by Jim Craig
Charlie's head spun toward the door in alarm. Then he scrambled to the rear of the TransAm leaving me at the front. He leaned across its trunk and pointed the gun at me.
“Get back here,” he barked.
I joined him at the rear of the car. "Put your hands up, damn it!" he ordered. I obeyed.
When I got there he grabbed my jacket and held me in front of him. Then he pointed the gun at the door.
“Stay out! I swear I’ll set off the gas!” he shouted into the microphone.
We looked and saw a hand at the round window where we’d picked up the food. It waved at us, then a face appeared. It was a clean shaven guy with a wide forehead and no hat. The man had a good haircut of thick brown hair. He had heavy eyebrows over intelligent eyes that held a serious expression. He was holding both hands up beside his head. He held a radio in one hand. The other one was empty. I wasn’t sure, but I thought it looked like one of the six faces I’d seen earlier.
“Where’d you come from?” Charlie growled at him on the radio.
“I was on the ferry as a passenger. But I work for the state. I’m a state trooper.”
Charlie’s face went stiff. His jaw clenched and unclenched. “Where’s my chopper?” he demanded.
“It’s on the way,” came the answer. "How many of you are in there?" he asked.
Charlie ignored the question. “How about the jet?”
“They’re working on it, Charlie. But it’s going to take more time. You have to understand. We’re getting one from Anchorage, but getting the crew and fuel and everything. It’s taking a while to arrange.”
He had a calm clear voice like a radio announcer. I was guessing he was a negotiator of some kind. He seemed to know what he was doing. That reassured me and worried me at the same time. I doubted he’d been a passenger.
How did he get on board? Probably along with the other guys loaded for bear out in the hallway. They must have come from another boat. Like a special ops team boarding a hijacked oil tanker.
"Then listen up, cop." Charlie's voice took on a tone of authority. "I've got this place flooded with gasoline and I can add more anytime I want. You screw with us and I'll flick my BIC and send us all to hell. You got it?"
Larry nodded rapidly and held up one hand in acknowledgement. "Take it easy, Charlie. Let's talk about this. Why are you doing this?"
Charlie hesitated. I could almost hear the inner debate in his head. He couldn't talk about the real reasons without admitting things he didn't want to reveal. But he hadn't thought of a better explanation either.
"It doesn't matter why. Just do what we tell ya," he said. "And I got a pilot in here with me too. Right here in front of me." He shook me by the collar in case Larry couldn't see me standing there. "He'll be the first one to get it if you don't do what I say."
"C'mon, Charlie. We know you're working together. You guys are by yourselves in there."
"We? What do you mean we? Who else you got out there?" Charlie's voice took on a tremor.
"I meant all the folks on the way. You're going to be surrounded here pretty soon. The Coast Guard and the Navy and every trooper in the state are on the way. You're not going to get away with this."
My eyes squeezed shut hearing the negotiator's assessment of me. Did he really think that? Or was it a ploy? I glanced back at Charlie. He looked confused and scared thinking about the approaching armada. His eyes were rattling. He looked tired too.
I looked back at the negotiator. I knew what his job was. He was a cop. The gasoline was the main problem. He needed to keep a boat full of people from exploding like a bomb. He was looking us over and calculating. He wanted us face down and in handcuffs. With no one hurt if possible. But if that couldn't happen, he wanted us dead. Whatever it took to defuse the bomb.
They couldn't just charge in blasting away. Couldn't toss in a flash bang grenade. And they needed to keep Charlie from taking a shot. Any of those things would set off the gas. Then there was me. What did they really think about me? Good guy or bad guy? Had my performance at the doorway changed any minds? And what about the note?
“So what have we got here, Charlie?” The cop’s voice came over the radio.
Charlie scowled and keyed the mike. “Go away. I don’t want to talk to you. Talk to Greta. She's in charge of this.”
"I'd rather talk to you, Charlie. How are you guys breathing in there? You need anything?"
"We're fine. Get lost. Just get the chopper out here."
"Looks like a lot of gas in there, Charlie."
"You're damn right there's a lot of gas. So back off, or I'll set it off."
"Okay, okay, Charlie. You don't want to do that. I'm just worried that the fumes are going to kill you in there."
"Yeah, right. You're so concerned about us. Quit stalling. We got air," he said waving his gun at the vent above us.
