Blue Ice Dying In The Rain

by Jim Craig

On the way down the stairs, I tried to think. It wasn’t easy. Mister Darrell had me by the back of the neck. I was starting to realize that he probably wasn’t the brightest herring in the school. He hadn’t searched me, he should have cuffed my hands behind me and he hadn’t noticed how I’d rushed him along helping him forget the basics.

  I was in survival mode. Helpless as a gaffed rockfish I was grasping at anything I could think of to gain an advantage.

  We walked down the stairs past three decks. One of the landings had a sign that said Vehicle Deck. To keep me moving Darrell held a fistful of my collar in one hand and pushed me along in front of him. I felt like the Count of Monte Christo being taken to a dark underground dungeon.

 

  “You going to hang me from the wall by my wrists, Darrell?”

  He chuckled as we stopped in front of a doorway labeled Supply.

  “Ha, that’s a good …” I turned toward him and exploded with a violent sneeze in his face before he could finish.

  Bending forward with the force of the eruption I threw my hands up to wipe at my face and turned my back.

  "Sorry, Darrell, sorry. I didn't mean to do that." As quick as I could I reached into my jacket with one hand and grabbed the little tool case from my inside pocket.

  Darrell had me by the collar with one hand and he wiped his face with his other arm giving me a moment to stick the case under my armpit out of his view. I waited for him to unlock the door and push it open. He reached in and flipped on a light switch. Then he pushed me forward. I had to step awkwardly over a foot high bulkhead to get inside.

  As I did I looked to the right, froze, recoiled and shouted, “Oh, crap, there’s rats down here!”

  When I felt Darrell’s head swing to the right, I tossed the case away from me to the left. Out of the corner of my eye I saw it tumble behind a cardboard box. I yelled again to cover the sound.

  “You see ‘em? You see ‘em?”

  “Where?” he asked dully.

  “Over there. Oh, man, you can’t leave me down here. Please, Darrell, have a heart.”

  He pushed me forward and forced me to sit down on a wooden crate in the center of the room. Shelves and boxes filled the space around us. I leaned back against a round support post and looked up at him with my best pitiful expression.

  “Quit whining," he said. "You’ll only be in here another hour or so." He reached into a box and pulled out a heavy chain and padlock. He wrapped it around the post and through the handcuffs.

  “Not too tight, okay, Darrell? In case I have to stand up to fight off the rats.”

  He chuckled again. Then I saw him blink as if remembering procedures. He patted me down quickly and took the Leatherman tool he found in my back pocket.

  “Hey Darrell, what if I have to … you know?” I pantomimed taking a leak.

  He thought about that for a moment, frowning. “You’ll just have to hold it,” he said with a shrug. He checked my wallet and finding it empty, put it back in my pocket.

  While he was putting the padlock in place, I changed tactics. I made nice.

  “Hey, Darrell, I’m sorry I made fun of you back there. You know, I didn’t have anything to do with those troopers. Ask Rainey, she’ll tell ya.”

  He snapped the padlock shut and pocketed the key. “Whatever, dude.”

  He looked me over coldly for a moment and then, satisfied that I was secure, he turned to go. Spotting an empty coffee can by the door, he slid it over next to me with his foot.

  He gave me a deadpan look. “Enjoy," he said. Then he turned and left. The big steel door banged shut with a hollow echo and I heard him locking the deadbolt from the outside.

  The supply room was a simple place. About thirty feet across it was shaped like the bow of the ship. Its side walls were about eight feet high and sloped forward in a vee. Bare light bulbs were suspended from the ceiling every ten feet enclosed in wire mesh cages.

  I could hear the hum and vibration of equipment outside the room, but otherwise it was quiet. I knew the ocean was surging past me just outside the walls. It was cool and damp in there and I sat on the crate staring into the shadows and smelling wet cardboard.

  I was past being mad. I actually understood why this had happened. I didn’t like it, but if I could just stay patient, everything would work out. I was reasonably sure of that. At least I hoped so. Whistling in the graveyard maybe, but a little false confidence right then was all I had.

  But the Glock had me worried. My DNA was all over it. It had been in the Sponge Bob pack the whole time and I'd never even looked inside. What an idiot. They'd set me up perfectly. Charlie and Greta. Holy crap. What a pair. No wonder they were on the run. They probably thought they were free and clear now with me back at Chenega holding the bag.

  At least I'd been able to get rid of the lock picks. When the real police arrived they were sure to search me again. If they found a set of burglary tools on me I’d be in trouble for real. No need for that. At least there was nothing on me now to further incriminate me. All I had to do was wait.

