Swinging from the hull to grasp the rope he still dangled from, Carole let her senses creep upwards until she knew no one would see her board. When the coast was clear she simply climbed up the easy way and went below deck. Ignoring the voices lecturing about stealing, she took a box of raisins and a handful of apples and hid in a closet full of cleaning supplies. From the looks of the big vessel, she could remain there indefinitely without discovery.
Before she took even a bite of the stolen food, she sensed it.
Inside her head she could feel the metal of the ship, the people in it, but deep in the belly was something—other. It felt like a blank spot inside her brain when she tried to see it inside her head. Suddenly knowing what it was, she wasn’t hungry. This weapon was her real enemy. Carole crept out of the closet. There were seven people on the ship, and three would have to be terminated. Killed by her own hands.
UNFORTUNATELY SHE COULDN’T sense which people were which with her mind, though she could tell the difference between the men and the lone woman. The voices were furious and they attacked with black dreams, trying to make her stop. “You need permission. Permission. It is forbidden.” The woman was on a radio speaking in Russian, and Carole waited outside the room for her to finish. Then she realized that she could understand the language she’d never learned.
“I miss you too, baby girl. Mama will be home by Christmas. I’m kissing you, do you hear me? I’m kissing you!”
A man’s voice sounded in English. “Get off Trina—it can be traced.”
“Bye bye, baby. I have to go. Listen, here’s my kisses for you. I love you. Mama loves you, baby girl.”
The radio cut out, and the woman objected in English. “I haven’t seen her in months! She’s starting school and she’s scared.”
“You should be scared. We’re sitting on a bomb that we know nothing about. We’ll probably blow ourselves up with it, if we even manage to get into any American port with it.”
“Did Miller look at it today? He said something needed tweaking, whatever that means. I don’t trust him.”
“He went for a swim. He’ll get to it.”
“That was his priority? The thing is radioactive and he wants to go swimming?”
“He smells like a sewer.”
“We all do. Also Miller’s fault. Go get him, Thomas. I don’t want to die of cancer.”
Thomas exited into the hall and Carole followed him long enough to identify him. He looked very strong and capable, so she used her knife when she stepped in front of him. Cutting his throat, she held his eyes. When the light started to go out, she lowered him to the floor.
Trina had to go next, and Carole felt regret about ending the woman whose daughter was starting school someplace far away. Entering the cabin at an impossible speed, she knocked Trina from her chair and jammed her knife into her throat.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the Russian words unfamiliar on her own lips. “I have a daughter too, but I am not trying to kill yours.” Tears ran out of Trina’s furious eyes as the life left her body.
The last man was already dead. He’d shot himself in his cabin. Carole could only identify him by a scar on his neck. His room was filled with books on nuclear bombs and radiation. Carole knew something was terribly wrong on the ship. She could feel it. The weapon seemed larger than when she had first boarded; the blank spot in her head bigger.
There were four other men on board, but at noon they went to the dining cabin and Carole simply locked them inside. She returned to the radio room, walked over Trina’s body and sent the message as she’d been told. By that evening she couldn’t bear to be near the weapon and she swam back to the island to wait.
No one came. Carole drank barely potable water, ate roots and waited. She remembered the joke. Noc Noc. Who’s there? Wait for it. After a few days she went back to the ship to let the men out of the galley. They were four young, strong boys from Tanzania. They spoke no English, but fortunately she discovered she could speak some Swahili. The black dreams were very good teachers of language. Leading them to the deck top she told them that they had to get off the ship because it was poisoned. Although they seemed strangely docile, only one came with her.
FOR SIX WEEKS Carole lived on the island with Fazil. She taught him how to clean salt from the water, and he taught her how to build a makeshift shelter. They lived in companionable peace together. It was the first of September before a ship arrived. It dropped anchor a good ways from the pirate ship, but boats went back and forth and the people in them wore hazmat suits. Carole built a fire on the shore and waited some more.
