Michael Vey 7

by Richard Paul Evans

  Taylor erupted in a bloodcurdling scream. For a brief moment everyone turned toward her. “Now!” Ostin whispered fiercely. He and Jack rolled off the side of the boat, dropping twelve feet into the water. With Taylor’s distraction, no one noticed their disappearance. They swam underwater, reemerging on the other side of the Joule, clinging to the boat beneath a small metal fin.

  “What now?” Jack asked.

  “Just stay close to the boat. It will pull us in to Fiji.”

  “How do you know it’s going to Fiji?”

  “It’s out of fuel.”

  “They could tow it back to Tuvalu,” Jack said.

  “Let’s just hope they don’t.”

  While Jack and Ostin held their place, the Filipino sailors swarmed the Joule’s deck, handcuffing Welch and the Joule’s crew while soldiers walked among the youths, strapping RESATs to them.

  Since neither Hatch nor the navy knew how many people were on the boat, no one even suspected that Jack and Ostin were missing. A patrol of six sailors climbed down the Conn, looking for anyone left behind. They returned fifteen minutes later with Kiki.

  “She’s the only one left. She says she’s the cook. She’s Fijian.”

  “Take her too,” the commander said. “We’ll let the Elgen sort them out.”

  The Glows, Welch, and the Joule’s crew were marched single file onto the largest of the ships, then taken belowdecks, where they were separated by gender and locked in four separate cells in the boat’s brig.

  “I want to speak to your leader,” Welch said from behind bars.

  The man he spoke to wore a bright white shirt with several gold bars and gold tasseled epaulets on his shoulders. “I am the leader. I am the ship’s captain.”

  “I demand to be taken to the American embassy. You’ve illegally taken us prisoner.”

  “We’ve done nothing illegal. You are war criminals. We are returning you to stand trial.”

  “We’ve done nothing against your country. The Philippine courts will free us.”

  The captain shook his head. “Yes, but we are not taking you to the Philippines. We have been ordered to return you to the location of your crime. We are taking you back to answer to President Hatch of the Hatch Islands.”

  PART TWELVE

  24

  Ostin and Jack

  By the time the navy boats started off, Ostin and Jack were already exhausted from the ocean waves slamming them up against the side of the Joule. Fortunately, Jack had found some narrow stainless-steel rungs that ran down the side of the ship to hold on to; otherwise they would have already been too tired to tread water.

  As the navy boats’ engines revved, Jack and Ostin lowered themselves back into the water so they wouldn’t be seen by anyone on the departing ships. As the ships moved out of eyesight, the Joule began to vibrate in a low, steady hum as its engines began to churn.

  “We need to climb up onto the side of the boat,” Jack said.

  “That’s too risky,” Ostin said. “Someone might see us.”

  “Have you ever tried to hold on to a waterskiing rope after you fell?”

  “I’ve never water-skied before.”

  “Trust me, you can’t hold on.”

  Ostin did the physics in his head. “You’re right.”

  They climbed back up the narrow, metal rungs until Jack, who was below Ostin, was perched just a few feet above the waterline. Still, an occasional wave tried to pry them off the side of the boat.

  Then the boat began to move forward. As the Joule picked up speed, it began to plane, spraying a steady stream of salt water against both of them.

  “How good a swimmer are you?” Jack shouted.

  “Not good,” Ostin replied. “Why?”

  “If they submerge, we’re going to have to swim to Fiji. It’s probably three or four miles.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that,” Ostin said.

  Jack thought a moment, then said, “Don’t worry about it. We’d probably get eaten by sharks anyway.”

  “You’re all kinds of sunshine today,” Ostin replied.

  About five minutes later Ostin pointed toward the eastern horizon. “That’s Fiji. We’re getting close.”

  “What’s the plan?” Jack asked.

  “Why are you asking me?”

  “Because you always come up with the plan. I’m the brawn; you’re the brains.”

  Ostin looked ahead at the approaching island, then said, “First priority is not getting caught. We’ll have to jump off before we reach port, then swim in.”

  “We’ll look weird, walking out of the ocean all wet.”