  I looked down at the handcuffs and the chain holding me to the post. Then I stood up and tested the arrangement. I could move around a little, but Darrell had done his job well. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I sat back down and looked down at the coffee can. It had a few cigarette butts in it and a gum wrapper. The irony struck me. Within a few feet above me tourists and travelers were enjoying a beautiful day soaking in the Alaska scenery, and here I was chained up in the basement.

  Time dragged. I felt like a caged border collie in a field full of sheep. So much to do. The worst part was I was bored. No music, no TV, no pool table, no newspaper, no nothing. Jeez, a guy could go nuts like this. My mind wouldn’t stop racing. No wonder convicts start running head first into the walls.

  I tried retracing every step of the past several hours. I needed answers but all I had were questions. The troopers had been in the lodge the whole time? The story about the fishing guide was total bullshit. It had been Charlie all along. And that meant that both he and Greta had been lying to me the whole time. Even during all her flirty suggestive times with me?

  I gulped when I realized that I could easily have been a victim too. Why hadn’t he killed me? Why the troopers but not me? Charlie must have been thinking I could fly him out of there. Help him escape. And then I remembered him saying ‘I could use a man who doesn’t care.’ Yeah, no kidding. And where the hell were they now? They're the ones who caused all this, and I’m the one locked up?

  A sense of doom washed over me. I couldn’t even imagine the hell on earth of a federal penitentiary. Or correctional facility as they called them these days. Maximum security. A six by ten foot cell. They say the lack of human contact is the worst punishment of all. But in a double cell with a sadistic sociopathic sexual pervert psychokiller? No thanks, I’ll do my time in solitary.

  What to do? What could I do?

  Okay, enough. I was making myself crazy. Fifteen minutes of imprisonment, and I was a basket case already. Good thing I wasn’t in for twenty five to life.

  Wait a minute. That wasn’t a happy thought. Bad images started flooding in like the little room was filling with water. And snakes. Or gasoline? Did I smell something? No, my imagination was the only thing on fire, and suddenly it was a raging inferno.

  Two cops were dead. What if they never found Charlie and Greta? What if I was left holding the bag? When cops got killed the system went into high gear. The outrage demanded somebody’s head. Guess whose they had?

  I could just hear the news report and the police press conference. ‘Yes, two officers are down, but there’s a suspect in custody. A part time Seward pilot and repo man named Johnny Wainwright was apprehended fleeing the scene. The apparent murder weapon was recovered in his possession.’ I made a handy scapegoat with a slightly shady reputation and no good alibi.

  What now? Sit here and wait for things to get worse?

  I stood up and pushed the
wooden crate away from the post. The chain dropped to the metal deck with a clang. Looking toward the boxes six feet away I stretched a leg out as far as it would reach. Kicking at the edge of the box, it moved just enough to let me spot the black leather case behind it. I looked over to the door and listened. Hearing nothing I laid down on the floor on my belly and crawled backward as far as I could go. With my arms fully extended above my head I finally reached the case with one foot and started fumbling at it.

  The floor was dirty, but I didn’t care. I had to do something. They say an idle mind is the devil’s workshop. Apparently mine was a nightmare spook house full of panic and paranoia. Especially when locked up. Grunting and wrestling I kicked at the tool case.

  Worried that someone would come in, I calculated how long it would take to get back to sitting innocently on the box. Screw it. I’ll just tell them I’d stretched out for a nap.

  The minutes crept by like a Seal team in the dark. Little by little I made it happen. Working my toes and rolling back and forth, the case was finally where I could pick it up. I got up and brushed the dirt off my clothes as best I could and sat back down on the crate. If I heard someone coming I could always toss the picks away again. Now I was getting somewhere. The panic had subsided, so I zipped open the case and fumbled for the tools.

  I don’t know how much time elapsed when I heard keys clattering against the door. I straightened up and slid the tools under a box next to my feet. The door swung open and Rainey’s head appeared around the corner.

  “Johnny, you in here?” she called before she spotted me.

  “Hey,” I called out in relief.

  Rainey pushed her way into the room and walked toward me. She looked at me sitting there and shook her head at the chain and handcuffs wrapped around my wrists. Brandy stepped over the bulkhead behind her. She was holding a white Styrofoam cup and a bundle wrapped in napkins.

  Rainey closed the door behind them. “Don’t get excited, Johnny. I can’t let you go or anything like that. They would have my ass, but I did get permission to bring you a snack.”

  “Oh, man. It’s great to see you guys. What a freaking drag it is down here.”

  “How about some doughnuts and coffee, Johnny?” Brandy asked, looking at the chains and trying to sound cheerful.

