by Dale Mayer
“I keep dropping in and out,” he said. “I’m not getting the whole gist of it.”
Samson related what Whimsy had said; then Samson told Stefan about the men in his cabin, both the friendlier ones and the nonfriendly ones. “We need a helicopter as soon as this storm is done,” he said.
“I’ll tell Ned,” Stefan said.
“Can you do that?”
“He knows me,” Stefan said. “So I’ll do it the usual way, with a phone call.” And, with that, he disappeared.
But his laughter and his sense of humor still floated freely in the lab. It made life a little easier for Samson. He opened the door, stepped outside and walked into the kitchen. At a glance he realized everything was still the same.
Bruce looked at him. “Is she asleep?”
He nodded. “She is. It took a couple more painkillers because of the damage they did to her shoulder though.”
“Yeah. Assholes, aren’t they?” Bruce reached out and kicked one of the men hard in the foot.
He yelped, not seeing the blow coming.
Samson headed to the coffeepot.
“Hey,” Jamie said. “I’d like a cup of coffee.” He headed to the fridge. “Is there any leftover food? I’m kind of hungry.”
“We’re always hungry,” Bruce said. “Poor Samson is apparently on short-order-cook duty.”
Samson smiled. “That will work for a little while, but, once we run out of fresh stuff, you guys are on beans.”
As if that wasn’t thrilling enough, just then Jamie let one rip, and a gaseous odor filled the house.
Bruce groaned out loud. “Oh, that’s disgusting. What the hell have you been eating?”
“Good food,” Jamie said cheerfully, once again acting like a teenager.
It was a bit too much for Samson to sort out. He went through the fridge and started what would be a stew. He didn’t have a ton of time to make it meltingly tender, but, with the cuts of meat he had, it shouldn’t be too bad. He soon had garlic and onions and meat simmering. He figured, if he got the basics started, he could continue to add to it tomorrow.
“If you dropped some barley into that,” Bruce said, “you’d have a nice hearty soup for dinner.”
Samson looked at the dish, then nodded. “Might be better than a stew.”
“Stew’s going to take too long.”
“Barley will too,” Samson said. “But I do have rice and a bunch of vegetables. I also have some leftover pasta.”
Rummaging through the leftovers, having opted for making a thick beef noodle soup, Samson’s brain clicked into place. Navigation company … NAVCOM. Only it wasn’t Dr. Strauss the article referred to, it was Dr. Berkley. Trying to figure the connections out, Samson brought out a big thick French loaf cut it into slabs, and, when the soup was ready, he served the three of them.
Of the two men tied up on the floor, one was sleeping, and the other one was glaring at him. “You could share, you know?” Patrick said.
“Why would I waste the food on you?” Samson said. “You were going to kill us all. Pretty hard to forgive that.”
“I have to go to the bathroom soon,” Patrick said, “so you’ll have to make a decision whether you want me to piss all over your floor, or will you take me outside and let me take a leak?”
“I’ll consider it,” Samson said as he spooned up some noodles and sipped the broth before taking the whole spoonful into his mouth. He nodded. “It is good, but, then again, in times like this, hot soup is always perfect.” He picked up a slab of French bread, dipped it into his soup, and before long he’d finished eating. He looked at Bruce and said, “It’ll probably take the two of us.”
“Yeah, I know,” Bruce said with a sigh.
They got up, and Samson turned to look at his brother. “Jamie, can you do the dishes?”
Jamie shot him a look but nodded.
They bent down, picked up Patrick and walked him outside. They untied his hands but kept his feet tied up. With Bruce holding the gun on him, they waited for him to take a leak. When that was done, they let him put his pants to rights, and then they retied his hands and helped him hop back into the living room.
Patrick asked, “Can I sit on the couch at least?”
Bruce and Samson looked at each other. They both shrugged and let him sit down, but it was awkward with his hands behind him.
“Is it really a problem when you’ve got the guns for my hands to be tied in front of me?” Patrick asked.
“That’s enough niceties,” Bruce said. “I’m not into playing games. You can just sit there, or you can lie down. I don’t give a shit.”
