Lito shrugged as coolly as some of the guys in Amber’s dorm when answering about which kegger they were going to Friday night, and she marveled at how anyone could be so nonchalant after everything they’d just heard. “Well, unless this mysterious new radiation also conjures up brand-spankin new pirate ships with the original crew still aboard, I don’t think it’s as simple as that.”
“Don’t forget sea monsters,” Amber said softly. She’d meant it as a lame joke, a way to ease the building tension, but once the words were out, they had the opposite effect.
Tuan had given them some much needed answers, but still, the puzzle wasn’t looking any easier to put together.
“Lito, look.” There was a pleading tone to Jericho’s voice. “If we’re still out here when one of dese flashes hits, den we’re all dead. If dis tin can of dere’s has some kinda shieldin, we need to get everyone aboard right now, and den start tryin to call for help.”
“We’d barely have room to breathe with all of us on board this thing. Besides, if that storm gets bad and starts rollin this thing over, the inside’ll be like a washin machine.” Lito’s dark eyebrows shot up. “But we could leave Amber and her friends here, and the rest of us could use one of Tuan’s detectors while we search the other ships for a hose. If they work like he said, then anything that’s been affected by the radiation won’t be able to sneak up on us.”
Amber stood up for the first time since she started talking with Tuan, the muscles in her legs flaring briefly. “You’re not gonna leave us here!”
“Why not? It might get a little bumpy, but at least you won’t drown. You can stay here and play with the radio all you want.”
“And what happens if you don’t come back? We’ll be just as bad off as they are.”
“We’ll come back for you,” Lito said. “I promise.”
“Help?” Tuan asked, pointing at himself. At this, Due spun around and grabbed angrily at him. Tuan planted a hand on his face and shoved him away, reminding Amber of the type of feuds she’d seen her friends’ brothers engage in. Tuan repeated, “Help you?”
Amber told Lito, “They’ll die if they stay here. I think he knows it. We’re their best shot at getting out of this.”
“Sure, we can use all the help we can get to search. And a few extra guns wouldn’t hurt.” Lito hunkered down. “Tell you what…if we can get our boat working, we’ll even tow their ship outta here with us.”
She gave him an impressed look. “You would do that?”
“Of course. Can’t leave these friends of America stranded out here, now can we?”
Amber made sure Tuan understood. The poor kid just looked relieved to have someone else in charge. He and Due had another rapid, angry exchange.
“We don’t have time for an argument, boys. We gotta get our gear and the rest of the group transferred over here and then get a move on.”
Due seemed to relent. It took the two soldiers less than a minute to gather up their belongings—mostly their rifles, spare ammunition, and two of the handheld radiation detectors, which Tuan tucked in the pockets of his jumpsuit. After retrieving their own guns, Jericho climbed the ladder up through the hatch, followed by Lito. Amber went also, to help move Justin over. As her head emerged from the hatch, she saw the raindrops had gotten fatter and denser. The pontoon boat still sat at the bottom of the slope that formed the nose of Tuan and Due’s ship.
Lito helped her out onto the top of their slick craft, gripping her wrist, but when the boat gave a lurch to the side, she stumbled. His other hand flailed before grabbing her ass to stop her from falling back down the ladder. It lingered there just a second too long after she’d found her footing, cupping one cheek.
“You know, I probably should’ve told you,” she said. “I don’t speak Vietnamese, but I am fluent in Español.”
She watched the look of horror that came over his face as he first recalled his conversation with Ray earlier, and then realized where his hand was, before snatching it away. Nice to know there was something that could throw him off his smug, unflappable game.
They moved aside to make room for Tuan. He stood astride his vessel and sucked in a lungful of cool night air, then turned his face up to the rain and stretched, the rifle dangling around his neck by a strap. The look of contentment on his face made it clear he was thankful to be free of the enclosed space.
His partner started to crawl through the hatch behind him, but made it only halfway when a line of bullets ripped open his chest.
