by Al K. Line
I returned to the deck and hoisted myself up to peer over the metal walls. I gave a thumbs up to Steve and Vicky to tell them I was okay then dropped back down and continued exploring.
On several of the upper levels, of which there seemed to be many, I found more bodies, but these weren't of attackers, they were of the defenders. I recognized two of them, older shifters who'd been around since forever, with reputations for being tough, traditional, and uncompromising in their loyalty. The perfect people to protect the Wild One. They'd had their throats cut cleanly then left where they fell.
Down in the bowels of the boat, I found several more men and women, each death a little more grisly than the last, the struggle evident. It was chaos. Furniture, weapons, and a young girl's belongings were in disarray. Bloody handprints smeared the walls and strange animal prints marked the ceiling and floor. Two shifters were naked, their clothes in rags beside them. They'd put up a good fight but had succumbed to the simple power of a bullet once the kidnappers got off shots in the cramped space.
There were large dining and living rooms, very cosy and comfortable with lots of soft furnishings, and everything was well lived in, making it clear the place had been occupied for years. There were several bedrooms for couples, a few singles, and one that was clearly Sunshine's.
Was this where she was taken from? Doubtful, as there was no evidence of a struggle. Everything was neat and orderly, a normal girl's bedroom with posters and books, movies, TV, heavy on the pastel colors, and a wardrobe full of the average kid's clothes. If it wasn't for the fact I was on a ship it would have seemed utterly incongruous.
Eventually, I came to the scene from the movie Steve had been shown. The kidnappers had tracked Sunshine and her mum to a panic room where they'd locked themselves away. Peeking inside, I found supplies to last a week, bunk beds, a small bathroom, entertainment for the girl, and one very dead mother.
Sunshine's mum was splayed out on the bed. Long blond hair hid her face, but not enough to hide the bullet hole in her forehead. How long had it taken them to get inside? The door was solid but they'd cut through it eventually, using a heavy duty piece of equipment left beside the door, and probably found on the ship. That was a silly oversight, to leave your welding equipment so your attackers could get you no matter how well you hid.
I hurried into open air so I could breathe easier and get rid of the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.
So, we had one dead kidnapper, lots of murdered shifters, and no girl.
I returned to the cabin to check the corpse of the guy but knew I'd find nothing but weapons and blood, plus cold squishy bits I'd have to move aside to check his pockets, which was always utterly gross.
And then he grabbed my arm in a grip that could break bone.
Devious
"What the fu..."
"Where are they?" grunted the man who moments ago was ripped to shreds and now seemed if not fine, then was certainly breathing and didn't have his guts hanging out or his carotid sliced clean through.
"Who? And ow, that hurts." I scowled at the man, not letting my surprise continue to show, confident as I felt Wand's power warming my leg and other bits, which was odd. I wished he'd stop doing it.
"Tell me or I'll rip you to pieces." He stared hard, was still for a moment, then said, "Ah, wizard is it?"
"Yeah, wizard. Pretty good fucking wizard too." Wand tore through my pocket—we really had to come up with a new design—and slammed into my free hand. Without preamble, I whacked him down on the top of the man's head with a mighty thwack that dazed him and allowed me to scramble back as his hold relinquished.
Catlike, or maybe creakylike, I jumped to my feet and grinned as Wand powered up to eleven and the sigils flared bright and joyous in anticipation of battle.
This was no ordinary criminal, he was a wizard like me, the illusion enough to confirm that. Guess I'd caught him unawares and he'd fallen back on one of the oldest tricks in the book. Play dead. Damn, I always seemed to fall for such simple tactics. This time I had an excuse. The magic in the air from Sunshine's heightened emotions was playing havoc with my magical sense and I was amazed I could do anything at all the way my thoughts were so fuzzy and my awareness so stunted.
