by B. C. Tweedt
“We stay here,” Greyson whispered. “Let the people clear the halls.”
They waited for several minutes, peeking at the crowd below as they nearly filled the auditorium. Finally, when it seemed the last stragglers had arrived, the doors were shut and locked. Screams followed only to be interrupted by angry shouts and the clicks of bullets being chambered in rifles.
No….
The kids crawled close to the railing, mouths agape.
Men with automatic rifles spread about the room, barking warnings and removing the contents of frightened passengers’ pockets. Some resisted, but were struck down with a butt of a rifle. When some would scream, tape was shoved over their mouths.
Avery and Sydney turned away, and it was hard for Greyson to watch – especially the families with young children being prodded by gun barrels. Parents tried to pretend it was a game, but the kids were too smart. Their cries were not easily stifled.
Greyson’s heart raced, a sinking feeling pushing his heart toward his gut. But the worst thing was knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. From what he could see, there were at least twelve men – each with the same smart watch the others had told him about. They were each armed with an automatic rifle that held enough bullets to kill him thirty times over. And even if he were to attack, most of them wore body armor that would reflect his slingshot ammo like rocks off a turtle’s shell. His aim would need to be perfect, but he was tired, a little seasick, and bruised nearly everywhere. He’d miss plenty, and one miss would be enough for it all to be over.
Suddenly a terrorist took to the stage. “Cooperate, and you’ll live!” he shouted loudly, waving some sort of remote in front of a row of hostages. “Try to escape, we blow the ship!”
The crowd shuddered with desperate cries and moans.
Greyson’s thoughts pulled him in two directions. He had to fight. He couldn’t let all these people down like he had at the fair. He had chosen not to fight then, but now he was being given a second chance. He had to give it his all – even if he did fail.
He couldn’t give up on them like he’d given up on Liam.
But he was just like he was back then – too weak. Gravity seemed to pull him back to the floor where he laid his head against the back of a seat. He closed his eyes in defeat and took a deep breath, letting his eyelids wrap his eyes so hard it was almost painful.
Still, the guilt would be worse. He had to do it. He had to try. He opened his eyes with a second wind. “Quick. You guys find that hiding place you were talking about. I’ll keep an eye out here.”
Sydney pushed at his shoulder. “Don’t be dumb. Why would you stay?”
Don’t be dumb. Her words sounded like Dan’s advice. He had told him not to do anything stupid – just to gather information until…until something. The call had ended before Dan had finished.
“This is unreal,” Avery said breathlessly, at the edge of panic. “This c’ahn’t be happening. What are they going to do to them?”
Seeing her panic, Jarryd smirked. “I know, right? It’s so weird when it first happens – but your first time is always the hardest, mate. It gets easier.” He pulled her into a reluctant side hug.
Greyson was still thinking when another voice came to his ear.
“We can’t win this fight.” It was Nick. “We need you – like we always do. So come with us. We’ll get rest; we’ll regroup; and then we’ll hit them hard later.”
Opening his eyes, he read Nick’s face. He wasn’t suggesting – he was telling him. Nick gestured toward the employee exit. “We have to go before they come around here. It’s a few floors down.”
Greyson took one more glance toward the auditorium. There hadn’t been any shooting. Whatever the terrorists were doing would probably involve the hostages. They’d have time before the terrorists made their demands. And then they’d strike.
“Fine. But we aren’t going to hide,” he stated, mostly to himself. “We’re going to wait.”
Nick nodded, and together they slunk away.
---------------
Greyson wasn’t pleased with Nick’s idea of a waiting place at first, but it was growing on him. The adult-only Serenity Club was at the back of the ship. There were only two entrances, one on either side of the bar. There was a roof over the bar, but a few glass doors led to the roofless balcony with additional seating, three hot tubs, deck chairs, and a beautiful ocean view. The view at the moment was not beautiful, though. The clouds bubbled down in dark blues and purples and rain lashed the glass doors.
After a quick survey of the area, Greyson led them behind the bar where they sat with their backs against the wall, listening for footsteps behind them.