"There's a problem with the chopper, Charlie. The fog's so thick it can't get to us. Can't we work something out here?"
"Like what?"
"Well, I don't know. We're trying to understand why you're doing this, Charlie. What is it you want?"
"You know what we want. We want out of here."
"All of you?"
"Yeah, all of us. Me and Greta and my kid. And the pilot here too."
Charlie jerked me by the collar. "What's he up to?"
I shook my head and thought about it. Maybe they were evacuating all the passengers and crew to lifeboats. We couldn’t tell from where we were. I wondered if Greta was still in control up top.
“Can I talk to him?” I asked Charlie.
“No. Shut up,” Charlie snapped at me. “I gotta think.” From his position he could smash my head with the pistol any time he wanted.
I gulped and studied my shoes. We needed more information. The cops were up to something. They were setting the stage, and we didn't have a clue what was going on.
Charlie must have been thinking the same thing. He was no dummy.
“Greta, what happening up there?” There was a long pause. The more time went by, the faster Charlie's eyeballs clicked back and forth.
"GRETA!" he screamed into the mike.
Then she came on. "It's okay, Charlie. I was just away from the radio for a second."
"What's happening up there?"
“Nothing, Charlie. The captain and I are doing fine. We got some food too," she said in a sing song high pitched voice.
“What about Tamby?”
“He’s sleeping under the counter here.”
I saw Charlie take a deep breath and let it out in a sad sigh. “You got everything under control then?”
“Yes, we’re good up here. How about you?” Her voice sounded oddly unconcerned to me. I could feel my eyebrows squeezing together trying to make sense of it. I suddenly felt a cold chill like ice worms were creeping all over my neck and back.
“I don’t like it. It’s too quiet," Charlie continued. "Something’s happening. Are there any boats around you?”
“No, I’m watching on the radar here," Greta answered. "There’s nothing close by. I told them to keep everything away.”
“You been listening to this guy talking to us? He's up to something. Watch your ass up there.”
“Charlie," Larry broke in again. "Honestly, I’m by myself out here. You're holding all the cards. You got all the control. All I’m trying to do is get this all straightened out. Then we can all have a glass of brandy … and relax.”
Charlie didn’t like being interrupted. “Sure you are. Like you’re going to let us go. The only answer is to get that chopper out here. Where is it?”
“Hang on, I’ll check.”
A glass of brandy? That was a weird thing to say. I glanced back at Charlie but it didn't look like he'd heard it. Was that a message to me?
"Charlie, I got an idea," I said over my shoulder.
"What?"
"Did Greta sound alright to you?"
He thought ab
out it. "I guess. Why?"
I took a breath and plunged in. "She sounded different to me, Charlie. I think she was lying to you."
He pulled tight on my collar hauling me back against him. "What do you mean?" he growled in my ear. His breath seared my nostrils. A rank combination of gasoline, beer, sourdough bread and fear.
"I don't know, man. She sounded different to me. Do you think she could be making her own deal up there?"
That stopped him. He relaxed his grip on my collar and pushed me away as if he was repelling both the idea and anybody close to him. But I could tell he was thinking about it. Was he on his own now? Had she pulled a fast one?
It was a gamble, but I was hoping he'd start thinking she'd abandoned him. Then maybe he'd let me be more of a partner. Giving me a chance to make a move.
I turned to face him. "Look, Charlie. If she's ratting you out, you and I can still get out of here. You've got the control down here. Use me as your hostage and get us to Seward. I'll fly you to Cuba, no problem."
He stared at me with his mouth hanging open, breathing heavily. His eyes ran over me like a swarm of red ants.
"Greta?" he called on the handset. His voice was a question mark, dripping with a nervous tremor.
She didn't answer.
“Chopper just left Seward. It won’t be long now, Charlie,” Larry, the negotiator’s voice broke in.
"WHERE'S GRETA?" he snarled into the mike.
"Uh, I don't know, Charlie. She's up on the bridge, I guess."
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER?" he thundered.
"Take it easy, Charlie, I don't know. Maybe the battery went dead on her handset. I'll find out. Stand by."
"Get her back on here or I'm blowing it. THIS IS NO BULLSHIT!"
Charlie dropped the mike and gawked at me. I was wondering if he'd look to me for help. It didn't take long to get my answer. I shrugged my shoulders at him. I only had the one card. I took a breath and played it.
