Revenge at Sea: (Quint Adler Book 1)

by Brian O'Sullivan

  I was free!!

  I could see the clear gunshot entry point through the cuff on my left wrist. It had opened the hinge that locked it in place. The handcuffs now dangled from my right hand.

  “Yes!!” I yelled.

  And I stood up.

  I never could have imagined what a great feeling that simple motion would bring.

  My attention turned to Zane. Maybe I’d seen too many horror movies, but the bad guy is never dead. And I was ready to finish him off once and for all.

  But as I looked down at him, I knew it wasn’t necessary.

  Charles Zane was dead.

  His face looked as you’d expect after forty or fifty kicks. It was a bloody mess with his cheeks, nose, and forehead almost inseparable.

  But you could clearly see his eyes. They were bugging and not going to blink. Ever again.

  His face looked similar to Griff Bauer’s when I looked through the hinges of his door. This had all come full circle.

  After one last look at Zane, I headed toward the ladder that took you below deck. My worst fears had come true. The fire was already out of control.

  I searched for a fire extinguisher, but couldn’t find one. It was likely below deck and going down there was now an impossibility.

  The flames were giving off a crazy amount of heat. I wouldn’t be able to stay on the boat much longer.

  What were my options? I didn’t have many.

  Then a terrible revelation struck me. The life jackets had been below deck.

  I walked back to the ladder and looked down. In the inferno, the bottom of the ladder had burnt away.

  Surely the life jackets were gone as well.

  And it’s not like I could jump down there anyway. I’d be burnt to death in seconds.

  There was no way around it. In a very short time, I was going to enter the remorseless Pacific without a life jacket. I was a dead man.

  Making matters worse, the sun had begun to set over the course of the last several minutes. Most light came from the fire. When the boat went down and the water extinguished the fire, I’d be all alone in the pitch black of the Pacific.

  One last chance remained. I walked up to where you helm the boat.

  I found a radio on the side of the steering wheel and picked up the transmitter, which was really just an old-school walkie talkie.

  “Help!” I yelled.

  But there was no answer.

  I saw a little plaque and found the section I was looking for.

  It read: In case of emergency, go to Channel 16 and transmit “Mayday. Mayday. Mayday.”

  I switched the radio to Channel 16 and picked up the transmitter.

  The smoke was getting worse and making it tougher to breathe. I had to be quick.

  “Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!” I yelled. “Is anyone there? I’m on a boat that’s on fire. In the middle of the Pacific.”

  I realized how stupid that sounded.

  I heard a voice on the other end.

  “This is the Coast Guard. What are your coordinates?”

  “I have no idea.” Then I remembered something that Zane had said. “Wait. I think we might be fifteen miles off the coast of Santa Cruz.”

  “Your coordinates will be on the boat’s GPS. If you are on the radio, you probably have them on the screen in front of you.”

  I found them and relayed them to the dispatcher.

  “How long do you have?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. A few minutes max. The smoke is getting worse by the second.”

  “Do you have a raft or anything to get off the boat in?”

  “No.”

  “At least make sure you throw on a life jacket.”

  “Those burnt up.”

  Her silence said it all. She knew, like me, that I was in deep, deep trouble.

  “I’m sending someone from the Coast Guard right now. I hate to tell you this, but we don’t have patrols that far out. It could be twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll be dead in half that time,” I said.

  “Do what you can. Stay on the boat until the last possible second. Then try to grab on to something that will keep you afloat.”

  “Thanks. I have to go.”

  “Good luck.”

  I walked back down from the helm, and the heat became nearly unbearable. The flames had overtaken the lower level and were starting to appear on the main deck.

  As I looked out onto the Pacific, I noticed two shark fins breaking the surface, parading around the boat. Clearly, they’d been attracted by the flames, noise, or the vibrations of the boat, but after all that happened, it sure didn’t feel like a coincidence.

  I heard a deafening pop. It sounded like an oxygen tank or something similar had exploded. I had to get off the boat.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” I said.

  The flames were my immediate concern, but the boat was going down soon. I didn’t have much else I could do.

  Hopefully, by some miracle, the Coast Guard would arrive before I drowned. But the odds were stacked against me.

  As the boat continued to disintegrate, one end rose higher in the water. The angle forced Charles Zane’s body down toward the blaze.

  I watched as it caught on fire. He was lucky to already be dead. I guess I should have been happy that at the very least, I had taken him with me. Avenging my father’s death. But that didn’t give me any solace in the moment. I had myself to worry about.

  The heat was becoming too much and I knew I had to get in the water.

  It was a horrible choice to have to make, but I’d take drowning over burning alive.

  The boat took on water as the lower deck sank. I went to the farthest point from the fire, waiting for the last second until I entered the Pacific.

  I looked out on the horizon for a boat. Surely, if there was one in the vicinity, they’d head toward something burning. But I saw no one. So far out in the ocean, the idea of having another boat close by was a pipe dream.

  And the Coast Guard was still at least fifteen minutes away.

  The water now came over the edges of the boat.

