Bunny Elder Adventure Series: Four Complete Novels: Hollow, Vain Pursuits, Seadrift, ...and Something Blue

by J. B. Hawker

  Eventually the strain of the day’s events caught up with her and Sammy, too, sagged back on the bed in slumber.

  The door handle rattled, waking her with a start. Sammy instinctively depressed the can’s nozzle, enveloping the man who entered in a cloud of hairspray.

  She groped for the fallen lighter while the sailor backed away, coughing.

  “Whoa there, ma’am! We’re U.S Navy, here to help,” a man in the hallway called out.

  Hearing this, Sammy looked up in amazement. She shook her sleeping wife’s leg and cried out, “Celine! We’re saved. Thank God!”

  Jumping to her feet, she flung her meaty arms around the startled seaman.

  Nearly blinded by hairspray, he impulsively responded by hugging her back.

  Celine sat up to the shocking sight of Sammy and a sailor in a fierce embrace.

  “Sammy! How could you?” she cried.

  Once introductions were made and explanations given, a seaman escorted the two relieved women up the stairs where they joined the group waiting to be ferried to the battleship for medical examinations and debriefing.

  The sailors searching a lower deck were in a grim mood after encountering the bodies of the ship’s male entertainers in the rehearsal studio. Moving along that same deck brought them to the body of the tortured woman and the disobedient pirates Shimbir had executed.

  With these unsavory images fresh in their minds, the seamen approached the storage level with a great deal of trepidation and with arms drawn.

  The hours sitting in their cardboard enclosure, surrounded by canned food, were getting to Marco. He listened to the rumbling of his stomach and considered the pistol in his hand.

  Impulsively, he grabbed a can of pears out of a carton close at hand, put it atop a nearby stack, took careful aim with both hands and pulled the trigger. The bullet toppled the can and pierced its side. Sugary pear juice began to pour out.

  Marco was catching the juice in his mouth, before trying to pry the can open and get at the fruit inside, when the storeroom door crashed open.

  Marcella screamed. Marco fumbled for the gun with sticky hands.

  “Hold it, right there!” the sailor commanded. “Come out with your hands over your heads.”

  Coming out of the fort, the boy and his mother were weak-kneed with relief to see rescuers instead of the merciless pirates they’d expected.

  Max reluctantly left Bunny’s side to speak with Warren. He had to convince the others to act while Bunny had a chance of survival.

  He found Warren conferring softly with the Winstons.

  “How did you two get here? What’s going on?” Max kept his own voice low as he spoke.

  “Hey there, Max. Me and Floydie mopped up the pirates on our deck and came down to help you guys out,” Tricia boasted.

  “Yo!” Floyd greeted Max.

  “The Winstons disarmed one of the Somalis, so we now have three guns plus your knife. We think we might have a chance against the diminished pirate crew,” Warren explained.

  “Great. When do we start? Bunny’s not looking too good. We need to hurry.”

  “Yeah, sorry about your wife, Max,” Floyd offered.

  “Thanks. What’s the plan?”

  “We’ve been hearing the searchers coming slowly this way. They must realize they are getting close. This is as far down as we could go. So, that’s probably why they are being cautious. It’s going to be hard to surprise them, unless we can make them think we aren’t here. Tricia suggested we open that far door, the way she and Floyd came in, and try to make it appear that we ran out that way,” Warren began to explain.

  “Yeah, then, we’ll be hiding and when they get past us, we jump out and shoot ‘em in the back!” Tricia interrupted. “Nothing but dead pirates as far as the eye can see.”

  “How will we keep them from searching us out before going to the other door?” Max asked.

  “Floydie found a lighter on our dead guy. He’s going to start a small fire on the other side of that door. The light will draw the little buggers right into our sites.”

  Just then, the conspirators heard noises in the engine room. It was time to act.

  “Quick! Give me the lighter, Floyd. You get into position with your gun. I’ll go light the fire and stay out in the hall next to the door. I can use my knife on anyone who makes it that far,” Max urged, holding out his hand for the lighter.

  Floyd slapped it into his palm and everyone rushed into hiding.

  Max grabbed a roll of paper towels off the workbench and tore a flap off an open carton as he ran for the far door.

  Once on the other side, he piled crumpled sheets of paper toweling onto the cardboard and struck the lighter. It took several frustrating tries to get the damp flint to catch, but by the time he heard the machine room door squeak open he had a small blaze going. Now, if only it would make sufficient light and stay lit long enough to draw the curious pirates.

  This was Bunny’s only chance. Max prayed, “Please God, please God,” over and over under his breath as he stood poised beside the door, ready to attack anyone who made it past his armed companions.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Like a roaring lion and a charging bear is a wicked ruler over poor people.

  ─ Proverbs 28:15

  The paranoid pirate leader was searching the lower deck alone.

  When the men from the top two empty decks caught up with him, their failure to locate a single missing hostage so enraged the unstable terrorist he murdered them on the spot.

  With such incompetents around, it was no wonder these prisoners had been able to sneak off. Shimbir was convinced he could capture the escapees easily without such bunglers getting in his way.

