Tides of Peril

by Rick Potter

  "I'm afraid so. We'll have to row the rest of the way," he said, then grabbed the oars.

  Jake kept an eye out for his mother and sister. "I still don't see them. I think something's wrong."

  Hearing it from Jake made it sound surreal. "Whatever you do, don't yell out. If Carlos and Andrea got free, we don't want to alert them. Let's try and catch them by surprise," he said, not paying attention to his sneakers getting wet.

  "Okay," Jake agreed, looking around Sam's feet. "Dad? I think we're sinking."

  Water gushed from a hole the size of a credit card from under a peeling patch. "Crap," Sam whispered. "See if there's a fishing knife in the tackle box," he said, increasing his rowing speed.

  They were still about a hundred yards from Madeline, and water was filling the dinghy. "Hurry," he told, Jake.

  As Jake rummaged through the tackle box, Sam unscrewed the outboard from the stern plate, and let it sink. It was the only thing he could get rid of to make the dinghy lighter. Jake pulled out bobbers, sinkers, hooks, fishing line, then held up a pair of needle nose pliers. "What about these?"

  Sam grabbed the pliers, then pinched and twisted a portion of his life vest. "What are you doing?" Jake asked.

  "PFDs float. If I can rip off a good chunk, I can plug the hole."

  Jake emptied the balance of the tackle box. "What are you doing?" Sam asked.

  "Gonna use it for a bucket," then started scooping water overboard.

  'Resourceful,' Sam thought, but the dinghy was filling faster than Jake could scoop.

  Sam had stuffed the hole with a chunk of his life vest, but ripped the raft, letting in more water at a faster pace. He resumed rowing, but water began spilling over the stern plate where the outboard was mounted. He moved closer to Jake seated on the edge of the bow, estimating the distance to Madeline to be around 30 yards. After a heavy sigh, he said, "We don't have time for this. I'm gonna swim to the boat. When I get there, I'll toss you the line and you hook it to the dinghy, then pull yourself in. You know what to do if it sinks before that."

  It was no problem for Jake to swim thirty yards. "You got it, Dad. Be careful."

  "When you get back onboard, just sit tight and wait, got it?"

  "Got it."

  Still donning his life vest, Sam leaped in the water, beginning his awkward swim toward Madeline. It reminded him of the previous evening. But, Emily was right, it was surprising how calm the sea can be after a storm. Twenty-five yards to Madeline, he stopped and peered over the surface around him. "What's wrong?" Jake asked.

  "I felt something hit my legs."

  Jake scanned the surface. "I don't see any..." then he saw the fin. "There's a shark!" he yelled, then pointed.

  Sam panicked.

  "Stay still. Don't move. Put your legs and arms together," Jake instructed, learning most sharks fed on octopus and squid. He needed to spot the prowling predator to determine its specie. Once he could determine that, he could predict its behavior and feeding habits. He could then instruct his father what he needed to do, if it wasn't too late.

  Sam tensed with nightmare visions of being eaten alive. He'd feel the razor-sharp serrated teeth biting through his flesh. He'd hear his bones crunching, ripping his legs from his body. He'd taste the salt water flowing through his lungs, being dragged through the water. It was a vision he preferred not to think about. He waited for instructions from Jake.

  Jake's angle from the bow allowed him to see the gray streamlined body of the menacing beast preying through the water toward his father. "Stay still," he said.

  The shark darted from Sam an arms length before ramming into him.

  Sam kept his eye on it, circling under him. "What do I do?"

  "If you move, it'll think you're a fish. Just stay still," Jake warned, again.

  The shark took several passes near Sam. He remembered seeing the whales earlier, and thought it may have sensed food nearby. His first thought was a Great White, a man-eater. 'If there's one, there's probably more,' he thought.

  Weaving through the water, its fin protruded the surface leaving a small wake. "It's coming back," he yelled.

  "It's a Black Tip Shark," Jake said. "It won't bite unless it thinks you're going to hurt it."

  Sam didn't have time to ask questions. He listened to Jake and floated as still as he could, vertical in the calm water. He hoped his son knew what he was talking about. "Start treading slowly toward the boat after it passes you," Jake instructed. "Don't make any splashes, and it'll leave you alone. It's just curious."

