Blue Ice Dying In The Rain

by Jim Craig

  I tried to avoid looking at her eyes, but it was no use. She had me. I remembered to breathe then and caught a whiff of lilacs. There was a hardness in my pants which was odd considering my state of exhaustion. Then I realized it wasn't me. It was a gun Greta was holding.

  I must have looked uncomfortable. "Oh, relax, Johnny," Greta said with a pouty smile. "I'm not going to hurt you."

  Said the spider to the fly, I thought to myself.

  I tried to move the weapon aside with one hand, but instead she pushed me down to sit on the floor with my back against the door. She looked out the window in the door for a second then sat on the floor below the counter beside me. She rearranged her hair with one hand and made herself comfortable. Her other hand held a shiny chrome semi-automatic handgun pointed at my heart. At least it wasn’t in my crotch anymore.

  With her ankles crossed she looked at me for a moment, then waved the gun toward the rest of the compartment. "Welcome to my world."

  I glanced around for the first time and took it in. Tambourine was laying beside her under the counter. He looked like he’d been sleeping, but as Greta settled into place, he laid his head on her leg. She stroked his pile of red hair with one hand. The hand that wasn’t full of firepower.

  Five feet away the captain was sitting on the floor with her back against a cabinet door. She looked tired and scared and not all that pleased to see me. It was a stark change from the proud confidence and command she’d displayed when she’d ordered me locked up just hours earlier.

  “Have you and Captain Ferguson met?” Greta asked me.

  I nodded and glanced at the captain, but she dropped her eyes and looked away with a bitter frown. There was a food tray beside her on the floor stacked high with empty plates and cups and trash.

  Greta tilted her head in the captain’s direction. “Her name’s Betty. Captain Betty to you, Johnny. And Captain Betty isn’t very happy right now, are you, Captain Betty?”

  That’s when I noticed a yellow rope tied around the captain’s neck. Greta watched me as my eyes traced the rope from the captain’s neck down and around her wrists then across the floor to a support leg beside us under the counter. The rest of the bridge was empty. Radios and equipment screens stared blankly back at us.

  “Thanks for coming,” Greta grinned and nudged me with her foot. “I’ve been needing someone to protect me from the carpet hugger out there.” She nodded toward the hallway behind me, and I thought about the guy in the ski mask with the gun. Less than ten feet away and patiently waiting for a shot. I glanced back at Greta. She must have seen the alarm in my eyes.

  “Yeah, I know. They’re on the roof too. I know, I know. There's men all over the place. And they all want me,” she chuckled low in her throat.

 

  I gaped at her like a dope. Speechless.

  “It’s about time you got up here. So, how’s it going, Johnny? You’ve got new clothes. And a shower? What have you been doing?” she asked looking at my ensemble.

  I looked back at her and tried to think of what to say. She was back from the door enough to stay out of the line of fire. She had reduced her whole world, and mine too, to this small space.

  Her defenses were intact. She had my complete attention and that of many others. So close and yet completely out of reach. Untouchable. It dawned on me, that's how she ran her life. It was what she’d created, what she required. All the players were in place. She’d set it all up like a stage play. Adding players as she needed them. Cutting them loose when they were through.

  I had been summoned to center stage. I was now sitting at drama central.

  I tried to avoid her eyes but it was impossible. She looked perfect. Her face was smooth and white. Her lips were painted bright red like she’d just touched up her lipstick. The long blond bangs she draped over the side of her face hung down to her chin framing her jaw line in an artistic curve. She had on a light weight black leather jacket over a red silk turtleneck and designer blue jeans with sequins swirls. Instead of the knee high white boots she was wearing sparkling slip on sandals with thick platform soles. She looked like a Christmas time shopper having tea at the food court rather than committing a major felony.

  She brushed the hair back from her face and turned her head straight toward me. I couldn’t believe it, but it started to happen again. The magnetic pull of her eyes reached for mine and locked me in their embrace. Something deep in their blue brilliance beckoned me from afar and set a table for two between us too inviting to resist. I felt that sensation again like I was looking at the cover of a high fashion magazine.

  She was a wonder to behold and strangely dangerous at the same time. It would have been easy to let myself sink into the fantasy and forget everything I'd learned about her, but the handgun in her lap made it impossible to ignore.

  Her eyes were working on me. Without a word I felt myself slipping. I could forgive a face like that for anything. I knew I was being a fool, but it didn’t seem to matter. Why was every fresh look at her like falling in love?

  “Talk to me, Johnny.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to look away. It was no use. Her voice was intimate, soft, vulnerable, warm and inviting. Then I remembered that I was supposed to be doing the talking instead of vice versa.

  “What's happening here, Greta?”

  She sighed. "I don't know, Johnny. You tell me." There was a sadness in her voice.

  “The police told me …” I started to say, but she cut me off.

  “I'm tired, Johnny. This whole thing is getting old.”

  I could relate to that. Fatigue was wearing me down as well. But this ball was rolling. She'd set it in motion and she was holding all the cards. I remembered what Larry had told me about her mental state. I started to think he was right about her.

  “And what did you summon me for?”

  “Summon? How formal, Johnny. You make me sound like the queen from Alice in Wonderland.”

  Interesting image, I thought. Wasn’t she the crazy one who screamed ‘off with her head?’ I kept that thought to myself.

  “I like you, Johnny. You make me smile. Besides, I need a man like you.”

  “Like me? How do you mean?”

