The Complete Troy Bodean Tropical Thriller Collection

by David F. Berens

  He let go of his sword and banged his fists on his chest. Riley stood up and lunged at him. She banged her fists into his back. Without turning, he backhanded her. His blow felt so much harder and heavier than she could have ever imagined. She felt her jaw jerk to the side and flew across the deck in an impossible arc. Suddenly, she bumped into something. She picked her head up gingerly to see what it was.

  Jamaica Jack stood over her with a grin that she now recognized as Barry’s. Like father, like son. He reached down and grabbed her arms and jerked her upright. It took a lot, but she managed to spit in his face.

  “Son, finish up that wench yer playin’ with and let’s get this done!” he growled.

  Riley tried to wrestle her arms free, but she couldn’t. The man’s grip was like a vise. She kicked his shins as hard as she could, but her strength was spent. She felt like a rag doll in his grasp.

  “Quit yer kickin’, missy. Don’t ya worry, I’ll let ya watch.”

  He flung her around so she was facing the odd embrace that her mother and Barry were locked in. Meira’s face was pale and Barry was teetering too. Blood poured down from both of their abdomens and pooled dark and sticky at their feet.

  “Mom!” she screamed.

  Meira Carr looked up in the direction of the scream. Her eyes fluttered open and she mouthed, I love you. Tears streamed down Riley’s face. Meira turned her head toward the ocean and then looked back at Barry.

  “Looks like your friends have arrived,” she said to the pale, freckled, red headed boy who was impaled against her.

  Riley watched as her mother jerked a thumb over her shoulder. She followed her mom’s finger out toward the ocean and saw them. Fins. Seven, maybe eight, shark fins circling just a few feet from the boat. Riley watched in terror as her mother grabbed hold of the blade and pipe that joined them together and take a step backward toward the railing. She took another step and Barry stumbled forward.

  “Mom, no!” she cried.

  “Boy, finish that bitch. Don’t ya be playin’ now.” Jamaica Jack’s voice came hot over her shoulder.

  Meira’s backside bumped into the rail and she stopped for a second.

  “Tyron the Tyrannical,” she said. “I hope you can swim.”

  Time slowed again for Riley. She watched her mother lean backward over the rail and tumble over. Barry was stuck. His feet skidded across the blood and rain-soaked deck and his hands caught the rail, but the momentum was too much. His head tipped over the edge and his legs flew up in the air…and they were gone.

  Riley felt Jack’s grip loosen on her. He had yelled something, but she was in shock and didn’t hear what it was. Then they were running toward the rail beside each other. Riley scanned the water and saw sharks lunging, diving, tearing, and churning in a frenzy against the side of the boat. Red blood filled the circle of the beasts that now feasted on Barry…and probably…her mom.

  “Noooooo!” she cried and was about to jump in…

  But then she saw him. Barry Olsen Barron—or Tyron the Tyrannical. His head popped up in the water and he was grinning. How in the holy hell is he still alive? her mind screamed. In some sort of adrenalin fueled rage, he slammed his fists against the sharks around him.

  “No mortal can kill Tyron the Tyrannical,” he growled as they bit into his flesh.

  Riley watched as the nearest maw of jagged razor sharp teeth surged up out of the water and latched onto his head. The shark flipped once and Barry’s head came off in its mouth. The silvery beast fell back into the deep and his headless body bobbed up and down twice before the other sharks swarmed in, smelling the new blood pouring out of his neck.

  There was no sign of her mother. Riley felt the darkness close in around her and the shock took her into unconsciousness.

  The tugboat slammed into the back of Jamaica Jack’s boat with less speed than hoped for, but it was enough to sheer off the engine and some of the aft section. Troy Bodean had been watching the strange, bloody, grappling fight happen on deck in front of him and was trying to make sense of it all. He knew Meira had gone into the water with Barry and he had seen Riley and Jack still on the deck.

