by Boo Walker
“Get back on the ground!” Ronnie yelled.
Taking a gamble, I went for Ronnie. I pushed the gun away and went at his face with a left. Then I locked his arm down and tried to pry the gun from him. My gamble didn’t pay off. Just as I got my hand on the barrel, Jack slammed into me and tackled me into the cabinet. The wood split.
I slung and kicked at anything and everything until Ronnie fired the gun. The bullet lodged into the ceiling.
Jack pushed himself up. “You just put a hole in my boat, asshole!”
“You put two into the couch a minute ago. Does it really matter now?”
Ronnie said to me, “Put your face on the floor.”
I collapsed, knees to hands to chest to the ground, gasping for air. Almost thankful that it was over. Jack fell onto my back with his knee and jerked my arms behind me. He unclasped my father’s IWC watch from my left wrist and yanked it off.
I didn’t appreciate that.
“Don’t make it personal,” I said. “You don’t wanna do that.”
“It’s already personal.” I could hear him snap the watch around his wrist. “Ronnie, I need some rope.” Ronnie found some in a closet and handed it to him. Jack tied my hands together.
A good beating followed. This great, strong man found it much easier to get to me with my hands bound. First, he brought me to my knees and hit my face. Two big blows that nearly broke my jaw and knocked me out for a second or so. I fell and tried to fight him off with my legs. I got a few knees into his stomach. Stomach blows don’t seem as bad as head shots, but if you get a few true ones in, they can cause some very real damage. I failed to do so. Jack caught my feet and pinned my legs down.
Staying at a safe distance, Ronnie tossed Jack more rope, and he tied it around my ankles. Another unfortunate thing was Jack’s gift with knots, something that comes with years on the water. He wound me up with care. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Standing up, he began kicking me. I rolled, trying to avoid the blows, but he just kicked whatever was available: my back, my head, my legs. “Tell me about Liz. How do you know her?”
He didn’t give me a chance to answer. More big, hateful kicks that knocked the wind out of me and left me writhing. “How long has this been going on?”
I’m not one to beg, but I did feel an explanation was necessary, especially if it could prolong my survival. “When I met her, I had no idea you knew her. It was months ago. Soon as I found out—”
Another kick.
I choked a couple times before I could get more words out. “Soon as I found out you had been with her, we stopped talking.”
Another kick, this time in the head. I didn’t have much time left. I could barely see or breathe and had at least a couple broken ribs. I was too tired to be angry. Ronnie noticed my condition, and came from behind Jack and put a bear hug on him. “You’re killing him. We gotta get out of here.”
I curled in a ball on the floor, nearly losing consciousness.
Jack said to Ronnie, “Give me the gun. I’m ending this now.” He reached for it.
“No. I’m not letting you dig any deeper.”
“Give me the fucking gun!”
“Don’t you think the DEA knows where their agent is? We need to get the hell out of here. If we get caught, do you really want a murder rap on top of whatever it is they have on us?”
“He’s making sense,” I mumbled from the fetal position on the floor, spitting blood.
“I’ll give you the gun, but you kill him and you’re on your own,” Ronnie said. “I’m not a murderer. I don’t wanna fry.”
“Fine.”
Ronnie handed him the gun and said, “You know we can’t go home.”
“Yeah. I know it. Can you handle that?”
“We signed up for it a long time ago.”
“That we did.” Jack turned back to Kado. “What else do you know? Are they close by? Do they know where we are?”
“I think so. He told me I was done yesterday, so I guess they were planning an arrest soon. Tonight, maybe.”
Jack turned back to Ronnie. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll be up there in a minute.”
“Don’t kill them.”
“I won’t.”
Ronnie opened the door and stepped back out into the elements. We were alone with Captain Insano. Through the window, I watched Ronnie climb the ladder to the bridge. I said to Jack, “Where the hell are you gonna go?”
“Sweden.” He leaned against the cabinet on the other side of the salon.