“Well, at least we won’t get thirsty back here,” Jarryd chirped, looking at the rows of other bottles that were hidden under the bar. Avery laughed nervously from his side.
Greyson sighed. “We’re not drinking any of it…unless some of that clear liquid is water.”
Jarryd scoffed. “No, Brainless. It’s all vodka. You can use it to make Bloody Mary’s, martinis, Jell-O shooters, and lots of other ones I can’t remember.”
The other kids looked at him. “How the heck do you know that?”
He shrugged. “Step-Dad taught me. He has a book with pictures.”
Greyson frowned. “That stuff ruins your mind. We kind of need our minds right now. Did he teach you anything more…useful?”
Jarryd thought for a moment and then raised his finger with an eyebrow pump. “A Molotov cocktail.”
“Ugh. I told you. We’re not drinking any of it. None. We’re not 21 and we’re surrounded by terrorists and…and…”
Jarryd was giving him a goofy smile. “It’s a fire-bomb. Not a drink.”
“Oh. Really? A fire…”
“Bomb.”
“I think I’d rather you make a drink.”
Nick and Sydney nodded their agreement, but Avery shrugged. “I can help. I saw it on TV. I’ll find a rag.” They got up together and set to work.
Greyson shared a helpless look with the other two. “It’ll keep them busy,” he whispered with a shrug.
“But…now what?” Nick asked. “How long do we hide…I mean wait?”
Laying his head against the back wall was surprisingly comfortable. Sleep fought for his attention. “I don’t know. I…just don’t know.”
Sydney scrunched her face in thought. “If Sam had picked up, he’d have called in the whole army on them. They’d go all Navy Seal on their butts.”
“But he didn’t,” Greyson stated sternly. “And phones don’t work anymore.”
Nick chimed in. “We could find their bombs. Disarm them…”
“You know how to disarm a bomb?”
Nick dismissed the idea, but his mind kept triggering. “We could take them out one by one.”
Thinking it over, Greyson rubbed at his eyes. “We could…but we’d have to…” He stopped rubbing his eyes and let them shine with an idea. “We’d have to lure them to us. Of course.” He turned to both of them. “A deadfall.”
“What?”
“A trap. We set a trap, lure them in, and then steal their watch. We use it to contact Sam.”
Nick’s face lit up as bright as Greyson’s. “Yes. Let’s do it.”
Catching a short third wind, Greyson immediately put them to work on a trap. First, they broke a drinking glass just outside each door so that they’d hear footsteps if someone did come looking. Then, Greyson took his hoodie and dressed a cardboard cut-out of the ship’s captain with it, placing the cut-out on the bar’s deck outside so that it was visible from the doorways. It would be the bait. If a Plurb were to come inside looking for someone, it would appear as though someone was on the deck.
If all went as planned, the Plurb would ignore the bar and go toward the bait on the deck, where Greyson tied fishing line across the doorway to the outside. Finally, he spread more broken glass around the projected landing area to slice their hands and knees to delay them long
enough for the kids to attack with their new weapons they’d found in the janitor’s closet.
Sydney broke a mop in two for a jagged club, Nick found a heavy wrench, Avery wielded a plunger, and Jarryd held a bottle of vodka with a rag stuffed halfway inside in one hand and a lighter in the other.
After all the preparations, they retreated behind the bar that would serve as their base. Greyson was the last to join them after one last check of the trip wire. He sighed and lowered himself with his back against the wall. They all took deep breaths as if they were slumped in a locker room at halftime, down fifty points.
Greyson put his hand on his dangling slingshot and closed his eyes. “Now…we wait.”
Chapter 57
Hours later, night had fallen. The hurricane seemed to have followed them, still nipping at the ship’s heels with whipping wind and spitting rain. The rocking motion of the ship had lulled Greyson to sleep behind the bar, and Nick and Jarryd let him sleep, whispering to themselves. They snickered when Greyson’s head slid to rest on Sydney’s shoulder, but Sydney ended their snickers with a flash of murder in her eyes.
