Tsunami Blue

by Gayle Ann Williams

  I gave a sharp nod and got back on the air. I told the kids to be strong, not to be afraid, that we were coming for them. We just had to make one little stop along the way. I kinda left out the part that the “little stop” would be New Seattle, where Gabriel Black, my maybe Runner turned cage fighter, aka fallen angel, all-around tough guy, and father of Max, was going to stop the biggest tsunami known to mankind. But lastly? I told them how much we loved them.

  I watched as Gabriel crumpled to the bench, his head in his hands. He looked up. “They’re my family, Blue. I have to save them. We have to.”

  “I know.”

  “They’ve been with me a long time, since I found them in that tree. Their dad,” his voice broke, “was my best friend. When the wave came, I couldn’t save him, but damn it, I saved his sons.

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  “They’re my sons now. Mine.”

  I dropped the mic to the floor, grabbed Gabriel by his thermal, and pulled him up. I stood on tiptoe and pulled him down into a crushing kiss. He responded by kissing me back, fierce and hard. Gabriel the warrior was back.

  I pulled away first. “Okay. It’s official,” I said. “We just had our first fight.”

  Gabriel raised a dark eyebrow. “Our first?”

  “Yes. Our first as, well, you know, a couple.” I felt the all too familiar heat climb into my cheeks.

  “Okay,” he said cautiously. “A couple.”

  “And we just kissed and made up.”

  “We made up?” He sounded hopeful.

  “We made up. Now let’s go stop a wave, tough guy.”

  Thick clouds had moved over the moon, and Gabriel and I welcomed the cover of darkness. We sailed south toward New Seattle. Our spinnaker with the 666 symbol was lost in the night sky, blending into the inky darkness. But I could hear the whispers of the sea echoing against the sails, bouncing a warning off the stretched and stiff canvas.

  Hurry. Hurry. HURRY.

  Gabriel’s sight had continued to improve, and just like always he moved across the deck like the seasoned pro he was. He moved like a pirate.

  Like a Runner.

  But he wasn’t, right? I tried to sort it out. My head said yes, he could be. My heart said no way. But for now the question was not up for discussion. We had other, bigger distractions.

  Trace had found us.

  We had sailed at breakneck speed. The wind had been at our backs and the sea had calmed, sending us smooth, flat waters. We had buried the rail and made good time. Good, but apparently not good enough.

  We spotted Trace and his crew on the horizon at daybreak just a few nautical miles from the shores of New San Juan. There could be no mistaking the boat. The rails were lined with human skulls, and a bloody and beaten corpse was hanging from the bowsprit. Oh, joy.

  “We still have the lead,” said Gabriel as he lowered his binoculars.

  “Maybe they haven’t seen us,” I said. But even I didn’t believe the hope in my voice.

  I heard the crackle of the shortwave filter up through the open hatch as it came to life downstairs. I bit my lower lip and wiped my clammy hands on my jeans. Fear had once again invaded my chest, kicking my heartbeat into high gear.

  “Now, who could that be? A telemarketer?” I said, trying to kick some smart-ass into my voice. It wasn’t working.

  We set the wheel and both ran down to the hold. We knew it wasn’t the kids; we had told them to stay off the air. It was safer for them that way. After all, you never knew who might be listening in.

  The radio snapped to life and through the static was the all too familiar voice of Trace. He sounded as wicked and evil as ever.

  “I assume you have my cargo, Black. Don’t deny it, because of course you do. You are either delivering her to that bastard Indigo, or you’re keeping her for yourself. No matter. You are dead, and she is mine. See you soon.”

  The radio faded to silence.

  Then it crackled to life once more. “Oh. By the way, I have a special place reserved for your head on my rail. And I have a special place reserved for Blue. In. My. Bed.”

  He drew out the last three words, and the menace in his voice spoke volumes.

  Gabriel grabbed the mic. His voice seethed with rage.

  “You never listen, Trace. I. Don’t. Fucking. Share. Ever.” And then, “But if the price is right and you can catch us in that derelict dump you call a boat, I might consider a trade.”

  “Aw, what? You not in love anymore?” Trace laughed.

