Redemption

by Ever N. Hayes

  I bit back my reply. I wanted to throw up. Seriously, did Baker clone himself?

  When Captain Baker finally did arrive, he strode in with a nauseating self-importance. Brock told him we’d both been “searched”—using air quotes for clarity—and the captain asked him if he wanted to do it again to be sure. They both shared a good laugh, and Brock looked at me. “You know—” He looked like he was actually considering it.

  I spread my legs and lifted up my shirt. “Go ahead, pervert.”

  “What did you say, whore?” Brock approached my cell, pulling his pistol out.

  I lowered my shirt but otherwise stood my ground. “You like molesting girls, do you?” I taunted him, eye to eye through the bars.

  He reached his hand into my cell and clamped it around my throat. “You better shut the—”

  “Down boy.” Captain Baker laughed, grabbing Brock’s arm. “Let her go.” When Brock didn’t immediately release me, Captain Baker added, “Now!” This time Brock listened, letting go and stepping back, his seething fat face a crimson red. “You can play with her more later.”

  “Oh, I will …” Brock glared at me.

  I glared back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing the fear I felt.

  Captain Baker then approached me himself. “You two almost got away with it, you know. We probably never would have checked that part of the ship if we hadn’t received a message from the governor that two people snuck onto the boat the night we left. Guess the old fart isn’t completely useless. Then my stupid daughter expected me to believe she ‘dropped’ her gun overboard.”

  He emphasized his point with air quotes as well. Seriously…clones.

  “The girl has been handling guns since she was five. She isn’t capable of being that clumsy. So I had her tailed. She scammed that search last night, turned the cameras at some point, and brought you breakfast this morning. And she thought I wouldn’t know. So, so sweet. Sweet, but stupid.”

  Man, is there a bigger tool in the world?

  “Really stupid,” Brock muttered, drawing an angry look from Baker. “Sorry.”

  Guess that answers the “tool” question.

  Baker looked back at me. “Anyway, we needed a distraction. We couldn’t just walk up on you two. I couldn’t have any of my guys getting shot taking you in. You, my dear …” He pointed at me. “… gave us everything we needed, berating your friend over there. So thank you. Seriously. Thank you!”

  He smiled at me as Brock laughed a little too hard. I saw Baker wince, and I bit back a smile. Don’t like kiss-asses, eh? I wished I had those throwing knives with me now. Far as I knew they were still wedged under Lazzo’s bed back in the bunkroom. “Oh, and by the way…” Baker stepped up, inches from my face. “I sent a message of thanks to the governor. I told him we caught the stowaways.” He paused for effect. “And I told him we killed them.”

  Wait. If they knew I was Danny’s sister and Danny knew I was out here, the governor had to know I was here too. So Baker would be admitting to killing an American. That didn’t make sense. Unless they didn’t know who I was or no one knew I was out here.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lazzo’s knees buckle. He too seemed to be considering the worst-case scenarios. He sank slowly to the ground, but the captain and his mule hadn’t noticed. They hadn’t taken their eyes off me, and I didn’t want them to now. Baker drew his sidearm, raising it to my forehead. I didn’t flinch.

  “I don’t think you want to do that,” I stated, about to tell him who I was.

  “Oh yeah?” He smirked. “And why’s—”

  He was interrupted by the door swinging open behind him and his daughter running in screaming, “No, Daddy, no.”

  “Cassandra, what the hell?” Baker lowered his gun.

  Cassandra? Flynn isn’t her real name? And yeah…what the hell?

  “Daddy, this is all my fault.” She grabbed him and turned him around to face her. “I told her to do it. I had to have her with me.”

  “Cassandra, what the hell are you talking about? Brock, get her out of here.” Brock grabbed her arm, but she shook free.

  “No, Daddy, please, this is Jessie.” Flynn reached out and grabbed one of my hands through the bars. “The Jessie!”

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Baker clearly didn’t know what to think, but he recognized the name. “I thought Jessie was a b—”

  “No, Daddy. She’s not.”

  “Cassandra, how could—how could you be so stupid? You’re a—” He stopped short of describing her further.

