The Boy Who Would Rule the World

by Brian Toal

  "Queen of Selkirk, understood. What course of action have you embarked on to save the ship?"

  "The First Officer and myself will remain on board after the passengers and the rest of the crew have disembarked. When they have been removed a safe distance, we will activate the deluge sprinkler system in the lower level. I believe we can flush the gasoline from the decks, however we will then be centered in an extensive gasoline slick and it will be unsafe to begin this process until the passengers have been moved a safe distance from the ship."

  "There was a pause as the officer at Tsawwassen Control spoke with some others in the background. "Queen of Selkirk...we agree with your planned course of action. We have dispatched the Queen of Purcell to your position to assist with recovering passengers. The Queen of Purcell should be within sight in less than one half-hour although we have notified her not to proceed closer than one half-mile."

  "Tsawwassen Control, I understand. We have a full passenger load and it will take us at least a half-hour to disembark all passengers and crew."

  "Queen of Selkirk, Good luck. Out."

  Lisa Hill stood on the upper deck with twenty-four of her twenty-six charges. All the school children from the five school busses had been assembled together, bulky in their red lifejackets. There were one hundred and forty-eight of them. Some crying. Others standing stolidly alone, their eyes wide with suppressed fear. Others frantically clutched their friends' hands, aware of what was about to happen but unable to confront it alone. Still others, far too many, sought refuge with the only surrogate parents they could find - their teachers. Lisa desperately tried to do another head count, but children clutched at her hands, tore at her coat, even fell to the deck and with maddened determination wrapped their arms around her ankles, trying with all their young strength to prevent her from abandoning them. She couldn't move. Her body was obese with children, pulling at her clothes, her arms, her neck, her feet. "Help me..." She cried out to a man standing at the edge of her multitude. "I’m short two children and I can't..."

  She gasped and would have fallen, but for the miniature mounds of flesh surrounding her, as the man casually raised a gun and pointed it at her face.

  The ship was equipped with only four respirators. All were in use as First Officer Riggins and three ratings sloshed through the gasoline on the lower deck. Beyond their masks the air was thick with fumes, shimmering in the overhead fluorescent lights, stinging their eyes as it seeped around the poorly-fitting rubber eye pieces.

  Riggins was separated from the nearest crew member by two rows of vehicles. Each of them manually inspecting the parked cars and trucks to either side of them, bending down to look into car windows or pounding on the cabs of tractor-trailers. He stopped beside a mini-van and cupped his hands to stare in the window. A German Shepherd lay on the back-bench seat, whining and rubbing its nose with its front paws. Already he had passed by two Poodles, a cocker-spaniel and a whole van of Labrador retrievers segregated into pens. There was no room for pets in the four lifeboats and they couldn't risk their sharp claws and indeterminate temperaments in the rafts.

  When he and the three crew members had entered the cavernous lower deck, Riggins had locked the steel fire doors behind them, preventing any passengers from returning to the lower decks - especially passengers determined to rescue their beloved canines. A B.C. Ferry had never been evacuated before. It was possible, but there was no room for animals.

  He banged his fist against the side of yet another tractor-trailer. They had to make this search thorough, but speedy. After they were finished inspecting the hold for the hard-of-hearing or any passengers that felt their automobile was expensive enough to be worth dying in, the four of them had to launch the zodiac. The rafts were only equipped with two-foot-long paddles. They had to be towed away from the ship and for just this purpose, (as well as rescuing passengers that had fallen or jumped over-board) a motorized zodiac was stored in an open alcove at the stern of the ship.

  He would be in charge of corralling the lifeboats and rafts as they were launched, something he had never done before, but he had read the manuals and knew how it was supposed to be done. He was still peering into vehicles, his mind occupied with planning the next stage of their evacuation, when the radio in his hand crackled to life.

  "I've found Gus and two passengers. They are tied up on a bus."

  "First officer to bridge." Captain Gowers stepped back into the bridge superstructure from the deck outside, where she had watching her crew prepare the passengers for loading into the lifeboats.

