The Weak Shall Die: Complete Collection (Four Volume Set)

by Taylor Michaels

  "So, you're saying all that yelling and writing is therapeutic. Not just a matter of giving them something to do, but a way to give them back some feeling of control over their lives?"

  "Oui. précisément."

  "So how do we get back in control?"

  "Mon cher, we are women. We are always in control -- of the men. And now, I shall put myself in control of something else," she said, standing up and wiping herself with a towel.

  A passing crewman turned to watch, stumbled and fell into the rail and then onto the deck. Getting up, he smiled and slowly walked away with his hand on the rail and his eyes still on Marceau.

  "What do you want to control, other than the men?"

  "My dinner. I am sick of this English cooking. I am going to the kitchen. Prepare yourself for a great dinner."

  "I hope you are going back to your room first to put on some clothes. You shouldn't be around the crew or even cook in that tiny French bikini."

  "Do you remember what John said?"

  "Yes."

  "Then, you must go with me. First, we go to the kitchen to talk to the chef. I will tell him what I am going to do and what I want him to do. Then, we will, as you say, go put on some clothes."

  "You never lose control, do you?"

  "Mais non."

  Marceau and Elspeth began spending most of each day helping the cook. He was happy to have two attractive women in his tight little kitchen. He didn't care what they were cooking or how. Most of the time, he just stood and watched. Occasionally, he squished himself into a bulkhead so Marceau or Elspeth could squeeze by him.

  Cho held fast and argued and screamed with the guys. Masako gave up worrying about the details of the details and became secretary, only writing down what the others were saying. Occasionally, she heard something she thought was important and put it on her own list of things important to her. A list that required no debate.

  * * *

  After nine boring and difficult days at sea, the ship approached Halifax. The rooms were not small, which made up somewhat for the lack of entertainment. However, entertainment was not lacking for those who participated in the detailed planning sessions. Container ships weren't luxury liners but were working ships. At the least, that meant keeping out of the way of the crew when on deck. Also, the aft section was troubled by dust formed by burning heavy fuel oil in the boilers. Sun bathing was limited to the forward section, but that was where the highest winds were.

  Elspeth had begun spending most of her time drinking, when she wasn't guarding Marceau. She had a greater alcohol tolerance than Terry Porter had given her credit for, never being so soused that she couldn't stand up, go to the bar and pour herself another drink. Cho, Masako and Marceau bonded and spent much of their time discussing John's shortcomings.

  The port was in a channel and the Navy had said they would inspect the ship at the dock as the manifest had revealed nobody of Chinese origin and everybody had been on board for weeks.

  "Bloody hell, John. Are you serious about this? We could be trapped in this iron box. Looks a bit dodgy, don't you think?" Elspeth said, bottle in hand. "You want me to live in a giant metal box and crap in a can with everybody watching?"

  "You haven't eaten anything in two days. Crapping won't be one of your problems. Also, I put the can behind some boxes. Nobody will watch you."

  "This better be worth it," she said, upending the bottle. "Are you really sure this will work?"

  "As sure as anybody can be, Elspeth. From what we've seen on the internet, everybody in the world hasn't gone totally paranoid yet. Most people think this will blow over and they will be back to normal in a few weeks, in spite of a few gruesome deaths. A few months at most. If they locked us in a container and never opened it, then they would expect that eventually someone would find out. It would be traced back to the ship. To this crew and this captain. Anyway, I bribed one of the crew to provide a cutting torch. If we have to, we can cut ourselves out of the container. Always have a backup plan. That's my motto."

  "Yes, me too. I'll put the can opener back in the kitchen."

  As the ship approached the channel, John and his party were packed inside one of the heavy steel containers and locked in. John gave the Captain two of the gold coins and promised the other two when they left the ship. Navy officials and customs agents came aboard, inspected the crew, and glanced over the giant stack of cargo containers, finding nothing, except for the absence of Mike. That required an hour to prepare the required paperwork. A day later, they were back at sea, everyone was back in their rooms, and the boxes taken from the container were put back in their container with the lock repaired.