6
Lito heard the gunshots, but couldn’t at first tell them apart from the sharp cracks of thunder in the clouds above them. It was only after Due cried out and then tumbled over the curved side of the ship that he realized they were under fire. The Asian kid performed an awkward somersault, leaving a smear of blood on the slick hull that the rain quickly washed away. There was a splash as he fell into the water.
“Hit the deck!” Lito shouted, although there was very little deck to hit up here, and no cover whatsoever. He grabbed Amber and pulled her down until they lay stretched out on their stomachs. Tuan and Jericho did likewise on the far side of the open hatch. The rain fell harder against their backs, beating a staccato ting-ting-ting against the metal.
“Where’s it comin from?” Jericho shouted.
Lito didn’t have an answer until he heard an engine rev somewhere off to their left. He raised his head. The clouds had blotted out the moonlight, so at first his eyes could pick out nothing against the backdrop of the midnight ocean. Then a flash of lightning revealed a speedboat cruising through the choppy waters about twenty yards away.
Automatic gunfire rang out as the craft strafed. Bullets spanged off the hardened hull of the Vietnamese vessel, producing winks of light but leaving no mark on the steel.
Ray shouted something from the deck of the pontoon, but it was lost under the growing noise of storm and gunfire. Lito could see him and Carlos taking shelter behind the cabin. Cherrywine’s screams drifted out through the open door.
“Stay back!” Lito shouted at them. “See if you can draw some fire!”
They got the idea, edging around the cabin to shoot from the corner. The speedboat swerved and sped up, then focused its attention on the pontoon raft. As soon as the sleek craft pulled away, Lito got to his knees, pulled out his revolver and fired every round in the cylinder at their attackers. At this range and in these conditions, he might as well have been shooting spit wads.
Tuan walked on his knees until he took a position beside Lito and then opened fire with his huge AK. The chain of shots from the big machine gun was deafening, but not even they had much effect. The speedboat circled the two crafts, weaving among the other derelicts, forcing Ray and Carlos to circle the cabin to avoid exposure. They disappeared around the far side just as the exterior was peppered with shots.
The occupants of the speedboat—whoever they were—had the advantage: as long as they stayed in motion, they could just keep firing from all sides until Lito and the others were dead.
From the deck of the pontoon, someone cried out in pain.
The thought of Carlos getting shot—the boy Lito had promised to keep out of situations exactly like this—was bad, but the idea that it might be Ray sent a flood of desperate adrenaline through him.
Lito put the empty revolver in Amber’s hand, then rolled over next to Jericho and yelled, “Did you fix those jet skis?”
The mechanic looked at him in confusion. “I hadn’t tested dem or anyt’ing, but I t’ink so! I put in some of de gas we brought, but de fuel systems still need to be flushed!”
“Gimme your pistol!”
Jericho held the weapon out hesitantly. “What are you doin?”
Lito yanked the gun away from him. “Get as far from here as possible, in case they come back!”
“And go where? If one of dese flashes hits while we’re outside dis ship, we’re dead!”
“We won’t be here long enough for that to happen! Get to that cruise s
hip and find what you need for the Runner! I’ll meet you there!”
Lito leapt to his feet, charged down the length of the Vietnamese warship, and jumped onto the deck of the pontoon raft.
He didn’t waste time checking on the others, just ran for the metal ramps at the back and the jet skis parked on them. The speedboat would be circling around to his side any second, and then they would have a clear angle on him. He unfolded the ramp—the rusted hinges tried to stick, but he forced them—then hopped on the seat and kicked off, sliding backward down into the rough seas.
The jet ski was a short, lean craft with stubby handlebars and a long seat made of badly cracked vinyl. The key dangled from the ignition where Jericho had left it while making repairs. Lito twisted them and the engine started up with a high-pitched whine. It had been years since he’d ridden one of these, but it all came back as he throttled up and steered around the far side of the pontoon raft. He passed right in front of the speedboat’s bow as it came around for another pass, and Lito threw a few shots over his shoulder to get their attention.