  "Captain here."

  "Captain..." She heard the breathless voice of her First Officer. "We have another problem. This may not have been an accident."

  "I expected that, what have you found?"

  "We found Gus. He’s unconscious. But we also found two passengers tied up beside him."

  "Where?"

  "On a bus on the lower level. One of these passengers tells me the people that were on the bus have kidnaped a child. This gasoline spill may be some sort of diversionary tactic."

  "Where are you?"

  "In the bow winch room. We had to get them to someplace with fresh air, it’s almost impossible to breathe on the lower deck."

  "Put one of these passengers on."

  There was a clatter as the portable radio changed hands and then a new voice came over the speaker. "Hello..."

  Captain Gowers spoke into the mic. "Tell me all you know about these people that were on the bus."

  "There were about fifty of them. A whole bus load. They are here to kidnap a kid - and they have done it. Then they tied up Carman and me and left us in the bus. I think they want to blow up the ship."

  "Why? Why would these people want to destroy the ship?"

  "I don't know. Maybe they think we have called the police on them or something, but they are ruthless and will do anything to get Chris."

  "Do you know who they are?"

  "Not really, but they’re from Detroit and are well connected. If they came prepared to blow the ship up, then they will."

  "But why would they want to destroy the ship?" Captain Gowers repeated.

  "I’m not sure. But, I think they were planning on throwing Carman, me and that crew member overboard. They even dragged out some concrete blocks. But then they stopped and left us tied up. I think they decided to blow up the entire ship instead, that's why they opened the valves on that tanker."

  "Put First Officer Riggins back on."

  "Captain..."

  "First Officer Riggins, abandon your search of the lower deck and launch the zodiac immediately. I want all the lifeboats and rafts away from the ship as soon as they are launched."

  "Understood. We’ll move to the stern now."

  "Very good. Call me as soon as you launch the zodiac."

  Captain Gowers stood silent on the bridge, the microphone still clutched in her right hand. Beside her was the radio that provided the private FM link with Tsawwassen Control. Above it was a VHS radio, set permanently on channel sixteen. The maritime distress channel. So far, they had handled the emergency with all the discretion the administration of BC Ferries demanded. The Provincial Transportation Minister insisted that he be notified of all developments before any public broadcasts were made and so far they had complied with his mandate. She peered at the radar screen. Six ships, with the Queen of Purcell just visible at the top edge of the screen. She replaced the microphone linking her with the ship's internal communications and reached for the VHS radio.

  I hope they have located the Minister...

  The duty officer for the Canadian Coast Guard looked up at the clock above his desk. Another half-hour and he would be relieved for a three-day weekend. He and his wife had rented a thirty-foot launch and together with two other couples were planning on sailing up to the coves and inlets of the Sunshine coast, north of Vancouver. He was looking forward to it. It was going to be a great weekend.

  Behind him the computer counted down the minutes from
the Queen of Selkirk’s last transmission. In three minutes, his weekend plans would be aborted.

  On Granville Street in Downtown Vancouver six reporters with the Vancouver Sun gathered together at the rear of the press room, their laughter loud over the clacking of keys, the rip of computer printers, and the chatter of voices behind them. They had been working together for two weeks on a story and tomorrow the first of four articles on the corruption at Vancouver City Hall would be printed. They couldn't wait to do the follow-up to the explosion of denials that would occur. On a cabinet beside them the police radio chattered, a CB radio hummed and a Marine VHS radio sat silent.

  At Vancouver Maritime Traffic Control located only a few blocks from the Vancouver Sun, the traffic control officer spoke to a Japanese car-carrier preparing to turn into the Fraser River towards the Car Docks. He too was looking forward to the end of his shift. He didn't have any plans for the weekend, but he knew the Friday afternoon traffic out of Vancouver would add another hour to his commute to Abbotsford on the easterly fringes of Vancouver. He would put the new CD player in his car to good use this afternoon.