  The shark continued to make passes, coming closer to him each time. With his legs clinched together, he treaded toward the stern at a slow pace.

  More than half the dinghy was under water, and going down fast. Jake perched at the highest point on the bow, knowing he'd have to abandon ship at any second. The shark glided near Jake, nudging the dinghy from underneath. A closer look at it, he recognized the beast as a White Tip Shark, more dangerous than the Black Tip Shark he previously thought.

  Sam climbed over the edge of the stern into the cockpit, when Jake yelled, "Hurry, Dad, it's coming back."

  Sam scanned the water around Jake and saw the outline of the torpedoing object heading toward Jake. He rummaged through a compartment and found a spare loaded flare gun entangled in spare line. Jake floated like a fishing bobber above the submerged dinghy. In a panicked tone, he yelled, "Dad, it's getting closer."

  Sam aimed at the gray figure just under the surface of the water, approaching Jake, then fired. The flare splashed through the water, hitting just behind its fin. A bright glare illuminated, igniting a smothering fire. Sam dropped the gun, then threw the rope at Jake. "Hurry, Jake. Hang on, I'll pull you in."

  Jake grasped the rope, as Sam pulled him toward the stern ladder. When Jake reached for a rung, Sam yanked him onboard.

  "That was close, great shot, Dad. Where's Mom and Em?"

  Sam hadn't had time to look around until now. Madeline drifted with the engine off, when he noticed the keys weren't in the ignition. Something was definitely wrong and he had a good idea what it was. He glanced around the boat searching for something to use as a weapon. "What are we gonna do?" Jake asked.

  Inaudible voices came from the closed cabin door. 'Even if we found a weapon, it wouldn't do us much good,' Sam thought.

  "It's no use. Just follow close behind me."

  "We're going in?"

  "We don't have a choice. Just stay close."

  "But Dad, we gotta do something. What if they kill us?"

  "Don't worry, they're not going to kill us."

  Sam cracked the door to the cabin open, when he heard Emily crying, "Please don't kill me."

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Sam turned the handle to the cabin door, the muffled voices he heard earlier had silenced. Jake followed him close behind, as they climbed down the steps. The first person Sam saw was Maddie, just feet away. Carlos towered behind her with his arm wrapped around her neck and his hand pressed against the side of her head. Her face was smeared in blood with the bandage hanging loose from her brow. Scratches and cuts on her face that weren't there before, were evidence that she had been beaten. Her eyes were faint from his python grip. "Let her go," he said. "You're killing her."

  "Welcome back," Andrea said, position behind Emily with the blade of the Swiss Army Knife pressed against her throat. "We've been waiting for you."

  Jake stood in fear beside his father, watching his mother and sister in their helpless condition. He saw the pain in his sister's eyes. He saw his mother's reddened face, and wondered if she was still alive. His face was pale, like all blood had been drained.

  Andrea and Emily were positioned in front of the closed bathroom door in front of the bulkhead wall. Blood trickled from Emily's throat. "Dad," she murmured.

  The sight of Maddie and Emily in the hands of these two psychotic demons turned his stomach. "Please, let them go."

  "Where's the gun?" Andrea snapped.

  "I don
't know what you're talking about. What gun?" he asked, taking a step toward Maddie. "Carlos, you're killing her. Please, let her go. She can't breathe." He took another step.

  "Carlos? If he comes any closer, snap her neck."

  "O-okay."

  "I want the gun now," Andrea demanded.

  "Honestly, I don't know what you're talking about."

  She moved the knife to under Emily's ear. "If you don't tell me where it is, I'm gonna put a permanent smile through her throat," then she yelled, "Now where is it?"

  "I'm telling you, I don't know where it is! Do you really think I'd risk my daughter's life by not telling you?"

  With a surgeon's precision, Andrea glided the knife from the bottom of Emily's ear, to the middle of her throat. Fresh blood seeped over old. "Next time, it'll be deeper," she said, then raised her voice in fury. "Where's the gun?"

  "I told you..." Sam started to say before being interrupted by Jake.