  "They were just going through the motions, the Captain said. They didn't want to find anyone or anything. Especially since the ship was just loading cargo."

  "What next stop, John? Last stop?"

  "Yes, I think so. We'll drop over the side just north of Norfolk. Terry Porter arranged with the Captain for a small boat. Some friends will meet us on the beach with a couple SUVs. Tomorrow night. Then a day's ride home."

  "Then, all this over."

  "Then, all we have to do is figure out how to survive in a land where people will shoot you if you walk through their backyard. And now those people will be hungry and completely out of control."

  * * *

  A little after midnight, the day before arriving in Norfolk, there was a knock on the door. John had been expecting it and was ready. His bags were packed. He had three guns on his person. Everyone else had packed their bag and had a weapon.

  "Yes, Captain."

  "Your chariot awaits and I await the remainder of your promise."

  John held out his hand with two gold coins. "The boat is here?"

  "Yes. Alongside. Gather your party and depart at your leisure, but don't take more than five minutes. You don't want to attract unnecessary attention."

  John wondered what the captain meant and finally decided that the Coast Guard might be watching or some NSA satellite. The boat was full, but it did have a small motor. Apparently, Terry Porter's influence extended all the way across the Atlantic, at least on a British ship. John pulled out his GPS and pointed the boat toward the Delmarva Peninsula and the small town of Eastville along the coast in southeastern Virginia. It was pitch dark with an overcast sky and cool with a slight breeze. The internet said they had a twenty percent chance of rain. John hoped this was one of those four out of five times when twenty percent was actually zero percent.

  John's last landfall at night still gave him bad dreams and Cho occasionally woke up at night yelling, "Mama." The little motor was underpowered, and the boat moved slowly. As they approached land, another boat could be heard in the distance coming from the north. A high-powered boat by the sound.

  "What you think, John?" said Charles, with his gun in hand.

  "Pirates. They probably think we're drug smugglers from the container ship. Get your weapons ready, but keep them out of sight. Stay low. I'll kill the motor. If they don't hear us, maybe they won't see us."

  "How do you know they are pirates?"

  "Lights, Harry. The Coast Guard would have plenty of lights. These guys don't even have running lights."

  A small spotlight came on and began to sweep the water. John could hear his heart thumping loudly in his ears, the sloshing of the ocean against the boat hull and the roaring of the engine a thousand feet away. The searchlight swept back and forth across the water's surface until finally, the light hit their small boat.

  "Ahoy. You in the boat. Ahoy."

  "Ahoy. What do you want?"

  "Do you need help?"

  "No, thanks. Just doing some fishing. Didn't catch anything. Getting ready to go back in."

  "Mind if we come aboard and check? Sounds like you need some help. We don't hear your engine."

  "No need," John said, starting the engine. "The engine is working fine. We're going now. Thanks."

  "We're coming aboard."

  "Stay away. Plague," John y
elled.

  "You think that work?"

  John shrugged. "It was the first thing that popped into my mind. It would work better if you said it. As loudly as you can."

  "You no come!" Cho yelled at the top of her voice. "Plague. Bad. They throw us off ship. Mama sick. Dying. You go away. Stay alive."

  "That bought us a little time. They stopped. But keep alert and everyone stay low."

  "Jean, do you think they have a rifle?"

  "You'd better load yours, Pierre. What kind of range do you have?"

  "It is no problem. If I can see it, I can hit it."

  "Semi automatic?"

  "Mais, oui. This one is my hunting rifle. I can put ten shots into one of your quarters at one thousand of your feet in five seconds."

  "That would stop a deer."

  A few minutes later, they had made their way much closer to shore. John was beginning to believe they were going to get away with it when the larger boat again started to move in.