With that comment, Patrick decided to sit in the corner of the couch quietly.
Samson walked to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, realizing that Jamie had once again disappeared. But at least he’d done the dishes. As he stared out the window, something else clicked in his brain. Something from years ago. And Bruce … Should he ask him?
“Looks like the storm’s easing slightly.”
“Good,” Bruce said in frustration. “I need to get Jerry to the hospital.”
At that reminder, Samson crouched beside the unconscious man. He didn’t like the look of him at all. His blood pressure had also dropped. “Let me see if I can get any communication through to the mainland.”
He headed back into the lab. Just as he was stepping in, he heard a heavy clunk behind him and a groan. He turned to see Patrick had taken Bruce down with a head-butt. His suddenly free hand coming up to grab the gun.
Samson pulled his own gun out from his waistband. Without hesitation, he fired. It ripped into Patrick’s hand and up his arm.
He screamed out in pain and went down.
Bruce rolled over, grabbed the gun and kicked the gunman hard in the head. “God damn. Like I said, no more niceties.” But he wavered on his feet. It was all he could do to maintain his standing position. Samson helped him sit down on the armchair.
“Patrick gave you a good blow,” Samson said, as he walked over and checked his friend’s head. “Sorry about that.”
“No, I’m sorry. But he’s not going anywhere for a while now.”
“Hey, wasn’t it Dr. Berkley you worked for as a research assistant? As part of that navigation program?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Did you ever work with Strauss?”
“Hell no. He was nutty back then. But Berkley didn’t seem to care. They were partners on a lot of projects including that one.”
“So are they both behind this shit?”
“Who the fuck knows,” Bruce growled.
As they watched, Patrick bled out on the floor. “Shit,” Samson said. He once again grabbed his medical kit and checked the wound. It looked like nonarterial bleeding, just a massive open wound. He wrapped it up, putting pressure on the bleeding area.
He glanced at Bruce. “How bad is the head? Can you come over here and put pressure on this while I see if we can get through to the mainland?”
“Sure,” Bruce said. He stood, took two steps, then a funny look came over his face before he collapsed to the floor. Just then Jamie came out of his room.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Samson said. “Jamie, I need you over here.”
Jamie bent down and held pressure on Patrick’s injured hand while Samson checked Bruce’s head. “I really need that helicopter now,” he said.
“I already contacted them,” Jamie said.
“Contacted who?”
“Well, you contacted Stefan, and so did I, and he’s contacting Ned. They’re on their way.”
“Who’s on their way?” Samson cried out in frustration, hating the half-spoken conversations he always had with his brother.
“The Coast Guard and a helicopter,” Jamie said. “This will all be over soon.”
“So says you,” Samson said. “We don’t know that more than these two men aren’t already out there.”
Jamie looked at him in surprise. “You’re right,” he said. “I n
ever thought about that.”
Samson turned to look Bruce over, but Bruce lifted a gun and fired directly at Samson.
Samson didn’t feel a thing except for an icy burn throughout his shoulder. He collapsed to the floor, as pain seared through his nerve endings. He tried to breathe, tried to stay conscious, but blackness was darkening his world.
Bruce loomed over him. “You figured it out huh? Slow though. And of course there’s no way you can know all of it, but it does mean I have to take care of you now. Jamie I’ll enjoy taking out. And of course Whimsy. Such a delightful name for a delightful creature. And you can bet she’s going to be studied until she wished she were dead. She’s got multiple abilities that she’s not even likely to know she has but she will by the time we’re done with her.”
“Why?” he gasped.
“That old mariner who sold you this place was my fucking asshole of a grandfather. This island was mine. And you got it because he thought I was a loser. Not worthy of being custodian of this ‘special’ place. Dr. Berkley has promised it to me as it’s rightfully mine. I’ve been working with him since leaving university. Then there’s the money I’ve sunk into NAVCOM and my years of research that’s contributed to this program. I stand to make millions if not hundreds of millions but only if you’re not around to stop us.”