  “We’ll just look like dumb tourists who fell off a boat,” Ostin said.

  “Then what?”

  “We’ll need to somehow get a boat to get back to Tuvalu.”

  “How do we know they’ll take them to Tuvalu?”

  “Hatch would have insisted.”

  “How do we know Hatch was behind it?”

  “They had RESATs.”

  “Oh,” Jack said. “You’re right. But we’ll need more than a boat. We’ll need weapons. Maybe an army. Does Fiji have an army?”

  “Yes. It’s small. Thirty-five hundred soldiers. But Hatch probably owns them, too.”

  “He owns everyone.”

  “Not everyone,” Ostin said. “At least not yet.” Ostin thought for a moment, then said, “We don’t need an army. We already have one.”

  Jack looked at him. “Yeah? And where are you hiding it, your pocket?”

  “The Tuvaluan people. They’re like a bomb that just needs to be detonated. It could be like the eighteenth-century French Revolution when the people stormed the Bastille fortress for weapons. The Tuvaluans could attack Hatch at the Starxource plant. Enele is probably already planning that. We need to somehow find Enele. He’s the key.”

  “I like Enele,” Jack said. “He’s got that Polynesian warrior blood in him. But we’re still going to need a boat first. And a place to stay.”

  “Food would be nice too,” Ostin said. “I’m starving.”

  Just then a fish jumped out of the water, hitting the side of the boat and then smacking against Ostin. Ostin swatted it away, almost losing his grip.

  Jack laughed. “Why’d you do that? You said you were hungry. That was sushi-grade fish.”

  “I’d rather have a hamburger.”

  Jack shook his head. “If I see one swimming down there, I’ll let you know.”

  * * *

  About three hundred yards from the dock, the Joule slowed to a wakeless speed. Ahead of them, there were dozens of commercial fishing boats in the harbor, as well as a few large tankers.

  “That’s the port of Lautoka,” Ostin said. “Lautoka is the second-largest city in Fiji.”

  “We better jump off soon,” Jack said. “Before someone on one of those boats spots us.” He climbed down to the edge of the water. “You good to swim that far?”

  “I’m good,” Ostin said.

  “Let’s go,” Jack shouted, jumping into the water.

  Ostin held his nose and jumped in after him. When he came up, Jack was about thirty feet from him. The Joule was already a good distance away from them both.

  “Come on,” Jack shouted, swimming toward the shore. Ostin started after him, surprising himself at how much better a swimmer he was than he used to be. Fighting the Elgen was like training for the Olympics.

  When they were about a football field away from shore, Jack stopped and treaded water, waiting for Ostin to catch up.

  “Let’s swim over there by those sailboats,” Jack said. “Less likely anyone will see us.”

  “Lead the way,” Ostin said, panting.

  Jack reached the shore first, lifting himself up onto the wood-planked dock. Ostin arrived just a few minutes later. Jack reached down and pulled him up; then they both fell back onto the dock, panting.

  “Nothing ate us,” Ostin said.

  “Did you see that hammerhead shark swim beneath you?”<
br />
  Ostin’s eyes widened. “No.”

  “Me neither,” Jack laughed. He closed his eyes and asked, “Pop quiz. Would you rather be eaten by a shark or Elgen rats?”

  Ostin was quiet a moment, then replied, “A shark.”

  “Me too,” Jack said.

  “You know, the Fijians used to eat people. They called these the Cannibal Isles.”

  “You already told us that.”

  “I did?”

  “On the plane on the way here.”

  Ostin said, “That seems like a year ago.”

  “At least,” Jack said.

  They lay for a few more minutes as the sun dried them. The salt water stuck uncomfortably to their skin.

  “I need to wash off,” Ostin said.

  “Maybe they’ve got showers over on that beach.”

  Jack stood, then helped Ostin up. They were walking across a small grass strip toward the beach when a large native man asked in a British accent, “Are you two okay?”

  Ostin and Jack turned to see who was talking to them. The man was muscular and at least three inches taller than Jack. “We’re fine, thanks,” Ostin said.

  The man grinned. “Usually we put on swimsuits before we take a swim.”

  Ostin pretended to laugh. “We weren’t planning on swimming. We were out fishing and our raft sank.”

  The man looked at them quizzically. “Really? Your raft sank? How did that happen?”

  “A shark bit it.”

  Jack said, “A great—”

  “Bull shark,” Ostin said, knowing that there had not been a reported sighting of a great white in Fiji for many years.

  “There are many bull sharks near this reef,” the man said. “They can be aggressive. You’re lucky you’re still alive.”

  “We are,” Ostin said. “But we lost everything. Our raft, our fishing poles, our cell phones. Even the bag with our wallets.”

  “That’s too bad,” the man said, studying them. “Perhaps I can help you. That’s my house right over there. The green one. You can clean up. I can find you some dry clothes.” He looked at Jack. “Mine would fit you.” Then he looked at Ostin. “I’ll get you some clothes from my sister.”

  Jack hid his grin.

  The man stuck out his hand to Jack. “I’m Vishal.”

  “Vishal?” Jack repeated.

  “Yes. Almost every man in Fiji is named Vishal. It’s far too common.”

  “I’m Thomas,” Ostin said.

  “Thomas? That’s also a popular Fijian name.”

  He turned to Jack. “What is your name?”

  “Moki?” Jack said, making it sound more like a question than an answer.

  Vishal’s brow furrowed. “Moki? That’s a peculiar name. Are there many Americans named Moki?”

  “No. My mother was, like . . . Swedish.”

  Ostin rolled his eyes.

  “I didn’t know ‘Moki’ was a Swedish name. Very peculiar. It’s my pleasure to meet you, Thomas and Moki.”

  “Our pleasure,” Ostin said. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Glad to help. Follow me.”

  Ostin and Jack walked a few yards behind him.

  “Why did you say your name was Moki?” Ostin whispered.

  “Why did you lie about your name at all?” Jack replied.

  “We don’t know if he works for the Elgen.”

  “Would an Elgen guard offer to help?”

  “He would if it were a trap.”

  Vishal led them to his house. “Where are you two staying?” he asked Jack.

  Jack turned to Ostin. “What’s the name of that place?”

  “Suva,” Ostin said.

  Vishal looked at him curiously. “You rafted all the way from Suva?”

  “No, we rafted from Nadi.”

  Vishal seemed more satisfied with this answer. “There are many boat rentals in Nadi. So many tourists. I have friends in that business. Which company was it?”

  “Don’t remember,” Ostin said. “I just remember where they were located.”

  “And where was that?”

  Ostin paused, then said, “On the beach.”

  A slight grin crossed Vishal’s face, and he stopped in front of a small stucco house. “We are here. Come in. Please.” He opened the door, and Jack and Ostin followed him in. The house was simple, with only a few pieces of furniture. There was a large cross on the wall.

  “Excuse me a moment, please,” Vishal said. He left the room.

  “You’re a good liar,” Jack said. “I’ve never been very good at it.”

  “Thank you,” Ostin replied. “I think.”

  Vishal returned with two towels and some shorts and a T-shirt for Jack. Jack held up the T-shirt. It read:

  I’M FIJIAN

  BUT YOU CAN CALL ME

  AWESOME

  “Thanks,” Jack said. “That is awesome.”

  “You probably wish to wash the salt water from your skin. You can shower first if you like. The bathroom is right there.”

  “Thank you.” Jack went in to shower. Vishal lay an open terry cloth towel on the couch for Ostin to sit on, then sat down in a wicker chair across from him. “So, Mr. Thomas, where in the U.S. are you from?”

  At first Ostin was thrown by his own alias and looked around to see who Vishal was talking to. “Thomas? Oh, right. I’m from, uh, Idaho.”

  “Uh-Idaho,” Vishal echoed. “What state is that in?”

  Ostin looked at him blankly, then said, “California.”

  He nodded. “I know California. Hollywood. Disneyland. Richard Simmons.” He stood. “Just a minute.”

  After he was gone, Ostin looked around the room. There was no art and only two framed photographs. As he examined one of them more closely, he realized that the picture inside was really just the stock photo that came with the frame.

  A moment later Vishal walked in carrying a bowl and a teacup. “I brought you some Fiji grass tea and fish soup.” He set the cup and the bowl on the coffee table.

  “Thank you,” Ostin said, sitting back down. He quickly slurped down the soup while the man watched him. After Ostin had finished the soup, Vishal said, “You were hungry. I’ll get you more.” He took Ostin’s bowl, then walked back out of the room. Just then, Jack walked out of the bathroom. He was dressed in the shorts and T-shirt that Vishal had given him, and his long hair was wet and pulled back.

  “Seriously, that shower was life-changing,” Jack said. “Where’s Vishal?”

  “He went to get me some more soup.”

  Jack sat down next to Ostin. “Is it good?”

  “Yeah. But I’m so hungry, I’d call roadkill gourmet.”

  Vishal walked into the room carrying a bowl and a plate of reddish-purple chips with a white dip. “Mr. Moki, you are done.”

  “Yeah. Thanks. It’s good to get the salt water off. I hope it’s okay that I just left my clothes hanging in there. I washed them in the shower.”

  “That will be fine.” He set the bowl and plate in front of Ostin. “This is rourou,” he said. “Do you know dalo?”

  Ostin examined the chips. “Taro chips?”

  “Yes. And tapioca.” He stood. “I will get food for Moki now.” Vishal again walked out of the room.

  “You guys been talking?”

  “Yes.”

  “About what?”

  “Not much,” Ostin said as Vishal walked back in carrying more tea and soup. He set the food in front of Jack. There was a fish head on top of the soup, the eye looking straight up at him.

  “That looks . . . delicious,” Jack said.

  “Thank you. I have one more thing.” He went back to the kitchen, returning with a plate of toast spread with butter and mango jam. He put the toast on the table, then sat down across from them. “I hope that’s satisfying.”

  “It’s more than satisfying,” Jack said. “Thanks.”

  “So, Moki, are you also from California?”

  Jack looked up. “California?” He glanced at O
stin. “Uh, yes.”

  “Where in California?”

  “Same as Ostin,” he said.

  Vishal’s brow furrowed. “Ostin? In Texas.”

  Ostin quickly interjected. “Sometimes Moki calls me Ostin instead of Thomas because I used to live in Austin, Texas.”

  “Oh,” Vishal said.

  “Oh, right,” Jack said, suddenly realizing his mistake.

  “But now he also lives in Uh-Idaho.”

  Jack just blinked. Ostin’s lies were getting weirder all the time, and he was having trouble keeping up with them.

  Ostin finished eating the second bowl of soup, then said, “I think I’ll shower now.”

  “I’ll find you some clothes,” Vishal said, standing. “There’s an extra towel in there.”

  “Thank you.” Ostin went into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

  The room was small—a porcelain toilet, a sink, and a shower-bath. There was a pink plastic curtain with pictures of tropical fish, and Jack’s clothes hung dripping across the shower rod.

  Ostin took them down, then took off his own clothes, tossing them into the bathtub and turning on the water. A light flow of warm water streamed out, and he climbed in, letting the water cover him as he lifted his clothes up onto the back of the tub to form a makeshift pillow. Finally he lay back and closed his eyes, water bouncing off his face and chest. He was exhausted, mentally as well as physically. Fear and stress can take a greater toll than physical exertion, and that was the case right now. Suddenly his tears began to mix with the falling water.

  It was the first time he’d truly been alone since the battle of Hades, and his thoughts immediately turned to Michael. He quickly pushed the memories out. He missed his friend, but right now it was more than he could handle. He couldn’t believe that after all they’d been through, he’d really lost him. And now he might lose McKenna and the rest of his new friends as well. These days, he couldn’t believe much of anything in his life. Everything was surreal. He felt like Alice in Wonderland, falling down the rabbit hole. And, like Alice, he hoped that he would just wake and find that it was all a bad dream, and then run over to Michael’s house for epic waffles and video games. But it wasn’t a dream. And those simple, carefree days were as far gone as his innocence. Nothing was simple anymore. And nothing was carefree.