by B. C. Tweedt
Cruuunch. The sound of glass under foot.
Greyson slunk down like a shot, Jarryd grabbed his Molotov bottle, and the rest held their breath as tightly as they held their weapons.
Cruuunch.
Greyson’s eyes latched on his friends, and then onto Avery, who was still struck by the terrorist’s threat. Fear had grabbed her heart and frozen her muscles. Greyson, too, felt its icy grip around his neck – the kind that urged him to run as fast as he could. But he brushed it off and unsnapped the slingshot. His other hand found the ammo pouch.
Cruuuunch.
The door to the Serenity Club turned like the hands of a clock.
Their waiting was over.
Chapter 58
The door burst open.
The kids covered their mouths as the men entered the room with weapons leveled, searching. Greyson could feel their eyes scanning over the bar, their bodies just feet away – their fingers on triggers, itching for somebody to shoot.
“Why would she be here?”
“We have to check everywhere.”
“Why? Just let her drown.”
“They’re not going to set ‘em off til they find her.”
“Oh, they will. It’ll flush her out.”
There were two men. Greyson’s mind scrambled for a change of plan.
“There!” The man spotted the hoodie blowing in the wind.
They’d taken the bait.
Greyson waited a beat, nodded at his friends, and then rose from behind the bar. He leveled the slingshot and placed the back of the second man’s head between the bars of the slingshot’s ‘Y’.
Snap!
The ball pelted the second man’s skull just as the first hit the trip wire. The first flung hard onto the broken glass and the second was propelled on top of him in a mess of limbs and guns.
“NOW!”
Greyson leaped over the bar and put another ball into the mass of bodies as his friends circled around.
Jarryd let out a war scream that prompted the rest to do the same. In a moment they had reached their victims and rained lashes on the men as they screamed in pain. The first tried to block the blows with hands full of bloody glass shards. The second man tried to raise his gun, but Greyson put him down with a sharp kick. The first man went down shortly after with a solid clunk from Jarryd’s vodka bottle.
Though Avery added a few extra muffled blows from her plunger, it was over. They stood over the two unconscious bodies, the adrenaline pumping in their hearts so hard that they shook. It took a few moments for them to collect their breath before they could speak. And even then, no one knew what to say. The wind and rain pelted them, but they didn’t want to move.
The violence had been real. It had gotten ahold of them and turned them into something they weren’t. It still wrapped them in its grasp, giving them spurts of excitement between the inwardly creeping guilt.
Suddenly, Sydney reached out with her broken mop and snagged a gun’s shoulder strap. The others watched as she operated the handle like a crane, carrying the heavy gun to the ground beside them, safely away from harm. She then picked it up, marched to the railing, and threw it overboard.
“Hey!” Jarryd complained. “We could’ve used that!”
Ignoring Jarryd, Greyson snapped to action and started unlatching the second man’s smart watch. Nick went for the first man’s and Avery went for the second gun.
Avery hoisted the gun in her arms and looked it over. “Heavy.”
“Let me,” Jarryd said, putting down his vodka.
“Heck, no. Have the plung’ah. I’m going aft’ah my pah’rents.”
Suddenly Sydney came back, snatched the gun from Avery and threw it overboard. “No. We aren’t killers.”
“They’ah going to kill my pah’rents!”
“No, they’re not,” Greyson said defiantly, stepping between the girls. “Because they need them, too. If they didn’t, they’d be dead already.”
She gave him a sharp look.
“We’re going to stop them. Somehow.”
Nick stood, reading the watch. “New message. It says, ‘Distress Call Initiated. Five minutes. Next phase will bring her up.’”
“Any other messages?” Greyson asked, still thinking about the first.
“Nothing else. Each message is deleted a few seconds after it’s sent.”
“Why would they call for help?”
“Maybe it wasn’t them. Maybe someone else escaped and called somehow.”
Greyson nodded. “Text Sam anyway.”
