Chapter 12
“We’re going to drown! What are we going to do?” Valerie asked, her voice cracking with panic.
“Nothing,” I shouted over the sound of the diesels.
“You mean we’re going to die?” Bradley whined.
The cold water was now rising quickly. I twisted and rolled, using my arms and legs to move like clumsy hermit crab. I ignored the pain in my ribs and the sick panic that tried to take over the synapses in my brain.
When I got close enough to the others that I no longer had to shout over the sound of the idling engines, I said, “We have to wait until he leaves. Only then can we try to escape.”
“What is this all about?” Valerie demanded to know. “Why are we locked up in here?” She was panicky and kept looking at the rising water gushing from the engines.
“Yeah,” Bradley said. “I saw you two fighting and then you pulled out a gun. What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?”
“It’s a long story. Maybe I’ll tell it to you someday. But all you have to know is that Keith has raped one woman and almost killed another. Your friend Ella is in grave danger – she’s a captive. Now if we don’t work together, we’re all going to drown. Can anyone free themselves?”
Bradley and Thomas tried the bonds without any luck. The table had thick legs and the bolts holding it to the floor were big. It would take a hacksaw to cut through that metal. The situation for the women looked a little more promising, the metal piping was two inches thick and ran the length of the wall and in several spots disappeared into ceiling above. Perhaps with some concerted effort, a section could break free. It was the only thing worth trying unless I could somehow find something sharp enough to cut the ropes that bound me.
“He’s back!” Thomas breathed out, staring past me.
I craned my neck around and saw Keith. He was in the doorway. An odd expression – like that of a madman – played on that lined face. After a moment he laughed coldly and then shut the door with a clank.
The others began to cry out, pleading for him to come back. I hushed them, my ears straining to hear over the pounding of the pistons and the gurgling of the ever-increasing water. It was a minute later when I heard the faint sound of something heavy being moved overhead. A few seconds passed and then there was the brief sound of someone – probably Keith – yelling. After that there was nothing.
I was so intent listening that I nearly jumped when the cold water splashed against my groin. We had to get out of here now.
“Pull on those pipes,” I told Valerie and Sarah. “Give it everything you’ve got.”
“Okay, I’ll give it a try,” Sarah said, finally speaking. She looked more scared than the others, barely holding her fear in check.
“On the count of three!” Valerie said.
I was proud to see this inner strength coming out. Perhaps there was something positive to say about the younger generation.
“One! Two! Three!” they said in unison.
With a concerted effort, the two young women jerked against their bonds. The overhead pipe creaked and groaned but did not budge. After another weaker attempt they gave up.
“We’re going to die, aren’t we?” Valerie howled.
Sarah broke out into tears while the two boys looked dumbfounded, as if hoping to be woken from a terrible dream.
“Use your feet against the wall,” I suggested. “Push that way and you’ll get more leverage. Hurry!” By now the water was covering half of my body. In another minute I would be struggling to keep my head above gurgling water. It made me think of Eric Sanders and the way I had questioned him. Fate certainly worked in strange ways.
Using their feet braced against the wall, Valerie and Sarah pushed. The rope cut cruelly into their wrists, turning the skin red and raw. They grunted and groaned as the pipe squeaked in time with their movements. With one more gasp – and the fear of death that can bring out the most amazing determination – there was a wrenching noise of metal snapping a bent joint. The two of them broke free and fell next to me. Extra water began to gush out of the broken pipe.
“Help me,” I demanded, busy lifting my neck so I could continue to breathe.
Valerie concentrated on removing the rope around my wrists while Sarah began helping the others. In a few tense moments I was free. I stood up. The water was at my knees now. I ran to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. Keith made sure there would be no easy escape. He did, in his haste, leave us the tools to see to our escape. I went over to the diesels and, one by one, pulled the wiring that lead to the glow plugs. The mighty engines shuddered to a stop and the water coming out of the coolant system became a weak trickle before ending altogether.
The others were all free now, looking at me to give the orders.
After checking that my cellphone was gone, I said, “I have a feeling that Keith opened every porthole and seacock he could find; anything to make this ship sink faster. We won’t be out of danger until we’re out of here. Is there anybody who can’t swim?”
Nobody said anything.
“That’s good because there’s plenty more swimming left to do. Now let’s take a look at the tools here and see what we can find to break out.”
The workbench was littered with tools, the type of gear any sailor would need to do a quick fix while out in open waters. The crowbar and hammer were the obvious choice. I picked them up and waded toward the door. I noticed the water was still coming in, albeit at a slower pace than before. There was also a tilt to the floor heading to the stern of the ship. Once the rear was underwater, escape would be impossible except for the very best swimmers who could hold their breath long enough.
