was glad to hear. He feared he'd killed her. Relieved, he slid one arm under hers and around her chest and began side kicking toward shore.