"That's what I was afraid of, man. I think she's given us up." I kept my voice calm.
In a flash he lunged forward and grabbed me by the front of the jacket. "SHUT UP!" he screamed in my face. Then he spun me around and slammed me against the car.
"You think I'm some kind of IDIOT?" He pressed the handgun into the back of my head forcing me against the car and using his other hand he reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the can opener.
He held it in front of my face, the sharp end of the tool just an inch from my eye. "You think I missed that little trick, asshole? And now you're trying to be all buddy buddy?" He leaned his body weight against me forcing the gun hard against my skull.
"Thought you'd get the drop on me and then open up my neck like a BEER CAN? I oughta…" Spittle sprayed the back of my neck. Then he clubbed me on the side of the head with the gun sending me to the deck in a heap. Charlie towered over me shaking with adrenalin and reached for the Ka-bar with his free hand.
“Message from Greta, Charlie," Larry's voice interrupted.
Charlie grabbed up the microphone. “Put her on," he demanded.
"Uh, she says there's been a change in plans. She doesn't want to talk to you."
Charlie froze in place. Looming over me his breath was ragged and his eyes flicked back and forth between me and the handset. It seemed like minutes before he could speak again but it was probably only a moment or two. Then he keyed the mike.
"Greta?" he called plaintively, his voice a pitiful empty echo. There was no answer.
After a long moment, Larry came back on. "Charlie, it's over. Why don't you give it up?"
"You're lying to me, aren't you, cop? She wouldn't bail on me."
"It's no bull, Charlie. Look, I'd like to work this out with you. Why are you doing this?"
Charlie's face was a tortured trampoline of doubt. Betrayal and defeat sat heavily on his shoulders. The one ally he'd been counting on had split. Surrounded and running out of options, his feet moved first one way, then the other. He stared at the microphone like it was a handful of dog shit.
He dropped the handset then like it was on fire and pulled off his glasses. He laid them on the roof of the car and rubbed his eyes squeezing the bridge of his nose and taking deep breaths. Without the heavy glasses on his face he looked smaller and vulnerable. Like a nearsighted giraffe blinking and squinting in a high wind.
I was laying on my belly with my face on the deck. The metal under me was cold and damp, and the side of my head and neck throbbed with shooting pains. I struggled to keep my eyes open and looked around to see if I could crawl under the car but it was too low.
Charlie noticed my movements and put his glasses back on. Then he put his foot on my back pinning me in place. He wiped his nose with his sleeve and started talking into the mike, his voice calm and deadly. Something had shifted. Like he had a plan.
"Now listen up, cop. I'm in charge now and this whole freaking tub will go off like a Roman candle if you screw up. Bring that blond security bitch back down here now.”
My scalp went cold and the ice worms started down my back again. “You don’t need her, Charlie,” I said to him.
“Yes, I do. When the chopper gets here, we’re going to go up to the top deck. She’s going to be my hostage, so I can get to the chopper. You think they’re going to let me just walk up there after I leave the gasoline down here?”
He had a point. The whole reason they were talking to him was the threat of an explosion. Once he walked away from it they’d overpower him in an instant.
“But you’ve got me, Charlie. You can use me for that.”
“Ha, you must be kidding. They don’t give a shit about you. They think you’re with me. They’ll pop you with their first shot.” He smirked at me. “You had to go play hero, didn’t you?”
His words knifed into me like a cold steel blade. He was right. I felt a tunnel of darkness close in around my face. My heart started to pound. I could feel it hammering in my chest.
“I didn’t understand that last part, Charlie. Who do you mean?” Larry’s voice came over the radio.
“That blond security woman. I had her down here with me at first. Her name's Rainey. Get her down here now.”
There was a pause.
“NOW!” he screamed into the mike.
Larry held his hands up at the window again. “Okay, okay, take it easy, we’re working on it.”
Then Charlie leaned down to me and said, “The stakes are going up, man. If things don’t start happening soon, it’s gonna get ugly fast. And you know what else, Johnny? You just became expendable. What do I need you for?”
I started panting. My teeth were clacking together, and my mind was racing. I caught an image of Rainey with duct tape around her face. I couldn’t let that happen again. I took a deep breath, twisted to the side and shoved Charlie's foot off my back. The sudden move caught him off guard and he stumbled backwards. I rose to my feet as he regained his balance and leveled the gun at me.
