Wet Part 3

by Rivera, S. Jackson

  “They’re going to touch you, Baby. You’ll have to hold it together, okay?” Paul cooed, reassuringly.

  “Okay.” Her answer was clipped as she braced herself for what was about to happen.

  “You can do this, you’re—”

  “Tough as nails. I know,” she snapped. “Don’t worry so much about me! We’re all in trouble here. I’m not the only one.”

  She sounded feisty and Paul took it as a good sign.

  The men made it down the line, reached them, and took their phones. Next, they took the new wedding bands. Rhees had no pockets and her backpack had next to nothing inside, but the men spent as much time searching her as they did the others. Paul didn’t mind how roughly they handled him as they made him empty his pockets and his backpack, but it took every bit of restraint he possessed to watch them maul his bride, their hands taking a little more time than necessary as they frisked her body, yelling abusively at her, in Spanish. She closed her eyes to fend off the panic, he thought, and they yelled at her to open them again. She didn’t understand the command.

  “Norteamericano?” the hijacker asked.

  Rhees nodded. She understood that much, but not what he asked next, so he screamed it, twice.

  “Que hacer?”

  “It’s okay, Baby,” he whispered. Paul blurted the answer, in English, trying to save her from more abuse. “We’re dive masters on the island off the coast. All of us—the four of us.”

  He talked very loud and slow as he waved four fingers at the men and gestured that the four of them were together. “We no ha-blo es-pan-ish.” He made sure to pronounce it very American-like and not quite right. Vy-vo on is-lando. We have no-thing of val-ue.”

  Paul grimaced as he took a fist to his rib cage before the men moved on to Claire and Dobbs at the end of the line. He turned to Rhees and gave her a cocky wink to make sure she wouldn’t worry about him.

  Claire and Dobbs didn’t know why Paul didn’t want the hijackers to know they were fluent, but they followed his lead and acted like they didn’t understand what the men were saying.

  Once the bus and all the passengers were searched, one of the hijackers took off in the jeep while the others ushered the hostages into the jungle. They were marched at gunpoint through the rain forest, and Paul knew that couldn’t be good.

  “Where’re we going? You have all our valuables. Let us go, no harm done,” the oldest man of the group said, but one of the men hit him between his shoulder blades with the butt of his rifle, knocking him to one knee. He staggered back to his feet and cursed at the men.

  The passengers were herded mercilessly through the jungle for over an hour. Paul grew increasingly ill by the minute as he was forced to listen to the men make comments about Rhees, the pretty bride, and how they all believed they could make her wedding night extra special. He waited for his chance and then draped his suit coat over her.

  “I’m fine. I’m not cold.”

  “Wear it, please.” He tipped his chin toward one of the hijackers, the big one, and she nodded in understanding without further explanation.

  When it grew too dark to keep going, the captors stopped and directed the hostages into two small groups, the men in one and the women on the other side of the small clearing about fifteen feet away. There were nine prisoners besides Paul, Rhees, and the Dobbsons.

  James, the tall lanky man and his wife, Julia, were in their mid-forties. An older couple, Frank looked to be in his seventies but still seemed to have an edge about him, carrying himself confidently, but his wife, Judy, was a nervous wreck, blubbering and whimpering the whole time. Their daughter, James’ wife, did her best to comfort the older woman, but it was a lost cause. Another forty-ish woman, and a couple with their two teenage sons were also part of the group. Except for the Paradise group, the others all seemed to know each other.

  “Does anyone speak Spanish besides me?” James asked the other men in his huddle.

  One of the hijackers stood about six feet away from the prisoners, standing guard with an assault rifle while the other hijackers sat in a circle on the other side of the clearing. One by one, they smashed the phones while they carried on a serious conversation, but Paul couldn’t hear what they said as they spoke in hushed tones.

  “You know we don’t, James!” Frank’s tone sounded gruff. “I told you I didn’t want to be dragged down here to this godforsaken country in the middle of nowhere, where none of us can understand a God-damned thing any of these people are saying.”

  Dobbs looked at Paul to see how he planned to answer. Paul shook his head slightly and Dobbs continued to play along, not knowing why, but trusting him.

  “I was asking the other people, Frank.” James tried to sound pleasant, but Paul picked up on the resentment he felt for his father-in-law. “The ones who weren’t supposed to be on the bus.”

  Paul and Dobbs shook their heads and both looked over at their women. Paul tried to smile at Rhees. He winked again. She smiled back, trying to be brave for him.

  “All right, then,” James said. “I’m going to go talk to them, see if I can figure out what they plan to do with us, try to talk them into letting us go.”

  “Don’t be stupid, James,” Frank said. “I can already answer that for you. I was a Marine for crying out loud—don’t have to speak Spanish to figure it out. We need to fight back.”

  “With what, Frank? Sticks, against assault rifles?” James argued. The look on the older man’s face showed he wasn’t used to anyone arguing with him.

  “We did what you said. Look how well that turned out,” James turned on Paul. “Those men have no idea that Frank owns a billion-dollar company.” He jumped up and headed toward the hijackers.

