by Marni MacRae
I listened to the fight as one dark shiny shadow stood over Lucas and me with a very scary looking gun and a scowl. He said only one English word, but it was all we needed to hear. “Stay.”
We stayed. After twenty minutes – that dragged on like years – Jok and the others had come to some resolution. I figured that they had to have agreed on something, as the engines fired up again and we changed course. We now headed in a direction I thought may be southwest, but couldn’t be sure.
A taller shiny shadow with a machete in his worn leather belt, yes an actual machete – that I was thankful wasn’t covered with blood stains – came to give orders to our personal guard.
Lucas and I had been sitting, as commanded, saying nothing, clasping hands. I had long ago lost feeling in my fingers but refused to give up my lifeline to Lucas. During the twenty minutes/years that the pirates and Jok argued over whatever pirates get mad about, Lucas was calmly studying the man who held the gun. Who was, in turn, studying me.
I felt naked and terrified, and refused to look at the man. I stared at my feet, my shoelaces, Lucas’s feet; he had no shoelaces, but his worn leather boots told their own story. Focusing on them, I tried to imagine where they had been. Montana fields. Stirrups. Pedals of a farm truck. Anything to not see the scenarios the pirate planned for me, clearly written on his face.
Lucas saw the plans too. He tensed with every leer the shiny shadow gave me. He had scooted closer to me, and I leaned into him. Any closer and I would be in his lap, but I didn’t care about propriety, or whether I would look like a crazy chick. I wanted to curl up into Lucas’s arms and wait for the nightmare to be over.
The taller pirate said something in their angry language to our guard and gestured toward the entrance to below decks. We were then marched, at gunpoint, to our cabins below.
Once inside, with the door closed, I immediately turned the lock on the handle. They couldn’t lock the door from the outside, even though I knew they didn’t need to. The pirate and his gun were more than enough to keep the door firmly shut. I also knew the flimsy lock and even flimsier door wouldn’t keep them out, but I wasn’t going to leave it unlocked. It seemed almost like an invitation.
Now, it had been another thirty minutes or so. The boredom and not knowing what was happening, what was going to happen, wore away at the small bit of control I had left. Shock had kept me from blubbering, freaking out, or passing out. That was wearing off, though, and nerves threatened to take over, promising nausea, jitters and a need for oxygen.
I vowed I would not throw up. It would make me weak and sluggish. I hate throwing up, I would make a terrible bulimic. I sat down on the small, cramped floor of the cabin and did stretches. Breathe slowly. Stretch. Breathe in. Stretch. Breathe out. After five minutes, I had the jitters under control and the tightness in my chest loosened. As long as I didn’t think about my future, I could get through. Minute to minute.
I lay on the bed. I got up and paced. There was no room to pace properly – it made me dizzy. I lay on the bed again. The ship was moving faster than it had before. At first, I had caught the sound of another engine, to the port side of the Lady Sun, but that soon faded. I wondered briefly if the pirates had gotten off and left, but conceded that was wishful thinking. These men were probably just the small boarding crew and now we speedily headed to the pirate nest, where very bad things would happen.
I stopped that train of thought and got up to splash water on my face. I was in total mental lock-down. I refused to think of Anna or the princes or my horses or my Mom. They all made my barrier crack, and I felt the panic rise, so I forced blankness. Nothing.
One minute. Two minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen. It sounded quiet in the hall. I began to wonder if the guard really was a shadow. With a spurt of bravery – or stupidity – I quietly turned the lock on the handle of the door and opened it slowly. So slowly. Reveal just a hair of a crack, a slim view into the hall. He was there. Dark and shiny and armed – and looking the other way. I almost slammed the door as my bravery/stupidity turned to fear and nausea again, but I forced myself, panting now, to slowly, slowly, close the crack. Turn the lock.
Back on the floor. Stretch. Breathe in. Stretch. Breathe out. One minute. Four minutes. Ten. The tiny porthole in my cabin showed the sunset. I refused to look. It made me tear up again. But the walls of the cabin glowed rosy in the reflected light. I closed my eyes. Conjuring numbers, I counted in twos to a hundred, then threes to a hundred, then fours. After I had finished the nines, I wished I had my purse with my Sudoku book. It always calmed me and passed time. I went on. Tens to a hundred. Elevens to ninety-nine.