  He finished his conversation with the Captain of the Japanese car-carrier and leaned forward to replace the microphone. As he did so, his eyes were only inches away from the L.E.D. signal-strength display of the Maritime VHS Distress radio, set permanently on Channel sixteen. He slipped the microphone back into its bracket with practiced ease, then grunted with surprise as the signal-strength meter flashed to full strength.

  "Mayday. Mayday. This is the B.C. Ferry, Queen of Selkirk. We have an unknown number of terrorists aboard who may have rigged the ship to explode. Mayday. Mayday. This is the Queen of Selkirk, we are abandoning ship and need assistance immediately."

  The duty officer at the Canadian Coast Guard twisted around in his seat as two other officers behind him rose from their desks, their eyes locked upon the radio. "The Selkirk..." one of them muttered, "she was due in Nanaimo fifteen minutes ago. The computer beside the duty officer beeped as a line of letters scrolled across the screen. "The Queen of Selkirk - Overdue," the message said.

  The six reporters sat stunned at the end of the long newsroom. There was no sound from the dozen other reporters sitting at their desks within hearing of the radio. Reporters and secretaries at the far end of the room continued to chatter and bang away on their keyboards, oblivious to the quiet concentration of their colleagues only thirty feet away.

  The Vancouver Maritime Traffic Control Officer was the first that reached for the microphone. The Coast Guard, the reporters at the Vancouver Sun, and over two dozen other ships had heard the broadcast as well as numerous others who monitored the emergency channels just for the thrill of overhearing disasters as they occurred. He was the first, but even he wasn't quick enough.

  Captain Gowers’ voice bellowed through the speakers once again. "Mayday. Mayday. This is the Queen of Selkirk. We are abandoning ship and have fifteen hundred passengers and crew on-board. We need immediate assistance. Our position is...." Her voice was cut off mid-sentence as a stuttering roar of gunfire tore through the air waves.

  THIRTEEN - FOUR

  The window in front of her disintegrated, then the next and the next, the roar of gunfire spinning her where she stood until her back was hard against the bridge console, the microphone still clutched in her right hand.

  "Drop the mic!" A man dressed in jeans and a red pull-over sweater shouted from the doorway, both hands clasped around a large black pistol.

  Terry opened her hand, allowing the mic to swing on its cord and smash up against the metal front of the bridge console.

  "Get away from the radios and those controls." He yelled, gesturing with the gun and then tracking her with its muzzle as Terry pushed herself away from the ship's controls and moved uncertainly to the center of the bridge.

  The overhead bridge speakers erupted into life. "Queen of Selkirk this is Vancouver Traffic Control. We have received your Mayday. Go ahead."

  "What did you tell them?" He took two steps onto the bridge, his eyes never leaving her face.

  "I told them we were abandoning the ship."

  "And what will they do?"

  "I’m not sure. Probably send some ships over to help us." Terry took a deep breath. "Who are you?"

  "Queen of Selkirk this is Vancouver Traffic Control. We are standing by. Please respond. Over."

  "It’s not important who we are. What we need is time to unload some possessions. How long before another ship can get here?"

  "I'm not sure..." Terry responded. He was so calm. So assured. Like he did this every day. "...probably less than half an hour."

  "Queen of Selkirk this is the Canadian Coast Guard. We have received your Mayday. Please respond. All others keep off this frequency. Queen of Selkirk respond immediately."

  "I have to talk to them."

  The man paused as if listening to a microphone planted in his ear. "No. They can wait. Why are the doors to the lower deck locked?"

  The question took Terry by surprise. "What?"

  "Why are the fire doors to the hold locked?"

  "To keep the passengers out. There is a huge gasoline spill down there. That’s why we are abandoning the ship."

  "Where are the keys?"

  "Queen of Selkirk this is the Canadian Coast Guard. Please respond immediately or we will assume you are unable to and will dispatch all nearby shipping and aircraft to your assistance. Over."

  "Aircraft. Will they send planes?"

  He was surprised at the possibility of aircraft arriving - Terry could tell that - but his voice never changed. His gun never wavered. She thought rapidly. She wasn't sure if the Coast Guard had any planes stationed in the Vancouver area.