“On it. Got the number, Syd?”
While Sydney shared the number, Jarryd turned to Greyson in a whisper. “Five minutes ‘til what?”
“I don’t know. But we have to find out – and fast.” He stood and jogged inside the bar. “Everyone inside. Hurry.”
His friends followed and huddled by one of the tables.
“Listen, guys. We can’t wait…we can’t hide anymore. We have to find out how to stop them.”
Nick got their attention with words that struck them cold. “The guys we took down…we could…make them talk.”
“What?” Greyson retorted, eyeing their unconscious bodies. “You mean…like…torture them? Who would do that?”
Nick shrugged with all eyes on him. He then watched the rain dribble down the windows outside. “If it has to be done…”
Greyson drew back. Would Nick really torture them? Or was he just playing tough? The skeptical look Greyson gave him assumed he was playing tough, but deep inside, where absolute trust had been before, a thin veil of doubt rose between them.
“We have to find out some other way,” Greyson said at last. “Is there anything else we know about them that we can use?”
Sydney lit up and pounded the table. “The bottom level! Nick and I went down there and saw the Plurbs messing with the life vests. I bet that’s where they’d put the bombs. And they’re going to set them off to make us go up.”
“The bottom level?” Avery whined. “But my pah’rents ah’r on the top level.”
“They say go up, so we go down,” Greyson replied. “We might be the only ones who can stop them – and I’m not…we’re not going to let them get away with it again.”
Sydney jumped up. “We can get there from here in a few minutes – if we move fast.”
The group gave nods of approval.
“Do you dare us?” Jarryd asked with a knowing look.
Greyson’s affirmative nod took on more energy as his smile grew. “I dare you. I dare you all to do whatever it takes to stop them. No matter how hard.”
“We’re in!” Jarryd yelled for the rest of them, standing. “Now, let’s go light some people on fire!”
“Hold on, Rambo,” Nick said. “I’ve got to send this text.”
“Woooow. Talk about killing a moment.”
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Sam stuck the black thumb drive into his new laptop’s port and peeked out from under the covers. His heart thumped inside his chest, but the dark hotel room was still quiet. The line of white light under the door was undisturbed.
He ducked back under and waited for the drive to load. When it did, he stared at the icon. His pointer hovered over it and his finger rested on the track pad. He hesitated. It was like the last step before diving off the high dive. After the click, there would be no going back. The free-fall that came from what he found would not be up to him. It was exhilarating and debilitating both.
Buzzzz…Buzzz….
Peeking out from the covers again, he snagged his phone from the bedside table. It was after 9 p.m., and he wasn’t expecting any texts.
He didn’t recognize the number, but his curiosity got the best of him. As he read the message he threw off the covers. He slammed the laptop, hid the thumb drive and called out, “DAAAAAD!”
-----------------
The narrow hallway felt like a swaying bridge beneath their feet as they snaked through the corridors. A ship stopped in the middle of a turbul
ent ocean was at the mercy of the waves that beat upon its hull – and the kids felt every wave down in the depths of the ship.
“It’s just around the corner,” Sydney explained from the front of the group. She held up her hand to stop them.
“Two minutes,” Nick reported.
Greyson took the lead and slunk toward the metal door at the end of the hall, bending down to pick up a ball bearing and adding it to his diminished supply. He then turned his focus to the door and what would be behind.
“Okay, guys,” Greyson said, swallowing his fear. “Don’t worry. No matter what’s behind that door, just remember…they can only kill our bodies.”
Jarryd gave Nick a look and Nick shrugged back. “Not very reassuring…” Jarryd whispered.
As Greyson approached, he motioned Sydney to the door and took his stance with both hands ready at the slingshot. “You open it. I’ll be the first inside. On three.”
His eyes met Sydney’s. “One.”
She grasped the handle, her eyes locked on his.
“Two.”
He pulled back the rubber on the slingshot until it creaked.
“Three!”
