Piracy: The Leah Chronicles (After it Happened Book 8)

by Devon C. Ford

  He had toyed with the idea of bringing one of the few grenades they possessed, envisioning himself holding the pin aloft in one hand and the small bomb in the other, but decided against it as he didn’t much fancy holding onto it for any length of time and risk blowing his arm off at best.

  “Sit down,” he was told in English so heavily accented that it took him back years to the time he had visited Africa as a young man. The words had come from the man who had pulled him up from the skiff he had piloted and he seemed to shake with nervous apprehension.

  Dan, in contrast, kept his terror firmly shut up inside and radiated the calm demeanour of a man holding bargaining chips.

  Another man, striding purposefully and clearly in charge, walked in and made a direct line for Dan. He slapped him hard across the face, marking a long string of what he guessed were curses in a language Dan didn’t understand. The backhand blow stung, but the pain wasn’t as high as the spike of anger he felt at being mistreated.

  “Why are you here?” the man snapped at Dan. “What do you want?”

  “You in charge?” Dan enquired, working his jaw to soothe the ache caused by the humiliating blow.

  “I am Ahmad Gareer,” he said proudly in decent English, “and you have attacked and killed my men.”

  “Your men attacked and killed innocent civilians,” Dan countered, “I was just returning them to you.” Gareer’s face flashed in anger again and he struck another savage backhand blow with the other hand to Dan’s opposite cheek. His head was flung to the other side, his mouth opening and closing as his eyebrows went up and down to deal with the blow before he turned to fix the man with a cold stare of promise.

  “That one will cost you,” he said softly, hoping that the man would lean in closer to better hear his words so he could employ the trick he had used once before and crack his nose across his face with his forehead. Gareer stayed annoyingly out of reach and smiled at Dan. His mind worked, trying to figure out the man’s play by coming unarmed to his domain bearing the insult of the bodies of his men.

  His smile dropped as he saw no way that the move wasn’t a ploy as part of a larger attack.

  “Get everyone up,” he demanded as he spun away, “put everyone on guard now.”

  Dan leaned back and tested the weakness of his bound hands.

  It’s on you now, kid, he thought.

  Incentive

  I heard the commotion ahead of me, and automatically angled away from it as I didn’t want to link up with Dan when he had the full attention of everyone onboard. I watched from the shadows as I saw what I hoped was Dan being brought up and escorted out of sight up the switchback metal steps to the high windows towards the back of the boat.

  My job, as far as I saw it, was to find and free Lucien and any other prisoners, which was why I was lugging two heavy and ungainly AK-47s looped over my shoulder and threatening to hit every metal surface in reach to make noise, as though the stolen weapons themselves still tried to raise the alarm.

  I moved slowly, mature and experienced enough to not rush into a fight and instead bide my time. The forward section of the boat was an unruly mess of crates and other items I couldn’t make out, but it was a minefield of potential cover spots which both acted in my favour and to shred my already taught nerves.

  I didn’t have to wait long before activity seemed to blossom far ahead and more tired pirates were sent out to patrol in ones and twos. I picked off four more over the next twenty minutes as they wandered aimlessly in the dark. It was a simple thing for me, which made me feel a little arrogant and almost as though the fight was unfair, until I reminded myself that unfair was perfectly acceptable so long as it was in your favour.

  I had a stash of five rifles and a few spare magazines, electing to leave the huge PKM like the one Mitch had so lovingly restored as I couldn’t carry what I had already. I wrapped the bundle of rifles in a rough blanket left on the deck, using a piece of brightly coloured twine to bind it. Lights were switched on all over the ship now, removing my advantage among large parts of the deck where I could no longer rely on my invisibility. Patches of shadow still existed that allowed me to advance, but they felt like bottlenecks where ambushes could be set so I increased my levels of caution accordingly.

  I watched and waited, seeing increased activity ahead of me where men seemed to be congregating like they were guarding something. I kept checking my watch, not wanting to leave it too long but anxious to be doing something as my nerves began to fray even more.

  One more man walked towards me lazily, his gun resting over his shoulder and his finger on the trigger in a disgraceful display of weapon indiscipline. Using a trick I had developed as a child, I took a spent bullet casing from a pouch on my vest and spun it in my fingers as the man approached ready to fling it ahead and distract him.

  I tossed it, hearing the answering ring of brass on steel as he turned instinctively to look over his left shoulder. I rose, weapon up and tucked in tight, but my suppressor caught the very edge of the metal drum I hid behind and made a second, louder noise than my distraction. He spun back to face my direction as I pulled the trigger to snap his head back. A bright flash lit up the dark night as his dead finger curled around the trigger of his gun to fire a single shot that echoed loudly over the silence.

  “Shit!” I hissed, dropping my gun on its sling and advancing as the dead pirate slumped in a kneeling position against a wooden crate. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I said as my mind tried to decide what to do next. The body being discovered would tell them someone was onboard, and where I was, which would lead to my capture or death. Bad option. Dumping the body overboard would make a splash and have the same results as option one. I looked at the body, the position he fell in giving me and idea which I ran with as shouts already began far ahead and started to move in my direction. I picked up his dropped rifle and switched it around, curling his dead hand against the grip and the tip of the barrel against the hole in his skull I had created. His hand fell away and the head lolled back but the gun stayed in position and gave what I hoped was the indication that he had chosen to take his own life.

  I knew it wouldn’t stand up to close scrutiny, mostly because the size of the bullet hole through his head didn’t match with the kind of ammunition he was carrying, but I hoped it would give me enough time to get ahead of the response that was coming fast. Slipping away to the opposite side of the ship I moved slowly around the men who came to investigate. Looking ahead, I saw that the ones who had responded to the shot had left the room they were guarding unattended.

  ~

  Dan heard the gunshot. Heard the shouts in response and smiled that they were running around in the dark and probably dying at the hands of a young woman he suspected was rather better at what he did than he was. Or at least would be one day.

  His smile faded when he thought of the girl, his girl, out there on her own and decided it was time to call a change to the plan and began working his hands loose at a faster and more painful rate than before.

  ~

  “Quiet,” Lucien said in the dark, “did you hear that?”

  The others in the dark storeroom said nothing, straining their ears to listen but hearing nothing.

  “There!” he said. “Again.” One of the others murmured a hesitant agreement, but before any further discussion came the sound of ringing metal was loud outside their prison cell like hail stones on a car roof. The door creaked as the locking wheel was spun open and a slight figure stepped inside with a familiar weapon tucked into her shoulder.

  “Leah,” Lucien said, barely able to keep the tears from his voice as he stumbled forwards. She dropped her gun, wrapping her arms around his neck and crushing her lips into his face to prompt sounds of pain as most of his body hurt.

  “I am okay,” he assured her, kissing her back, “I am okay. What are you doing here? How did you—”

  “No time,” she said, interrupting him, “here.” She dropped a bundle at his feet and he fumbled at the bindin
gs to expose the handful of stolen weapons. Lucien asked the others still hiding back in the shadows if any of them knew how to use a gun and Leah’s mouth opened in shock as only two of the dozen prisoners stepped forward. She wasn’t shocked at the lack of rifle use, but more of the number of people held captive who had obviously been snatched recently from the area she thought she knew well and claimed to be a protector of.

  “Tell them to stay here,” she told him, “just us until this rat’s nest is cleared.” Lucien passed on her orders, taking the spare ammunition for all but two rifles which were left in the hands of two men instructed to guard the door. Leah slipped out of the metal hatch after glancing in both directions and he followed.

  ~

  The door of the bridge burst open again and the man calling himself Gareer stomped towards Dan with an angry purpose written all over his face. Dan tried to look scared, tried to show an anticipation of fear and violence, but he couldn’t help himself and his smile betrayed him just before Gareer reached him. He stood quickly, his hands coming from behind his back to show that they were no longer tied together as his right fist swung savagely down at the pirate captain’s head.

  Unaccustomed to losing many fights, Dan let out a cry of surprise and a little fear when the blow didn’t connect to fell his enemy like a dead animal.

  Gareer saw the blow coming a mile away and stepped out of reach to deliver his own attack and hit Dan in the throat to send him stumbling and choking to the deck. He scrambled to his feet, eyes wide with rage and shock, to step forwards and have his next three blows deflected with ease until he left himself flat-footed and open to attack. Gareer punished his mistake and planted a heavy boot into his chest to send him backwards in a heap of flailing limbs.

  “You fight like a child, Englishman,” Gareer goaded him as he bounced on his feet and warmed up to the enjoyment of fighting an inferior opponent. Dan stood, one eye closed in pain and his neck cricked over to one side.

  “Yeah,” he groaned, “and you hit like a bitch.” Gareer’s smile dropped as he advanced to prove the man wrong.

  ~

  “Watch left,” I told Lucien as I rose and moved to the right, “they’ll be coming, just don’t shoot this way.” I knew he had heard me, and my concentration was running at maximum as I flicked the safety catch all the way up to automatic. I stitched the gaggle of confused pirates with an entire magazine before dropping and moving backwards as I reloaded, already ducking the incoming volley of badly aimed bullets from the survivors. As I had expected, or hoped really, they ran straight towards where the bullets had come from and didn’t think to move with any kind of coherence like I had been trained to do. Instead they just ran in a pack, putting me in mind of young children playing football in a gaggle surrounding the ball with no concept of tactical spacing.

  Lucien cut them down with bursts from his liberated AK, leaving only one for me to pop up and engage.

  “Come on,” I shouted, pointing upwards to the highest windows above us in my desperation to reach Dan and give him the heavy burden on my back.

  ~

  Dan’s head bounced off a radar console, one of the old switches cutting his eyebrow to add another scar to his already-battered face. He didn’t have time to take a second and recover from the blow as a boot stamped down on the back of his thigh to try and cripple him through blunt trauma. He rolled, lashing out with his own boots and scoring only a glancing blow which made the man he had underestimated chuckle with cruel laughter.

