by Johnny Asa
I pushed on the door. It didn’t open. Locked.
“Damn,” I cursed, eyeing it. Of course, it was locked. Worse, I didn’t see any keys on the dead man. That’s when I decided I didn’t care. I stood off to the side and put the barrel of the AR to the wall beside the locking mechanism and let loose a three-second burst. The bullets tore into the wood around the frame, and as the silence following gunfire faded, I lifted the dead man and pushed him against the door.
Once he was in position, I retreated a few steps before running forward and burying my foot into the space beside the locking mechanism. The wall snapped like cheap kindling as the door swung inward. Gunfire erupted from inside, peppering the dead man as I moved to the side of the door and lined up my AR. A couple quick bursts took out the guard on the left, and as the dead man hit the ground inside the threshold, someone moved forward.
Another three-second burst took care of him. Unfortunately, as my AR went empty, I heard footsteps behind me. Damn.
I took a deep breath, grabbing my Glock as I threw myself inside the threshold. Bullets tore into the space I’d occupied seconds before I landed hard on my shoulder.
Pain exploded through me, and I heard something pop inside myself. Thankfully, shock and adrenaline kept it from doing more than stab me like a goddamned machete.
Breath lurched through my lips as I brought the Glock up only to find myself staring at an empty room. Where was Mandrake?
I stood, confusion fluttering across my face as the footsteps in the hallway grew closer. I moved to the dead guard, using his body for cover and putting my back to the wall as I surveyed the room. There were no other doors in here…
That was all the time I had. A guy moved into the room, crouched low and sweeping the room. I took him out from my spot beside the dead guard, and as his head snapped backward from the gunshot, his partner opened fire.
Bullets ripped into the dead man in front of me as I fired back. My shots found purchase in his flesh, hitting his side and spinning him like a top. Even still, pain bit through my left arm, letting me know I hadn’t come away unscathed. Blood gushed from my bicep as I gritted my teeth and brought my right hand up with the Glock and fired again. This time the guy went down with a cry.
I stood there, blood dripping down my left arm to collect on my fingertips before splattering across the ground and looked around. I didn’t have a lot of bullets left, and that wasn’t good. I quickly holstered my Glock and picked up the dead man’s AR-15. It wasn’t full, but it’d have to do.
Still, something was wrong. There were too many guards here, and I couldn’t imagine Mandrake had set up a trap like this. No, I was missing something.
I took a step forward, surveying the room, and something caught my eye. Most of the walls were covered with paintings. All in that abstract stuff I didn’t particularly like, but that I knew took a lot of skill and time to craft.
Only there was one wall that was conspicuously absent from artwork. I crept forward, ears perked to listen for anyone coming, although what with the way my head feeling like it was wrapped in cotton, I didn’t know if that’d help much.
As I approached the wall, I ran my hand across it. It gave under my hand, and I pushed. A click sounded from a mechanism, and then the wall popped out, the right side swinging out a few inches. A hidden door with a pressure switch! Glee filled me as I grabbed the edge and pulled it open while being careful to keep myself out of range of incoming bullets.
When none came, I glanced around the corner and found myself looking at a long, gray corridor. This one dead-ended at a pair of stairs about six feet away, leading up through the roof. I moved toward it, and as I did, the sound of helicopter blades revving to speed filled my ears.
I sprinted forward, using my pain, frustration, and fatigue to fuel me. It took nearly everything I had to race up the flight of stairs, and as I surfaced, I found myself staring at a firing line. The helicopter stood about ten feet back, a small black thing with thin metal skin and a pilot already in the chair. Mandrake stood beside the empty door, Mary Ann’s bound arms in one hand as he tried to push her inside.
“Mr. Ryder,” he said as the three men with assault rifles standing between us stared me down. “You’re quite tenacious. I’ll give you that. Unfortunately, this is where your little escapade ends.”
“Let her go,” I said, ignoring the men with their guns pointed at me. They hadn’t shot me, but I knew they would the second I made a move.