I heard something. Someone in the hallway. The machete pirate? A changing of the guard? I stood frozen in the middle of the small room, wanting to rush over to the door, take another peek. Wanting to bar the door, crawl under the blankets. Then a tap, like a knock and the handle tried to turn. Suddenly my entire world was that handle. It was shiny … and gold ... and smooth. And the one thing, with its flimsy lock, that kept me this girl. Before the door opened and bad things happened and I became another girl. Not a better Sophia, but a broken Sophia … I couldn’t handle the thought of that.
“Two,” I whispered. “Four, six, eight, ten, twelve,” A tap again – and my name.
“Sophia!”
I barely made it out, but I knew. It was Lucas. Crazy, gorgeous, stubborn, grumpy, sad Lucas. Not machete-pirate, or shiny-shadow-gun-pirate. I flew to the door, almost falling in the few steps it took. I couldn’t get the lock to turn, I was yanking on the handle and the door wouldn’t open.
He came for me! He said he would, the stupid brave man – and he did, and I CAN'T OPEN THIS STUPID DAMN DOOR! I was screaming in my head now, and then stopped. Stood still and counted. Three, six, nine, twelve, fifteen. I turned the lock. The door opened easily, quietly, and he was there. I threw myself at him – almost a body slam. I hugged him and he hugged me back. It seemed like we stood there for long minutes, just taking stock we were both fine, but only seconds had passed.
In a low and clipped voice, Lucas whispered in my ear, “We have to go. Get to the raft.” He pulled me away from him and stooped so my face was right in front of his. “Listen, Sophia.”
I nodded. Mute. Listening. He was so beautiful – my savior. Just for being there when he said he would – he was perfect.
“It’s dark now, they won’t see us go. I hope it’s loud enough they won’t hear us. We will have to be fast. Once the raft is over we have to be in the water. The ship is moving too fast. If we wait even a moment, we will have to swim to find it. It's dark, we may not – If we lose the raft…” He stopped, and I understood what he was trying to tell me. We would drown.
I nodded. Fast. Got it. “Tell me what to do.”
Lucas smiled, huge and brilliant in the dim light, and I saw his relief. He must have been worried I would be a blubbering mess and he would have to drag me, weeping and toss me over. I felt ashamed for a brief second. While I was counting and stretching and not freaking out, he had been planning and waiting for dark. To rescue us.
I would not freak out. I owed him at least whatever mettle I had in me to get through this and help him.
“Good.” He nodded. “Just get to the railing where the raft is. Stay next to me. Don’t make a sound. Don’t get seen. Be slow and careful. We have one shot.” He looked at me as if asking if I understood him. I did. Perfectly.
“Got it.”
He said nothing more, but reached out and squeezed my hand, then turned and stepped into the hallway. As I left the cabin and followed him, I had a moment of surprise; I almost shrieked, but choked it down and went on as if nothing were amiss. There, lying on the floor outside the door of Lucas’s cabin, lay shiny-shadow-pirate. Minus his gun, which I now noticed was slung over Lucas’s shoulder, hanging at his back.
That's fine. I am glad he has the gun. I almost stepped on the pirate on purpose out of spite but thought better of it. Due to the dark hallway, I couldn'
t be sure if he was dead or unconscious. There appeared to be no blood that I could see, and Lucas didn’t seem like the kind of man who would kill, but then, I didn’t know Lucas at all. I realized this fully at that moment. The teasing, the flirting, the drinks. All I knew was his name and the state he lived in. And that this man may or may not be dead at his hands. I stepped over shiny-shadow-pirate and followed Lucas.
Whether I knew him or not, he was still perfect to me.
We sneaked up the stairs. Quietly. Slowly. At the aft deck, we crept to the starboard side. I caught a glimpse of something in the pale light of the runner strips along the back of the ship. My suitcase. My purse. Both still sat right where I had left them. I noticed, too, that Lucas’s suitcase lay on its side at the other end of the bench. He'd never taken it to his cabin. We have to get them. I reached out and touched Lucas’s back lightly, trying not to startle him. He stopped and leaned in close, making it easy to whisper in his ear.