Then I realized quite how subdued they were. I didn't care about this guy, I wasn't that bothered about Sunshine either, not on an emotional level. It was more a sense of pride in my work that made me continue this. I wasn't so far gone that I didn't understand that wasn't right though, I knew I shouldn't be feeling this so that was something. What it did confirm was that Sunshine was one hell of a powerful girl and the cause of the emotional turmoil.
And there was one more thing. Something I'd overlooked and should have made a priority. If the emotional shockwaves were centered around the city, then chances were high that was exactly where she was. She wasn't out at sea, she was back in the heart of the madness.
Time to go.
There was just one problem.
I ducked as a stream of purple energy shot over my head. "Hey, watch it, you could damage Grace."
"Grace?" asked the numnuts, pausing before he tried again.
"The hat, you dickhead. And I'm The Hat."
"That makes no sense. Are you on medication?"
"No, but you soon will be." I snapped Wand to attention and with a joyful "Whee," he let forth with a torrent of angry energy of his own, far superior to this guy's. The focused beam of pure magic infused with my annoyance—I wasn't emotional enough to feel true anger—and pride in my wizardly wildness, hit with precision right on his upper arm. He dropped his own wand, just a stick with nice carvings on, and yelped.
"You're an amateur," I said, hardly believing it.
"I'm learning," he huffed, affronted. "Pretty good, eh?" He grinned at me then glanced at the ground and went for the large machine gun.
"Yeah, but not good enough." Wand blasted the weapon away into a corner and the man stopped short. He looked at me, then the gun, then back again, trying to gauge my levels and his chances.
"You can try if you want. Well, what's it gonna be, punk? Make my day, why don't you?"
"Huh? What you on about?"
I sighed. "Never mind. Why are you here? What's the deal? Where's the girl?"
"Gone, they took her. And the bastards left me behind. No power to get out of here, just had to wait for someone to show up. I'm gonna kill them. They double-crossed me. Me! This was my bloody idea."
"Was it now," I snarled, raising Wand.
"Hey, hey, come on, man. I didn't want anyone to get hurt. It was them, they got carried away, cheated me and took the girl."
"Why'd you pick her? Why take someone like that?"
"Because she's..." He broke off mid-sentence and his eyes widened in shock and surprise. He stared down at a spreading stain through his military shirt and then the tip of a blade poked through his abdomen. He fell forward, revealing his murderer behind him.
Somewhat Miffed
"Steve, you utter plank," I shouted, my anger boiling over, my emotionless state having seemingly vanished.
"He helped take my girl. He planned it."
"Yeah, and he was about to tell me why, and a lot more besides. Hell, what is wrong with you?" I bent to check, but the man was definitely dead.
"What's wrong with me," Steve hollered, spittle flying, his face puce, "is that my daughter who I love more than life itself, who I haven't watched grow up because of who she is and because I'm an utter fuck-up, has been taken away and is most likely already dead. So, sorry, but this bastard had it coming and I will not apologize for killing him. I'd do it again if he wasn't dead." Steve kicked him and carried on kicking him. I let him, he needed an outlet and it wasn't as if the guy could feel it.
Eventually, he calmed down, the kicks became weaker, the tears became heavier, and the sheer overwhelming realization of what was happening gripped Steve tight and dragged him to his knees. He bent his head and sobbed his heart out, not for the first time, but thi
s brought it all home in a way he hadn't accepted yet, clinging as he was to hope against all the odds.
Now he knew, or at least acknowledged truly and deeply, that she'd been taken and it was unlikely he would ever see her again.
"Come on, let's go," I said, putting out my hands and helping him to his feet.
"Sorry, it's just..."
"I know, buddy, I know. Don't worry, we will not let them get away with this. I promise."
We left, both knowing that if they did this to one of their own, they weren't averse to hurting the girl.
Outside, Steve stopped. "Wait, what about Sue?"
"Her mum? She's dead, Steve, nothing to see. They holed up in a panic room but got taken anyway. You don't need to see that." I had an idea, unsure if it would help or not. "Come on, I have something to show you."