  He had tried to time his jump with the collision, but had miscalculated slightly. As such, he slipped on the rail and plunged into the water. Terror coursed into his veins as he hit the icy waves. His first instinct was to swim hard toward the boat, but a massive dark shape raced in front of him and he saw the black doll-like eye of a bull shark. He was headed to the other side of Jack’s boat, likely toward the feeding frenzy happening there. Troy calmed his movement to avoid distracting the shark from his direction. When he was sure the big fish was safely past him, he began to slowly paddle his way toward the opposite side of the boat. Two times he was sure he felt something brush past his feet, but he kept swimming as fast as his nerve would allow.

  An anchor line coming out of the side of the boat was his lifeline. He grabbed hold of it and climbed up slowly, hand over hand. It was slow going until he was able to wrap his legs around the rope and use them to help his ascent.

  When he finally reached the rail, he threw his left hand up and grabbed it. But his hand slipped off as he tried to pull up. The force of his body slipping from the rail jerked his legs from the line leaving him hanging on the rope by just his right hand. He grabbed the rope with his left hand, holding on for dear life. Below him, three ten-foot bull sharks were churning the water. Must’ve eaten everything up, he thought, and now they’re lookin’ for more. He looked back up at his hands and noticed that the hand he’d grabbed the deck with was covered with blood. That was what had made him slip. He wrapped his legs back around the line and inched his way back up to the railing. Several places were bloody and likely slippery, but he noticed a few that were still clean. He heaved his way up and found a clean spot to grab. With effort that made him sweat through the ocean water on his forehead, he pulled himself up on the deck. When his feet hit, both of his hamstrings cramped simultaneously causing him to fall flat on his butt. He grabbed the backs of his legs in pain and rubbed hard, trying to release the cramps.

  “Get the hell off my boat, ya scurvy rat! Yer stinkin’ up the place!”

  The voice surprised Troy and he looked up. It was Jamaica Jack…but he wasn’t yelling at Troy. He was instead standing a few feet away from and old, gray man holding an oar. Mel. The crusty seaman was holding the paddle up and preparing for a fight. Jack was grinning and Troy saw why. In his hand, he held a massive machete-looking knife. Amazingly, Mel took a step toward Jack, who stood his ground. And why not? Only an idiot would bring an oar to a knife fight, Troy thought.

  He opened his mouth to shout at Mel and tell him to get away. Before he could say anything, his eye caught a flutter of movement just to Jack’s right. Riley…covered in blood. Troy wondered how badly the poor girl was injured. And then, Mel lunged at Jack. Oar held forward like a spear, he nearly dove at the much larger man.

  Jack stepped easily to the side and Mel’s wooden oar thumped against the cabin of the ship. The bigger man laughed and his hard, leathery belly shook giving Troy the unmistakable image of some sort of sick tropical Santa Claus. He brought his machete up and was about to swing down on the wiry back of Mel, but before he could, the old guy swung sideways hard with the oar. It connected with Jack’s torso, and Troy was sure he heard a crunch.

  Jack’s eyes flared with anger as he clutched his side. Mel stood up and grinned.

  “If I’m a scurvy rat,” he wheezed at Jack. “I’m carryin’ the black death for you, Jack.”

  Troy couldn’t help but cock his head to the side. He understood the reference, but it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that would strike fear in most people. In fact, Jack looked a bit puzzled.

  “Ya know,” Mel felt the need to explain, “the plague…black death…1300’s? Bubonic Plague, man. Do ya not know what I’m referrin’ to?”

  Jack snapped. “I know what yer talkin’ about, old man.”

  Troy lost track of the banter
between the two old sailors when he saw Riley jerk upright to a sitting position. Luckily, neither man noticed. He felt his eyes go wide and was relieved to see she was looking right at him. He held up a finger to indicate that she should stay quiet. She gave him the smallest, most imperceptible nod. He returned it with a slight nod of his own. He inhaled slowly, trying desperately to think of a plan.

  But suddenly, Mel was taking another swing at Jack, this time from his right side. The blow connected higher on the salty dog’s shoulder and sent him flying down to the deck. He rolled away quickly, his blade clattering as he did. Troy saw a chance. Mel moved to follow his prey and Troy leapt up. He ran to Riley with his arms outstretched. She saw him coming and jumped up. He grabbed her by the forearms and jerked her backward toward him. She almost flew off her feet and Troy was happy to find that she was lighter than he expected. In one swinging motion, he flung the girl back over the shattered aft rail of Jack’s boat and onto Mel’s tug.