When he was sure they were giving chase, he poured on the speed and fled into the maze of derelict ships.
7
“What is he doing?” Amber demanded. She rose up in time to see Lito shoot away on the jet ski into the curtain of rain. She felt a searing moment of panic to see him go. The speedboat made a tight U-turn and sped after him, disappearing between two other ships.
“Givin us a chance to get away, so let’s not waste it!” Jericho stood. “Move!”
Amber regained her feet along with Tuan, who stopped to peer over the ship’s side. Due floated face-down amid the seaweed, the waves tossing his body against the hull. Tuan glanced at Amber, his face anguished. She expected him to stay behind as she and Jericho fled down the ramp of the vessel’s nose, but he eventually followed. The three of them climbed aboard the pontoon raft. The rain was getting worse, pounding at them now, rattling against the deck and soaking their clothes as the wind howled.
Cherrywine poked her head out of the cabin. “What happened?”
“Someone shot at us!” Amber had to yell to make herself heard over the growing storm. “Are you and Justin okay?”
“Yeah! What should I do?”
“Just don’t come out!” Amber told her, then turned to Tuan and motioned at the door. “Stay here, in case they come back! Okay?” The young soldier nodded curtly and stepped aside, taking a sentry post in the doorway.
Amber and Jericho moved on down the gangway toward the opposite side of the boat. Ahead of them, Carlos knelt beside Ray, who was stretched out on the deck. Blood poured down the man’s side, mingling with the rainwater collecting on the deck. She dropped to her knees and lifted up his shirttail, used it as a cover against the rain so she could see beneath.
A small, round hole dimpled his side, just above the hip. A steady stream of dark maroon gushed out. Ray’s face was drawn up in a painful grimace, but his hand moved across his chest in a continuous circuit, up and down and back and forth. It took her a second to realize he was sketching the sign of the cross.
“Is it bad?” Jericho asked, skidding to a stop behind her. “Can you do anyt’ing for him?”
“I don’t know, I’m not a nurse either!” She put her hands over the gunshot wound and pressed, putting all her weight on her arms. Blood seeped between her fingers.
“Who the fuck were those pendejos?” Carlos yelled.
“No idea! But we need to get out of here before dey come back.” Jericho grabbed the young man’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “Help me row!”
“Where we goin?”
“The cruise ship!” Amber’s declaration was almost drowned out by a roll of thunder that shook the heavens. She looked up from Ray. “We have to head toward the cruise ship! To meet Lito!”
“No fuckin way, lady! Since when do you give orders around here?”
“We gotta go!” Jericho nodded but didn’t look happy about it. “If dis storm gets bad, den we gotta find some shelter fast! Dat cruise ship might be de safest t’ing around!” He picked up one of the oar paddles and held it out. “Help me, goddamn it!”
Carlos accepted the paddle and went with him. They disappeared around the corner, toward the back of the raft, and Amber turned to Ray. He stopped crossing himself long enough to grab her upper arm.
“Where’s Lito?” His voice was so quiet she had to lean in to hear him.
“He led them away. Lie still now. I don’t know how bad this is yet.”
“D-Dominican,” he uttered. “Has to be…”
His eyes rolled back and his hand dropped away from her as he slipped into unconsciousness. Amber continued applying pressure as their raft began to move.
8
Lito had the advantage on the jet ski. Not for speed; the boat behind him was an 8-cylinder beast, would overtake him in a heartbeat on a long stretch of open water. But here, amid the twisted tangle of drifting derelicts, maneuverability was much more important.
He wove through them, taking tight corners whenever possible, trying to stay out of the range of the mystery guests’ gunfire but not gain so much ground that they gave up chase. He could look over his shoulder and make out several figures back there, shooting wildly from the speedboat every time they had him in sight for a few seconds.