Greyson curled into himself and dug his cheek against her shoulder. She smiled and removed his hat for his comfort. Kindness passed over her eyes, but a gleam of sadness peeked in as well. There was a wall of guilt between them. She had felt it for months, ever since the attack. It was a deep wall, made stronger and wider with every call she made to Sam. She knew she was building that wall, but something inside of her wanted to. There needed to be a wall.
He loved her.
She knew it, because he’d shown it. He had dove from the truck for her. He had let the bomb go off…for her. He had chosen her over Liam. And now he was being punished for it. The chains of guilt weighed on him. She had heard it in his nightmares; she saw it in the way he looked at her with both longing and sadness.
He had chosen her, but it had brought him suffering. If there were a wall between them, maybe it would spare him more pain. And it would spare her the guilt – the thought that she had perhaps been the reason the bomb had gone off. How could she be worth it? How would she ever live up to that?
She would always be thankful, though. At times she had been overcome with gratitude – she had rushed to thank him – but she had seen his face and the pain hidden beneath it – and the guilt had removed her words before they could escape.
A distressed smile crossed her lips as she eyed his chopped hair, the slope of his cheek, and the rising and falling of his back with each breath.
Sydney wasn’t ready for him or his love. She wasn’t worthy of him, and perhaps never would be. He deserved someone so much better. Someone like Avery.
Avery sat to Sydney’s left, staring into space. She was still struck by shock from the whole thing, her fingers tapping at the tile floor or pulling at her white beach dress. Sydney watched her for a moment, the guilt and unworthiness still choking at her throat. Perhaps one day she would be worthy of Greyson. But not yet. She was thirteen, judgmental, and fiercely jealous.
A determined thought peppered her mind until the words finally stammered free. “Wh-what’s your favorite color?”
It took a second take before Avery realized the whispered words were for her. “What?”
Sydney almost retreated, but continued after a sigh. “What’s your favorite color?”
The worry on Avery’s perfect cheeks faded. “My favorite col’ah? Uh…blue I guess. Like the ocean.”
Sydney nodded through the awkward silence that followed. She glanced at the twins, who were still oblivious on the other side of Greyson.
“You?”
Sydney turned back to Avery, a little startled at the returned question. After too much thought for such a simple question, she answered. “Red.”
“That’s a good col’ah, too.”
“What type of music you listen to?”
“Pop. Oldies, too – but anything that gets me dancing. Why?”
Sydney smiled to herself. “I…well…I’ve been a little…mean to you. And I don’t even know you.”
Avery watched her and then shyly looked at the floor. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For wanting to get to know me. I’d like to be your mate. I don’t have any girl mates.”
Surprised, Sydney raised her brow. “Really?”
“No. I suppose I like being around boys too much. They make me feel smart’ah.”
Sydney laughed silently. “Me, too. And I bet they like you a lot more than girls do.”
Avery nodded knowingly, taking no offense. “Maybe not for the right reasons, you know?”
Sydney understood. Girls would only be jealous of her - intimidated by her – like she had been. Regret struck her again. “Well, I’m sorry I was mean. I like oldies, too, and dancing. You like country?”
“Which one?”
They laughed quietly, but her shoulder movement must have awakened Greyson. He licked at his lips and picked up his head to look at her through squinting eyes. They stared at each other, his stare a deep, absent-minded one until he turned to the other side, putting his head on Jarryd’s shoulder.
“Aww, bro…” Jarryd said, pulling Greyson closer. He even set Greyson’s weary head down on his thigh for a better pillow. “There ya go, buddy.”
Nick snickered and laid his own head against the wall. Before long he would be wanting to sleep, too. Until then, he kept the wrench firm in his right hand. He looked at his watch. There had been no attempts to enter for five hours. Once they had regained their strength they would have to go out and find a terrorist to lure. “Think we should wake him?”
Jarryd shrugged as he playfully stroked Greyson’s sideburns. “Maybe. But he looks so peaceful.”
“He’s going to drool on your thigh.”