  I didn’t know if he was criticizing her for helping us or for the amorous connection she was insinuating she had with Jessie—with me. Flynn pulled on the bars. She turned and gave her dad the most pleading of looks, then looked back at me. “Jessie, I’m so sorry…”

  “Cassandra, you told them to sneak onto the boat?” Captain Baker sounded skeptical, but she nodded. “Both of them?” Flynn nodded again.

  I had to admit it was kind of funny to see the captain squirming and speechless as Flynn massaged my hands through the bars. He looked bewildered, and Brock also had a stupid look on his face. Or maybe that’s his normal look. Baker was clearly weighing his options. He was staring at his daughter in sheer disgust.

  “Cassandra, we’ll talk about this later. You need to leave now.”

  “Daddy, please.”

  She tried grabbing his hand, but he pushed her away and shook his head. “No.” He grabbed her arm. “No. I’m not okay with—” He stopped short. “I need to think about this…but not with you here. You need to go.” He pulled her toward the door.

  By the look in his eyes, I knew Flynn hadn’t changed her dad’s stance. In fact, if anything, she’d probably made him want to hurt me more. This was not the kind of father who accepted a lesbian daughter. If indeed she actually is.

  But as Flynn cried and pulled against him, begging him to let her stay, he gave in a little. “You know what? I’ll give you one minute with her. One. Minute.” He turned to Brock. “Brock, let her in.” He pointed at my cell. “Let her say her goodbye.”

  “Daddy? Goodbye?” She looked at him with convincingly frightened eyes. “What—what do you mean?”

  “Your girlfriend is a terrorist. She was sent to stop this mission with—”

  “A terrorist?” I couldn’t help myself. “Seriously?”

  “Shut up.” Baker pointed at me. “You shut up!” He held up a piece of paper. “Governor’s orders. I’m supposed to shoot her. I should shoot you both, in fact. All three of you.” Baker pointed at Lazzo.

  “Nooooo. No, Daddy, you can’t.”

  “It’s not my call. Do you want that minute or not? Last chance.”

  Tears were still running down her face, and she nodded. Brock opened the door, and Flynn threw herself into my arms. She passionately hugged me—rubbing her chest back and forth against my own—sliding her hands down my back and squeezing me, thrusting her pelvis into mine. Whoa. Easy girl. She glued her lips against mine, and I could feel her hands moving around to the front of my pants. Um…okay? What the hell are you doing, Flynn? I saw her dad look sideways in disgust as she slid her fingertips inside my jeans and pulled me even tighter against her.

  “Good grief.” Baker turned his back to us altogether. Instantly Flynn’s right hand released my jeans, quickly dipping into her own pocket, and then it was back inside the front of my jeans, sliding something cold into my panties. I flinched at the cool touch of metal against my skin, but I hid my smile in her lips. Damn. She is good.

  “All right, that’s enough.” Captain Baker turned back to us.

  Flynn pulled away from me after one last deep kiss, and I snuck a quick peek at Brock. He looked rather disappointed we’d stopped. “I’m so sorry.” Flynn’s voice was hysterical as her dad separated us. “Daddy, please … for me … please let her live.”

  “You make me sick.” He shook his head. “Get her the hell out of my face.”

  Brock pulled h
er out of the room, with Flynn screaming the whole time. The captain was clearly rattled. I knew he wouldn’t do the dirty work himself. There had to be a small part of him that would eternally feel the guilt of killing me.

  Apparently I was right. He didn’t say another word. Instead he shook his head again, spun around, and stormed out the door.

  Lazzo and I were alone, for now, and I saw Lazzo staring at me. “What was that about?”

  I smiled and silently retreated to a dark corner of my cell. Slowly reaching down into my pants, I pulled out a keycard with a key taped to it and a four-digit number written on the back. “A second chance.”

  TWENTY – Grate Escape (Hayley)

  ---------- (Tuesday. August 2, 2022.) ----------

  We were left alone for the rest of the evening. No one even peeked in at us. They probably could see all they needed to through the two cameras in the corners. Shortly after midnight, when the rest of the ship was likely asleep, the door swung open and Brock came sauntering in. “Well, hello.” Such a stupid smug look. I knew he’d be focused on me. I don’t think he even glanced in Lazzo’s direction.