  I saw Charles Zane’s lifeless, burnt body get swept overboard.

  And then, as if on cue, the two shark fins headed toward Zane’s body. Tooth-filled maws started tearing him to shreds. It was vicious, primal, and over in a few seconds.

  I probably would have enjoyed the irony if I wasn’t about to enter that very same water.

  Cracking noises sounded from the bottom of the boat. It must not have been able to take the pressure of the fire anymore.

  Then, with a huge crack, one portion of the boat broke off from the other. We were going down.

  In a mere five seconds, I’d gone from ten feet above sea level to the inevitably that I was about to enter the Pacific Ocean.

  This was it.

  The boat sank quickly. As my last line of protection gave way and I first touched the ocean water, it was even colder than I expected. My stab wounds immediately stung from the salt, but I thought being in shorts actually gave me a fighting chance. It would be nearly impossible to move around in wet jeans.

  Still, lasting until the Coast Guard arrived would be a long shot. And that’s assuming they found me. I was no longer on a boat, just an individual floating at sea. They might never see me.

  As I entered the water, I was able to hold on to a rather large piece of the boat. It offered my best chance of surviving, considering I had no life jacket. I was a good swimmer, but surviving the Pacific Ocean was something entirely different from swimming laps at my apartment complex.

  I remained holding the wreckage for a minute.

  But just when I thought I might get out of this alive, a huge wave slammed me from behind and I lost my grip. A few seconds later, I slid back down the other side of the wave, but couldn’t see any fragments of the boat.

  How had it vanished from my line of sight so quickly? I was amazed at the power of the ocean.

  Which was going to be my final resting p
lace. I knew that now.

  I was all alone in the Pacific Ocean without a life jacket.

  And it’s not like I was near the coast with reasonable swells. I was miles and miles from shore and the waves were massive.

  Another took me by surprise and dragged me under for a good five seconds. I struggled to get back above water and catch a breath. I made it, but knew I couldn’t last much longer.

  I’d be lying if I said the image of the sharks ripping Zane’s body apart hadn’t entered my mind. I visualized them swimming below me, but did all I could to push that picture out of my mind.

  And despite the menace of the sharks, I knew I was more likely to drown.

  It was dark out. I was in the unrelenting ocean. And each wave sent my head underwater for several seconds. I couldn’t imagine a more frightening scenario.

  A minute passed and I don’t know how I survived it. It felt like an hour.

  The Coast Guard was still at least ten minutes away. Likely more.

  Another huge wave passed over, sending me under. As I fought to get to the surface, I realized if I just opened my mouth and took in a huge amount of water, it could be over soon.

  No!!!

  I was going to fight to my very last breath.

  Which might come at any moment.

  My whole body started to shiver.

  I looked up toward the heavens.

  “I’ll be joining you soon, Dad. I love you.”

  I thought of my mother and of Cara. I’d let them down. I just hoped someday they’d forgive me.

  Another wave came over me, and it was an immense struggle to get above water and take in a breath. Something smacked my head from behind, likely a piece of wood from the boat. It almost knocked me out.

  Maybe that would have been for the best.

  Before I could grab the floating piece of boat it had slipped out of my reach. Seaweed had wrapped itself around my left shoulder and slapped me in the face.

  Another wave took me under. I once again thought swallowing a lot of water might be the easiest way out.

  But I couldn’t. I had to fight. If I lost my life, it was going to because of the elements, not from giving up.

  I looked around for anything to hold on to, but it was too dark. I saw nothing.

  The biggest wave yet carried me up and then sent me underwater. It was too powerful and I wasn’t going to be able to get to the surface. Just when I’d conceded the inevitability of death, I saw a light shining through the water.

  I had to fight!

  I used all the energy I had to get above the surface, taking in a huge breath once I did. I’d been seconds from dying. Of that, there’s no doubt.

  I looked around for the light and saw a boat. I took another deep breath, knowing I needed more oxygen if I was going to yell.

  “I’m over here!! I’m over here!!”

  I screamed louder than I’d ever had before. But I could only muster the two screams. My low oxygen level wouldn’t allow me any more.

  The waves went over me every few seconds. When I had a brief respite, I spent all my energy trying to yell, even if it wouldn’t last long.

  “I’m over here!”

  The boat continued in my direction. And I kept trying to yell.

  “Quint?” I heard a voice yelling from the boat.

  I didn’t have time to consider how they knew my name. I was just ecstatic to hear it.

  I took the deepest breath I could. “I’m over here!” I shouted, using all the strength I could muster. “I’m over here! I’m over here!”

  And somehow, the boat heard me. Or saw me. I didn’t care. I just knew they were now coming directly at me.

  Fifty feet away. Forty feet. Twenty feet.

  I was exhausted. My muscles were failing. But no way could I go back underwater. This was my one shot.

  The boat came within ten feet and a man looked in my direction.

  “I see him!” he yelled.

  The boat came up next to me and the man reached down, grabbing me by my shoulders, and pulled me onto the deck.

  Immediately, someone at my side threw a jacket over me. He had me sit down.