I tried to slide the crowbar between the doorway and the door, but it was a tight fit. This was no cheap wood, but was made with steel – an overkill attempt to keep water out of the engine room. There was no way that I would be able to pry the door free. Instead I would have to attack the lock. I swung the hammer down on the door handle, bending it downward. I repeated the blow over and over again, working as hard as I could. When the water was up to my waist, the handle broke free. I stuck my finger inside, trying to free the deadbolt inside. I found the metal slot and pulled it free. The door swung open.
The rest of the captives let out a sigh, pushed past me, and began to rush for the exit. The rear of the boat was now dangerously waterlogged. There was a feeling that one errant wave would sink the whole craft.
It was Bradley who reached the staircase first. He got a few steps up it and then there was the audible rattle of bullets, sounding like a submachine gun or an assault rifle. Several hit the metal walls and decking above, ricocheting with violent whines. Bradley collapsed, falling backward with a torrent of blood that splashed against the back wall and mixed quickly with the water. The girls screamed as I rushed over to his now still body and found a bullet had punctured his face right underneath his left eye. I gently turned his head over and saw there was a massive exit wound located in the back of the skull. Of course he was dead – no one could take that sort of damage to the brain and live. With professional interest, I noticed that Keith was using a heavy jacketed round, probably 7.62mm from an AK-47 or some other Warsaw Pact standard. They weren’t particularly accurate rifles but could spray enough bullets to eventually hit the target.
I turned to face the remaining survivors. I said, “Bradley is dead. There is nothing we can do about that now. I need everyone to stay low. It has to be Keith out there, either still onboard or in the life raft, who is shooting at us. He is sticking around to make sure that we really go down with the ship.”
“I wish he would have shot us first,” Valerie said glumly as the water swirled around her chest.
“We’re not out of the game yet,” I said. “Now stay here and wait until I come back.”
“Where are you going?” Sarah managed to blurt out over her sobbing.
“
No time to explain, but I’ll be back.” That was one promise that I hoped I could make.
I took a few steps up until I could just look over the edge of the stern. There, a few yards off, was the boat’s orange life raft. Keith was inside, looking down the sights of an AK-47. Ella was next to him, crouching in the corner of the boat with her hands over her ears.
Pulling my head up another few inches, I let Keith see me. He opened fired, letting out a torrent of bullets. I dropped down and skinned my shins against the metal stairs. When the firing stopped, I looked over the edge again. He was busy changing clips. Without hesitation, I bounded up the staircase and to the next deck. I dove headfirst into the kitchen just as the windows behind me shattered into a storm of broken glass caused by a hail of lead from the clacking rifle.
When the bullets stopped coming, I began crawling on the floor toward the front of the cabin. My hands and knees were chewed up by broken glass, but I didn’t care. I kicked open the master bedroom door and, once I saw that nobody was there, I began to search for some kind of weapon. I looked under the bed and in the dresser but found nothing. It had been my hope that Keith had left something useful behind, like a pistol, or even better, a rifle. But if there was a cache of weapons, they were hidden, probably in the same location that once held the gold.
There was a fire extinguisher stashed near the headboard. I took it and smashed out one of the forward windows. I got a good look at where we were – it was some offshoot of the main lake; a side canyon that wouldn’t see many early morning fishermen. The stony outcroppings were only some hundred yards away, an easy morning swim. If I had been alone I would have tried for the shore, hoping that the cover of the boat would stop me from being seen. But I felt responsible for Valerie and her silly friends since they wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for me. So instead of running for it, I clambered through the window and carefully climbed up to the next deck.
This was an exposed location. It would be easy enough for Keith to see me if I got too close to the rear. So instead I crawled carefully through the helm window and crouched behind the captain’s chair. I was about to reach for the radio when I saw it had smashed to pieces. Keith had made sure there would be no last moment calls of distress. And with no cellphones, we were at his mercy unless I could think of some way of fighting back. That’s when my wandering gaze alighted on a plastic container strapped underneath the dashboard. I pulled it out and opened the lid. Inside, next to a first-aid kit, was an orange plastic launcher shaped like a gun. There were also four flares that would fit. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing.