  “Where are you going, Englishman?” he asked as he stalked behind the crawling prisoner. Dan spun onto his back ready to defend himself with his feet, seeing for the first time that Gareer had a gun holstered on his left hip in a cross-draw position. He could have taken the weapon out at any point and killed him, but he seemed to prefer the option of beating him to death for sport.

  Dan always said that when you know what a person wants, you know how to control them.

  “That all you got?” he moaned through swollen lips as he struggled to his feet slower than he knew he could manage. He stood up and swayed, feigning exhaustion only slightly ahead of the inevitable reality, and raised his hands to invite more pain. Gareer advanced, wanting to beat the smug man into submission before locking him up to keep him and prolong the enjoyment he got from causing pain. He drew back a punch, only half delivering it as Dan fell onto him in a half collapse like a tired boxer clenching his opponent in the ring. He lowered his legs and put both hands on Dan’s chest to throw him off, to shove him away like a piece of dead meat, but never completed the move. The air left his lungs in the same instant his knees stopped holding his body upright, and a weak sound of unfathomable pain leaked from his open mouth.

  Dan, in a move that he defended for years afterwards, delivered an uppercut with every ounce of strength his failing body could muster. The clenched fist connected with Gareer’s body in a very personal manner with the instant effect of stunning, winding and crippling him in one punch.

  As the pirate leader dropped to the deck on his knees with both hands clutching at his groin, Dan stood with the gun from his attacker’s holster in his right hand. He looked at it, recognising a Glock so well maintained that he guessed it was one of their own, and checked for a round in the chamber. The glint of brass told him there was and without ceremony he placed the short barrel under Gareer’s chin and lifted his face.

  “I’m not going anywhere, you fucker,” he whispered in his face, pulling the trigger once to splash hot blood on his own skin.

  Aftermath

  Leah stood and stretched her back again, annoyed at herself for staying still too long and feeling as though writing the story had made her an inch shorter. She thought about what had happened after that. How she and Lucien had burst into the bridge to find Dan slumped in the captain’s chair with fresh blood all over him. He had waved them away, assuring them that he was fine, when it was obvious that he had taken a beating in payment for his victory.

  Seeing that her awkwardly long-legged puppy still snoozed in the shaft of sunlight, she bent her head back to the pages in the hope of finishing the task and returning to normality, vowing to let others write down the next tale for her.

  ~

  When dawn broke over the ship the remaining pirates had been rounded up and those who didn’t feel rebellious enough to get themselves shot had begged to be allowed to take the boat. They were mostly the type not to be carrying weapons, at least they weren’t when they had surrendered, and more than a few had been ousted by the collection of cooks and engineers who refused to be bracketed with one of the raiders. Against all ruthless good sense, an old man had asked for and been granted Dan’s permission to take the ship away and never return. Having satisfied himself that the cruel element of the crew had been dispatched, especially seeing as how they had treated the body of Gareer which, even though he was an evil bastard, was not to our liking.

  We took a large skiff and the collection of prisoners back to Sanctuary, suffering the shouting and berating from a few key people as we returned. It turned out that the gunfire had been heard on shore and word soon spread fearing another attack. When our absence was noticed, the truth of what was happening came out.

  The prisoners, some of them from settlements we hadn’t even found yet, were treated for their injuries and fed before being given fresh clothing and the promise of an escort home. A few, the surviving women from the homestead, elected to stay in Sanctuary as returning to their burned home was an impossibility.

  By the time the arguing had abated and people hugged us in gratitude and relief that we came back, the horizon was clear but for the shrinking silhouette of a large ship heading west for the Atlantic.

  Kate was the angriest of everyone, and that anger was directed at me. She forced the confrontation in front of everyone, which I guess I deserved a little, but she would never understand my reason for putting my life and the life of my unborn baby at risk; raising my child without its father would be something I
could never get over, and as far as I saw it the risk was my own to take.

  “Kate’s upset with me because she advised me not to do anything strenuous… in my condition.”

  Dan choked on the water he drank, dropping his cigarette as he took a strangled breath in to cough again and burp before turning his streaming, wide eyes on me. Marie gasped out loud and Mitch and Alita just smiled. I knew she’d tell Mitch and I wasn’t cross in the slightest.

  The one person who hadn’t responded was Lucien. I turned to face him, seeing such a youthful innocence on his face mixed with a look of guilty shock.

  “You…” he said in a weak croak as his eyes began to leak. “You are…?”

  “Yes,” I told him, my own tears now flowing to match his. “I am.”

  Epilogue

  “Have you finished your story, Mamon?” Adalene asked from the doorway. Leah rested her pen down, wiggling her fingers to loosen up the cramp as she realised she had been staring at the page for a long time just thinking.

  “Oui chérie,” Leah said kindly, reaching out to hug her girl as her mind conjured up the memory of what had happened after that point in the story. It didn’t need writing down that she had gone out of her mind with the inactivity and discomfort of being pregnant through a hot summer and giving birth during a cruelly cold winter. How much she hated not being able to go anywhere or do anything, and how all of that faded into absolute nothingness when the time came.

  To this day Leah had never experienced pain like it, and she’d probably be the first person to level a targeting gaze on any man who likens any pain he feels to childbirth.