Chapter 59
If time had slowed down, Greyson would have had time to make a different decision. He would have seen the five terrorists wearing orange life vests. He would have seen the closest one setting the timer on the last bomb against the hull. His decision would have been to run, if he’d had the time to make it.
But instead, he only had time to raise his slingshot and scream his pubescent two-voiced squeak. “Fr-EEEEEZE!”
The terrorists startled and stared, but the one with his hands on the bomb was the first to speak. “Easy, boys,” he growled to his men. He typed in the last few digits on the bomb’s keypad and turned to the kids with his hands raised in surrender.
Greyson’s friends took in the situation, exchanging glances with each of the terrorists in succession. Each of them had been reaching toward the life vests they wore, but now raised their hands with their leader.
After a long pause, the leader took two strutted steps toward the kids, chuckling. “Ah, a Georgia bulldog and his pups.” He put his hands down.
Greyson held his aim straight and true, straight at the man’s nose. His fingers begged him to let go, but something held him back. They were too confident. Though he couldn’t see any of their guns, he reasoned that they must have them. “It’s not a Georgia hat. Disarm the bomb.”
“Oh, sorry,” the man said sarcastically, taking another step forward. “What does the ‘G’ stand for then?”
Greyson let out a sigh and chewed his words before speaking. “Everyone asks what the hat stands for. But no one asks what I stand for.”
The terrorist gave him a patronizing smile. “Hmm…let me guess. The ‘G’ is for girls?” His buddies laughed.
“Games?” Another one added.
“Ghostbusters?”
Frustrated, Greyson blurted, “Good.”
There was a long, eerily silent pause before the man eyed Greyson’s weapon. “Isn’t that nice. With a slingshot? I haven’t seen one of those in ages. And is that a broom handle – and vodka? What kind of crazy party is this?”
The rest of the terrorists laughed, joining the other one in taking a few steps forward.
Greyson’s strained eyes darted to the bomb. He could barely make out the digits counting down. They darted back to the men. The man on the left’s hands were resting inside the orange vest.
“Disarm the bombs.”
“I can’t,” the terrorist stated, “but I might if you hand over the girl.”
“Don’t come closer!” Greyson yelled.
“She’ll come with us either way. Or you’ll all drown.”
The other men grew anxious, glancing at the bombs.
“Disarm them! Now!”
The man smirked. “Why should I listen to you?”
There was nothing else to do.
“We have a bomb.”
He heard Jarryd flick the lighter behind his back.
“Is that right? Well, we have a few of our own. They’re not big, but they’ll get the job done real soon.”
Greyson snarled. “Just like us.” He heard the flames take the rag. “Throw it!”
The terrorists reached inside their vests.
The bottle sailed through the air, the flames on the rag licking at the air.
Their hands came out of their vests with guns. Sydney ducked. Avery screamed. Greyson aimed.
The ball bearing pierced the glass bottle, blasting the flammable liquid into a fine spray. The spray caught the rag’s flame and burst into a wall of fire that rained on the terrorists like a dragon’s breath.
The kids turned and covered their faces as the heat swelled over them. They ran from the heat. They ran from the screams, and they ran from the bombs.
Only Greyson stopped to look back. The flames flickered in his eyes as he watched; his conscience burned along with them, searing his heart. The numbness – the callousness – returned, and he continued watching as his friends yelled for him. Their voices seemed distant. He could see the bombs on the walls beyond, but there was nothing he could do.
Even the explosions did not snap him free of the numbness.
Suddenly, like a dam had broken, a torrent of water blasted into the room from three directions. Most of the flames were wiped away with a flood of blue and white, and a small river rushed across the corridor to Greyson’s feet. Soon it lapped at his ankles.
“Greyson!”
Sydney yanked on his arm from the stairs, and he jerked back into action. His legs churned up the stairs; he caught up with the twins on a landing after three flights. They huffed and puffed with hands on their knees, glancing down the staircase, expecting the water to be close at their heels. For now, they could only hear it, like a tossing waterfall echoing in the metal walls.