“Every move you make from this point forward is adding years to your sentence. You let me take you in now and I’ll be your friend—”
“I don’t believe that.”
“We’re even now. You could say I deserved that. Let me put you on the stand against a few people. Testify for us. You’ll be out of jail in no time. All I care about is this case. I have nothing against you. You’re a target in this investigation. Nothing more.”
He thought about it but wasn’t biting.
The boat cranked up and we started moving. Jack tapped the barrel of the gun on the cabinet several times. “I’m not going to jail.”
“You don’t know how to run. I’ve chased men across the earth for years, and none of ‘em make it…and I’m talking men with global connections. Endless finances.”
“We’ll see. I’m betting we don’t see a soul from here to North Carolina. And they won’t find your bodies for a week. Long after the crabs get to you. Ronnie’s a softie. You think I give a shit what he thinks? You both betrayed me. You both die. End of story. If I have to run, so be it.”
Jack retrieved a bottle of Ketel One vodka that had fallen onto the floor. He took a swig and his back arched. It looked like it had done him some good. I knew he was mustering up the courage to kill us. It’s easy to talk about, but pulling that trigger for the first time on another human is anything but easy. It’s not natural. I’ve killed three men in my life, and they all still haunt me.
“Can I get a shot of that?” I asked.
“How’d you meet Liz?”
“Who cares?”
“I care, damn it!”
“I ran into her wakeboarding, right around here. I had no idea who you were at the time.”
He slowly nodded. “I don’t know that I believe that.”
“Does it even matter?”
“You have no idea. How’d you get Kado to flip?”
“Like he said. I didn’t give him a choice.”
“How’d he get you, Kado?”
“I got pulled over. It was the night we got in that fight. I was pissed at you after you hit me and took Tela’s side. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Damn right, you weren’t thinking straight.”
Jack asked Kado more questions; I ignored them. I closed my eyes and fell into a relaxed state, hoping it might give my body some strength.
Joni Mitchell recorded an album in the early seventies called Blue. My dad would play “A Case of You” over and over on an antique phonograph, and he’d take my mother’s hand and they would dance around the house, staring into each other’s eyes. He’d even dip her from time to time, and my brother and I would run around them and make throw-up sounds, so embarrassed.
There was nothing embarrassing about it now, as it played in my head, and I awaited fate. I felt Liz take my hand as Joni’s words danced along the melody.
Oh, I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I’m frightened by the devil
And I’m drawn to those ones that ain’t afraid
I remember that time that you told me, you said
Love is touching souls
Surely you touched mine
Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time.
I didn’t want to leave Liz alone. It was more important than leaving my mother and brother by themselves to deal with my death. I hate to say that, but it’s true. And Liz was so alone now.
She had touched my soul, and if I ever saw her again, I would make sure she knew that. I’d let her know that she was in my blood like holy wine. Yeah, I could drink a case of her and still be on my feet.
At least I would die with love in my heart.
I peeled my eyes open. Through the back window, I saw the hatch leading to the engine room open up. A second later, someone climbed out. A woman.
Then I saw her face.
CHAPTER 38
My eyes opened wide. Knew it couldn’t be true. Stephanie was climbing out of the engine room. Was she on board or was I really losing it? Had Jack given me something? I hadn’t had enough water to drink, so maybe that was it. Dehydration can definitely get you.
We were back into the rougher water of the harbor. The ocean juggled swells that shook the boat violently, and the seasickness was hitting me. My body wanted to throw up, but I fought it. Told myself seasickness wasn’t an option. Tried to suppress it.
It was definitely Stephanie I had seen. Now she was pressing her face to the window and peering inside. I moved my eyes back down to the floor so Jack wouldn’t see me looking. His back was to her. When I looked again, she was gone. Next thing I saw was her going up the ladder.
Kado was a wreck. His whole body trembled as he answered Jack’s questions. I was too beat and defeated to even try to stop him. Unless Stephanie had brought the DEA with her, we were all going to die. What was the point?