Steve walked into his daughter's bedroom like he was entering a shrine, full of respect and awe. Guess he'd never been in a bedroom of hers that was permanent, just transient places with little real sign of occupancy. This was where she'd grown up though, with a hundred telltale signs of her changing from a young girl to the one she was now. Stuffed animals and ancient picture books sat alongside video games and gossip magazines, things picked up from trips to the mainland. She had posters on the walls, even several photographs stuck to a small dressing-table mirror.
Steve plucked one such small photo from the mirror and showed it to me.
"One of the happiest days of my life." He showed me the photo. It was of him and a pretty young girl, maybe seven or eight, smiling, their faces up close to the lens.
"We snuck off for the whole day, just me and her, walked about in fields, got insanely muddy, found a little cafe and had tea and cream cakes. Just us, together. Her mum went spare but I didn't care. By this time I was hardly allowed to see her, so it made little difference. I knew it might have been the last time I saw her. We had a few more visits after that, but this was the only time since she was tiny that we were on our own."
Steve pocketed the picture and we left the boat.
As we sailed away, so Sunshine's influence faded too. We'd succeeded yet failed utterly too. All we knew was that they'd lived out at sea, had been taken from their home on water, and that Sunshine was very powerful, enough to make me scared of what she might be capable of.
And wizards were involved. That's never a good sign. You can't trust them.
Back in the Thick of It
By the time Steve parked—do you park boats?—and we'd wiped it down then reached the car, it was into the early hours.
We were all exhausted. Stress is the true killer, it gnaws at your bones, eats through your energy reserves more than running away from bad guys or blasting the magic in a carefree manner.
As cortisone levels rise, so your body consumes energy at an astonishing rate. Add to that the mental focus it takes, the worry, your mind whirling, and it leaves you in a sunken, depressed state, everything verging on closing down. We all felt it, we all fought it, yet there was no time to rest. There was only panic and that awful, gut-churning sense of impending doom you only get when your loved ones are in peril.
I hadn't felt like this for some time, not concerned like this for friends or family, and it was eating me up inside. Not only was I worried deeply for the little girl, but I knew what it was doing to Steve. You couldn't avoid it.
He was visibly shrinking before our eyes. His hair was disheveled, his face was gaunt, deep dark bags hung low under usually clear blue eyes, now rheumy and constantly close to tears. His actions were erratic and jittery, he was either manic or lethargic, and if I hadn't known better I'd assume he was high, or coming down from seriously hardcore drugs. He was on the verge of a breakdown, unable to relax for a moment, stressed out of his mind, and trying to stop the nightmares from invading his thoughts.
"Come on, let's get out of here," I said, then started the car and began driving back to the city.
After a few minutes, Steve said, "I shouldn't have killed that guy. He was our only lead and I blew it."
"Don't worry about it, we'll find her. We'll find them."
"How?"
"Vicky, you found them at the harbor, so where did they go once they got Sunshine?"
"I'm working on it," she said, not looking up from her laptop. "They could have come ashore at any number of places. They definitely didn't return to the port."
"Doesn't the tracking thing you used show where they went next? Why did it stop working?"
"I don't know. It just stops. No sign of them. Nothing."
"Maybe they got wise and ripped out the electrics?" said Steve.
"The boat wouldn't work then, would it?"
"No, it wouldn't," said a distracted Vicky. "And they would have disabled it earlier. Something else happened."
"Maybe they only just realized so did it once they had Sunshine," mused Steve.
"Whatever the reason, we can't track them that way, correct?" I asked.
"Yes."
"So what's the alternative? You can check other ports, other places they could have moored, right? How many can there be?"
"Arthur, this is the bloody United Kingdom. It's a small island surround by water, they could have landed and come ashore absolutely anywhere."