  “Run!” he hissed at her.

  She didn’t ask questions. When her feet hit the deck of the boat, she turned around and sprinted toward the cabin of the tugboat. And that’s when Troy realized the damage done to Jack’s boat was more serious than he had guessed. They were taking on water and the boat was getting closer and closer to dipping into the waves. The boat was sinking. Once water got up onto the deck, it would sink pretty dang fast.

  He jerked his head around and saw Mel standing over Jack. He had his oar pressed into the man’s throat and was shoving downward hard. Jack’s face was bright red and he was gasping hoarsely.

  “Mel, no!” he shouted.

  And then the first bad thing happened. Later, Troy would call it the worst timing ever for a PTSD episode. He no longer saw Jack or Mel.

  He saw Harry Nedman. Screaming in the sand. He heard nothing; the blast that had ripped Harry in two had deafened him. Dang I.E.D. The oddest sensation was the cold sweat that sprang up on his forehead in the searing heat of the desert.

  He yelled and screamed and tried to run to Harry. But they were taking fire from somewhere above. Troy sank to his knees as he watched the light fade from Harry’s eyes. He died with his hand outstretched toward his friend. Troy put his face in his hands. He kept them there until he felt the water splash up on his thigh. Water? What the hell?

  He pulled his hands away and opened his eyes. And the episode was over. Gone as quickly as it had come on. As the scene in front of him began to crystalize, he saw that something had gone terribly wrong for Mel. He was not hovering over Jack anymore with his oar jabbed into the man’s neck. Mel was now leaning back on the rail of the boat, his oar was gone, and Jack had his sword raised and pointed at the man’s chest.

  Troy yelled something, but no sound seemed to come out. Jack plunged the sword forward and Troy watched as it sank into Mel. The old man’s eyes went wide and his tongue jutted out of his gaping mouth. No, Troy thought, I’m not losing another Harry. In an instant, he was running. His knee screamed in pain, but he sprinted as fast as he could toward Jack, whose back was toward him.

  And then the second bad thing happened. The boat tipped back suddenly, it’s bow rising high in the air. Water surged under Troy’s feet and he slipped and fell into the knee-deep water. They were about to go down. That’s when Jack saw Troy. He bared his teeth in an awful grin…a grin full of madness. Troy tried to get up, but his feet couldn’t find solid purchase in the ever-rising blackness of the water. And Jack was on him. He lifted the machete high over his head. It was going to come down in the middle of Troy’s skull.

  A crack of what might’ve been thunder interrupted Jack’s murderous swing. He stumbled backward, clearly surprised. Troy saw a dark red spot of blood bloom on the man’s right shoulder. His arm immediately went limp and the blade flew out of his grip. His gaze went up above Troy’s head and his eyes widened, but then turned into slits of anger.

  He growled something unintelligible and another crack spit the air. Troy turned around to see the angel of death standing on the bow of Mel’s tugboat. She was naked and glowing in the darkness. And in her hand was the fire.

  Clarice stood on the deck with a pistol held in both hands. Her eyes were determined and calm. She rolled her head around on her neck and Troy was sure he could hear the cracks of her spine. She raised the pistol slightly and closed one eye. Jack must’ve realized she was getting ready for the kill shot because he turned around and bolted away. Clarice pulled the trigger and the shot hit him high in the back. He stumbled and fell to a knee, but then stood again and ran. He dove right over the top of Mel’s unmoving form and leapt into the darkness. Troy heard the splash as the man entered the shark infested water. He’d chosen death by beast rather than by beauty.

  As if waking from a nap, Mel looked up at him in apparent surprise.

  “What’s all this about?” he muttered.

  Troy crawled toward him and grabbed the rough man’s hands and pulled him up.

  “Let’s go old timer, this rig is goin’ down and I don’t wanna be on it. Too many sharks in the water ‘round here.”