“I can’t believe we did that!” Jarryd exclaimed, his eyes inward.
“I did it.” Greyson stated. “I did.”
“Then, what now?” Jarryd asked.
Greyson’s mind wandered elsewhere. He stared into a distant place, his eyes flittering about. We failed again. Again! Or did we? Was that it? Why the whole charade? Why the round up before the sinking? Why wouldn’t they just have bombed the ship earlier and been done with it?
Sydney answered for him. “We’ve got to keep going! Get off the ship!”
Bouncing back to reality, he nodded his agreement. “Let’s go!”
They bounded up the stairs just as the water gurgled to the landing. The ship rolled to the left and right, heavier than before, making their steps wobbly and pitching them into the railings as they escaped upward. Their path brought them through abandoned corridors and the giant kitchen filled with uneaten dishes and half completed entrees. There were few words exchanged between them – only frantic breathing and frantic thoughts. They knew their only chance to survive was to get to the top deck to the lifeboats.
After what seemed an eternity, they stepped onto the final landing, still sheltered from the rain and wind. Their legs burned and ached, but they had put the flooding water well behind them. A deep, metallic groan vibrated beneath their feet as they wearily stepped to the top deck’s door.
Greyson was the first outside, plunging into the storm, using his hand to keep the driving rain out of his eyes. The rest followed out single-file, slipping on the glazed wood as the ship tipped one way and then the other.
“There!”
Just visible through the downpour was a crowd of people by the last two lifeboats near the center of the ship. A line of people was stepping inside one at a time, all wearing life-vests and civilian clothes.
“Hurry!”
Like walking on a bowling lane, they scooted as fast as they could. Deck chairs wobbled next to them and scratched as they moved. The hot tubs bubbled with rain and poured out as the pitching increased.
Greyson led them along the railing overl
ooking Central Park many floors below. A sudden lurch forced them all against the railing with a bang. Jarryd hit the bars hard and was forced to gaze below. The bushes and trees in Central Park were protected from the wind on all sides by the rising balconies, but they still shimmered and moved. Blinking rapidly, Jarryd’s mouth hung open as he finally discerned what was making the foliage move. Rushing floodwater was engulfing the park’s foliage from all sides.
The ship didn’t need another pool, but it was about to get a giant one in its core.
When the ship tilted back toward being level, the kids continued their trek to the crowd at the lifeboats. There was a scuffle at the lifeboat’s entrance. A man and a woman were being shoved toward it but were resisting. Avery was the first to recognize them.
“Dad! Mom!”
“Av’ry!” Her dad called out, reaching out for her.
Avery’s voice caught the small crowd’s attention and they turned to face the kids with the anger of a disturbed hornet’s nest. All at once, Avery’s parents were shoved inside the boat and guns flew out of the terrorists’ vests; Greyson didn’t even have time to draw his slingshot.
Despite the change to civilian clothes, Jarryd recognized the man pointing the gun at him. “Ah, Suk…”
Backed against the railing, there was no escape. They were frozen, expecting the gunshots with clenched teeth and closed eyes.
“Wait!” A teenaged voice stiffened the terrorists’ hands just in time. The gun barrels wavered in the rain, still leveled in Greyson’s direction, but stilled by the command.
From the midst of the wet bodies, a broad-shouldered boy pushed his way out. The wicked smile on his face made Greyson’s stomach drop.
“Greyson Gray. You’ve come a long way to die.”
Greyson gulped, still clutching the railing behind him as the ship lurched, sending his side of the deck higher than the terrorists’. He wanted to respond, but the anger was boiling over so wildly, he couldn’t express it in words. The hatred simmered in his eyes.
“And you’re too late to interfere this time.” Orion motioned for the men to lower their guns. “Keep loading and keep the Redmonds safe,” he commanded, giving Avery a smile. “I’ll collect the last one.”