  “Well, I don’t really like doughnuts, you know. But I’ll eat some to be polite.”

  They laughed. “And I suppose you’re prepared to be very polite, aren’t you?”

  “You betcha,” I said and reached out to take a cup of coffee.

  With my other hand I reached for the doughnuts. The handcuffs fell at my feet.

  Their jaws dropped so fast, I thought the lights might blow. “My God, are you crazy? What have you done?” Rainey’s eyes went wide and her face turned ghostly white.

  I sat back and worked at opening the coffee. They stared at me speechless. Rainey looked back nervously at the door.

  “Johnny, you’re nuts. How did you do that?"

  "I'm nuts? This whole situation is nuts. You find Charlie yet?"

  Rainey shook her head. Her eyes couldn't quit gaping at the chains on the floor. "How are you planning to escape from the state ferry in the middle of the Gulf of Alaska?”

  “I’m not escaping, silly. Would you like a bite?” I asked holding out a sticky glazed hunk of pastry with only one bite missing. “Gee, it sure is great to see you all.”

  “But you can’t, you can’t just unlock yourself. You’re under arrest,” Rainey’s mouth was still hanging open. “How did you do that?”

  Brandy started laughing and shaking her head. “Relax, Rainey, I’ve seen this routine before. Johnny has more hidden skills than you could ever imagine.”

  Rainey sat down on a box trying to pull herself together. “Well, can you put them back on before I get fired?”

  “Yeah, yeah, no sweat, but listen. You've got to find Charlie and Greta.”

  They nodded their heads in unison. I took a slurp of coffee.

  “Okay, look, I’ve been thinking about that.”

  I reminded Brandy about the cabins where she saw the guy she thought might be Charlie. “Rainey, I think Charlie and Greta are in one of those cabins, laying low. I don’t know why they don’t show up on the passenger list.”

  “But that’s impossible, I checked and all the cabins have been occupied since Whittier.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it. Go back up there and look for a grandma and a teenager sitting together looking upset.” I gave them more details. “I’ll stay here and lock myself back up in case Bubba Gump comes back to check on me. Where are we anyhow?”

  “Almost to the mouth of Resurrection Bay. We going to stop there to meet a boat from Seward.”

  “Okay, get going. If Charlie and Greta get away I’m the only one the cops have in custody for the deaths of two troopers.”

  “Wait a minute.” Rainey looked perplexed. “So what if I find these people, then what?”

  “Just keep an eye on them, so when the police get here you can point them out. I can’t think of anything else.”

  Brandy chimed in, God love her. “Yes, that could work. Johnny tells the cops that he delivered the troopers to make an arrest. And then they disappeared. Charlie was the last person to see them alive. They’ll have to listen. And they’ll have to at least question him. Right?”

  I tried to look hopeful. “Uh, right.”

  Rainey picked up on the need for some positive energy. “Okay, so they might not believe you, but I can’t see them letting Charlie and Greta just leave without being questioned. They were the only others out there, right?”

  “I guess,” I said. “But you've got to find Charlie and Greta and keep track of them in the meantime. If they get away, I'm cooked.”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. How could they get away from the ship without being seen?” Rainey was heading for the door.

  I looked doubtful again. So did Brandy. “The same way they got on board and disappeared,” she said.

  “And the same way they managed to not show up on the manifest.” I added. I could hear the doubt, confusion and near despair in my own voice. “Do we even know for sure they’re on board?”

  They both looked at me then, sharing the same bewildered expression.

  “You said you saw them boarding. Did you ever see them, Brandy?”

  Brandy shook her head. “Not really.”

  They looked at me again. I was worrying too much. Starting to question everything I thought I’d been sure of. But the last thing I needed was for my only two allies to start wondering about me. If they got the idea that it was a wild goose chase or that I was mistaken about seeing Charlie and Greta, I was screwed.

  “Hell, they have to be on board. I saw them, both of them and the kid too.” I put all the positive energy in my voice that I could scrape together. “Please go check on that grandma. You’ve got to find Charlie.”

  “Okay, okay, don’t worry, Johnny. We’ll go find them and we’ll let you know. In the meantime, lock yourself back up. Don’t make it worse.” Rainey squeezed my shoulder and Brandy touched my cheek. Then they left together. I listened to the big metal door boom bang shut again and the keys rattling in the lock.

  I leaned back against the post and arranged the handcuffs and chain in my lap. I didn’t relock the cuffs but I placed them so I could snap them shut if I heard someone coming.

  I finished the doughnuts and washed down the sticky lump in my throat with a big slug of lukewarm coffee. Doughnuts and hot coffee were some of my favorite things in the world, but the thrill just wasn’t there. I looked around the supply room again. Rows of boxes and crates stared back at me like bored children waiting for the morning school bus.