“Oh, I will,” he said, shoving her toward the helicopter. She tried to scream something to me, but the sound was cut off by a hard slap. Her head snapped sideways, and she sagged in Mandrake’s grip. “Once I’m about a hundred feet above the ocean.” He grinned at me. “Wonder how well she swims all tied up.”
“This is your last warning,” I snarled, my vision tingeing in a reddish haze of rage. “Let her go. Now.”
“You don’t seem to understand how leverage works, Mr. Ryder. See, I have all of it.” He shoved Mary Ann into the helicopter. She slid across the metal floor, and as she tried to move, he leapt inside the door.
“Oh, I understand plenty,” I said, my hand tightening around the assault rifle.
“No, you don’t, but you will.” He shook his head and gestured at me from inside the helicopter. “Kill him.”
Time seemed to slow down as my gaze flitted back toward the men. As their muscles tightened, fingers starting to depress the triggers on their assault rifles, the bomb in the engine room exploded and all hell broke loose.
30
Ren must have really done a number on the engine room because a geyser of flame erupted from the back of the boat, and the ear-splitting shriek of tortured plastic and splintering wood filled my ears.
As the yacht split like a cracked egg, the entire boat listed hard, causing the men pointing their guns at me to flail for balance. As their hands shot out, wind-milling for purchase in empty air, I unloaded my AR in their general directions. Bullets ripped through them, spraying bloody chunks back across the helipad. I wasn’t sure if they were down and out, but I didn’t care. I charged forward, my feet slipping across the surface of the ground as I struggled forward.
The helicopter’s rotors screamed as Mandrake slammed the door shut. I raised my AR and pulled the trigger at the metal beast. Unfortunately, as the whirlybird began to lift from the dying yacht, no bullets came out of my gun. I swore, tearing after it. Wind buffeted against me, fighting my every step as the helicopter lifted into the air and turned. The tail swung toward me, and I ducked under it, throwing myself toward the landing gear.
My hands wrapped around the foot of the helicopter as it lifted into the air, and I was immediately surprised by two things. One, it hurt like a mother to hang on like this, and two, there must have been something about the wind generated by the blades because it was a lot easier to hang on than I expected.
As we lifted high into the air, I threw one arm around the foot, wrapping the crook of my elbow around it before throwing my other leg over the foot. I hung there, trying to catch my breath as fire ripped apart the Hard Tide. Already the Florida sea was doing a number on the boat, beating it ceaselessly with waves. As I watched people trying to escape into lifeboats, I hoped Ren had made it. I didn’t see the ocean dock he had claimed was there, but at the moment, I had other problems.
The helicopter surged forward, cutting through the air above the ocean and heading back toward the coast. I wasn’t sure how long it would take to get there, but judging by how quickly the coastline was coming into view, I knew it couldn’t be long.
I stiffened my spine and clenched my jaw as I hauled my happy ass up on the foot of the helicopter. Once I was satisfied I wasn’t going to fall to my doom, I drew my Glock. Then I took a deep breath to steady myself and counted backward from three. As I reached one, I grabbed the door and slid it open. A big man with a machine gun started to move, but my Glock ended that business. A pair of bullets caught him in the face, turning his skull into re
d paste.
As he slumped forward against his harness, I stepped inside. Mary Ann was lying on the ground, and as she caught sight of me, her eyes went wide with terror, and she jerked her head down.
I dropped as the cabin door opened and Mandrake sprayed the inside of the cabin with bullets. They ripped into the metal behind me, and as ricochets bounced around me, the helicopter started making wheezing coughing sounds.
As Mandrake, reoriented himself and aimed the gun at me, I pointed the Glock at him and fired. As I pulled the trigger, he fired. My shots tore into his body, flinging him backward into the cockpit as his bullets tore into my outstretched arm, my hip, and my leg. Sheer, unrelenting agony ripped through me, and my vision turned into a kaleidoscope of color and pain.
A cry of anguish erupted from my lips as my Glock went flying from my hand, disappearing out the open door as wind whipped around inside.