  "They must be worried we'll go too close to shore and the water will be too shallow for them. It's now or never if they're going to board us."

  "We're not far from the beach. We could swim for it," said Tom.

  "I'd rather not. We'd lose all our supplies. Besides, they'd just run us down, pull in our bodies and take what they wanted. Pierre, put a couple rounds into that search light, then about six rounds into the bow, just below the water line. As close together as you can. Then shoot any flashes you see."

  "Oui, mon amie. But the light will only require one."

  The search light went out quickly, but not before three flashes came from the ship.

  "I'm hit."

  "Harry, how bad is it?" said Elspeth.

  "My shoulder. It's bleeding quite a bit."

  She opened her purse, removed a tampon, opened it and placed it inside his shirt over the wound. "Hold this here."

  "You're joking."

  "Just do it. You going to be all right?"

  "I'll make it. But the boat may not, It's taking on water."

  "Don't shoot. We're hit. I'll stop the boat. You can come aboard."

  "We be quiet. Be hard to find in dark."

  "Charles, what are you doing," John said as he saw Charles removing his clothes.

  "Going for a swim, John. I still haven't gotten all the sand off from my years in the desert. I think this will do it."

  "It cold," said Masako. "You sure you want to do this?"

  "I don't want to do this, but it's necessary. I only have two left. If I throw and miss, we're in real trouble. They will come after us like mad dogs with everything they have."

  After Charles had stripped down to his skivvies, he looked through his bag and took out a small canister and a lump of putty. He quietly slipped into the water and began to swim silently toward the other boat.

  "Charles finally go crazy," Cho whispered.

  "It wasn't a long trip," said Masako. "He's been heading down that road this whole week."

  "I hope not," said John. "We need him. Pierre, hold your fire until we see what he's doing."

  "Oui, it is too dark to see a target."

  "It sounds like the boat has stopped. I don't hear an engine," said Tom.

  "They are probably looking for a portable light. They don't want to sail too close to shore without seeing where they are."

  Five long minutes later, Cho whispered, "Hear splash. Maybe crazy Charles forget something, come back.

  Tom reached out and helped Charles climb back into the boat as the other boat exploded in an orange ball of fire. The shock wave almost blew their little boat over. A second explosion erupted as Charles was putting his clothes back on. "Fuel tank. I never tire of that sound. Kind of a ka-whoomb."

  "Cho surprised. Charles not joke about grenade."

  "Apparently not," said Masako.

  Splashing and voices could be heard. "They blew us up. Those Chinks blew up our stinkin' boat. How're we gonna get by now? I'll have to go to work."

  The orange light of the fire showed several people swimming near what was left of the boat. Pierre took another shot.

  "I'm hit. Now, those crazy Chinks are trying to kill us. You done picked the wrong people to cross. I ain't never ridin' with you again."

  Just then, several flashes could be seen from shore and more voices from near the boat.

  "I've been hit. Let's get the hell out of here. Swim north. Head out to sea. Hurry. They've got backup."

  More flashes came from shore.

  "I can't see anyone else, amie. Or, I would take a shot."

  "Save your ammo, Pierre. My friends on shore have shown up. We need to fix that leak," John said, pointing the boat toward the flashes from shore and pushing the throttle all the way. "Charles, you have any more of that putty?"

  "Sure," Charles said fumbling in his bag. "I'm anxious to meet your other friends."

  Chapter 15 - Fred and George

  Fred Samuels was tall, six two, with blond hair, blue eyes and carried himself with a definite military bearing. Some might say he was ruggedly handsome. He was older than John and was an only child. He often thought of John as the little brother he wished he had. He had vacationed in western North Carolina with his parents every year for ten years, even after he graduated from school. He and John became great friends, going hunting in the woods every day of Fred's stay. The forest was full of deer, turkeys, groundhogs and raccoons, which served as subjects for them to practice their tracking and hunting skills.