ANOTHER WEEK PASSED before a team arrived at the beach and used a Geiger counter to check Fazil and Carole’s radiation levels. They were given pills and examined. Their supplies and clothes were confiscated and destroyed. Carole endured the humiliating process of being publicly naked and washed down with Fazil at her side. Then they were both taken from the little island to the big ship for further examination.
“You’re an unusually healthy young woman. What nationality are you?” A military doctor stood curiously at the foot of her bed. Fazil watched from his bedside beside her.
Shrugging, Carole replied, “I have no idea, why?”
The doctor flushed, and waved the question away with his hand. “Idle curiosity I suppose. The radiation didn’t affect you very much. Fazil has no thyroid left, but yours is fine. We’ve done what we can for both of you, but as a physician I would estimate Fazil will not live to be a very old man—and he will never have children of his own, or enjoy the good health he deserves. You, however, will likely live to a very ripe old age. Of course, Fazil was exposed much longer than you were.”
“How is it possible that the radiation didn’t affect me?” “Don’t ask!” The voices warned, “Hide! Don’t draw attention to yourself!”
The doctor sat down on the bed beside her and looked over her chart, frowning. “I didn’t say it didn’t affect you at all. It’s thrown you into very early menopause—maybe it will reverse in time, but I doubt it.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your reproductive years are over. I’m sorry, Agent. Considering what might have happened to you, I strongly urge you—both of you—to be thankful you’re alive.” He shut her folder, stood and addressed them both. “I’m afraid the men who remained on the ship weren’t so fortunate.”
SHOVING HER WAY from the very back of the aircraft so that she could get out first seemed to be a social faux pas. Carole did not care. Even grey-haired old ladies hissed at her and fussed. Carole glared her way past flight attendants and silently dared anyone in first class to complain out loud. After weaving between passengers crowding the aisles and fishing for their carry-on luggage, she waited first in line to depart the aircraft. The flight attendant opening the door tossed more glares in her direction, and then Carole ran. She had no intention of collecting the expensive suitcase full of new clothing provided at base camp. All she’d really wanted for her efforts was a direct flight to San Diego, and they’d denied her that. Sprinting out ground level automatic doors, she hopped into the first taxi she saw and bellowed her address at the driver.
A mile from her apartment they got stuck in traffic. Carole pushed the door open, threw a ten dollar bill at the driver and ran. It was a Sunday night. Beth would be ten months old in exactly two weeks and twelve hours. She’d been alive longer without her mother than she’d been with her. Carole ran faster than allowed, and the voices protested. People on the street stopped and stared. Rounding the corner onto her own street, her heart pounded with excitement. Several Hells Angels, a biker gang that liked to hang out at the tattoo parlor, watched her approach. One offered her a ride on his bike. She shook her head and dashed to the alley behind the shop. Junny wasn’t there. Carole took the stairs two at a time, a cold sweat breaking out. The door was locked—maybe they’d gone somewhere. She dashed back down the steps, into the alley, and found Junny’s old porch. The key was wedged behind an iron numbe
r seven, stuck there with a wad of old gum. It came off with several inches of green gum still sticking to it. Carole ran back up the stairs and jammed the key into the lock and burst through the door.
There was a television on the kitchen counter, turned on. A thin man came out of the bedroom in just jeans, his torso so hairy it appeared to be one with his beard. He gaped at her. “How the hell did you get in here?”
“Where’s my daughter? Where’s my baby?” Carole screamed. Panic squeezed her heart and she closed the distance between them. She’d kill him! But first he’d talk, he’d tell her everything. He backed towards the bedroom door and held his hands up in surrender.
“Hold on, hold on! You’re the—I think the baby’s okay. I’m Anne’s son, but—well, just hold on a second. My mom wrote a message for you.” While Carole stood, shaking with anger and terror, the man edged past her. He dug through a pile of newspapers and mail on the small kitchen table, shooting worried looks in her direction. “They arrested my Mom when they came and took the baby. She wouldn’t give her to them.”