  "I threw it in the water." Jake had to say something to save his sister.

  "Over here, sit down," Andrea snapped at Jake, motioning him to the sofa.

  Jake trembled past Carlos and Andrea, sliding in the sofa behind Andrea. Seeing Jake from the corner of her eye, she said in a calm voice, "Now that we're all together again, let's get something straight."

  Maddie's hands released Carlos's arms and fell limp to her sides. Sam shouted at Andrea, "Tell your brother to let her go. Can't you see he's killing her."

  "Loosen up a little, Carlos," she said. "But if he steps toward you again, kill her."

  Glued to his seat, Jake's sedated expression revealed a time bomb ready to explode. Sam worried he had slipped into severe catatonia by envisioning his mother and sister being slaughtered.

  As Jake placed his hands on the seat to prop himself higher, one slipped between the cracks of the cushion. He felt a cold metal object.

  "Now, if there's anymore trouble from any of you," Andrea said, "I won't hesitate to cut your pretty little daughter's throat, and dump you all overboard. Trust me, sharks crave the scent of fresh blood, and will have a feeding frenzy with a nice little family like yours. Am I clear?"

  Jake felt around the metal object. It was a pistol.

  Sam nodded. "I didn't hear you," she barked, grasping Emily.

  "Yes, you're clear?" Sam blurted.

  "Good, just one more day and we'll part company forever. Now get back to the room," she ordered.

  "What about them? What are you gonna do with them?" Sam asked, as he sidestepped around Carlos.

  Jake fumbled the pistol, not taking his eyes off Andrea.

  "You just worry about yourself right now. Just do as I tell you."

  Sam stared into Emily's reddened neck where the knife had cut through a thin layer of skin. "Dad," she whispered. "Do it."

  He felt disabled. He was no longer the courageous father she had admired just hours before. He nudged past Emily, staring into her destitute eyes. 'How could anyone do these things to such a young girl?' he thought. "Don't worry Em, I'll just be..."

  "Quiet!" Andrea snapped. "No more talking."

  Andrea peered down at Jake. "Move over, so I can keep an eye on you," she ordered.

  Jake hesitated, then grasped the butt of the pistol.

  "Did you hear me, boy? Move over there, now."

  Jake didn't move.

  "Do as she tells you Jake," Sam said, from inside the room.

  Jake remained catatonic, placing his thumb on the hammer.

  "Did you hear what I said, boy?"

  Her orders were oblivious to him. His finger slipped through the trigger guard, as Andrea glared. He could see her anger rising from impatience. 'Just like shooting my slingshot,' he thought. It was the only weapon he'd ever shot, but was a dead-aim.

  Maybe he'd kill them both and get his picture in the paper and earn the respect of the kids in school. Or, maybe the mayor would have a parade in his honor. He'd be a hero. His picture would be on the cover of every newspaper and magazine in the country.

  Andrea pressed the blade into Emily's throat. "Jake!" Sam yelled, "Do as she says."

  Emily's fear absorbed him in further thought. Maybe he'd miss? What if they moved, and he killed his mother and sister instead? What if he put a hole in the boat, and they all sank to the bottom of the sea?

  He looked at his mother's lifeless face, as she hung like a tangled marionette doll from Carlos' thick arms.

  "Are you deaf, boy?"

  With the pistol held shaking in the palm of his hand, Jake took a deep breath, then clicked the hammer back.

  "Maybe you need a picture drawn for you. I'm going to cut her carotid artery, and press firmly on her neck. Blood will drain from her head faster than you can change your mind. She'll lose consciousness, but her body will twitch as she chokes on blood. It's not a pretty sight. Is that the way you want to remember your sister? Do you really want to kill her?"

  Jake remained still without a word.

  Andrea pierced the knife against Emily's throat and slid it across her neck. Small droplets of blood oozed like molasses down her chest.

  Tension filled the cabin waiting for Jake to react. "J-Jake," Emily murmured before inhaling and holding her breath, preparing for the blade to whip across her neck.

  With horror masking his sister's faced, he released the pistol and slammed his hands on the table. "Okay, I'm moving," then slid over to the other corner.

  "You don't know how close you came to watching your sister die in torture."