  Although the tourists thought the deer were cute, the farmers hated them because of the crop damage. John's father was also fond of venison and had a large freezer to keep the meat. The vast local squirrel population helped them considerably to improve their shooting. A clean kill on an animal as clever and as small as a squirrel was a challenge.

  Fred enjoyed tracking animals even more than shooting. Fortunately, for him, tracking took tremendous time, then came the shot, which only took a few seconds, and afterward, the animal would usually run off before finally falling down. Even a heart shot to a deer could result in a trek of hundreds of yards through the thick undergrowth before the animal stopped running. As the deer were rarely easy to find in the daylight, hunting took place mostly at dusk and tracking down the animal, once hit, was done at night.

  Fred's family went on vacation the last week of the holiday season, which was one of the weeks John stayed with his father. Fred never understood John's summer camp. He couldn't imagine anyone going swimming and making billfolds for eight weeks every year, year after year. At some point, John said that he had become a counselor and that there was a girl at the camp, Masako, that he was interested in.

  When John went off to the University, Fred finally decided to join the Army, after putting it off for several years. He spent several tours in the Middle East, and while he was traveling back to the United States, he would stop off in Japan and spend time with John, who introduced him to Masako. Fred was immediately entranced by her deep brown eyes and attractive features, but avoided any advances, as she was his good friend's girl.

  Masako would bring along a friend, but Fred always found Masako more interesting than her friends. Possibly, since her father worked for the newspaper, she was more worldly and less grounded in Japan. Also, as her mother was American, she had the exotic appearance of the Japanese, softened by American features, making her especially attractive. On some of Fred's visits, John was busy and asked Masako to show him around. Their relationship was always platonic, or at least he thought that and never made any advances.

  When John graduated and moved to China, Fred found ways to continue making infrequent trips to Japan and China. John had mentioned Cho in their occasional emails and phone conversations. He figured John had moved on. Fred mentioned this to Masako, who seemed to have no concerns. Apparently, they had both moved on. Fred explored taking their relationship to another level, but found that although Masako liked him, she was in another relationship already and didn't want to jeopardi
ze that. Bad timing, Fred told himself.

  * * *

  When Fred received John's call, he figured it must be a joke. The way John liked to talk vaguely and in code, it was hard to tell exactly what he was saying. But then, that was John.

  "Hey Fred. Remember all that hunting we used to do? I've run into some folks who like living off the land and we're moving back to my father's old place. I thought you might like to join us. Do some more hunting. Remember that? It was a lot of fun, right? You interested?"

  "Maybe for a vacation, but it would be a long commute, don't you think?"

  "Yeah, your work. I've been thinking about that. I've been hearing rumors that your boss, your uncle, might be shutting down his business."

  "Really?" Since Fred had a civilian job with the Army, it was unlikely that his business would shut down. And when John said uncle, he surely meant Uncle Sam. That would mean something truly disastrous happened or was going to happen. "How's your job? You quit?"

  "No, not really. They're going out of business, too. So, finally, it's time to retire. Put my feet up. Enjoy what life I have left. You should do the same."

  "What happened to that girlfriend of yours, Cho?"

  "She's OK. Her business went bust, too. She thinks the whole world is collapsing. Women."

  Fred knew that Cho was in the procuring business and as that was supposedly the oldest profession, it wasn't likely that her business would go bust.

  "Come on, John. Do you know what you're saying -- if I understand what you're saying? Is this some kind of test? What do you really want?"

  "Just what I said, Fred. Retirement. The crap is hitting the fan for the last time. The final retirement. But this time, we have some advance notice. Maybe a few weeks. Maybe a month. But I doubt that it's much longer. In two months, you can be sitting on your can with only a box of crackers in the kitchen wondering when how long you can hold out before eating that last cracker. Or you can be sitting in my lodge watching videos with six months of food in the basement and fields planted with vegetables. Maybe even some cattle on the south lawn."