But he dared not look for too long. The abandoned ships in this area—a few pleasure crafts but mostly bigger, industrial vessels—were densely packed, jostling and crashing against each other as the waves tossed them back and forth like toys in a rambunctious child’s bathwater. One narrow canal between an old steamer and a cargo ship disappeared as he tried to enter, the two huge boats slamming together like titanic anvils, forcing him to divert. Lito skimmed over increasingly bigger waves that popped him several feet in the air. Visibility was horrible; he slit his eyes against the wind and rain and watched for openings to escape.
And then, after leading them for what he figured was a good ten minutes, he came around the bow of a schooner listing so badly its broken mast almost touched the water, made a hard right, and the towering wall of a mini-freighter loomed immediately in front of him. Its hull stretched out to either side, blocking his path.
Lito was forced to throttle down to avoid smashing into it headlong. He yanked the handles of the jet ski back the other direction, leaning into the turn, then gunned it. The speedboat roared around the corner beside him. For a moment, the two crafts raced side-by-side down the length of the freighter. A flash of lightning revealed the surprised faces of the occupants, black men in shorts and neoprene shirts.
He let go of the jet ski handle with one hand, raised Jericho’s pistol, and fired blindly into their midst before they could mow him down.
A scream sounded over the howl of the wind. The boat swerved left away from him, clipping the prow of a broken-down yawl hard enough to peel paint from their hull, and then came roaring back, intent on crushing him into paste against the freighter. All Lito could do was brace for the impact.
Above them, the storm-choked sky flashed with almost blinding blue light.
9
Eric thrashed in his bindings at the back of the speedboat when the shooting started. His abductors had all but forgotten he existed as soon as they caught sight of the pirates, so now was his best chance to get free. Not only so he could start working on his escape, but mostly so he wouldn’t drown strapped to a seat if the Jamaican flipped the boat.
It wouldn’t be hard to do; the waves bounced and rattled the craft harder with each passing second as they chased after the jet ski. A few of the bigger whitecaps formed impromptu ramps that tossed them into the air, like stunt boats in a water exhibition, then allowed them to crash back down hard enough to jar his broken nose and send a fresh throb of pain through his head. The ocean was getting rough so fast, Eric wasn’t even sure they could’ve ridden this mess out aboard the MishMasher.
A terrible image popped into his head as he wriggled in his seat and g
ulped at what little air he could get from the rain driving into his face: the Holy Mackerel, that dust-filled old houseboat, sinking beneath the angry waves, taking his father’s fucked-up little statue with it. No sir, that wasn’t in the cards; he wouldn’t let it be. He had to find a way to get back there.
The duct tape binding him to the speedboat’s vinyl seat came loose in ripping chunks. He struggled harder and peeled himself away, then, once his arms were free, tore the rest from his clothes. The four gorillas sitting in front of him were all so intent on firing their automatic weapons at the jet ski, they still didn’t notice. Eric couldn’t see which one of the pirates was riding that thing, but—to give credit where it was due—the guy had some serious moves.
The speedboat slewed violently side-to-side as Vishon took corners at unsafe speeds to pursue their target, forcing all the passengers to cling to their seats with one hand. Eric did the same while trying to decide what to do with his newfound freedom. He was, after all, still in a boat with four heavily-armed men, which didn’t change his situation much. He could probably jump out without them seeing, but even if the storm didn’t drown him, he did not intend to be the next course on the menu for whatever had eaten Mr. Tattoos.
They came around a sailboat and suddenly the jet ski was right beside them. Eric looked over and caught sight of that dipshit pirate captain, the tail of his Hawaiian-print shirt flapping in the wind. The goons, caught unaware by his sudden appearance, all scrambled to bring their machine guns up.
Lito raised a pistol and started shooting. Eric saw the thug closest to him take several bullets to the chest and neck. He tumbled sideways out of his seat, flopping bonelessly into the bottom of the boat. His uzi bounced from his hand and landed squarely between Eric’s feet in the water collecting in the floorwell. Before he could snatch it up, Vishon yanked the wheel away from the jet ski, bashing the end of another ship hard enough to toss the passengers to the floor along with the dead man. They swerved back in the opposite direction, lining up their prow to ram the jet ski from the side.
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