  All I could do was imagine the activities above me. I grimaced at my complete lack of control. I had no way of knowing what would happen next. Would they find Charlie? What would happen when the cops showed up?

  Paranoia leaked into the recesses of my mind again l
ike the wetness that invades tiny cracks in an old rowboat. Of no concern at first, but then it builds and grows. Before you know it, there’s more water inside the boat than outside. You don’t have to be a sailor to know what that means. You’re sunk.

  With only my dark thoughts for company I reached for another swig of coffee, then thought better of it. Nothing like sugar and caffeine to make the motor race. I tried to relax. Breathe deep, inhale, exhale slowly. Slow the pulse. Keep your head.

  I closed my eyes and tried to forget about time. Tried to just focus on my breathing and hold on. I fought the temptation to give up and give in. To roll over and wait for the end. Bad dog, chained up in the basement.

  A crackling voice called out over the ship’s speaker system. “Charles Westridge, please report to the bridge. Charles Westridge, to the bridge, please.”

  At least Rainey was trying everything. And Brandy had to know I was close to losing it. The announcement may have been more for my benefit than anything else. And it helped. At least I knew something was happening up there.

  I don’t know how much time went by while I tried to keep my head above water. Not long, I suppose, but then I heard a frantic banging at the door. I jumped up and listened. I was about to lock the cuffs again, but something made me wait. Darrell would have just come in. This was something else.

  I heard a high pitched yelling through the thick metal and a hand slapping the door. No sound of keys. Only the slapping and yelling.

  I dropped the cuffs and the chain and ran to the door. I pressed my ear tight against it and listened. It sounded like Brandy.

  “What?” I shouted. The slapping and screaming stopped.

  Then I heard Brandy’s voice barely audible on the other side of the frame. “Johnny, let me in. Hurry.”

  I cranked the deadbolt and Brandy pushed her way in. Together we shoved the door closed.

  “What? What’s going on? Where’s Rainey?” I held Brandy by the arms and stared into her face. She was gasping and gulping and coughed a few times, unable to speak. She looked scared to the point of panic. I shook her gently. “Come on, come on, talk to me.”

  “Okay, listen. We found the grandma you told us about. It took a while but she finally broke down crying and said a big wild eyed man had followed her and her twin granddaughters and pushed his way into their cabin. He pulled a gun and told her he needed the cabin and that if they said anything to anybody, he’d kill them. He kept one of the girls hostage.”

  “Where’s Rainey?”

  “It happened so fast I couldn’t believe it, Johnny. Rainey screwed up. It’s horrible.”

  “What happened?” I shook her again.

  “She made a radio call but didn’t get an answer. So she went over to listen at the cabin door. A big guy inside was watching and he grabbed her before she could even call for help.”

  “Then what?”

  Brandy was shaking. Her jaw quivered, but she kept talking. “He twisted her arm behind her back and dragged her down the stairway with him. I think they went down to the vehicle deck. Johnny, what are we going to do?”

  “We’ve got to get help. Who knows what this guy’s going to do? It was Charlie, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, as best as I could tell. Big guy, coke bottle glasses, wild eyes, dirty blond beard. Right?”

  “That’s him. Did you see Greta?”

  “No, it all happened so fast. He looked crazed, Johnny. Desperate, you know?”

  My mind was racing for real then. All I could see was Rainey in front of that maniac’s gun. Just like he’d shot the dog. I’d blocked that image from my mind, but I’d seen him do it. He never hesitated. No reluctance whatsoever. Pull a trigger, solve a problem. I flashed on the troopers thinking that’s probably what happened to them. I shook off the picture.

  “Okay, Brandy, go find Security or the captain and tell them what happened. Go to the bridge.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to the vehicle deck.”

  “Jesus, Johnny, can’t you wait? You’ll be in deep trouble leaving this room. And this guy, Charlie …”

  I didn’t let her finish. I checked to make sure I had the lock picks with me throwing the previous caution aside.

  “Let’s go.” Holding Brandy’s hand I opened the door, looked out into the empty hallway and stepped through. As I was pulling the door closed, I felt the floor shift. The engine noise dropped and the vibration quit.

  “What was that?”

  “We’re stopping,” she answered. She looked at me with alarm in her eyes. “They’ll be coming to get you.”

  “I know. Go now. Tell them everything.”

  Brandy and I locked eyes. She glanced back and forth between my face and the door trying to picture what was coming. I met her gaze and we nodded at the same time. A look passed between us. Without another word she turned and started up the staircase two at a time.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX