Bunny Elder Adventure Series: Four Complete Novels: Hollow, Vain Pursuits, Seadrift, ...and Something Blue

by J. B. Hawker

  Max had been looking up websites about the Great Barrier Reef and showing Bunny photos taken underwater. She knew he wanted her to appreciate this liquid landscape and all its alien life forms which so fascinated him. She made the appropriate comments, no matter how insincere. She was determined to cooperate in this adventure with at least the appearance of enthusiasm.

  On the past several nights, Bunny had a recurring nightmare of being entangled in a mass of purple seaweed dragging her ever deeper into the depths. As she struggled to breathe, she would wake, with her heart racing and adrenaline rushing through her veins. It was nearly impossible to blot out the frightening images and return to sleep.

  Max observed Bunny growing more haggard and subdued. She still joined him in the pool and performed her daily exercises, but some of her former gusto was missing. He wondered if she might be angry with him for being uncooperative when she wanted to dig up all the misbegotten experiences from their separate pasts, but he’d never known her to brood about slights or hold a grudge.

  Taking such a long sea voyage had been a mistake. He would have been so much wiser to have introduced Bunny to sailing in small bites. This long stretch with no time in port to break it up was too much for her.

  There was no turning back now, though, so he must set himself the task of trying to make the remaining days before dropping anchor off Africa tolerable for her.

  “Hey, Buns!” Max called out, as he got an idea.

  “What is it?”

  “Come up on deck. I’ve got a proposition for you.”

  When Bunny approached the wheel, Max turned to her with enthusiasm and quickly presented his plan.

  “There are so many things for us to do when we arrive on the Queensland coast, and we have only a week there before flying home. I thought you might do some research on the Internet, since you are so good at that, and plan our itinerary. You can map out what sounds like fun to you. Once you have an outline we can put our heads together and make firm arrangements. How does that sound?” he asked hopefully.

  “Are you sure you want me to do it? You have all the experience with diving, and this is your dream…shouldn’t you take the lead?”

  “I’ll offer suggestions, of course, but we could stay for months and not do everything. It would be better if you narrow down the choices to activities you might actually enjoy.”

  “Then, sure. I’ll go get started on the research.”

  When Bunny went below, Max heaved a sigh of relief before leaning over and rapping his knuckles on the railing for good-luck.

  The first hits on Bunny’s computer search informed her there was a plethora of opportunities to swim, snorkel, dive and sail around the World Heritage-listed Great Barrier Reef.

  She was surprised to learn the reef is so big it can be seen from outer space and stretches more than two thousand kilometers along the Queensland coast. Visitors were encouraged to “Hop between the pristine, palm-fringed islands on top” then to “explore the rainbow-colored coral islands and marine life below.”

  They could set sail from Port Douglas for the Low Isles or anchor overnight at Butterfly Bay and visit the various reefs along the way. There were resorts on Daydream, Hamilton or Long Island for them to visit, as well.

  If they decided to take advantage of the great snorkeling and diving on the edge of the continental shelf at Agincourt Reef, they could explore shipwrecks. Or they could kick their flippers through vivid coral canyons and past marine turtles near Lady Elliot and Lady Musgrave Islands. In the Whitsundays, the warm clear water and psychedelic coral reefs are just a day trip from Airlie Beach.

  Mission Beach, overlooking the Coral Sea, was described as a relaxed beachfront town on the Queensland coast. With its many kilometers of golden sandy beaches, it is a “gateway to the Great Barrier Reef and a perfect base for visiting nearby islands. At Mission Beach, you can find either extreme adventure or an indulgent tropical escape.”

  Bunny liked the sound of an indulgent tropical escape and put Mission Beach on her tentative itinerary.

  The coastal village of Airlie Beach was mentioned as “a vibrant town filled with palm-fringed beaches, waterfront parks and alfresco dining restaurants” where they were sure to “instantly warm to its bohemian charm and carefree and relaxed attitude.” Airlie boasted luxurious island resorts where they could “sip cocktails by the pool, bask in the sun or relax in a spa”.