  His instincts told him he was close to his prey as he walked into the dark machine room. A flickering light drew his attention to an open door on the far side of the dim expanse.

  Could it be a trap?

  The thought of these privileged and pampered cruise ship passengers even attempting such a thing was ludicrous; nevertheless he remained cautious as he moved stealthily across the floor.

  Averting his gaze from the lighted doorway to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, he peered into the shadowy recesses looking for any deeper blackness that might reveal someone hidden within.

  He whipped around at a faint scraping noise, but was unable to determine its source.

  He knew the imagination can play tricks in such a situation, so, shrugging, he padded toward the open doorway.

  Max, his body cramping from tension and immobility, saw the fire beginning to die down and quietly added more crumpled paper to the embers. He was not aware that part of the toweling was stained from an oil spill in the workshop.

  The flames shot up, instantly activating the deck’s automatic sprinklers.

  Water sprayed over Max and drenched those in the adjoining machine room.

  The startled pirate cried out.

  Tricia jumped up from her hiding place and sent a bullet flying, nicking Shimbir’s right ear.

  He dashed for the open doorway and Floyd and Warren also began firing.

  A bullet hit Shimbir in the calf as he dove through the doorway, where he was greeted by Max, who straddled the fallen pirate, holding a knife to his throat.

  “Please try to get up, so I can kill you,” Max growled through gritted teeth as the water continued to pour down.

  “Kill him, Max!” Tricia urged as the others clustered around, the Ambroses bringing up the rear.

  “Please, Tricia. We don’t want to sink to that level. This man is injured and unarmed, now,” Virginia said, attempting to calm the excited woman.

  “What the heck do we do with him, then?” Floyd asked. “And where is the rest of his nasty crew, anyway?”

  “You have a good point,” Warren replied. “This guy can’t be alone, can he?”

  The sprinklers shut off just then and in the silence a noise in the engine room interrupted their discussion.r />
  They turned to see a dripping wet Navy search team enter with guns drawn.

  “Drop your weapons and turn around with your hands up.”

  Recognizing the men’s uniforms, Warren responded, “We are passengers, not pirates, sailor. This man on the floor was their leader.”

  The seaman continued to point his gun at the group, insisting, “After you put your weapons down, we can sort this out.”

  Floyd, Warren and a reluctant Tricia put their guns on the wet deck. Max continued to hold his knife firmly against the pirate’s neck.

  “I’m not letting this bastard crawl away. You bring your guns over here and take him into custody then I’ll release him and give you the knife.”

  Shimbir glared up at Max, his eyes revealing the smoldering rage and hate that fed the flames of his growing madness.

  When one of the Navy men stepped near, pointing his weapon at the fallen pirate, Max rolled off, gave up his knife and rushed across the room to Bunny.

  Marki had remained beside the unconscious woman, trying to shield her from the water during all the excitement.

  “Hey, where are you going?” a sailor called out.

  “My wife is hurt. She’s wounded and needs a doctor, right away. Please help me get her out of here,” Max pleaded.

  Aboard the Bulkeley, the commander was trying to control what threatened to become mass confusion with excited passengers clogging all the passageways, either waiting for their turns in sickbay and the interview rooms or making their way to the holding area before being allowed to return to their accommodations aboard the Mers Comtesse.

  Orders had come through to secure the cruise ship and provide a crew to pilot it while following the Bulkeley into port, where arrangements were being made for the healthier passengers to be flown to their respective homes.

  Many of the group suffered physically from their days of maltreatment and most were traumatized, but only a few would require hospitalization.

  Marki had been examined and her head wound cleaned and stitched. Luckily, she had no internal injuries beyond a few bruised ribs. She was sitting in the holding area waiting for Max to come out of the ship’s hospital.

  In the examination room, Bunny was now hooked up to an array of tubes and monitors. Max, standing helplessly at her side, was awaiting the results of a brain scan and x-rays.

  He hadn’t accepted the offer of a change of clothes because he didn’t want to leave Bunny’s side, but now adrenaline was no longer surging through his veins and he was beginning to notice how he reeked of rum, blood and sweat. Max smiled to think that Bunny might refuse to wake up, just to avoid the smell.

  His smile was replaced with a look of anxiety when the doctor came in.

  “Well, doctor? What’s the verdict?” Max braced himself as he spoke.

  “The bullet, or shrapnel, actually, didn’t pierce her skull, but only creased it. She has a minor fracture and a concussion from the impact. There’s a bit of swelling in the brain that will need to be monitored, of course, but she should be coming around soon, when the pressure from the edema subsides. We’ll keep her here until she’s able to be moved to a mainland hospital, of course.”

  Max sank down on a chair, his knees suddenly weak.

  “Thank you, doctor. That’s good news.”

  “You’ve been through quite an ordeal yourself, Mr. Banks. Would you like me to check you over?”

  “No thanks. I’m okay. Just relieved…and pretty dirty. I think I’ll take advantage of your Navy hospitality and have that shower and change of clothes I was offered earlier…if you are sure Bunny’s going to be okay. She won’t come around before I get back, will she? I don’t want her to wake up alone.”

  “No. She isn’t showing any signs of regaining consciousness immediately. You should have plenty of time to clean up and have a rest. We’ll keep an eye on your wife.”