  Paul and Frank tried to grab him, stop him, but they missed, and everyone held their breath. Paul watched, sure James was about to be killed on the spot, but the hijackers allowed him to approach—too readily. Paul strained to listen.

  oOo

  “What’s taking you so long? Just get it over with,” James said in Spanish.

  Dobbs glanced at Paul. It didn’t sound like the kind of thing a hostage would say when pleading for his captors to release him.

  “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you get the other half of your money.” James seemed too comfortable, too familiar with the men.

  “We’ve been discussing the matter,” the big hijacker said. “You see, you agreed to pay us the rest of the money after you are named the new owner of the company, but police reports, funerals, legalities—those things take time, and you never know how many hiccups there could be along the way. So, we’re wondering why we’re wasting time with you and the small amount of money you agreed to pay us when we have the current owner of the company, Frank Cannon, in our possession.”

  Paul’s eyes shot to Frank. “You’re Frank Cannon . . . from Vermont?”

  Frank nodded, wondering how Paul could know, and why it mattered at that moment. Paul hung his head and puckered his mouth several times.

  “We have a deal. I already paid you half,” James yelled. “Just kill them and I’ll get you the other half a million as soon as I’m named president of the company and collect on their insurance policies.”

  “The price has gone up,” the big man said, simply.

  “No! We had a deal. You agreed.”

  The men laughed. “The problem with these kinds of deals is the type of people you have to make them with. If we were men of integrity, we wouldn’t have agreed to murder your wife and in-laws. Backing out on a deal is nothing, compared to what you want us to do,” one of them said.

  “So, we’ve been discussing the situation,” the big hijacker continued. “I think we’ll get more money if we deal with Mr. Frank Cannon, himself. I think the man would be willing to pay more for his life, and the lives of his family
, than you are willing to pay to greedily acquire what he already has.” The big man scratched his beard and looked thoughtful as if trying to solve a puzzle. “We don’t need you at all.”

  James turned pale. “You can’t do that! You wouldn’t have him in your possession if it weren’t for me. I got him here, I got everyone here . . . the witnesses . . . I-I brought friends—to give honest witness accounts to the police. None of them would be here if it weren’t for me. I booked the trip. I chartered the bus, I came up with the perfect plan—we have a deal!”

  “It was a very good plan. We appreciate your help.”

  “Yes! I did my part. I already paid you half. Kill them—in front of the others. I don’t care what you do to the extra people who showed up unexpectedly. More witnesses—or actually, it’d look more believable if you killed them too. It wouldn’t be just the Cannons. Yes. It’ll look less suspicious—yes, that’s it, don’t you see? You need me. I’m the mastermind. I’m smarter than you, any of you. Stick to my plan—it’s the perfect plan.”

  The giant man clicked his tongue at James’ gutless display and raised his rifle, pointing it at the groveling man. The other hijackers stared at James without emotion and watched as he slowly came undone.

  “My brain may not be as smart as yours,” the big man said, “but I do have a big gun. I’d rather have a big gun.”

  “You can’t do this! We had a deal!” James fell to his knees, begging.

  The big man pulled the trigger and James dropped, dead.

  The women all screamed and the men gasped in shock, realizing they could all die. Paul and Dobbs looked at each other, understanding what they’d both just heard.

  Paul exhaled loudly. “Mr. Cannon, I’ll give you—” Paul leaned into Mr. Cannon’s ear and whispered a number, “—dollars to get my wife and friends out of this.”

  Mr. Cannon stared at Paul like he was crazy. “But you’re a dive bum.”

  “I am now.” Paul closed his eyes, about to divulge a terrible secret. “My name is Paul Weaver.”

  Frank’s eyes grew wide. “Laird Weaver? That son-of-a-bitch!” Paul hung his head and Frank’s eyes grew even wider, if that were possible. “Then why don’t you get us the hell out of here?”

  Paul looked defeated. “I don’t think my dad would give one cent to get me back.”

  Frank considered what Paul said. “Why not?”

  Paul glanced at him and would have smirked if the situation weren’t so grave. “Because, I’m a dive bum . . . now.”

  Frank registered understanding, but it didn’t soften the expression on his face. “Why the hell would I help you?”

  “I didn’t ask you to.” Paul closed his eyes for a second, desperate to convince the older man to help. “But my wife . . . she doesn’t deserve to die because of me—she’s a good person—more than good.” Paul’s voice broke a little. “Please. And my friends, they don’t deserve—”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “They’re going to ransom you and your family. Please, add my wife and friends to the list—for the price. James set this up to take over your company after your death.”

  “How do you know all this? You’re in on it—again!” Frank paused to think. “Wait. You speak the language, don’t you? Why the hell didn’t you say so?”

  Paul looked down and shook his head in shame. “It’s a habit I learned as a kid. If you don’t talk, people assume you don’t understand. You learn a lot more by listening than having anything to say.”

  Frank stared at Paul again, seemingly unsure if he should be angry or impressed.

  “Your son-in-law offered them a million dollars to kill you, your wife, and daughter. The hijackers figured out that you probably think your life is worth more than what James was willing to pay.”

  “I’m not giving them a red cent!”