  "They will send planes." She forced herself to speak deliberately and with assurance. "This ship is loaded with people. They will send planes and likely divert all the shipping in the area too."

  "Where will the planes come from?"

  "Probably Nanaimo. There are several sea planes based there."

  "Coast Guard planes?"

  "No... just planes." Terry wasn't sure how much this man might already know.

  "Good." He nodded. "Where are the keys to the fire doors?"

  "The First Officer has them."

  "And, where is he?"

  "He’s in the lower level. He has gone to get the zodiac."

  "Well, it will be a wasted trip for him. We have already brought the zodiac around to the back of the ship, but we need to get into the lower level."

  "You've taken the zodiac? Hey!" Terry took a step forward in spite of the gun. “We need that boat in order to pull the life rafts away from the ship."

  He shrugged and waved his gun. "Stay where you are."

  "We need that boat!" Terry repeated, "otherwise we’re going to have life rafts drifting all over the Strait. The paddles are too small!"

  "They can be recovered by your rescue ships, whenever they get here."

  "You bastards! You’re endangering the lives of fifteen hundred people. What can ever be so important that you would..." She was interrupted by a chorus of screams from the deck below the bridge. "What the hell are you doing?"

  She ignored his gun and rushed to the rear windows that overlooked five hundred feet of upper deck jammed with humanity. Fifteen hundred people pushed and shoved on the decks below her. Truck Drivers, businesspeople still clutching their briefcases, mothers with children grasping at their hands, hundreds of school children - all forcing their way back from one lifeboat station on the starboard bow.

  A single group of approximately fifty adults stood beside it. Four with guns pointed outwards towards the crowd in front of them.

  The man with the gun continued in the same casual tone. "We have decided to commander one lifeboat and get to the lower deck that way. Our friend in the zodiac can assist us once we’re in the water."

  "Who the hell are you people?" Terry yelled, watching as a mother clutching a small baby in her arms went down
under the feet of the crowd.

  A moment later two men pulled her back upright. The crowd wasn't panic stricken yet, but any further turmoil could turn them into a stampeding mob. And where would they go? Terry knew some would end up in the sea.

  "First Officer to bridge..."

  Terry turned towards the speakers over of the bridge console.

  The man stood silently in front of the doorway, his pistol still centered squarely on her chest. "This is the man with the keys?" He asked.

  Terry nodded.

  "First Officer to bridge..." The speakers repeated.

  "Answer him."

  The fumes were suffocating. Tearing through the moist layers of his nose and throat. Blinding him. Tears flooded his eyes, wetted his cheeks and dripped from his chin. Through the blur he could see the two crew men ahead of him carrying the limp body of the deck hand between them. To his side he heard Carman cough and he felt her hand on his arm. They had to make it to the stern. The officer in charge had said there was a boat there. Jon didn't care if there was a boat there or not. The only thing he wanted was to get out the ship's hold. He wasn't sure if he could go much further and from the strength of Carman's grip on his arm, he knew that she too was moving with determination only. Her lungs tortured and ruptured like his own.

  He didn't want to be here. Had never bargained for the type of adventure he and Carman had experienced this afternoon. Never again would he rush into pursuits that he didn't understand. Never again would he allow himself to become involved with men and women so coldly ruthless and with such deadly intent as he had met this afternoon.

  The First Officer shouted something from behind his mask and they stopped. Jon pushed against the crew member ahead of him. "Please..." He gasped, "please we have to go on."

  The man nodded, his eyes behind the mask understanding Jon's pain.

  The First Officer reached down and slung another limp body that had been laying on the deck over one shoulder and they moved on, trapped between the endless lines of cars. Finally, the Officer reached a metal door and as he swung it open Jon could see the ocean, bright in the afternoon air. The two crew men before him carefully maneuvered the rating's body through the doorway and then Jon and Carman stepped into an alcove built into the ship's side, the far wall open to the sea. He sucked in a deep breath of clean Pacific air.