  “Well, Charlie’s gone and I don’t like being alone.”

  “What happened to our plan. I thought you were going to wait for me on Chenega. To come get you with the plane. Remember?”

  “Yes, I remember. You're sweet, Johnny. But when I saw the fog this morning, I knew you weren't coming. And when we found out about the ferry it seemed like the better way to go."

  “But Charlie was going back to Taroka. Why didn't you just let him go?"

  She sniffed and looked away. "He wasn't going back to Taroka. That was a big lie. Are you kidding? He's lost without me."

  "You know, he told me everything that happened."

  I expected her to explain, to blame everything on him, but she stayed quiet. She looked at me again, studying my face. The mask was crumbling. Someone was looking behind the curtain.

  "Whatever, Johnny," she finally said.

  I knew I was pushing it, but I had to know. "Why did you cut him loose?"

  "He was losing it. And I've had enough of his weird angry routine. I'm better off alone."

  That said a lot. She really was alone. With the act she was running she could never really let anyone get in too close.

  "But why this? Why not just give up, Greta? You can blame it all on him. You know, like the battered wife thing or something?”

  She chuckled again and examined her nails. She looked so small and fragile, I fought off an overwhelming urge to take her in my arms and hold her close.

  “You suppose they’d overlook this whole hijacking at gunpoint thing, Johnny?” She looked up at me half smiling through her eyelashes, her eyes half open.

  I couldn’t believe how calm she seemed. I supposed it was an act. She had professional experience at presenting a manufactured façade regardless of
the turmoil within.

  “Sure. Tell them it was a lapse of judgment. A blond moment. Well, maybe a little late for that. But if you give up now, you might be able to get a better deal.”

  “You’re sweet, Johnny, but no. Can you really see me in a jail cell? Little moi?” She arched her back and held her hands out like a cabaret dancer taking a bow. “And those prison jumpsuits are so tacky. And bright orange? Or stripes? I’ve never worn stripes, Johnny,” she said with feigned disgust.

  I shook my head with a smile and looked at her closely. She was enjoying herself. In some strange way even this kind of attention suited her. Center stage. The belle of the ball. Making history. Infamous history maybe, but pretty spectacular all the same.

  I looked down at Tambourine. I could see he was awake even though his eyes were closed.

  “Hey, tiger. You doing alright?”

  He opened his eyes then and looked at me. I searched in there for a sign. Any glimpse of something for a connection. I even wiggled my eyebrows at him for a clue, but he just shrugged, rolled over with his back to me and gripped Greta’s leg even tighter. I thought he might even put his thumb in his mouth.

  I looked back at Greta. She rolled her eyes about the kid and sighed.

  “C’mon, Johnny. I need you to get me out of this.”

  “Me? Why me? What the hell can I do. You’ve got the captain there. She can do a lot more than I can.”

  Greta glanced at Captain Ferguson who was looking the other way with her arms crossed and the expression of a long suffering stranded airline passenger. Forced to spend the night on a hard bench in the terminal.

  “No, she’s not into it. She's just not fun like you are, Johnny. And besides, I need a man. I need a man to take care of me. Charlie tried. He really did. But in the end he didn’t have it. It’s too bad. I had hope for him, but he wanted to keep me out on that island. All to himself, you know. That wasn’t going to work. Help me, Johnny. Take charge of this. Get me out of here. I’ll make it worth your while.” She put her hand on my knee.

  Her little girl voice was talking to me. She was reaching deep into my heart. Looking up at me and pleading for every protective instinct I’d ever had to rescue the damsel in distress.

  Be the big brother, Johnny. Be the knight in shining armor. Save me from the harshness of life in this cruel world. I’m weak and small but you’re big and strong. Do this for me and I’ll be yours forever.

  She didn’t have to say any of those words. I heard them anyhow, whispering to me from some place far away. From deep in the blue of her eyes the dream beckoned.

  I tore my eyes away from hers and tried to conjure up a clear thought. What had the sergeant told me? The helicopter was nearby. If I could get her off the ship, that would help. Something had to break the standoff.

  She must have noticed my effort to detach. She reached over and took hold of one of my hands. Her touch was warm and almost took my breath away.

  “Johnny, please.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and fought it. I couldn’t look at her. I knew if I looked at her, I’d be lost.

  “Why don’t you give me the gun, Greta? That would make everything easier.”

  She pulled her hand back with a jerk. That did it. I couldn’t help myself. I looked at her.

  The blue in her eyes was changing. Transforming. The warmth was cooling fast. Tendrils of ice began to spread in from the edges. I was instantly sorry I'd pushed my luck.

  “You’re not going to help me, are you?” The little girl voice had left town, replaced by a different tone, cold and accusing.

  Then she gave me her pouty look again and pushed out her lip. Even now on the edge of this cliff, she was playing it to the hilt. Playfully, mockingly. In case I might come to my senses and give in to her wishes. The door was still open.

  She wasn’t going to give up. Maybe she didn’t know how. I strained to think of something to say, something to do that could turn this around.

  Could I grab the gun before she shot the captain? Or shot me? I glanced at it. The hammer was back, ready to go. I looked up to see Greta watching me and shaking her head slowly from one side to the other with a sad smile.

 

  "Don't even think about it, Johnny. I know what I'm doing with one of these."

  Then a cracking sound came from the other end of the bridge. It startled both of us and I looked down the length of the bridge past the captain. Something was happening at the other door.