Even though the glass windshield at the front of the helicopter was covered in scarlet spray, I could see Mandrake moving in the cockpit. If he got another shot at me, I was done for.
I pulled myself forward, leaving a bloody snail trail on the floor of the helicopter and reached up, grabbing the machine gun from the thug I’d shot. Its strap was caught on his shoulder, but I bit down and pulled with all the strength I had. As it tumbled free and clattered to the ground beside me, Mandrake got slowly to his knees. His shirt was matted against his flesh with blood.
As he narrowed angry eyes and brought his gun around to shoot me, Mary Ann rolled toward him. Her body smacked into his legs as he shot at me, causing him to lose his balance.
The last of his bullets tore into the ceiling, ripping holes in the helicopter and causing moonlight to stream through the machine’s skin. That’s when we listed hard, and the sound of screaming metal filled my ears.
My hands wrapped around the machinegun then, and I pointed it at Mandrake as he dropped, flopping down on Mary Ann. She squealed in pain as he braced his spent assault rifle against her throat and bore down with all his weight, trying to choke the life out of her.
“Say goodbye to your girlfriend,” he cried as I pulled the trigger on the machine gun. My shots caught him in the chest, throwing him backward in a spray of crimson. He hit the control panel.
Sparks leapt from it, and I heard the pilot cry out as the smell of smoke filled my nose. Then we were falling. The helicopter spun as I reached out, grabbing Mary Ann’s bound body and pulling her toward me. My back slammed into the roof before we tumbled to the side. My head cracked against the open door before we were sucked outside and thrown into the horizon.
Mary Ann’s eyes met mine right before I felt the crushing impact of the water slam into me, driving everything into darkness.
31
The shockwave of the helicopter’s explosion snapped me from unconsciousness as the cold dark of the ocean grabbed hold of me and pulled me down into its depths. My lungs screamed as I swallowed a mouthful of saltwater. I began to thrash even though my entire body felt like it was on fire.
White-hot agony exploded through me as I kicked my legs, trying desperately to get to the surface. I broke free a moment later, still sputtering as I struggled to breathe. Unfortunately, as I sucked in a breath that hurt all the way down, my heart damned near leapt into my throat.
Where was Mary Ann? The last thing I remembered was falling from the helicopter with her in my arms. Only she’d been bound, and she wasn’t in my arms now!
I ducked into the depths of the water, trying desperately to find her in the dark, roiling ocean, but I couldn’t find her anywhere. I surfaced, my eyes scanning the surface of the waves even though the only light was the moonlight above.
“Mary Ann!” I cried, and as the words left my lips, I heard frantic splashing behind me. I spun as the surf crashed into me, driving me underwater, and as I plunged beneath the surface, I saw a shadowy form a few meters to my left.
It moved sort of like an inch worm, curling into a ball before lengthening as it struggled toward the surface. Realization exploded through my brain. That was how you were supposed to swim when you were bound, and Mary Ann had been bound. Surely it had to be her.
I’d like to say I broke the surface with a few mighty kicks, but my legs and arm were beaten to all get out. It was a struggle to reach the surface, but somehow I did.
After that, I fell into the freestyle swim I’d used so many times before because it didn’t really rely on my legs very much. My left arm hurt like a son of a gun, so my form wasn’t very good, but even still, I managed my way toward where I’d seen the shadowy form of Mary Ann.
Another wave smashed into me, driving me beneath the waves, but I managed to kick my way back to the surface as claws of agony tried to pull me down into the sea. Once again, I broke the surface. This time I kicked with everything inside me.
Inch by painful inch, I moved closer to Mary Ann, and as I reached her, another wave drove us both beneath the surface. As my lungs burned and my legs threatened to snap off my body, I wrapped an arm around her waist. Her head shot toward me, eyes going wide as we reached the surface once more.
“Give me a second,” I said, pulling my knife free of my pocket and slashing her arms free of the bindings. As soon as they came free, she wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling her legs up to give me better access.
As the waves pushed us under again, I managed to cut her ankles free, and as I did, she shot up like a cork. I tried to follow, my lungs screaming for air as she broke the surface.