“Our bags! We need them!” I pointed to where they sat and he shook his head no, turning to continue on. Grabbing his arm this time I pulled him down, so my mouth was on top of his ear. “I have food, water and meds!”
He looked at me, and I saw in his eyes that he was almost amused at the stash I announced, but too caught up in our escape to indulge. He nodded once and quickly and quietly went to his bag. I hurried over to my end of the bench and expertly slung my purse over my shoulder, putting the strap over my head so that the bag sat on the back of my hip like a messenger satchel. I picked up my suitcase to keep it from rolling and making noise, and was back to the railing the same time as Lucas. He said nothing, he just carried his suitcase in his arms and went directly to the hatch.
It took Lucas less than three seconds to unlatch the three clasps and open the compartment. I reached into the end where all the life vests sat stacked in the corner, and pulled one on. My fingers proved surprisingly steady and I was able to snap it up quickly. Three clasps. One. Two. Three. Now that I had a goal, something to do, to focus on, I felt settled. Sane. I hoped it lasted, but shoved the thought away and reached and pulled out the rest of the stack.
Lucas focused on dragging out the square of rubber that comprised the life raft, turning it and looking for the emergency handle. I set aside a life vest for him, tied two vests to the handle of my suitcase, and then grabbed his luggage and did the same. Within seconds, we were ready. We were moving quickly, efficiently, like a team that had practiced this a hundred times. It's funny what one can do with the threat of a gory machete death; we had been at the railing for less than two minutes.
Lucas dragged out the metal box that had been stored at the far end of the compartment and flipped the latches, lifting the lid. Inside was a small motor. It must go to the life raft! We won’t be adrift – we'll actually be able to choose a direction! I was so excited I almost bounced up and down. I handed him the remaining vests, and he tied one through each handle of the box.
Finally, I stood holding my suitcase handle in one hand and his in the other. The wind on my face was warm, the night sky sprinkled with stars. I'm on a boat with pirates and a cowboy. I felt like I was in a movie, waiting for my cue, for the director to yell “Cut.” It seemed all just too surreal.
Lucas looked me up and down as he slipped his arms through his orange vest and fastened the clasps. “We must jump together.” He said in a whisper. “Are you ready?”
I nodded. I was ready. I couldn’t be more ready. Anywhere was better than here. Better than what would happen if we didn't jump. Lucas lifted the life raft to the railing. It stood only waist-high on me and there were about ten inches of ledge on the other side. I lifted our bags over, one at a time, and set them on the ledge. Next, I climbed up and sat with my feet on the outside, my hands gripping the rail and the suitcase handles at the same time. I didn’t feel secure at all, and I hoped that I wouldn’t plunge into the water before we said ‘Go’. I pushed that thought aside as well.
We can do this. We will do this. A soft internal chant, as I watched Lucas step easily over the rail, the raft balancing on the silver bar on one side, the motor, in its box, on the other.
Lucas looked at me and said in a regular voice to be sure I heard him. “On three. One. Two…”
I stared at his mouth. Perfectly shaped. Soft.
“Three.”
Chapter 7
The drop was further than I expected it to be. But the water was warmer.
The splash of two bodies, a couple of suitcases, a raft that inflated almost as it hit (Lucas had yanked the handle as he jumped), and a large metal can crashed loudly in my ears. I almost expected the Lady Sun to turn around and come after us like a large, sleek-lined whale intent on chopping us into tiny pieces and storing our remains in her stomach. But the lights of the yacht slid away from us, quickly motoring off to the pirate nest – minus two hostages and a yellow raft.
I had only submerged beneath the water a foot or two, and then my vest defied gravity as I bobbed to the surface, still holding on to my suitcase. Splashing the surface of the water around me, I turned in a slow circle until my hand met the vest that was tied to Lucas’s bag. I grabbed it and pulled them both close as I frantically began looking for Lucas and the raft. Yellow was easy to see against the black of the water and the lighter color of the star-studded sky. Pushing the luggage in front of me, I kicked through the black water toward the raft.