  Airlie Beach went on the list, too. She supposed she should add diving or snorkeling at Agincourt Reef, for Max’s sake, but just relaxing on the warm…and stationary…sandy beaches sounded perfect to Bunny.

  Growing up in Northern California, in a world framed by mountain ridges, Bunny felt insecure under a sky that stretched down to a flat horizon in all directions.

  When her late husband was called to pastor a church in the rolling flatlands of South Dakota, she spent many disoriented days before coming to terms with the unrestricted vistas.

  Life on the open sea was infinitely worse. She could easily understand early sailors’ fears of falling off the edge.

  

  The Mers Comtesse cut an erratic path through the waves, increasing the misery of those on board.

  Earlier, Warren Myers had been relieved by the quietness of the woman lying beside him. Now, her continued stillness worried him.

  He leaned forward and placed his hand on her neck, checking vainly for the throb of a pulse. A new surge of anger at the pirates flowed through him, and was quickly suppressed. He stood slowly and waved a hand to get the guard’s attention then spoke clearly in French, “Elle est morte.”

  The pirate started toward him threateningly, then seeing where Warren pointed, continued forward, signaling for them all to move back. He prodded Earla Mae’s inert form with his toe. Failing to get a response, he kicked the body with all his might. Once assured she was truly dead, he gestured to Warren and Franz to drag her over to the railing and throw her body overboard.

  Their distasteful task completed, the two were driven back into place while the pirate called out to his cohorts, presumably telling them what happened.

  Shimbir was interrupted in his search for the perfect target of the ransom demands by pounding on his stateroom door.

  “What is it?”

  “Another of the passengers has died, Shimbir.”

  “How many does that make?”

  “With the three yesterday, we’ve now lost twenty, not counting those disposed of during our takeover of the ship.”

  “Pheh! These foolish vacationers are so soft. Take away a few of their creature comforts and they begin to drop like flies.”

  The sailor turned to leave, but Shimbir stopped him.

  “If they keep dying at this pace we will have no one to ransom. We’d better start feeding them, I suppose.”

  “Do we give them the same food we are eating?”

  “No. Give them the garbage, the left-overs and anything spoiling in the restaurant kitchens. Set out a barrel of water for each group and something to dip it out with. That should be sufficient to keep them alive as long as we need them.”

  Chapter Seven

  A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance ─ Ecclesiastes 3:4

  “Floydie, I’m so scared!” Tricia Winston held her husband’s hand tightly and tried not to cry.

  “Hush, now. It’s gonna be alright,” he replied while patting her careworn hand.

  “It’s just not fair! This was supposed to be a wonderful holiday. I wish to hell we never won that damned ol’ lottery!”

  “Now, now. We’re gonna get out of this, somehow, and then we can get a fresh start on enjoying our winnings.”

  “Those horrible pirates are gonna kill us! We’ll never get home, and it’s all your fault for buying those damned lottery tickets. Didn’t I tell you a thousand times not to throw away our hard-earned money?”

  “But we won, didn’t we?” Floyd asked while lifting his weathered baseball cap to scratch
his balding scalp.

  “Yeah, and now we’re gonna get killed. You never listen to me.”

  “I listened to you about picking this cruise, didn’t I? I wanted to go on one of them high class Silversea ships we read about, with all the plush fittings and real live butlers, but you said you’d feel funny mixing in with all the high falutin’ folks and picked this old run-down tub, instead.”

  “Oh, shut up. You’re always yammering,” Tricia grumbled as she turned away with a sulky expression.

  The passengers were becoming more desperate with each passing day. There had been no more deaths since the pirates began providing food and water, but hope of being rescued was fading.

  The captives’ attention was drawn to a pair of men approaching. The brigands were dragging a woman, or the body of a woman, between them.

  Without commenting, they flung her to the deck amidst the others and walked away.

  “Sammy! Look, she’s moving. She’s alive. Somebody should help her.”