  “Let’s just say the scrawny bitch is getting on my nerves.” Gabriel threw the mic to the floor.

  I knew if I could see myself that my mouth would be hanging open. Scrawny bitch? Getting on his nerves? If the price is right?

  “Um, Gabriel? Scrawny bitch here has a few questions?”

  “Just trust me on this, Blue. Follow me.”

  I followed him back up the ladder to the deck. I shook my head in disbelief. If you can catch us? Like Trace needed another reason to chase us? Damned male testosterone. Although I must say, I did heartily agree about the asshole part.

  Once back on top I watched the Runner ship getting closer and closer. This was so not good. I thought we had the fast boat.

  “Um, Gabriel?”

  “Yeah?”

  “They’re gaining on us.”

  “That’s the plan.”

  Plan? That was the plan? I folded my arms around my waist and started to count to ten to calm myself. I didn’t make it past three.

  “I don’t like your plan.”

  “Trust me. It will work.”

  Okay. “Um, so we get caught and what? You lose your head and I—”

  “You stay with me.” He dropped the line he was holding, walked across the deck, took me in his arms, and kissed me. He pulled away and looked me in the eyes with that dark look of his. “You will always stay with me.”

  We slowed our pace to a crawl. Our sails slackened and the boom swung loosely back and forth. We bobbed precariously close to the shore of New San Juan. We were now rowing distance from the beach where so much of my life had played out. This was the beach where I had been kidnapped by Gabriel, where I had watched my uncle die, where I had last seen Max.

  Max.

  My heart squeezed painfully and I couldn’t help but scan the shore for him.

  “Don’t put yourself through this, Blue. He’s not there.” Gabriel had come up from behind and wrapped his arms around me. I blinked back tears.

  “You ready?”

  I nodded. It was time to take care of Trace. No way could we sail into New Seattle with him glued to our tail. And if we didn’t make it to New Seattle in time to stop the wave, the kids would die. New False Bay was in the wave’s path too.

  And that just wasn’t an option.

  That left us with only one solution. Trace and the Runner scum who traveled with him would have to…have to… I stumbled over the thought. They would all have to die.

  “Showtime.” Gabriel pushed me against the mast and tied my arms behind me using a knot a two-year-old could get out of.

  I had been used for a lot of things in my life. But this was the first time I had ever been bait. And if it ended like this, with me being fed to a Runner like chum to a shark, I was truly going to be pissed.

  Gabriel went below to arm himself.

  Trace’s boat slowly approached our starboard side. It was still a way off, but I could see Trace pacing like the madman he was. I could hear him swearing across the water.

  I counted five of them on board. That left us down by three. Shit.

  Gabriel appeared on deck with a bottle of absinthe in his hand and a bowie knife in the other.

  I knitted my brows and frowned. Was this really a good time to drink? He pulled the cork out with his teeth, spit it on the deck, and paused to take a swig. A very big swig. Very piratelike, I had to say. But still…

  “Um, Gabriel—”

  He held up a hand. “Not now, Blue.”

&
nbsp; “But—” I got the look. The dark one that turned my Gabriel into killer/murderer Gabriel. Shit. Now I wanted to take a swig.

  He walked over and pulled a red bandanna out of his pocket.

  “Open up.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You are not going to gag me, Gabriel Black.”

  “I am.”

  “You’re not.”

  He shoved it in my mouth. “Just play along. Can you do that for five minutes?”

  I sighed and nodded. The bandanna tasted like dry, scratchy oatmeal, but it smelled of almonds and honey and sunshine. I didn’t know what amazed me the most, the fact that I was agreeing to keep my mouth shut for five minutes, or that Gabriel, a supposed Runner scum, did laundry.

  We watched as Trace’s boat neared. I could smell rotting flesh and it was all I could do not to gag. Gabriel stood next to me with his knife to my throat. He held up the bottle of absinthe in clear view, and I could see Trace’s crew lick their lips. All but one.

  John the Snake Man was standing next to Trace. His hands were bound, and crimson now mixed with the greens and blues of his tattooed scales. The crimson, of course, was blood. I was glad to note, however, that the man still had his ears.