“They arrested—where’s my baby?” The scream tore her throat like a razor.
“Here! Here it is.” Backing away, he held a piece of paper out. Carole snatched it and read.
Dear Carole, I tried, Sweetheart, but child protective services came with the police and took her. I couldn’t stop them. I’m sorry. Junny followed them. He said they put her with a family at a new apartment building over by Saint Patrick’s church. Anne
A sob tried to come out, but it got stuck in Carole’s heart. It felt like it would rip through the wall of her chest.
Beth was in foster care.
Carole spun on her heel and ran out the door. She didn’t care who saw, she jumped the flight of stairs, turned and headed towards the street.
“Hey, Babe, you want that ride?” A biker rocked his hips in a suggestive gesture and his friends laughed.
“Someone took my baby!” Carole gasped, unable to stop tears of terror running down her face. Her hands shook. “I think she might be at some new apartment building over by Saint Patrick’s church. Do you know where it is?”
The guys stopped laughing. One of them offered to make a new baby with her, but the man she’d addressed scooted forward on his seat. “Hop on. I know where everything in this city is.”
Four other bikers followed behind as he took off. Thundering bass barked, echoing in the motorcycles’ wake. Carole hung onto the man’s leathered torso, her entire body shaking with grief and fear. She would kill them for touching her baby. Kill them. The voices shouted at her and she didn’t hear a word they said. For the first time in her life she felt truly angry. A red veil seemed to drop over her vision, as though the blood she wanted to shed had risen from her own heart. She wondered if the scalding tears sliding down her cheeks were blood too.
The bikers stopped right in front of a new apartment building. Compared to the huge rectory next door, the building looked small, only three stories high, but planters full of bright flowers and little trees arranged artfully on the roof gave it an upscale appearance. Carole jumped off the bike and the bikers followed her. Running up the steps to the front door, she found it locked. She looked for something to break the glass door, and reached for a flower pot. A biker grabbed her arm.
“Hold on. This is what we do at these places.” He used two big fat hands and pressed dozens of rows of buttons on the intercom at the same time. Several voices replied within seconds, asking who it was. “Pizza,” he answered, and the door buzzed open.
Carole raced into the building, ready to kick every door down. On the first floor she ran from door to door and put a hand on them, sensing nothing. Mounting the stairs to the second floor, she made it halfway up and sensed Beth’s heart in the distance. The tears stopped then. She’d found her. In four steps she was in front of a heavy metal door with 202 in shiny brass letters over a peep hole. A hefty biker with a mane of black curls peered down at her.
“You sure this is the one?” She nodded and he produced a heavy flat wire and slid it into the keyhole on the door handle. “These places give the illusion of security at the front door, so no one uses their deadbolts.” He shook his head in disgust, jiggling the wire until the lock clicked. Cautiously he opened the door, looked in, and gestured for Carole to go first. Five bikers followed her into the apartment, leaving big dirty footprints on brand-new cream-colored carpeting.
The television was on in the front room. It was brand-new too, as was the beige sofa and oak dining room set. A purple car-seat dotted with silver stars rested against the closet door beside a man’s shoes. A woman’s pink sweater with pearl buttons draped over a dining room chair. Carole took a deep breath. She was Beth’s mother. Behind her, she sensed one of the bikers close the door behind them and twist the deadbolt. They made their way towards the hall. A man moved at the far end of the dark hallway, his voice a deep hissing whisper. “Be quiet, Kimberly, I just got her to sleep!”
The man saw them and froze. Disbelieving, Carole stepped backwards into the Hells Angel behind her, her knees gave out. He caught her under her arms and stood her neatly back on her feet.
How?
The man standing in front of her was Ted White.
They stared at each other, both momentarily stunned. Ted glanced at her friends and growled, low. “How did you get in here?”