  “You are always so tender-hearted, Celine. Sit tight and I’ll go see what’s going on.”

  The large, homely woman cautiously approached this new arrival and squatted down to ask, “Are you okay, girl?”

  The injured woman moaned and tried to sit up. When she did, Sammy and the others saw her face was a swollen mass of cuts and bruises. From her scantily clothed body, she appeared to be in her early twenties, but her face could have been that of an older woman, or even a man.

  “What happened to you?” Sammy gasped out as the poor creature swooned back onto the deck in a faint

  “Psst! Celine! Come help me,” Sammy called while trying to ease the girl into a more comfortable position and assess her injuries.

  “Not me. She’s all bloody. I’m not a nurse, like you. You know I can’t stand blood,” Celine responded.

  Warren Meyers was watching all this and sidled over. He had reclaimed his shirt from Erla Mae’s corpse and used it now to provide a pillow for this injured woman.

  “Your friend said you are a nurse?”

  “Celine is not my friend. She’s my wife,” Sammy huffed.

  “Whatever. Are you a nurse?”

  “I was. I’m retired,” she replied, reluctantly giving up her aggressive attitude.

  “Is there anything we can do to help here?”

  “I can’t tell until I clean away some of this blood. She’s obviously been badly beaten, but I didn’t feel any broken bones, right off. Internal injuries are not so easy to spot, though.”

  Warren tore a strip off his erstwhile cruise shirt, dunked it into the water can, wrung it out and came back, handing it to Sammy.

  The former nurse gently swabbed the girl’s face, exposing abrasions, scrapes and a few deeper cuts, along with dark purple bruises. The tenderness of Sammy’s ministrations was at odds with her clumsy appearance and belligerent manner.

  Once again, the girl awoke and tried to rise.

  “Steady, now. You’re going to be okay. No one’s going to hurt you,” Warren soothed before asking, “What is your name?”

  “M-m-marki,” she mumbled through torn and swollen lips.

  When she spoke, broken and missing teeth were revealed.

  “Can you tell us what happened to you, Marki?” Warren asked gently.

  Marki tried to speak, but choked on the blood running down her throat. Sammy jumped up and brought her a scoop of stagnant water to rinse out her mouth.

  After spitting bloody water and a couple of teeth onto the deck, Marki looked around wildly with fear in her eyes.

  “Those men! They will come back! Hide me, please.”

  “Now, now, it’s okay. The pirates gave you to us. They won’t hurt you anymore,” Sammy reassured her.

  “Why did they beat you? Can you tell us what happened?” Warren asked.

  Marki was silent for a few moments and appeared to be gathering her thoughts before beginning to hesitantly tell her story, lisping occasionally through her damaged teeth and swollen lips.

  “I was with the other dancers, rehearsing for the cabaret show, when those animals broke into the studio with guns and began shouting and grabbing at us. Everyone was screaming and trying to run or hide. They shot Clinton, our lead male dancer. They shot him in the face….”

  “Go on,” Warren urged.

  “When they killed Clinton, we all just froze…it was such a shock, you know? Then the pirates pushed all us girls out into the hallway. We heard some shooting in the rehearsal room as we were herded toward the staterooms. They forced us into the rooms, two or three girls together, and then locked us in with a couple of guards. We were so frightened, but it didn’t seem real, you know? It was like it was happening, but maybe it wasn’t…it’s just so hard to believe any of it.”

  Marki’s voice grew faint and she closed her eyes in exhaustion.

  Celine had crept up beside her partner while Marki was speaking. She looked up at Sammy, now, her eyes wide with horror.

  “I was right! I was right about where all the entertainers went. But, did they really kill all the men?”

  “Sounds like it,” Sammy replied while squeezing Celine’s hand where she was clutching her arm.

  Marki coughed and winced.

  “Easy there, girl. You’ve probably got a cracked rib or two. I can see some nasty bruises on your side.”

  This comment made Marki suddenly aware of her near-nakedness. She was clad only in the remnants of her rehearsal clothes. Her over-sized tee shirt was gone and her leggings and sports bra were torn and bloody.