  I could see the tic in Gabriel’s jaw as he caught sight of John.

  “Gabriel. Looks like you got tired of running,” said Trace. His men had steered the boat alongside ours and secured a line. We were rafted together now. All his men had to do was step aboard.

  “Well, what are you going to do, Trace? Your boat always was faster.”

  Was not, I thought.

  “Besides, I’m tired of the girl.” Gabriel ran his knife along my jugular. He looked at me and gave me a wink only I could see. “She never stops running her mouth.”

  Nice.

  “I’ll make good use of her mouth.”

  Yuck. I saw Gabriel’s fist close tight on his blade with that comment.

  “I see the Snake Man has pissed you off,” Gabe called.

  Trace laughed and punched John in the gut. The blow took him to his knees. “You might say that I was disappointed when I found the mist lacked a certain blinding element.”

  “What are we gonna do here, Trace?” Gabriel held up his bottle for the crew to see. And the crew, upon seeing the green fairy, started to get mighty restless. “Are we making a deal and drinking on it, or what?”

  “Are you in position for making a deal?”

  Gabriel pressed the blade to my throat. “I believe I am.”

  Trace narrowed his eyes and licked his lips nervously. “You would kill her?”

  “I would.”

  That gave him pause.

  “I told you. I’m sick of her and the cat-and-mouse game that comes with her. Make it worth my while and we all get out of here alive.” Gabriel took another swig.

  “What do you want?”

  “I want out,” Gabriel said.

  “Out?”

  “Out of this with my life. I want my ship and I want the gold you have stashed under the fourth skull on the starboard side.”

  Trace didn’t deny it. And why would he? If Gabriel said it was there, it would be. Runners were notorious for not keeping secrets.

  “Indigo will hunt you.”

  “That’s my problem. And for the record, I’m sick of the blue bastard.”

  Trace laughed. “That makes two of us, my man. That makes two of us. Okay. Deal. Send the bitch over.”

  I did an eye roll, and I was pretty sure Gabriel would have too. But that was not his style. He was more of a knife-to-the-throat kind of guy.

  Gabriel laughed and played the blade along my neck. “Nice try, Trace. But here is what we are going to do. Throw the gold over. In fact, you-you with the bone in your nose, go get it.”

  Trace clenched his jaw, clearly hating Gabriel for ordering his men around. Still, he gave a sharp nod, and moments later the burlap bag of gold landed at my feet.

  “Now your men can come over for a celebratory drink. And then I set sail. With Blue.”

  “Wait a minute, Black.” Trace pointed his knife. “If you think I’m just going to let you sail off with her—”

  “Leave a man on board with me. Hell, leave two men on board. Your choice. They can set the sails, and when we are forty feet from shore I’ll dump them in the water. You can fish them out.”

  What? Dump me in the water?

  “You can fish, right, Trace?”

  “And if I don’t agree?”

  “Then I slit her throat now and take my chances.”

  Trace sighed and fingered his blade. He wasn’t sold and he wasn’t happy. In frustration he kicked John, who still had not gotten up from the last blow.

  “Okay,” he said at last. “Let’s do it.”

  The men cheered as Gabriel held up the absinthe. They came over the railing.

  And then the cheering stopped.

  Everything from that point on was a blur.

  Gabriel knifed the first Runner to step foot on his deck. Limb, gut, heart, throat—the Runner ritual, and Gabriel was deadly efficient at it. Just that quickly, the man with the bone in his nose was dead.

  I spit out the bandanna, slid my hands from knots that weren’t cinched, and caught the bowie Gabriel tossed at me in midair.

  Two more Runners came at Gabriel, but they didn’t have a prayer. Gabriel had abandoned his blades for a small repeating crossbow he had stowed under a pile of fenders. The two men were riddled with arrows in seconds. Screams filled the air, and blood, red and slick and smelling of copper, coated the deck. I had never seen the weapon, only heard of its existence. Leave it to Gabriel to have one.

  And now there were two: Trace and John.