  He pulled Mel’s arm over his shoulder and heaved the man up to stand. They swayed and stumbled in the rocking wreck of the boat and Clarice helped pull them on board when they reached Mel’s tug. Even in his injured state, the old man leered at Clarice’s nude form.

  “Really, Mel?” Troy asked him.

  “What? What? I might be old, but I ain’t dead yet!”

  “This is true.”

  “But ya know what I’m wonderin’?”

  Troy wasn’t sure he wanted to follow the man’s line of thought, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “What is it, Mel?”

  “Where’n the hell was she keepin’ that gun all this time?”

  Troy reached up to slap his forehead and was stunned to find that it was still there. The Outback Tea Stained straw cowboy hat had survived the entire ordeal. And then in the blink of an eye there were four Coast Guard boats surrounding them. As Jack’s boat gave a lurching gurgle and began to sink faster, a familiar voice crackled over a loudspeaker.

  “Troy, you okay out there?”

  Troy almost slapped his forehead again.

  “Yer a little late to the party, Duffy.”

  And then it was gone. All of it. Jack’s boat, Jack, Barry, and…Meira.

  22

  Off Into The Sunset

  The search for Meira’s body lasted three weeks before the Coast Guard and local authorities leading the effort assured them she was truly gone. The ocean had taken her. No, Troy thought angrily, Barry had taken her. Fitting that the bastard had gone down with her. Riley had given the whole story to the police as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her grandmother had flown into town from Boston and custody of Riley was turned over to her. She would be okay. It would take time—a lot of time—but with the help of therapy, she would eventually find some peace.

  Troy wondered if therapy would help him as well. His episodes of PTSD had gotten worse recently and he wasn’t sure why. And he’d made up his mind after Meira’s memorial service that he wasn’t staying in Nags Head. He had no idea where he would go, but this town was over for him. Riley was gone to Boston. Meira was gone into the sea. There was nothing for him here now.

  He’d left a lot of towns in a funk, but this was bad. In the space of a week, he’d lost his boat, his belongings, and…his love. He had run from problems before, but now he wasn’t sure his problems wouldn’t follow him. He sat at the bus station on a bench with no bags, no belongings, no ticket in his hands. Tears didn’t come anymore, but neither did emotions.

  “Hey,” a voice called to him.

  He looked up to see a red convertible Mercedes idling in the road. A woman was driving and it took Troy a few seconds to come up from his fog to realize who it was.

  He couldn’t help but let a small, half smile raise his lips.

  “Howdy, Clarice.”

  She nodded toward the bus station. “Leaving town?”

&n
bsp; Troy shrugged his shoulders.

  “Not really sure about that yet. Not sure where I can run to that all this…” He waved a hand around. “Where all this won’t follow me.”

  She pursed her lips. It was a good look on her. Troy shook the thought away. With Meira freshly gone, he was dead set against that kind of feeling emerging any time soon. A breezy silence floated in between them.

  “How ‘bout you?” Troy asked. “You headin’ out?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled as she said it. “Not much going on here. Protests are over. Todd bolted after he made bail and so did the rest of my friends.”

  “With friends like those...” Troy let the thought hang unfinished.

  “Ha. I know, right?”

  Another silence. Clarice reached over the passenger’s seat and opened the door.

  “Get in,” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “Come with me.”

  “I dunno, Clarice. Lot’s of really bad stuff seems to follow me around and I don’t want to get you tangled up in all that.”

  “Troy.” She arched an eyebrow. “I’m a big girl. Besides, it’s Martha’s Vineyard. What could possibly happen there?”

  Troy thought about it for a second. He’d left a lot of places, but he’d always left alone. And usually, he didn’t feel very good about his prospects. But as dark as things had turned in his last days on Nags Head, he thought he saw a little light in his future. He wasn’t sure what to do with this smart, sassy, beautiful, and seemingly rich young protestor, but he thought he might one day enjoy finding out.

  He stood up and walked to the car. She smiled and patted the leather seat next to her.

  “Come on,” she said. “I promise I won’t bite.”

  And Troy smiled full on for the first time in days.

  “I ain’t worried about that,” he said. “Just got one request.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “And that is?”

  “No Rolling Stones on the radio.”