  Recognizing her embarrassment, Warren gently retrieved the remnants of his shirt, shook it out and draped it over her nudity. Marki flashed him a look of gratitude.

  “Thank you, Mr…?”

  “Meyers. Just call me Warren. Not much point in formalities.”

  “So, what happened after they took you to the rooms?” Celine asked, avidly.

  “Just what we should have expected, I suppose. Makenzie and Kayla, the other girls in the room with me, said we should just do whatever the men wanted. They figured we would be ransomed and no one would get badly hurt, if we just went along quietly.”

  “And did they?” Celine prodded.

  Marki nodded, “But I couldn’t do it. These guys aren’t going to let anyone go. They killed Clinton and most likely the other males in the cast, too. I wasn’t going to just let them do whatever they wanted to me, not if they were going to kill me, anyway. I’d rather go out fighting…so that’s what I did, for all the good it did me. I guess once I passed out the last time, they lost interest, or decided I wasn’t worth the effort. Anyway, the next thing I knew, I was here with you all.”

  By this time, the others in their group had clustered around to find out what was happening, although Marco and his mother held back, as though wanting to avoid attention after creating their own scene earlier.

  Virginia Ambrose leaned in to lay a hand on Marki’s shoulder.

  “Here, dear, take my wrap. I always wear one, what with air conditioning being so unpredictable, but I don’t really need it, now we are all staying up here on deck.”

  Marki accepted the lovely handmade shawl and stood up, shakily. She donned Warren’s shirt, tying the shirt tails together at her waist, and wrapped the shawl around her hips like a sarong.

  “How charming, my dear. I imagine when your poor face isn’t injured you must be quite attractive,” Virginia spoke, immediately regretting it when she saw the effect of her words on Marki, whose hands flew to her face.

  “Never mind, dear. It’s not so bad, after all, and will probably heal completely, in no time.”

  Marki sat back down, shakily easing back against a crate.

  “You guys go on and give this gal some room. I’m going to see what I can do for her cuts,” Sammy announced.

  The others returned to their usual places, except Celine, who insinuated herself between her partner and the injured girl.

  “What all did those horrible men do to yo
u?” she probed.

  “Not now, Celine. You leave the girl alone. Let her rest. I’m sure she will be happy to satisfy your curiosity when she feels more like herself.”

  Celine seemed about to object, then sighed and moved out of the way, so Sammy could care for the girl.

  “Now, we don’t have any real bandages, but I’m going to do what I can. I was a nurse, so at least I know enough to not make anything worse. Just you relax…‘Maxy’, did you say your name is?”

  “Marki.”

  “Well, Marki, this may hurt a tad, but we’re going to apply pressure to the little cut over your eye, so we can try to stop this oozing. Just relax, now.”

  Marki gasped as Sammy pressed doughy fingers against the wound, but then remained still without complaining while the retired nurse counted to herself. When she thought enough time had passed, Sammy lifted her hand from the cut, nodded with satisfaction and sat back on her substantial haunches.

  “You’re a good patient, Marki. I think that’s got it, at least as long as you stay quiet and don’t pull the skin apart. You’re going to have a bit of a scar, probably, but that just gives a face a bit of character, in my opinion.”

  

  Bunny closed her laptop with a frustrated snort.

  Nothing. She had made several searches in the past couple of days with no luck at all. Not one hit on the personal life of Max Banks. She found his professional listings with no trouble, but nothing else. There were plenty of sites that promised to tell her everything there was to know about anyone…for a fee. That was just too much like hiring a private detective for Bunny.

  Her big idea was a bust; she was going to need to convince Max to open up to her some other way. She didn’t want this to become a serious point of contention between them, but she felt deeply that Max’s reticence about the past needed to be breached in order for their future years together to be healthy.

  They couldn’t just laugh and play games all the time, after all…or could they?

  With a twinkle in her eyes, Bunny grabbed a pad of paper and a marker and began writing furiously.