  I needed to keep it that way. “Were you ever in a movie?” I asked with mock sincerity.

  My question caught him off guard. “Uh.” He stopped walking. “No. Why?”

  “Nothing, never mind.” I shook my head.

  “No, who did you think I was? I’m curious.”

  “I just …” I bit back my smile. “I don’t know. I could’ve sworn you were the dad in the Simpsons movie.”

  My response had its desired effect. “You calling me a Homer?”

  I actually wasn’t. I was calling him fat and stupid—but the “Homer” reference seemed to bother him more, so I nodded. “If it fits.”

  His eyes filled with rage, and he began fumbling with his keys. I stood in the middle of my cell, arms behind my back, pretending to struggle—as if I were chained to the pole behind me. Brock fell for it.

  “Oh, poor girl. Did they lock you up?” He pursed his lower lip, took his gun belt off, and unbuttoned his shirt. “Why don’t you let me help you?”

  I began to beg, apologize, and tearfully plead for him to leave me alone, but he climbed up the bars and turned the cameras toward the wall. “Sorry, boys,” he said, presumably to whomever was watching from the command tower. He bolted the door from the inside, took his collared shirt off and tossed it over the back of a wooden chair. Then he turned his focus to me. “You humiliated me, bitch.” All mock pleasantness was gone. “And you just keep going. You’re going to pay for that,” he snarled. He unbuckled his belt and walked towards me—a sickening grin plastered across his face.

  “Help me!” I screamed. “You can’t do this.”

  Brock laughed. “I can do whatever the hell I want.” He slid a hand down the front of his pants and cackled. “Oh … I’ve been waiting for this.”

  He unlocked the cell door and stepped inside, his pants now unbuttoned and unzipped. He took one long stride toward me and slapped me hard across the face. “That’s for the pervert comment.” He slapped me again, a little harder. It was all I could do to not block the blows—but he had to believe I physically couldn’t defend myself. I could taste blood now. “That’s for the molesting comment.” He slapped me one more time. “And that was just for fun.” He laughed. “Come on, that was fun.”

  “Please stop,” I begged weakly, the anger in me not unlike a volcano ready to blow.

  “Aww…I’m sorry. I’m just getting started.” He unbuttoned my jeans and began to pull them down, but before he could get them completely off my hips, I mustered all my strength into one shot and kneed him squarely in the nose. His head snapped back, and he fell against the bars. He sat stunned for a few long seconds, blood pouring down his face, before his rage took over. He launched himself at me, but I ducked, stepping aside as he crashed into the pole behind me. He looked down at my hands in surprise, noticing I wasn’t actually cuffed to the pole. But before he could say anything or reach out to grab me, a rope was wrenched tightly around his neck from behind.

  Before Brock came in, I’d tossed the skeleton key Flynn had given me across to Lazzo. He’d unlocked his own cell and waited for Brock to be distracted to make his move. Brock’s unilateral focus on payback had given Lazzo the opportunity he needed to sneak up on the lieutenant. And with no cameras on us anymore, no one would be coming to his rescue for a while.

  Lazzo now had a solid chokehold on the lieutenant. Brock struggled against the rope, but it was no use. Lazzo could have killed him. But I didn’t want that. Instead I wrapped a cloth around the fat idiot’s head, gagging him, and Lazzo led him to the darkest corner of my cell. I grabbed a set of cuffs off the wall and had Lazzo strip him of his uniform. Lazzo then cuffed Brock naked to the bars.

  I put Brock’s own gun to his head, clicked off the safety, and got right up in his face. “I want you to know I could—and probably should—kill you right now.” I could see the reality of that fact register in his eyes. “Do you doubt that?” He shook his head emphatically and mumbled what I assumed was “no.”

  “But do you know why I won’t kill you?” I waited until he shook his head again. “Because my brother wouldn’t want me to. That’s all. My brother. That’s the only reason you’re still alive.” I paused for effect and glanced at Lazzo, but he wouldn’t look at me. “On the other hand.” I swung my eyes back to Brock’s. “When he finds out you were going to rape me…” I let out a cold laugh. “You’ll wish I’d shot you.”