He smiled at Samson. “There really was no choice.”
Chapter 26
Whimsy woke up cold, sore and wet. Her stomach roiled along with the motion of her body. She was being tossed and bounced from side to side as the boat she was in plowed through the water. She groaned, trying to figure out what had happened and where she was, as her eyes adjusted to the half-light of the morning, the salty tang of the ocean air filling her nostrils. What the hell was going on? Her wrists were bound; her ankles were bound, and her shoulder was on fire. And so was her head. A ripple of pain slid down her spine.
As she studied her surroundings, determining she was on a cabin cruiser, she heard a sound beside her. She turned her head to see Samson. He was tied up the same as she was, but a huge bloodstain spread across his upper shoulder and down his torso. She calmed herself and looked closer; the bleeding seemed to start at his shoulder and then flowed freely downward. Shocked, she turned to look around for anybody else.
Someone sat in the pilot seat of the boat’s cabin, but she could only see the back of his head from her position. The rest of the deck was full of bodies tied up. Both of the gunmen who had been in Samson’s house and Jerry. But she saw no sign of Jamie. Nor did she see Bruce.
She reached over and nudged Samson. Leaning closer, she whispered against his ear. “Hey, wake up. Wake up.”
He moaned, and she whispered into his ear again. “You need to wake up. We’re in a boat. I don’t know who is piloting it, but we’re all tied up. Our kidnapper only has to stop out here someplace and dump us. We’re already rolling in water here.”
Samson’s eyes opened groggily, and she held up her hands in front of him so he could see her bindings. “We’re both tied up, and you’ve been shot. I’m trying not to let the driver know I’m awake. I can’t see who it is.”
“Bruce,” Samson whispered. “It’s Bruce. He shot me.”
She stared at him in horror. Then swiveled to look at the man piloting their boat. Now she could see it. It really was him. “Why? I don’t understand …”
“No time,” Samson said urgently. “My pocket, check my pocket for my knife.”
She reached down, and, sure enough, he had a Swiss Army knife. But it was damn hard to get to, particularly with the boat hitting each wave with a hard bounce. She finally managed to bring it out, opened it and quickly cut through the duct tape that had been used to keep her hands together.
With her hands free, she cut his hands free, then her own feet and his. He lay there for a moment, working the circulation back into his hands and his feet. The water level rose around them as the boat slammed into another wave.
“Look around for any weapons,” he said, his voice thick. “I don’t know what’ll happen when I stand up,” he said, “because I don’t know how much damage that bullet caused.”
She nodded.
It was hard to hear his whispers with the motor running and the waves crashing. Heavy clouds formed above, but clearer skies were off to the south. They wouldn’t last long out here at this rate. She suspected Bruce didn’t plan on leaving them alive regardless. But would he shoot them dead, or leave them to drown out here?
“Jamie isn’t here.”
He looked at her in horror. “Jesus Christ.”
“I don’t know if he survived, if he’s back at the research lab, or if he’s been tossed into the water already.”
“Okay, let’s check the other men, then find a way out of here,” Samson said. “We have to save ourselves.”
Just then the engine cut off, and the boat slowed, lulled about in the heavy waves.
“The storm has died down,” she said as she curled back on the floor beside him, pretending to be tied up still. “I can barely see the cabin, so, when Bruce comes, I’ll let you know.”
“Life jackets?”
She searched the area and shook her head. “I’m not seeing any.”
“So whatever saved your life last time,” he said, “any chance you can call them for help?”
“I’ve never tried to contact whatever that was. I’m not even sure I can.”
He gave her a brief smile. “This is the one time you need to trust me. I suspect it was a family of whales and dolphins, given the size of them. Could be killer whales.”
“They were always my fascination,” she said with a half smile. “Most laypeople don’t realize that killer whales won’t kill humans. I spent a lot of time with them when I was working on my master’s thesis, although they weren’t my direct focus.”
“And there you go,” he said. “But you’ll need to call in every one of them that you can. Otherwise, we’ll lose everybody in this boat.”