Jack turned back to me. “Did Liz know about the investigation?”
“She had nothing to do with it. Never knew any of it.”
“I’ll find that out later. She’s got some explaining to do. I’ll beat it out of her if I have to. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Our eyes locked.
“Can’t wait to tell her what it felt like to put a bullet in your head. I wonder if she’ll care.”
“You know, I even felt bad about it,” I said, sitting up against the couch. “There you were thinking I was with Tela. I could have had her, too, but I had my fingers in the other pie.” I felt filthy talking like that, especially about the one that I loved, but I was trying to get to him a bit. Tweak him. Not that I wanted another beating. Just wanted to make him make a mistake. Since no one had come to the rescue, I had to assume I was on my own. Well, except for Stephanie. What the hell was she doing anyway?
I pissed Jack off, all right. He raised the gun.
“No turning back now,” I said. “Pull the goddamn trigger!”
“No, Jack!” Kado yelled.
The boat turned right unexpectedly. More severe than something intentional. I looked out the back window where I’d seen Stephanie. Someone fell from the bridge, which had to hurt. I couldn’t make out if it was a man or woman. The boat changed course again. Jack went outside to figure out what was happening. Rain poured in as the door opened. “Ronnie!” He looked down where the person had fallen. “What are you doing?”
I couldn’t hear a reply. Jack looked up toward the bridge, then hopped onto the ladder and pulled himself up, screaming.
How the heck did Stephanie get onto the boat? And what was she doing there anyway?
“I’m gonna get us out of here,” I said to Kado, maneuvering myself into the center of the salon. Probably not all that convincing with a face covered in blood. “Hang in there.” There was no sense being mean to the guy, even though he’d dug this grave. I kicked my bound legs up and tried to bring my hands around my feet, but it wasn’t happening. I wasn’t as agile as I used to be.
The boat tilted into an even bigger turn. The bottle of vodka slid along the counter and fell. The engines roared. Full throttle. Something felt dreadfully wrong.
We crashed hard.
We hit land at full speed. Land, or something large and stationary. I got that falling feeling, where your stomach is in your chest. As the yacht turned sideways, we were thrown against the opposite wall. Can’t do much with your hands tied up. My shoulder hit the wall with my full weight behind it. I felt the pop when it dislocated, but it didn’t touch the pain from my ribs, which splintered further. The sharp sting ran right up my chest and into my temples.
The boat landed hard on its side, the fiberglass cracking and glass shattering. The stereo equipment fell, magazines, cups. Anything loose. I tried to protect my face. The boat settled at about a thirty-degree angle, and I slid down to where the floor met the wall.
Gusts of wind and torrents of rain slashed through the broken windows on the port side, stirring up debris. Above the roar of the wind and thunder, horrifying noises from the storm—screams and creaks—echoed through the salon. I let the rain pour into my mouth. I was so thirsty. I took some breaths and tried to gather myself. Diesel fumes filled my lungs. Thank God diesel isn’t as combustible as gasoline.
A bolt of lightning struck nearby. I could feel the electricity. More snaps and cracks of thunder.
“Kado,” I said. He was out cold. Then louder, “Kado!” I saw that a piece of glass had nearly severed his leg. It stuck into his upper left thigh, and the blood had covered his lap. I got to my knees and moved toward him. My shoulder started aching like hell, so I slammed it against the wall, trying to knock it back into place. I hit it hard and yelled at the pain. My eyes watered. It stayed dislocated. The second time, it locked back in.
I moved quickly to him, one knee to the next. I didn’t think I should take the glass out without free hands. “Kado, wake up. You gotta wake up.”
His eyes opened to lifeless slits.
“You gotta stay awake, my friend. They’ll be here soon. Keep your eyes open. Think of a good movie—and popcorn, with lots of butter. A little white cheddar powder. A girl dipping her hand in the bucket with you.” I don’t know where that came from, but it did sound like a damn fine place to be. His pupils kept trying to force themselves to roll backwards. “Kado!”