  Max found the showers and the clean fatigues and sweatshirts left for those passengers who needed them. After cleaning up he made his way along the narrow corridors of the battleship, so different from the wide hallways of the cruise ship, coming at last to the holding area where he found Marki waiting.

  “Finally! I’ve turned down two offers of a ride back to the cruise ship while waiting for you,” Marki complained when she spied him. “How’s Bunny?”

  “She’s going to be okay, thank God.”

  “Can I talk to her?”

  “No, she’s still out, but that’s just from concussion. When the swelling goes down, she’ll be good as gold.”

  “Oh. Well, I guess that’s a relief,” Marki didn’t sound entirely convinced. “The ship’s dentist looked at my mouth, earlier. He says I’ll need at least one implant and a bunch of crowns. How am I going to pay for all that without a job? And how will I ever get another gig with my teeth looking like this?”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of the expense.”

  Max walked over to a small metal writing desk in the corner of the room where he found paper and a pencil in the top drawer. He hurriedly scribbled his phone numbers on the sheet and handed it to Marki.

  “Keep it in case we get separated when we get into port. I’m going back to stay with Bunny until she comes around. I just wanted to let you know what’s up before you return to the Mers Comtesse.”

  “When will you be coming over?”

  “We aren’t officially passengers on your ship, so we may not be returned to it. But, if I don’t get over there before we reach port, I’ll look you up before you head off for home.”

  “Home…yeah, about that…I don’t really have one, a home that is, once I leave the ship. I was living with my boyfriend, the one who booked us on this cruise to hell, but we gave up the apartment and then he bailed on the gig and left me high and dry.”

  Max paused for only a moment before speaking.

  “That’s no problem. You can come on home to Houston with Bunny and me until you get back on your feet. I know she’ll be happy to have you and it will give us a chance to get reacquainted.”

  “You really mean that?”

  “Sure. I’ve got to get back to her now, though. See you later, either on the ship or in port.”

  Warren Myers entered the holding area as Max left to be with Bunny. The men exchanged a nod, but didn’t speak.

  Warren was all talked-out after his extensive debriefing with the battleship commander. Learning he was a retired Navy man, the officer relied heavily on Warren’s impressions of everything that happened, beginning with the pirate attack.

  “What happens, now, Warren?” Marki asked.

  “We wait here for the next launch back to our ship,” Warren replied.

  “But, then what? I mean, was the hijacking on the news back home? Will our families know what’s happened?”

  “I expect so. I hadn’t thought about that. The commander said our loved ones would be notified of our rescue. I didn’t think to ask how they knew we’d been attacked.”

  “I suppose when the ransom demands were received somebody must have told the press, or something,” Marki offered. “When those embassy people were rescued that time, they interviewed them on all the TV talk shows, didn’t they?”

  “Some of them, I guess.”

  “Do you think we will get asked to go on those shows, too?”

  “You don’t have to worry, Marki. No one can force you to go on TV,” he reassured her.

  “But, I want to! I’m an entertainer. That kind of exposure would be a huge break. This could be the silver lining on a nasty dark cloud.”

  “Oh. I see,” Warren remarked before ending the conversation by walking over to look out a porthole. He was surprised to see sun shining on the water. It had been dark when he’d arrived on the battleship. Maybe he was only tired from lack of sleep, but Marki’s opportunism struck a sour chord with him, after all the death and tragedy they’d been exposed to. “Do all young people bounce back so quickly?” he wondered.

  “Will you plea
se come this way to the launch?” a sailor poked his head in to escort them to the shuttle.

  In an attempt at restoring normalcy, dinner had been prepared in the battleship mess and was being served to the surviving passengers in a small dining room of the Mers Comtesse. In deference to the long night and morning being interviewed and getting settled back aboard, the meal was provided in mid-afternoon.

  “Look around, Strother. There are so few of us remaining. Is it really possible that everyone else has been killed?” Virginia asked.

  “I’m afraid many of the others did not survive. However, a few may not have returned from the battleship, yet. I know Max and his wife are still there.”

  “Poor Bunny! Have you heard how she is?”

  Strother shook his head and bowed it to ask the Lord’s blessing on their first real meal since the whole ordeal began.

  At a nearby table Samantha and Celine were eagerly digging into their dinner.

  “Mmmm, now this is food!” Sammy sighed around a mouthful of roast beef.

  “Not quite as good as the regular chef prepared, though, do you think?”

  “That poor man must have died in the attack. I heard someone say the entire crew was wiped out in the first assault.”

  Sammy’s appetite died, for a moment. “But this food is so much better than the garbage we’ve been feeding on...” she went on, stabbing another generous forkful.

  Tricia and Floyd had been questioned extensively and got to the dining room after many of the others were already eating.

  “Look around, Floydie. You’d think this bunch hadn’t eaten in years!”

  “Well, it has been a good while since they had anything decent.”

  “They should be thinking about something besides their stomachs, though.”

  “Like what?” Floyd asked.

  “Like maybe recognizing the folks that saved their fat backsides from the pirates. I haven’t heard one person give any of us a word of thanks.”