It was only twenty feet away, I don’t know how many nautical miles, or yards, or whatever sailors use to judge distances that is, but I’m an excellent swimmer. The added incentive of getting out of the deep dark ocean – where anything could grab, chomp, lick, or nibble at my legs – was enough to close the distance fast.
I heaved my suitcase over, then heaved again with Lucas’s smaller one and I suddenly felt lighter, even happier, to have achieved a goal. I reached up and grabbed the large rounded sides of the raft. My fingers felt a rope that ran along the top rim, but I ignored it, not knowing how securely anchored it was to the rubber. With much kicking and splashing, I was soon plopping into the rubber boat with a splatting sound that on any other day, moment or time would have been funny. Now though, I hurried to the other side, crawling on hands and knees to where I could hear Lucas splashing around, still not aboard our little tiny plastic island.
I looked over the side. His dark form was there, he had the metal box, barely afloat, even with the assistance of life vests, pushed up against the side of the raft. It was difficult to make out the shapes and forms of him and his burden, but I understood that he was having trouble pushing it up over the edge and inside with me. I reached over, got a handful of vest and yanked. Between the two of us, we had the box in the raft in seconds. I managed to lay it on its side, on top of one of its orange vests, where it posed no danger of tearing our island with its sharp corners.
Lucas wrapped his long arms over the edge and hauled himself inside the raft. I scuttled back to the opposite side to keep it from tipping or the side from dipping too low and letting in any more salt water. Our load seemed, to me, to already be at max for the weight limit. I figured the raft measured barely longer than I am tall, and maybe that wide. For a sexy expensive yacht, they sure skimped on the emergency vessel.
But I loved the little thing. It was my new best friend. The raft - that I promptly named Ducky- and Lucas, were my saviors from pirates and unspeakable things. So I hugged my side of Ducky while Lucas dripped on his side, catching his breath.
“We’re alive. We made it.” I was excited inside, but the words came out as a whisper. I was quickly running out of steam. The adrenaline, having run its course, had stripped away with it strength and even joy.
“Thank you …” I said to Lucas, whose dark form seemed like a dripping shadow. I was sure I appeared as a dripping shadow to him too. “… for saving me, saving us.”
Lucas remained quiet for a minute, and then said, “You’re welcome.”
We both took a moment. The entire escape plan had gone of
f without a hitch. I counted us lucky beyond belief and then checked that thought.
I began to tally all the luck I had been thanking the universe for over the last several days. Lucky window seats, twice. Not missing my connection. Not sitting on passengers. Finding alcohol. Meeting nice people on the plane instead of fat rude men or screaming children. The weather. The island, which technically I never reached. The shiny yacht. Cowboy. Weigh all that and a perfect escape against pirates that would have done things no luck would heal, and I was certain the universe still owed me.
We had escaped, yes, but surviving promised to be the next challenge and we would need lots and lots of luck to come.
Lucas stirred first. I wondered if he put any stock in luck or just his mad escape skills. He didn’t seem to be inclined to discuss either. “Do you have a light?” He crawled to the metal box and carefully untied its buoys and laid them on the floor of Ducky to set the box on top.
“Do I have a light? I promise, Mary Poppins would be jealous of what this bag holds.” I pulled my purse strap over my shoulder and unzipped the main pouch. I was shocked the interior proved to be nearly bone dry. Water had soaked into the outside leather of the bag, but inside only a little sea had made its way through the zipper. My purse was added to my list of new best friends.
I began rummaging, watching Lucas open the metal box as my fingers deftly searched for the penlight I knew was in my bag somewhere. I know I sound like a hoarder with the things that I carry in my bag, but I will defend the usefulness of each and every item. The penlight in question, I've used over the years for finding stray chickens that got out at night, to chaining up in the winter to get down my long country road, to finding things inside said purse when my fingers failed me. I mentally identified and cataloged the things I grabbed, but they were not the penlight. Bottled water, candy bar, wallet, hair clip, rubber band, ball of string one of the princes had tied me up with last week. Penlight.