Jack appeared in the doorway. The continuous lightning lit up his face. He’d survived the crash. The guy had the devil’s luck. My eyes went to the watch on his wrist first. Then, seeing the steel in his hand, I knew I was breathing my last breaths. What a way to go.
“We need to help Kado,” I yelled over the madness. “He’s bleeding out.”
He ignored me as he negotiated the slippery, crooked floor and made his way in my direction. “Looks like we’ve hit the end of the line, huh?” He raised the gun.
“You don’t need to do this.”
He laughed. “Save your breath. You’re not getting out of this one.”
“Looks like we’re in the same boat then—if you know what I mean.”
Jack straightened his arm further and started to pull the trigger. I forced my eyes to stay open, embracing death.
CHAPTER 39
Jack and I shared a similar kind of hate.
His was an uncontrollable rage, a desire to watch my blood run cold. Seeking vengeance for betraying him, but more than anything, seeking vengeance for my relationship with Liz, though he didn’t even know the full story. Nothing I could have said would have made a difference. He had decided my death was a necessity. Merely the idea of my relationship with Liz had been enough.
My anger and fury came from many sources. Ultimately, it was Liz, though. He had attacked the woman I loved. He would pay for that, even if I had to chase him down in hell.
It was the cocaine I hated, too. It’s what had made him this way. It’s what had brought me into the position of staring at the wrong end of his Glock, waiting for the trigger to be pulled. It’s what had eaten his soul and wrenched him from reality. It’s what had numbed his human side. Cocaine destroys lives and that’s why I was in the business.
I’d seen it happen so many times, and the first was with Shawn Philips, my father’s murderer. Imagine a man shooting someone and barely remembering it. I can hate both the drug and the man, for it’s the drug that became the seducer, but it’s the man who had been weak enough to let it happen. It was the man there before me who’d let evil creep into him and blind his morality.
Jack’s eyes widened some, and I knew I was a goner.
Charleston was a good place to die, though, and it’s where I had intended on meeting my fate. The great Holy City, the greatest place on earth. I had a couple last words for Jack.
“I’ll be waiting for you.” I didn’t even blink. Didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d won.
“On the other side,” Jack said.
“En el otro lado.”
Aiming at my left cheek, he pulled the trigger.
***
Now, I’d seen and done some things in my day, and when you’re about to die, they zip right through your brain, playing like an old movie reel spinning out of control.
I’d surfed the sunrise from Folly Beach to Indonesia, and I’d caught my perfect barrel. I’d seen St. Basil’s in the falling snow, and had ridden a scooter to the end of the world in Sagres. Of course I wish it had been a motorcycle, and I had planned on going back and doing it right, but time wasn’t abundant. My story had been written and closed, and now was the time to question it all. Did you take the world by its tail, Reddick?
Had I? Well, I’d danced with a Colombian woman on the walls of the Cafe del Mar in Cartagena. I’d stood at the end of the Isle of Skye and yelled out to my ancestors who’d been living and dying there since the beginning of time. I’d even scuba dived the Galapagos. And I’d seen Pat Metheny and Diana Krall and George Benson live in Montreaux.
It sounds like my deathbed was a soapbox—and maybe it was—but it’s my right when I die. No, it was my duty and obligation to revisit the life I’d led. The one I’d spend eternity thinking about, knowing that I had or I hadn’t lived it to the fullest. It’s there on that deathbed that you first can make that decision, because that’s when you know you’re out of time. And only then.
I never caught Tom Waits or Miles, and I never made it to Black Rock City, and I’d never played the Grand Old Opry, and I sure as hell hadn’t done enough for other people. Maybe working for the World Food Program would have been a better way for me to give back than a few short years chasing the devil. Oh, and I hadn’t written the book I’d always talked about, and I’d never been to space, and I’d never circumnavigated the globe, and I’d never planted a vineyard…