  'You don't know how close you came to having a bullet in your head,' he wanted to tell her.

  Andrea whipped Emily into Sam, still positioned in the room. He clutched her tight. "What about my wife and son?"

  Andrea ignored him. "W-what should we d-do with her?" Carlos asked.

  "Put her in the front room this time. I'll take care of her myself."

  "What are you going to do to my mom?" Jake shouted.

  "I'd like to carve her up, and feed her to the sharks."

  Jake cringed. 'I should have shot her,' he thought.

  "Don't worry," she added. "She's worth more to us alive than using her for chum. Hopefully, she's not already dead."

  Carlos released Maddie. She faded unconscious through his arms to the floor. He reached down and grasped a fistful of her hair, and dragged her through the kitchen like a caveman. "Be careful with her," Andrea said. "We don't want to make her look worse than she already does."

  Before leaving Sam and Emily alone in the room, Andrea warned, "If I hear one sound from either of you, you'll never see her, or your pretty little boy again," then slammed the door.

  "What about me?" Jake asked. "What are you gonna do with me?"

  With a cold stare, she slid in where Jake was seated before he moved. Doing his best to avoid eye contact, he glanced around the cabin avoiding the cushion where the weapon was.

  "You look nervous," she said. "Anything you want to tell me?"

  Jake clasped his hands on the table. "No," he answered with a shaky voice.

  Andrea hesitated for a moment, "You know, people who lie go to hell." Then she placed her hands on the cushion.

  "People who kill people go to hell, too," he spouted.

  "I only kill when it benefits me," she said. "And killing your family wouldn't be a benefit. Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"

  "No." Then he tensed watching her hand slide down the crack of the cushion.

  She gave him a stern look. "What about this?" Then withdrew the pistol from between the cushions.

  She pointed the barrel at Jake's face. He could see the tip of the bullet aimed at his head. "You know? I never did like you. In fact, you're just like your father, a little man who tries to be something they could never be."

  Jake remembered Thad's words. His fear turned into anger, and she noticed it. "Besides," she continued, "You're not really worth much to us anyway."

  Jake shifted flush against the back of his seat, with a look that made he
r feel he was ready to attack. "Say good-bye little man."

  The gun shot echoed throughout the boat. Sam and Emily screamed in terror. "No!"

  Chapter Fifteen

  Madeline motored under drizzle through headstones of protruding masts rising from the lagoon's bottom. It was a cemetery of visitors before them. Eerie echoes of fauna rustled from beyond the wall of exotic flora of Noni, Che Chen, papaya, and sea grape trees, choking the remote lagoon.

  Through the funnel of foliage near the water's edge, headlights flashed in the dusk from a ten-wheeled canvassed military truck that looked like it had transported its last troops into battle. Two rifled men in military fatigues stepped from the cab and approached Madeline. Andrea felt good to finally be home, and didn't care about careening the boat into the dilapidating dock.

  Still drowsy from the injected drugs, Sam and Emily stumbled ahead of Carlos onto the stern under the pouring rain. It was difficult to tell the time of day, but Sam guessed it might have been late afternoon.

  "Where's my brother? Where's Jake?" Emily asked. "Did you kill him? Where's my mother?"

  "They're where they should be," Andrea answered, tossing the boat keys in the water.

  Sam and Emily steadied down the gangway onto the rickety dock. "You don't think she killed him, do you?"

  Sam could't answer her question. They'd find out shortly and felt the wait would be better than taking a wrong guess now. He only drew her against him and held her tight.

  "Where is this place?" Emily asked.

  An intimidating man resembling Fidel Castro approached from the truck. Although Cuba was his first thought after seeing the man, he replied, "Somewhere in the Yucatan." Then he asked Carlos, "Why is the army here?" Sam knew governments could be corrupt, but didn't realize it extended to militaries.

  Carlos flashed a fearful glance at the two rifled men. "I'm n-not s-suppose to t-talk. I'll g-get in t-trouble, again," he replied, with a dejected expression.

  "Where in the Yucatan are we?" Emily asked.

  "I'm not sure," Sam answered, peering around for possible signs or indications that might give some specific evidence.