Only, I knew I couldn’t do it. My body hurt like never before—I was used up. I reached out, trying desperately to grab hold of something, anything to pull myself up, but it was fruitless. As my hand clawed through the sea, I began to plunge downward.
Mary Ann dove back down, and as I started to slip down to meet Davy Jones, she grabbed me, putting her hands under my armpits and hauling me upward. Her legs beat ceaselessly at the ocean until we reached the surface.
She flipped, winding up on her back with me on top of her and kicked, driving us backward through the water. Only, I knew it wouldn’t matter. She’d eventually get tired, and what’s more, I was still bleeding. Sharks would come, and then it would be over.
“Leave me,” I croaked, and as I did, she tightened her grip.
“I’ll do no such thing, Billy Ryder!” she snapped. “You won’t quit on me now, dammit. Now, take off your pants.”
“I’m bleeding. There will be sharks…” I tried to pull away, but it was useless. I was too tired. Too hurt.
“Sharks can smell for a long way. If they find you, they’ll find me too, even if I left you. No, we’re in this together.” She kicked harder, pulling us somewhere. “Take off your damned pants.”
I sighed, not wanting to give up, but finding it hard to stay awake. I don’t know if it was from the ocean sapping my energy, the blood loss, or some combination, but it was suddenly incredibly hard to keep my eyes open.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, trying to look at her, but everything was so dark and blurry, I couldn’t find her face as I got my pants off.
“Be quiet, Billy,” she murmured, voice like an angel in my ear as she pulled them from my grip.
“I shouldn’t have left you,” I mumbled as the darkness encroached. Off in the distance, I could see flames from where the helicopter had hit the sea. At least, I thought that’s what it was. Either way, they wouldn’t last long. Not with the ocean as violent as it was.
“No, you shouldn’t have.” I could hear so many emotions in her voice. Pain, sadness, loneliness that it damned near broke me. I was responsible for all of them. “But you did.” She sucked in a deep breath. “And you’ll have to make up for that.”
“I just don’t think that’s in the cards,” I mumbled, reaching up and grabbing hold of her hand with mine.
“That’s enough of that,” she said, squeezing my hand. “We’ll get through this. Just keep swimming, okay.”
“I’ll try,” I mumbled as the m
oon overhead became pinprick small and the sound of something cutting through the ocean filled my ears. I tried to turn toward it, but found I couldn’t, and what’s worse, I couldn’t see anything at all. Fear ripped up through me in that moment, but it may as well not have because I couldn’t move, couldn’t even think as the pinprick of moonlight overhead vanished into oblivion.
32
My eyes snapped open as I tried to sit up. Pain exploded from the length of my body, and I let out a small cry of pain as the machine hooked up to me elicited a shrill cacophony of beeps. My eyes swam over the plain white room around me before falling on Mary Ann. She was sleep in the most uncomfortable chair imaginable.
Her paperback had fallen to the ground and lay splayed there as I tried to figure out what the hell happened.
“Where am I?” I mumbled, looking down at myself. I was wearing a hospital gown and was covered with so many bandages, I looked like a mummy. Everything hurt, and as I tried to move, I realized I had an IV in my arm.
The machines squeaked again, and as I turned to look at them, a nurse with skin like dark chocolate and short blonde hair burst into the room. She looked me over in the way my Grandma had when I’d stolen one too many cookies before dinner.
“I’ll thank you to stop trying to tear out your stitches,” she mumbled, moving past the sleeping Mary Ann, pausing only long enough to harrumph at me. “Good woman you got there. Sat up with you the whole time even when I threatened to have her thrown out. Guess visiting hours don’t apply.”
“She did?” I asked as I went through an entirely strange set of reactions. She was alive, we were alive, somehow, and what’s more, she didn’t need her own hospital bed!
“You better believe it,” she told me, shaking her head. “I suggest your first stop after leaving is to a nice flower shop, with your second being somewhere more expensive.” She glanced pointedly at Mary Ann’s hand. “Best be putting a ring on that.”