"Hold it right there, jerkoff."
I looked straight at him with all the resolve I could muster. Rolling my shoulders and shaking my legs I ignored him and tried to loosen up my stiff muscles and knees. Charlie straightened his arm extending the barrel at my face but just out of reach. I gave him a look of contempt and without a word I turned and headed for the doorway.
“Stop. Where the hell you going?” Charlie pointed the gun at my head.
I kept walking. “You’re not going to shoot me, Charlie. You’ll set this whole place off.” I was surprised to hear the calm in my own voice. Calm was the last thing I was feeling.
“Stop right there, asshole,” Charlie hissed at me, glancing over at Larry.
I stopped out where the negotiator could see me easily from his place in the window and turned to face Charlie with my arms held high.
He was tracking me across the floor, his arm straightened. I imagined his finger tightening and going white on the trigger.
I thought he might fir
e at any second, but I didn’t care. I was beyond caring. I had slipped into a different zone. A place where my own safety didn’t matter anymore. The only thing I could think about was how to stop this animal. I couldn’t let him hurt people that I cared about.
On every battlefield on the planet, soldiers fight to the death. They do it for country, they do it for religion. Some even do it for money. But more than anything, soldiers fight for each other.
Fight for me, I’ll fight for you. We’re in this together. All for one and one for all. Warriors.
I knew if I let him pull Rainey back into this, I’d never be able to live with myself. It was clear as a bell. And if she got hurt or killed, life wouldn’t mean a damn thing to me ever again.
I’d gotten her into this mess in the first place. The whole thing was my own stupid fault. If I’d just let the ferry sail away from Chenega without me, none of this would have happened.
I could have stayed with the airplane on Taroka and let it all play out without me. But no, not me. Not Johnny Wainwright, self appointed local hero. What was wrong with me anyhow? Why couldn’t I leave well enough alone? Playing the hero and putting Rainey at risk? It sent me right over the edge. Thanks, Charlie.
But, to hell with it, this wasn’t therapy hour. I had a maniac on my hands. It was him or me. And the time was now. If I survived I could make an appointment with Doctor Phil.
I glanced toward the door and saw it open slightly. They were going to do something. Something needed to happen, and it was up to me. There wasn’t going to be a lot of time.
I stared hard at Charlie. He waved the gun at me to come back to him. “No, Charlie! Give it up, you freaking LOSER!” I shouted as loud as I could glancing toward the door.
I started backing away, but Charlie moved fast then, running at me. His eyes were crazy. I jumped away and dodged his clutches, and I saw his left hand go in a jacket pocket. It came out holding a light green plastic lighter.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. Two dark shapes bent over low came through the doorway scattering gas cans in all directions. They rushed down the stairs and disappeared behind the big red pickup.
Charlie saw them too. His lips curled into a snarl and he turned to aim in their direction. I took another step backward but smacked into a camper shell with a loud clunk. Charlie turned and lunged at me again swinging the handgun at my head. I leapt to the side and ducked my head, twisting wildly trying to avoid the impact.
He missed me, hitting the camper wall instead. He cursed and dropped the gun. It clattered loudly on the metal deck and disappeared under a car, and Charlie fell to his knees in front of me grabbing after it. I kicked hard at his hand and saw the lighter go flying. He looked stunned, but I didn’t wait. I groped at his face with both hands and caught hold of the heavy glasses. Ripping them from his eyes I turned and ran.
He screamed and scrambled to his feet, but I didn’t look back. I grabbed the front corner of the car parked beside me and hurled myself around the corner. I slammed his glasses to the deck and stomped them as hard as I could. Pieces of glass flew in all directions.
I could feel him coming. Past the front of the car by then, I threw myself to the deck and crawled under a blue Ford Expedition in the next row. I heard Charlie’s rasping breath and footsteps slapping the wet floor on the other side of the car. They were coming my way.
I was splashing on my belly in a shallow pool of gasoline. The fumes and the foul liquid assaulted my eyes, but I kept scratching and crawling to get under the car. My fleece jacket caught on something and held me in place.
I saw Charlie’s feet about to turn the corner above me when suddenly the lights went out. In an instant we were swallowed by total darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE