by Jessie Cooke
Billy shrugged and held out his hand. Gunner watched as his friend used the tool to pop the cover off the motor. He stuck the tool down inside the motor and dug something out. Gunner watched as he pulled out a thin rope with a wooden handle on the end. “Open that valve on the fuel primer,” Billy told Gunner. Gunner opened the valve and Billy said, “Squeeze that bulb until you can hear fuel squirting.” Gunner did that five or six times and when the fuel began to squirt, Billy said, “Rotate the valve back and put your hand on the throttle.” Gunner did that and watched as Billy attached the rope he was hanging onto to the flywheel. “Now advance the throttle.” Gunner smiled and breathed a sigh of relief when the engine purred to life. He went over and started to untie the rope that attached the boat to the launch slip, but on second thought he took out his pocketknife and cut it close to the dock and pulled the rest of it into the boat with them. He wasn’t sure how he would get onto the ferry. A rope might come in handy.
“You’re amazing.”
“I know,” Billy said, proudly.
“Seriously, I could kiss you.”
“You wish,” Billy told him. “You know how to drive this thing?”
“Nah, but how hard could it be?” Gunner pushed the throttle up further and the boat lurched, throwing Billy into the side and almost knocking him over the side.
“Fuck, man! You’re going to kill us!”
“Sorry, I got this.” He didn’t have it, and he nearly tossed them both over the side several times before he got it figured out. Keeping the throttle on the boat even so it didn’t jerk and slosh water in on them was a lot harder than it seemed, and by the time they got far enough out that the onboard lights of the ferry were back in sight, they were both soaked and freezing. “I’m going to get as close as I can and cut the motor. I think I can swim up close enough to pull myself up.”
“That water is freezing, dude.”
Gunner gave Billy a look that said, “You think?” while looking down at his wet clothes. “I can’t get too close in case there’s anyone on that upper deck looking down. You ever been on a ferry?”
“Nope.”
“I wonder how many decks there are?”
“Looks like two to me, and there’s a small one on top, probably for the captain or whatever the guy is called who drives a ferry.”
Gunner nodded. “So it’s likely that Tamara and whoever else they have on there are down below.”
“What are you going to do when and if you get down below? We won’t be able to fit more than one person in here.”
“You’re going to call Dax and keep calling him until you get through. By the time I find them, Dax can probably be here with help.”
“There are at least two men with automatic rifles on that boat, probably more that we didn’t see. Your gun is like a toy compared to theirs.”
“You’re awfully negative.”
Billy sighed and shook his head. “Sometimes I wish that I lived in your delusional world. It would have to be easier.”
“It’ll be fine,” Gunner said, not believing it himself. “I’ll have the element of surprise.”
“You’ve always been a little touched in the head, Adam, but this time you’ve lost your fucking mind. And over a woman. I never would have guessed it.”
“She’s hot,” Gunner said and grinned.
“We’ll see if she still likes you after you freeze your dick and balls off in this river.”
Gunner grinned at him again and stripped off his sweatshirt. He sat down and took off his boots and pants. He was left in a t-shirt and boxer shorts, and so cold that his extremities were going numb. He tucked the gun in the elastic band of his shorts and then looked at Billy, who was still shaking his head. “You’ve lost it, man,” Billy said again.
“I was going to smoke it away one brain cell at a time anyway,” Gunner said.
He gave the boat enough throttle to get them a little closer to the ferry. When they were maybe twelve feet from it, he reached over and killed the motor. “You think I can lasso the tail end of that ferry?”
Billy laughed. “Hell, no.”
Gunner gave him a dirty look as he rolled up the rope. The rope was close to twelve feet long but the ferry was still moving. They’d have to get closer. He felt confident as he made a loop at the end of the rope and knotted it. “Wish me luck.”
“Yeah, good luck,” Billy said, sarcastically. There was a protrusion on the back of the ferry but it was perilously close to the motors. Gunner used the little flashlight to carefully search the side of the ferry, making sure not to shine the light up onto the decks. Near the back of the ferry he saw what looked like a ladder.
“What’s that ladder for?” he asked Billy.
“Looks like a dive ladder,” Billy said. “Boats have swim ladders so when they anchor out in the ocean and people go swimming they can get back on. I’m guessing that one was put there for diving and not swimming. I’ve heard they have hollow buoys that they use for smuggling and God knows what else. They probably dive off to pick up that shit and use the ladder to get back on.”
Gunner started the boat motor again and Billy sat down and held on. They followed the ferry a little longer until they got to a narrow cove where the big tub had to slow down. This time he got within about six feet, praying the sounds of the ferry motor were loud enough to drown out the small motor of their boat. He killed the engine again and after circling the rope over his head like he’d seen done in movies, he tossed it toward the ladder. It fell about a foot short into the water. He pulled it back and tried again. He was about to try for a third time before Billy said, “You want me to do it before they get out of range again?”
Gunner rolled his eyes and handed Billy the rope. Secretly he hoped his friend could get it, because he was beginning to doubt that he could. Billy wound the rope up and tossed it, ringing the top of the ladder on the first try. As he held onto the rope it visibly tightened and once the slack was gone, the ferry began to tow them.
“You better hurry,” Billy said.
“Thanks, man.” Gunner steeled himself for what was about to come, and put his leg over the side and lowered himself down into the icy water.
“Fuck…Oh, Jesus!” He had to suddenly wonder if Billy was right and his balls would freeze right off. He’d never been so cold in his life. “I thought I knew what blue balls was…but fuck, this is really it.”
“Told you,” Billy said.
“Call Dax,” Gunner said before he took hold of the rope and slowly followed it up toward the ferry as it towed him. They weren’t all the way out in the open water yet, so it was still going slowly, but the water was still churning up close to the big ferry and it was forced into his nose and mouth and down into his lungs. He felt like he was choking, it was hard to see, and his teeth were chattering together, hard…but when he got close enough, he held the rope in his right hand and grabbed for the ladder with his left. His hand slipped the first time and he fell back into the water, getting another nasal enema from the cold dirty water. Three tries later, he was finally holding on tightly enough to pull himself up onto the ladder. He didn’t let go of the rope until he was on the second rung and needed to use both hands. His muscles ached worse than they did after any fight he’d ever been in, and his arms and legs were shaking violently. He told himself as he struggled to climb toward the rails that Billy was right, he had lost his mind. He was one rung away from climbing over the side, and that was when he heard Tamara’s voice. She was yelling, and maybe crying.
“Where is she? Where is Chloe?”
“Shut up, bitch! You’ve already caused too much trouble. I’m going to toss you back into that fucking water in a minute and tell Eddie you both drowned.”
“No! Oh, God, no! She was just a little girl…” Tamara was sobbing so hard that her words were barely intelligible. Gunner’s heart felt like it was breaking for her and he wanted to kill someone for making her feel that way.
“Take her down below, but don’t pu
t her with the others. She’ll try to rally a fucking mutiny. She thinks she’s special because her daddy is a fucking MC thug. Let’s give her some time to think about how special she’s going to be turning tricks in Cuba.”
“When it gets really bad I’ll think about my father cutting off your dick and choking you with it,” Tamara said. Gunner smiled. She was definitely not going to take anyone’s bullshit lying down. The smile fell from his face quickly however, and another flood of rage filled his veins, when he heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh and Tamara crying out.
“Get her the fuck out of here now. If she shoots off that mouth of hers again I’m putting my gun in it and pulling the fucking trigger.”
Gunner heard Tamara let out another little cry and then a lot of movement and maybe some scuffling. Left to her own devices she would probably fight them to the death. Gunner realized they had that in common. He’d never known when to quit—and hanging off the side of a ferry in the dark, in his underwear, freezing his ass off, proved it.
23
Tamara was dragged down a short flight of stairs and tossed into a small empty room. Before the man left he said, “You can shoot your mouth off in here all you want.” She didn’t answer him. The noise from the engine room two doors down was almost deafening. She would have to yell to be heard and she didn’t have any energy left in her reserves to do that. She was wet and cold and she couldn’t stop shaking, but mostly she couldn’t stop thinking about Chloe. She was just a little girl and she probably had parents who were searching desperately for her, and now they may never know what happened. Tamara was suddenly overcome by nausea and she turned over on her hands and knees as she began to retch. She didn’t have anything in her stomach, since the last time that she’d eaten was the sandwich she had with Gunner the night before. Or was it the night before that? She’d lost track of time. It felt like weeks had passed since that night.
She coughed up water and whatever other foul things had gotten into her stomach while she was gulping for air in the river. When she finally stopped retching, she turned back over and lay down on her back on the wooden floor. She knew she should take off her wet clothes so her body could warm up, but there was no way she’d be found naked by the freaks with guns. If she caught pneumonia and died, it would be preferable to what they had planned for her anyway.
She lay there with her eyes closed, and the gentle motion of the ferry threatened to rock her to sleep. She was exhausted. Her body ached all over and she was colder than she ever remembered being in her life. It would be so easy to slip into a dream and escape the nightmare reality she found herself in, but sleep would make her vulnerable. It would also make the time, between where they were and where they were taking her, go by too quickly. She had to figure out how to get the hell out of this mess before they dropped her off on some private island where she’d be auctioned off for sex. She shivered. What kind of disgusting human being does that?
She forced her eyes opened and looked around the room. It was only about 12′ x 6′ and there was just the one door. A round window was set in the wall about six feet from the floor, too high for Tamara to see out of it if she wanted to. There was no furniture, no furnishings, nothing at all she could use to escape or protect herself if one of the freaks came back. She slowly and painfully pushed herself up to her knees. She had to crawl over to the wall and hang onto it as she pushed up to her feet. Her legs were like strands of wet spaghetti and she had to lean into the wall for several minutes while the blood circulation returned to them. She reached up and touched the window with the palm of her hand. She didn’t know what she was doing. There was no one out there. No one knew where she was. No one was coming to help her.
She slammed her hand onto the window several times in frustration before sliding back down to the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest and sobbing once again. This time when sleep pressed in on her, she didn’t fight it. She let it take her away and it was a blessed relief.
There was a round window about three feet to Gunner’s left, as he hung off the ladder waiting for the deck above him to be clear. He looked toward it and saw motion. It was a hand, a small hand, a woman’s or a child’s, and at first it was simply pressed, palm down, against the pane. Then suddenly it began to bang at the glass, soundlessly. Gunner’s stomach twisted up in knots and the hand suddenly stopped slamming against the glass and disappeared. He tore his eyes away from the window and looked up. The next step he took would put him on the deck and he wouldn’t have cover any longer. After they took Tamara away, he’d heard more scuffling of boots and heavy bodies taking the steps downward. He waited until it had been silent for some time and then with a deep breath in and out, he held onto the ladder with his left hand and slipped the gun out of his shorts with the right. He was so cold, and his hands were shaking so hard, that he wasn’t confident he’d be able to hit anything, but if they were waiting for him when he pulled himself over the side, he was damned sure going to try.
Using the hand with the gun in it to hold on, he used the other hand to grasp the landing and pull himself up. His eyes were well adjusted to the darkness by that time and he could see right away that no one was standing around on the deck waiting for him. He breathed another sigh of relief, and with cold aching muscles, he pulled himself up onto the wooden landing on his stomach. He lay there for a few seconds, listening for any sound that might help him to know which direction to go. The only thing he could hear was engine noise coming from below the deck he was on. Other than that, everything was silent. He got up in a crouch slowly, and took a step. The board underneath his feet creaked, and he froze and listened again. When he didn’t hear any new noises, he moved forward. He kept going until he came to a set of stairs. It was a narrow passageway and there would be no way he could avoid being seen if anyone came up while he was on them. He looked around again. There were wooden boxes and crates everywhere but he couldn’t see any other openings. He would have to take the stairs and hope for the best. Gripping the gun in his shaky hand, he began descending the stairs.
Gunner took the steps down slowly and when he reached the third to the last step, he stopped again and steadied his gun hand as much as he could. The engine noise was a lot louder and that explained why he couldn’t hear anything else on the ferry. The good news was that meant they couldn’t hear him either. He gripped the gun tightly and stepped down until he was out of the stairwell and standing in a short hallway. There was a sign that pointed toward to the right and said, “Galley.” There was another that pointed left and said, “Engine Room.” Gunner went left toward the noise of the engines, hoping maybe he could find a way to stop the ferry and buy some more time. He passed two closed doors. One of them was marked, “Storage.” The other didn’t give any indication of what it was. He stopped next to each one and listened. He didn’t hear any movement or talking inside either one, so he continued to move forward. When he reached the end of the corridor there was an open door and the sign on it said, “Engine Room.” Gunner froze when he saw the man standing with his back to him, near what looked like a control panel. He raised his gun and approached him quietly. He could smell the strong odor of weed when he got up behind the man and saw the smoke curling up around his face. Gunner inhaled deeply in the hopes that the second-hand smoke would calm his nerves.
“Hey,” he finally said, loudly. The man started and dropped the blunt he was smoking when he spun around to face Gunner. His eyes shot left and Gunner’s went with them. He saw the automatic rifle sitting up against the wall. “If you go for that gun I will kill you. Put your hands up on top of your head.” The man’s hands were at his sides and he didn’t make a move to put them on top of his head. He looked like he was weighing his options. He was a stocky guy with a lot of muscle, but Gunner had at least a foot of height on him.
“Do you speak fucking English? Get your hands up on top of that bald fucking head.”
With a disgusted look, the short stocky man did what Gunner told him to do. “Who t
he hell are you? Captain Underwear?”
Gunner smiled. “I like that. Maybe that’s what they’ll call me in the movie. Today, however, I am here to either be your savior or the grim reaper, and I’m such a nice guy I’m going to let you pick which one.”
The man snorted. “My savior? What do you think I need saving from?”
Gunner grinned again and said, “The hell that’s going to rain down on anyone and everyone connected to Eddie Martini when the Head Hunters get here. But I might be inclined to put in a good word for you if you help me out here.”
“I’m not helping you with shit, Captain Underpants.”
“With me it’s Underwear,” Gunner said, “and that’s too bad about you not helping me. I was hoping that good weed you were smoking had put you in a mellow mood.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Hold your hands out to the sides with the palms facing me.”
“What the fuck for?”
“Because I said so and I have the gun. Now, do it.” With a disgusted sigh, the man did as he was told. Gunner aimed the gun at the man’s right hand and said, “Last chance to agree to cooperate with me, or I make it so fucking yourself will be painful.”
“Fuck you,” the man said again. He obviously wasn’t taking Gunner seriously. Gunner could see the problem. He was in his underwear, barefoot and shaking from head to toe. He could hear his own teeth chattering together inside his head. He was going to show the man he wasn’t joking. He’d never shot a human being before, so he was surprised at how easily he pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through the man’s right palm as his body flew back into the instrument panel and he slid down to the floor. He was screaming like a little girl and Gunner was hoping the noise in the engine room was keeping it from carrying.
“You put a hole in my hand, you crazy motherfucker! I’m going to kill you!”