  “How long have you been in the water?” he asked.

  “Ten minutes, I’d guess,” I said.

  “With no life jacket? And in that unforgiving ocean?”

  I nodded, it taking less energy than speaking.

  “Truly amazing,” he said.

  I looked out upon the ocean, still in a bit of shock it wasn’t going to be my grave.

  The man looked down at my thigh.

  “Knife wounds,” I said, my breath slowly coming back.

  “Jesus, what happened to you?”

  I didn’t know how to answer.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You just rest for now.”

  Someone brought over a huge blanket and laid it over me.

  I was beyond exhausted, but getting fuller breaths. The man gave me a minute as I deeply inhaled air several times.

  “How did you guys get here so soon?” I finally asked. “The dispatcher said it was going to be twenty minutes or more.”

  “We had a head start on our patrolling Coast Guard brethren,” the man said and nodded in someone’s direction.

  A familiar face approached me. Ray Kintner.

  He came and put his arm around my shoulder. And started smiling.

  “You know, we could have been here sooner if you’d just told me you were going to be on Zane’s boat instead of giving me some fucking riddle about his nickname.”

  I don’t know why, but it was one of the funniest things I’d ever heard.

  For a moment, Ray and I shared a laugh, but then I started coughing uncontrollably.

  “Save your breath,” he said.

  And then he hugged me.

  We sat there for a while before he spoke again.

  “I’m sorry for all that happened,” he said

  “Don’t be,” I said. “You just saved my life.”

  And then, once the moment passed, I broke down and started crying.

  It was all too much. I cried for my dad. For what happened on the boat. For almost having died at sea. For what my mother was likely going through.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, once I’d got ahold of myself.

  “No need to apologize,” Ray said. “Zane is dead, I assume?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m sure you have quite the story to tell.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “It can wait. Rest up.”

  38.

  I was largely left alone for the next ten minutes.

  One of the Coast Guard came over and bandaged up the knife wounds on my thigh. He then took my temperature and smiled at the reading.

  But that was it.

  They obviously thought rest was best.

  I had a jacket on and a huge blanket covering me and my body was warming up by the minute.

  Ray Kintner walked back over right as we glimpsed the coast for the first time.

  “Quint, are you feeling up for a five-minute conversation? Once we get to the hospital, the doctors will take over, but you could give me some vital information right now. It could be time sensitive.”

  “I can talk,” I said.

  I only had time to give Ray the bullet points, so I summarized what Charles Zane had divulged on the boat. I mentioned Anderson and his murders, the man who’d successfully killed Bauer, but not me, and Max, who’d helped load the boat.

  I told him that Zane said Max was his second in charge. He’d be vital.

  We were approaching the shore when I asked to borrow his phone.

  “Hello? Who is this?” my mother’s voice said.

  “It’s your son, Mom. I’m fine,” I said.

  She started crying on the other end. Tears of joy, to be sure. I figured she’d be finding out about my ordeal shorty, so I didn’t want to alarm her.

  “And I found out that Dad died a hero,” I said.


  This was too much for her and she began crying louder. Our family had never been the most emotional group, but that sure had changed.

  “When can I see you?”

  “I’ll call you later today. Just know I’m safe.”

  I called Cara, who didn’t answer, possibly because she didn’t recognize the number. I left her a voicemail.

  Ray took his phone back.

  “How did you think to sweep out his legs?”

  “I didn’t have many options,” I said and smiled wryly.

  “I guess not.”

  “And my hands were indisposed in the moment.”

  “If I was a gambling man, I’d have said you were a hundred to one to get off that boat alive.”

  “I told myself a thousand to one.”

  “A bookie could go broke taking bets against you.”

  I laughed. “Thanks, Ray.”

  He called ahead to a hospital in Santa Cruz, telling them he was bringing a patient in.

  “We’ll try to get you a single bed this time,” Ray said.

  I laughed again. “You’re funnier than I remember,” I said.

  “Thinking about throwing my hat in the stand-up ring.”

  “Cop Comedy. Somehow don’t think that’s going to catch on.”

  “Yeah, I guess not.”

  A member of the Coast Guard walked up to us. “Mr. Adler, we are pulling in to the Santa Cruz marina. We have an ambulance ready.”

  The Guardsman, or “Coastie” as some called them, smiled at me. I owed them a great debt, but it must have been fulfilling on their end as well. They had saved a life.

  “Thanks so much,” I said. “I’ll never be able to repay you guys.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The Coastie smiled and left Kintner and I be. I made a note to get these guys’ names and send them something special.

  “I can’t wait to hear how you found out Zane’s nickname and how that led you fifteen miles off the coast of Santa Cruz,” I said.

  Ray Kintner looked out onto the approaching dock. “I’ll fill you in on everything later. But let’s just say, if we weren’t able to ping your cell phone, we’d still be near the Berkley Marina. It’s what gave us a fighting chance. To be continued. We’re pulling in.”

  The Coast Guard parked its vessel and one of the Coasties escorted me off of the boat. I thanked them all a second time.