"No, you're wrong. If we're feeling the influence of Sunshine, if she's making everyone go funny in the head, then she isn't up in bloody Scotland or down in Cornwall, she's close. They took her and then they brought her back to the city. They must have. Or somewhere close anyway. That means they had a tight schedule. Think how long we took to drive to the port, and how long we'll take to get back. They'd have to do the same so check out the nearest places and see if there was any sign of them. When did it all start with people going funky?"
"Um, it was this morning, wasn't it? Just started this morning. I mean yesterday morning. Damn, I can't keep things straight in my head." Steve shook his head like that would make it better.
I glanced over at Vicky and she pulled a face-Steve wasn't doing well at all.
"But they didn't have her then, did they?" I was getting mixed up too now. When had I come home? Yesterday evening, and it had been happening for longer than that morning, hadn't it? That's what Ivan said. What the hell was going on? Was I wrong about all this? Were we going in completely the wrong direction? No, something told me this was right, I was right, so how had Sunshine been making people feel like this if she hadn't even been taken then?
When situations like this become complicated and you can't find the answer, you have to take a step back and come to the logical conclusion.
"They took her earlier than we thought. You got the call yesterday afternoon that they had her, and the truth thing had been going on for a while then, maybe even a week, so that's when they took her."
"Arthur, that makes no sense. We saw the kidnappers go to the port yesterday," said Vicky.
"Yeah, but maybe they were going for another reason."
"No, because I traced them to the boat. They went and got her yesterday."
"Damn, you're right. Okay, so this telling the truth thing happened before then. How?" Seems like the simple explanation isn't always right.
"Because she was already influencing everyone, before they took her?" ventured Steve.
"Yeah, must be."
"Why? How? She wasn't stressed out then."
"Maybe she was. Maybe something happened on the boat and she was worried, wanted everyone to tell her the truth and it spread to the city, to other areas. Maybe she was trying to focus on you, Steve. Maybe she was reaching out, telling you to get to the truth, that something bad would happen."
"And I did nothing."
"Dude, how were you to know?" I asked. "Nobody knew who was doing this. We're onto something. She was worried, she reached out, wanted you to ask questions, find out the truth, and then she was nabbed. That means one thing."
There was silence, they hadn't caught up yet.
I sighed. "It means this was done by
someone on the boat, someone who was there. Something happened so they left and then they returned and took her. Bet she overheard a conversation and panicked, thought something bad would happen. Maybe she'd even shifted and listened in secret, and reached out to you."
"What about her mum? She'd tell her, wouldn't she?"
"Maybe she did, maybe she didn't. She's a kid, she could have done anything. Maybe her mum didn't believe her, or maybe they were all ready and confident they could protect her. Or maybe she said nothing. I don't know, this is all conjecture, but my guess is that she knew it was gonna happen so freaked out and the shockwaves hit the magical community."
"This is nuts," said Vicky. "You can't do things like this, can you? Get panicked and force everyone to tell the truth, make everyone lose their emotions?"
"Obviously you can. She's an outlier, different, and young. Many gifted people were more powerful as children before they put the filters on, learned how to control things. She's scared, reached out to her dad, and hoped he'd come find her. Why her mum didn't get in touch, or believe her, maybe we'll never know. But that's what happened."
I wasn't convinced, but we had to remain confident. If we thought we were heading back to the city for no reason, Steve would be a gibbering wreck by the time we arrived. So, unsure as I was, I tried to convince them this was what had occurred as we made our way back into the heart of darkness.
I prayed I was right, otherwise I'd have the death of a young girl on my hands.
A Pause
"What do we do now?" asked Steve. He leaned forward from the back and stared first at me then Vicky.
I gulped, then whispered, "I don't know."
"Haha, come on, mate, seriously. Don't screw around. You're The Hat, the great Hat, you always have a plan. What do we do? Where we going?"
"I don't know. Goddammit, I don't know what to do, where to go, who to talk to. How to find her."