“From the looks of them,” she whispered, “I’m not sure the others are alive.”
“Can you check them?” His gaze turned hard. “Is Bruce coming?”
She shook her head. “No, not yet.” She sat up enough to reach Patrick. He had no pulse. He stared sightlessly at his partner. His partner stared sightlessly back. It looked like Jerry was also not quite there, but she couldn’t tell for sure. His eyes were closed.
She lay back down again. “Both of the gunmen are dead,” she said. “I don’t know about Jerry.”
“I’m not sure Jerry would have made it in the first place,” Samson said. “You know what’ll happen soon, right?”
“We’ll overpower Bruce, and we’ll take the boat back to shore. How’s that?” she asked with a grin. She turned to look up at the cabin of the boat again, realizing a small Zodiac was now tied at the bow. Bruce stood in front of the big windshield of the cabin cruiser, pulling the life boat closer. “Or not. He’s got another boat. A Zodiac with a motor on it, ready to go.”
As she watched, Bruce hopped into the inflated rescue boat, fired up the motor and took off, leaving behind the cabin cruiser she was in. The bastard never even looked back.
“Oh, shit,” she said. She got to her feet and struggled over the dead bodies to the front of the boat where she stepped into more water, rising quickly. She turned back to Samson and yelled out, “He’s sinking the boat. Look for something, a life jacket, something to help keep you afloat. We’ll be underwater in minutes.”
The waves were crashing in. She watched as Samson checked on Jerry. When Samson looked at her, he shook his head, and she knew the young man was dead too. Now just the two of them were alive. She searched for anything that could be used as a flotation device but found nothing.
She half-walked, half-floated back to Samson, who even now took off his jeans, leaving the belt in the loops, tying the ends of the legs tightly closed and then filling the jeans with air with a quick turn of the open waistband at his shoulders�
�which brought out a groan and more blood from his wound. Then Samson tightened the belt with a knot of sorts to keep it as closed as possible, holding in whatever air he had managed to catch. Now he had a temporary floatation device.
She wasn’t wearing jeans unfortunately, and then, before she realized it, they were floating in the water.
He hung on to her tightly. “I want to hook my belt to you as well.”
She gave a startled laugh. “Nice thought. Yoga pants, remember? No way to deal with those.”
“We can alternate between dog-paddling and sharing this,” he said.
The storm had definitely calmed, but the waves were erratic, irritated.
She searched the vast sound around them, but it was still an angry ocean—one filled with choppy waves and whitecaps. “There’s no sign of the boat,” she cried over the sound of the waves. “It’s already under.”
He nodded. “I’m not seeing the three men either.”
She turned to study the sound but, with all the wave activity, the men were long gone.
She felt such sorrow in her heart for Jerry. His only mistake had been to be Bruce’s assistant. “I presume Bruce is part of all this then? I wish I knew why,” she said, struggling to stop her teeth from chattering. Hypothermia would set in very quickly.
But what came after that was so much worse.
“Now I have time to tell you.” He carefully explained about Bruce’s role in all of this nightmare. She could only gape at him in shock. They hadn’t had a chance right from the beginning.
Samson gripped her hands hard, both of them just floating gently as the waves crashed over and around them. “Stay positive,” he ordered. “We’ve been here before.”
“I know. I know,” she cried out. “But it’s my worst nightmare that it’ll happen again.”
“But you survived, remember?”
She shook her head. “That last time, yes. But this will be the third time for me. Pushing my luck, it seems.”
“What?” He stared at her. “What did you say?”
“When I was young,” she said, “I told you something about it before. I leaned too far over the railing, and I fell in the water. Nobody noticed I was gone for quite a few minutes. Then my big sister was there, trying to save me. We both went under. I was fully dressed, struggled to swim and lost the fight. I remember feeling my chest bursting with flames and then nothing. Except for the voices calling to me. Only then I found myself being pushed to the surface, gasping for breath. That’s when the adults noticed me in the water. The mammal—if that’s what it was—disappeared when I was rescued. None of the adults confirmed what I saw.”