“Greyson. Wake up, dude.”
He shook him awake and helped him sit up. He rubbed his face and blinked until his eyes could open fully. “How long was I out?” he asked with a husky voice.
“A few hours. No one’s come yet.”
Greyson thought to himself, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He felt much better. Sharper.
Sydney and Avery had scooted further to the left and were talking to each other in whispers in the corner. They looked to be getting along. Furrowing his brow, Greyson turned to Jarryd. “What happened with them?”
Jarryd shrugged. “I don’t know. But what do you think?”
“About what?”
“About her, dude. Isn’t she like the hottest thing you’ve seen?”
“Umm…”
Arching his brow, Jarryd held out his hand palm-up. “That’s it. I need your man-card.”
“My man-card?”
“Yeah. If you don’t think Avery’s hot, you have got to give up your man-card.”
He rolled his eyes. “O-okay.” He unzipped his fanny pack and faked as if he was searching for it.
“Keeping your man-card in a fanny pack – strike two. Indefinite suspension.”
Greyson glared at him and then glanced over his shoulder. Confident he wouldn’t be overheard, he whispered back. “She’s attractive, okay?”
“Out of 10 – what would you say?”
“I’m not ranking her. I barely know her.”
“What’s that matter? Need to see her in a bathing suit first?”
“No!” he whispered loudly, now fully awake. “Because I wouldn’t want them ranking me based on how I look.”
Jarryd looked him up and down. “Why not?”
Perplexed and looking for a distraction, Greyson shook his head and stood up, hunched, just tall enough to peek over the bar at the doorway to the right.
Jarryd scoffed. “You’re like a 10, dude, on your good days. Maybe an eight or nine today with that hair cut, but still.”
Greyson stared at him. “Awkward.”
Nick elbowed his brother. “Maybe you should give me your man-card.”
“Ha. Ha. But seriously, she’s a 10, right?�
��
“If I tell you, will you give it up?”
“Yeah.”
“Then yes, she’s a 10.”
“I knew it! I’ve got a 10! And everyone at school thought it would be impossible.”
“Your mom’s a 10, too,” Greyson added.
The twins jolted. “What?”
“And Sydney. And pretty much every girl.”
“Dude, you’ve got…problems,” Jarryd grimaced. “Too much testosterone or somethin’.”
“No, I’m just sayin’. To somebody they’re a 10. And that’s what matters, right?”
Jarryd thought intensely, trying to make sense of his logic, but it hurt his brain.
“Even you, Jarryd. Someday someone will see you as a 10.”
His smile widened gently. “Sweet. It better be another 10.”
Greyson smirked and took another glance at the girls to make sure they weren’t being overheard.
Thud.
The sound struck them into silence. No one breathed.
Thud-thud-thud-thud. Errr-chunk-chunk-chunk-thup.
They felt it more than they heard it – deep reverberations, like distance drum beats. And then a jerk, like their ship had hit the brakes.
“Did we just stop?”
Their heads and stomachs swooned, as if the waves suddenly gained control over their bodies. They had stopped. Or at least the engines had.
No one spoke as they contemplated the meaning. Greyson rose above the bar and peered out into the dark. With just enough light coming from the ship, he could see the wake their ship made in the ocean trailing behind them. After a time, the wake dissipated until there was none.
They were dead in the water. And the hurricane was lurking behind them.
“THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN, CHIP!”
The intercom blasted. They covered their ears.
“THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION. WE HAVE REACHED OUR DESTINATION OFF THE BEAUTIFUL ATLANTIC COAST. PLEASE FOLLOW YOUR CREWMAN AND THE LIGHTED PATHWAYS TO YOUR NEAREST DISEMBARKATION POINT WHERE YOU WILL BE LIFEBOATED TO SAFETY. IF YOU CHOOSE NOT TO, YOU WILL BE KINDLY SHOT. FROM ALL OF US ON THE AMERICAN DREAM, WE WISH YOU THE BEST. THANK YOU FOR TRAVELING WITH US.”
The kids stared at each other.