  “It’s your money or your life!” Paul exhaled forcefully. “No one is getting out of here alive unless you play along. Do you understand?” Paul glanced over at James’ body. Frank did too, reminded of the gravity of their circumstances.

  “Please, when this is over, tell Rhees I promised you the money. She’ll honor my promise. I only ask that you leave her enough to live a comfortable life . . .” Paul felt cheerless and despairing, but he couldn’t help but chuckle warmly at the thought of his Rhees. “That won’t take much. She’s a hopeless cheapskate.”

  With serious eyes again, he looked back to Frank. “Please don’t hold me or my dad against her. She’s never even met him, and she’s too innocent and trusting to see me for what I am.”

  “James did this then.” It was a statement, not a question. Frank looked sickened, but not surprised. “Sometimes you just have no control over who you have to call family.”

  He shook his head and gave Paul a sympathetic acknowledgment. “I was going to leave the company to him—not that I wanted to, but my daughter is my only heir, and she’s never been interested in business.” He patted Paul on the back. “Keep your money. I’ll do anything I can to get all of us out of here. Think they’ll be satisfied with just money?”

  Paul hadn’t allowed himself anywhere near that question. He stared blankly at Frank, who’d turned his attention to Rhees.

  “The big guy hasn’t taken his eyes off your new bride.”

  “I know,” Paul huffed in an anguished burst.

  “Shut up,” the big man screamed in Spanish when he finally noticed two of the male hostages having a serious discussion. He raised his rifle to indicate what he had in mind if they didn’t stop talking. He didn’t come across as a reasonable man.

  oOo

  “It’s going to be all right, mom. Please, you need to calm down.”

  “Dead. He’s dead,” Judy blubbered. “We’re all dead.”

  “Shut up!” Claire had reached her breaking point. The situation was stressful enough. She didn’t need this woman making it worse with her refusal to stop sniveling. She needed to think, keep a clear head . . . in case Rhees started to react the same way.

  “How you holding up?” Claire rubbed Rhees’ arm.

  “I’m fine. Scared to death, but I’m—I refuse to give these men the satisfaction of—I haven’t figured that out yet, but I’m calling on the part of me that dealt with Mr. Meanie-head for so long.” She huffed out a quick laugh. “I’ve given them all names.”

  “Oh yeah?” Claire asked, amused.

  Rhees nodded. “The two on the right are Dopehead and Sleazy. The two on the left are Hateful and Sappy, and the big guy is just, Creepy.”

  She talked loud enough that as she finished naming off the men, Claire heard Paul and Dobbs laugh, just before Hateful yelled at all of them to be quiet.

  Claire tried to smile. She wished the women weren’t separated from the men. She wanted to be with her husband and she worried about the way Creepy kept watching Rhees. Paul exchanged many desperate glances, telling her with his eyes to stay close to Rhees, as if she didn’t already have a good idea what the big, ugly hijacker had on his mind.

  Julia finally stood and yelled at the hijackers. “We’re women and it’s been hours. We need a bathroom break before things get ugly.”

  She spoke in English, but at least a couple of the captors seemed to understand. They huddled together to discuss Julia’s demand. A few minutes later, they separated. Two of the men took up position in front of the male hostages on the left of the clearing and two by the women on the right. The big man stayed where he was, in the middle, and watched everyone.

  The men gestured to Judy and Julia to get up. The women did as they were asked and followed one of the men into the jungle where they wouldn’t have to worry about being observed by the rest of the group. When they returned, the hijacker gestured for the other two women to follow the same procedure.

  The seco
nd group of women returned from their bathroom break and Rhees and Claire were ushered into the jungle for their turn. The big man followed. Rhees turned to watch Paul as the men steered her out of his sight. His expression reflected the same thoughts haunting Claire’s mind. The big man, who’d had his salacious eyes on Rhees all night, hadn’t bothered to accompany the other women.

  Claire saw Paul rub his eyes and drag his hands down his face, pulling the muscles and stretching his skin along the way, just before she and Rhees disappeared into the jungle.

  oOo

  Claire took advantage of the opportunity to relieve herself, finding enough cover behind a tree, but still within sight of the captor. He turned just enough to give her a bit of privacy. It was different for Rhees. The big man had followed them into the jungle—followed her specifically, and wouldn’t leave her side, expecting to watch, up close, as she performed her business. She refused.

  “Cochino!” Rhees said. “You’re a pig—or did I just call you a kitchen? Shoot. I always get those two mixed up.” She heard Claire laugh.

  “You got it bloody right, Sweet,” she called from behind her tree. When she finished, she made it to Rhees’ side and the two of them started back to the clearing.

  “Jus primae noctis.” Creepy stepped to block Rhees’ path. “The nobleman has the right to the bride on the first night.” He spoke English with only a slight accent. He yanked Paul’s jacket off her and tossed it away in a flash, leaving her standing before him in her wedding dress, but feeling naked as he devoured her with his eyes, from head to toe.

  Rhees swallowed hard, and using her dancing skills, flexed her body unnaturally, managing to scurry past the big blob of a man so fast he couldn’t stop her. She hurried to catch up with Claire who’d been trying to lag behind in spite of her captor’s efforts to herd her back to camp.