Carole continued to gape at him. Her new friend behind her put a big tattooed hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. The gesture helped immensely. She held firmly to her feet and took a deep breath.
The biker answered for her, “You have something that belongs to this little lady, and we’re here to get it back.”
Ted held the man’s gaze briefly; then looked at Carole. “She’s my daughter too, isn’t she?”
The hand dropped off her shoulder. Unable to answer, Carole thought indignantly, Of course she’s your daughter! Her shock began to give way to anger. Did he really think there was any doubt about that? And why had he taken her if he thought Beth might not be his? Adrenaline still coursed through her veins. Part of Carole wanted to knock Ted to the floor, kick him a few times, and go to her daughter. Even in her sleep, Beth’s heart beckoned like a whisper. Carole stepped towards it but Ted held up a hand.
“Wait, don’t wake her, she just went to sleep!”
Carole’s mouth opened in surprise. The audacity! Words finally came. “I haven’t seen her in six months! You took her! I thought she was in foster care!” Fear and despair singed the last words.
“She’d have been better off, you left her living in squalor!”
“How dare you! I did not!”
“You left her with some half-crazed homeless woman! That old woman was breastfeeding her! Carole, she had the baby crawling around on the floor—naked—on top of newspapers like a puppy!”
Anne had managed to breast feed Beth? Carole’s heart rose in wonder and amazement. How? She defended her friend, “Newspaper is clean, nearly sterile. Did you know that? This carpeting—” Carole stomped a foot on the brand-new carpet, “is not.”
“If I’d have known you were a virgin, I wouldn’t have touched you that first night.” Ted threw the inappropriate statement at her, but it didn’t even sound like he believed it. The Hells Angels had gone completely silent. Carole could sense their rapt attention behind her as they listened to the private details of her life.
“Really?” Carole fought the urge to break his nose.
“Really. You lied to me.”
She gasped—rage rekindling, but the Hells Angel behind her grabbed her arms. “I lied to you?”
“Yes! You showed up at the pool one night, and threw yourself at me. I never had a choice!”
“Oh, please—” Carole paused as the rage subsided. It was true, probably truer than Ted knew. The man behind slowly released her arms.
“Not once, but every night for weeks. You never even told me your name.”
She glared. “You knew my name.”
/> “That is not the point. What kind of a woman does that? All that sex—it’s all you did. I’ve never had a woman—you practically rubbed me raw night after night. And after the way you’d treated Wright! What else could I think? I heard him. I saw how he behaved at summer camp, he cried! Wright didn’t cry when his mother died. Everyone thought you had an affair with him and ripped his heart out afterwards!”
“You know that’s not true!”
“I didn’t know that night! I heard what they said about you. I read the reports. Wright was in love with you, and you slapped him across the face and laughed at him!”
“It was the only way to get him to pull himself together!”
“That night, I’d assumed you were a—”
Carole tensed. If he said it she’d knock his teeth right down his throat.
“And why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant? What right did you have to—” Ted motioned down the hall, where the reassuring touch of Beth’s heart beckoned for Carole’s even in sleep. She glared at Ted.
“You left without a word, and worse than that you are the one who lied to me, Ted White! Even if I wanted to contact you—which I didn’t—I couldn’t have.”
“Carole, you could have told anyone and they would have let me know.” He sounded hurt. His big shoulders slumped, and even in the dim hall light she could see dark circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted.
What did any of this matter now?
“How did you find out?” she wondered.
Ted rubbed a hand over his eyes and shook his head. “Blind luck. I ran into—” he glanced at the bikers behind her and continued cryptically, “your old friends. Lincoln told me he’d seen you—and you were pregnant out to here.” Ted made a gesture. “At first I didn’t think much of it, not really. Maybe to be surprised that you’d keep a baby.”
Heartless A Shieldmaiden's Voice: A Covenant Keeper Novel Page 13