  I went for Trace and so did Gabriel. But before I could reach him, he kicked John overboard, and with bound hands and feet it was a death sentence.

  Gabriel froze and watched as the blue-green body hit the water. It was all the opportunity Trace needed. He was coming at Gabriel.

  “Look out!” I screamed. Gabriel flattened on the deck just as the fillet knife sliced though the air. It would have taken out his throat. Gabriel looked frantically toward the water where John had disappeared, and I realized that his concentration was gone.

  And that would get him killed.

  I didn’t think. I just reacted. I pulled off my boots, stripped off my fleece, and shouted to Gabriel, “I’ve got him; I’ve got John.”

  Gabriel rolled to his side, catching Trace in the legs with a vicious kick. Trace landed a few feet away. Gabriel looked at me. Damn him. Didn’t he just have that questioning raised-eyebrow thing going on? Who had time for that shit?

  “I can swim. I’ll get Snake Man, and you kill Trace. Got it?”

  Well, he had to get it. Because I had my knife in my mouth and dived over the side before he could react.

  The water was take-your-breath-away cold. Reaching up to grab my blade, I broke the surface, gasping. The cold had knocked the air from my lungs. I wouldn’t last long in these waters; no one would. I took a deep breath and dived back under the water.

  I knew where John had gone in, but in the few moments that had passed there were currents and tide action and— I saw him. I saw him. Only a few feet before me, he wasn’t moving. Damn. I swam alongside him, cutting ropes from his feet, then his wrists. I tucked him under my arm in a neck hold and kicked with all my might, pushing for the surface. I aimed for daylight and air and life.

  Seconds later we burst to the surface—just as Gabriel and Trace tumbled overboard.

  What had just happened? Now all four of us were in the water? Unbelievable.

  Let’s play, Blue. Let’s play, the sea whispered.

  “Let’s not,” I said as I treaded water.

  Ready? whispered the sea.

  I wasn’t, but the swells hit us anyway. Hard, fast, and furious, they tumbled us over and over and over until we were spit out onto the rocks and sand and debris.

  We were sprawled out on the beach like salmon f
illets drying in the sun.

  Gabriel and John didn’t move. They could not be dead. They just could not.

  Trace was up on his feet. He carried a piece of driftwood in his hand like a club. And he was coming right for me.

  I scooted backward on my butt, scrambling on all fours like a crab, but he reached me quickly and had his boot at my throat.

  “You are a shitload of work, Tsunami Blue,” he said as he ground his boot into my neck. “And I’m not sure that you’re worth it. But the way I see it, you’ll do your job just as well with or without an ear.” He knelt and, with his knee on my chest, he pulled a knife from the small of his back. The blade looked sharp enough to cut silk. “Let this be a lesson.”

  He put more pressure on my chest, and now I could hardly breathe. “Gabriel will kill you,” I said in a gasp.

  Trace laughed. “Gabriel is dead, sweetheart. They both are.”

  “No…” My voice was weak, and stars were starting to form from lack of oxygen.

  He leaned over me. “Oh, yes,” he hissed.

  Trace fisted my hair in his hand and brought the blade down just under my earlobe.

  “You sick fuck,” I wheezed.

  “You got that right.”

  I saw a flash, a blur really, of rich colors. Gold and white and black twirled together and flew before my eyes. Trace went airborne, screaming. I heard growling, thunderous and frightening. What was happening? What-? I pushed up and saw stars. My vision blurred. I put my head between my legs to keep from passing out. The feeling passed in seconds. My vision cleared, only to be clouded again from tears.

  Max.

  It was Max.

  My Max.

  I was sobbing now, calling my dog’s name, calling for him to stop. To come.

  He was doing what he always had. He was protecting me.

  Standing right behind him, leaning on each other for support, were John and Gabriel.

  I cried harder.

  My Max and my Gabriel were alive. Alive!

  I was on my feet, calling my dog’s name. Max stopped and looked first at me, then at Gabriel. Gabriel pointed and Max ran to me, knocking me over. We tumbled and tangled and rolled. He licked and barked and hit me with a tail that refused to stop wagging. He was matted and filthy and oh, so beautiful.