  His bewildered look surprised me. He clearly didn’t know what I was talking about. “You still don’t know who my brother is, do you?” The lieutenant shook his head again. “Huh. Well.” I gave him a sad look. “Let’s hope you never find out. Let’s hope you aren’t unlucky enough to make it back to Hawaii.”

  I turned to walk away and then stopped short. “Oh, and one more thing.” I walked back to him. “This”—I kicked him hard in the nuts—“is for touching me before.” He doubled over as much as the cuffs allowed him to, eyes rolling up into his head, and groaned loudly through the gag. “And this”—I kicked him again, even harder, in the same place—“is for the next time you think about touching me.” I watched the tears of agony streak down his cheeks and, satisfied I’d made my point, I walked away. The embarrassment of being discovered like that would stay with him for life. “Let’s go, Lazzo.”

  “That was you being nice?” Lazzo asked quietly as I scanned the keycard at the door and stepped out into the hall.

  “And your point is?”

  “Nothing.” He followed me down the hall.

  That’s what I thought. I was looking for the “2112” Flynn had scribbled on the back of the keycard she’d given me. Has to be a room number.

  It was. I found it right under the stairs leading up into the command tower. A guard was asleep in a chair outside the door with 2112 above it and “Armory” stenciled on it. Ah. Nice. Since I knew nothing about how to knock someone out, I directed Lazzo to do so. He snuck up on the sleeping man and rendered him even fully unconscious.

  The keycard worked on that door, and then the skeleton key unlocked the cage inside. Lazzo went for a rifle and several handguns. My attention wasn’t nearly as scattered. I saw a bow—a beautiful Hoyt Spyder compound bow—and almost four dozen arrows beside it. I slung the arrows over my shoulder, loaded a backpack full of ammunition for Lazzo, and we hurried back out the door. I was surprised we hadn’t caught anyone’s attention yet. There were two cameras in the armory and a camera outside in the hall. What in the world are they watching up there? But just as I thought we were getting too lucky, the alarm sounded. People were coming out into the hallway, so Lazzo and I scrambled up the stairs and across the deck of the carrier toward our former hiding place. I heard gunshots ring out behind me, but I didn’t look back. I could hear Lazzo huffing along behind me and knew we couldn’t afford to slow down.

  We ran down the stairs and almost directly into Flynn,
who was holding a baseball bat. “Flynn.”

  “Hey,” she responded, out of breath as well. “You brought him with you? I thought you’d let them—”

  “Kill him? I wish.”

  Lazzo shook his head. “Thanks.”

  Flynn gave me a long puzzled look, before shrugging. “Okay, well, all the cameras on this end of the boat are smashed. I know where we need to go.”

  Sweet. “Let’s go then.” Lazzo was looking behind us toward the voices we could hear scrambling in our direction. I grabbed his arm and pulled him. “Come on.”

  We followed Flynn down another set of stairs and through a few dark corridors. She stopped suddenly and lifted up a grate in the floor. She dropped down inside it, and we followed suit. It was pitch-black down there. “Follow me,” she whispered and crawled through what must have been some sort of drainage tube. We crawled for several hundred yards. We could hear footsteps pounding on the metal floor directly overhead as people searched for us, but it was unlikely anyone would follow us down this drain.

  When Flynn stopped to rest for a minute, I asked her, “How’d you find out about these—” What is this place? “These—whatever this is?”

  “The channels? They had construction maps up in the tower. Chase snagged them and brought them to our room when I told him I was breaking you out.”

  “By the way, th—”

  “Don’t mention it. Seriously.”

  “But are you actually a—”

  “No, I’m not.” She interrupted me again. “Jesse is my actual boyfriend…or…he was.”

  “He—”

  “He didn’t survive the attacks.” Flynn was way ahead of me.

  I didn’t know what to say. I reached out and grabbed her hand in the dark. “I’m sorry.” There was no reply. “For the record though, Flynn…”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re one hell of a kisser.”

  I could hear the smile in her voice as she squeezed my arm and whispered, “Thanks.” We listened to more footsteps pass overhead. “Ready?”

  “Is Chase—”