I pulled out the gun and loaded it, jamming the extra flares in my pant pockets. The next move was going to be tricky since he had a lot more firepower than I did. Crawling on my belly, I got close enough to the stern on the ship that I could make out the life raft. Keith was on it, looking intently over the sights of the rifle. It took him only a second to see me and open fire. The heavy mechanical clatter was impressive as the AK-47 went full automatic and began to chew at the fiberglass and metal with a wild fury. I ducked and rolled back as the world exploded into flying glass and shrapnel. I felt something hit me in the thigh, a momentary burst of pain that felt as if I had been kicked by a mule. I groaned and waited for the right moment.
The barrage of fire stopped. I quickly stood up. Keith was changing clips again. I sighted down the pistol, not taking too long since I didn’t have the time. I fired. The flare streaked out the end, and, to my consternation, fell three feet to the left of the life raft. Dropping immediately back to the floor, I cursed the inaccuracy of the damned thing even though it wasn’t exactly made for shooting at targets. The worst part was that Keith now knew that I could fight back to a limited degree. That meant he would be a lot more careful the next time, perhaps saving his shots until he had a clear target. My job, at least how I saw it, was to take out the life raft, a much bigger target than he had to deal with.
I reloaded the flare gun again. The stern of the ship was now leaning backward and to port at a dangerous level, making standing difficult. Valerie and her friends couldn’t last much longer. They would have to expose themselves to the murderous fire of that AK-47 very soon. That meant I would have to take a risk.
From the safety of the deck, I called out, “Keith! Can you hear me?”
“I hear you,” he eventually replied. “What do you want?”
“I want you to let those kids go. This is between me and you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Are you afraid?”
He laughed. “Don’t try that macho bullshit on me. You’re the one in a tight spot, not me. I only have to sit here and wait. You’re the one who is going to lose.”
While Keith was busy congratulating himself, I slipped out through the front window over the dashboard. I was out of view. I then dangled myself over the prow and let my body fall into the water like a jackknife. I only made the tiniest of splashes; a sound easily covered by the gurgling and shifting of the boat. Instead of swimming upward toward the surface, I struck off to the side; going as far as I could until my breath ran out. When my head finally broke through the water, I gulped in some air. I saw that Keith was busy looking at the ship, ignoring any other avenue of possible attack. Ella looked as if she was on another planet, not caring at all what was happening. Once I had a lungful of oxygen, I struck off underwater again, going as fast as I could. I’m no great swimmer but the adrenaline rushing through my veins helped.
The next time I surfaced, I saw that I was behind the life raft by some twenty yards. Keith had his back to me, watching as the houseboat gave another lurch and went down another foot at the stern. It wouldn’t be too much longer before the whole thing rolled and sank. I wondered how much longer Valerie and her friends could last. My answer came sooner than I wanted. I could hear them shouting in panic, their voices bouncing over the water. Someone must have poked their head where Keith could see it since he opened fired with the AK-47 again. There was a long spray of bullets that slammed the rear of the boat.
As this happened, I kicked upward with my feet and pointed the plastic gun at the life raft. I fired, shooting a red flare. At this distance and angle, it was an easy shot. The flare actually hit Keith’s back and then bounced back into the plastic bottom of the tiny craft. He was so surprised by the unexpected attack that the rifle slipped out of his hands and plunged into the water below. He let out a curse. The life raft began to smoke and Ella broke out of her shocked state and began to scream. Keith began scrambling to put out the fire and I began swimming toward them as hard as I could. As I swam, I dropped the flare gun and pulled off the plastic knife taped to my back. It wasn’t long before I was seen.
Keith was on his knees when he saw me. He pulled out a pistol – my Colt – and began firing. It was my luck that he was on an unstable platform or he would have drilled me right in the forehead. The bullet splashed uncomfortably close to me, and the next one hit my left shoulder. The pain felt like a hot line of white heat. I was already in so much agony that it didn’t seem to matter. I pushed hard and up against the soft edge of life raft, trying to upset the little craft. It was too heavy to flip over but the motion was enough to upset the balance of the passengers.
With a scream Ella went headfirst in the water. Keith apparently caught himself in time. He slipped forward. And then to my surprise, he suddenly vaulted over the side with a backpack in one hand. That had to be the remaining gold. It was suicide to try and swim with something so heavy. There was no way he could last more than a few minutes.
I tried to push the raft to the side so I could swim after him. But I found that my left arm wasn’t working any more. It was the gunshot wound for that Colt pistol. I was now completely out of energy and going into shock from the pain that had been inflicted. Now all I could do was cradle the slowly deflating lifeboat and hope that
Keith would go do us all a favor and drown. I prayed the others had the strength to save themselves so they could rescue me.
The Color of Sin Page 12