Castaways, p.18
Castaways, page 18
“You can do this.” I lifted my hand to his and squeezed. “You’re the most confident person I know. You got this. Once I get that door secured so Don and that lady can’t get out, I’ll”—I paused, unable to fathom how this would go but desperately aware that it needed to happen—”take care of those guys up front while you make a run for the helicopter and take it to the beach where our ship is. Land there and wait for us to come to you.”
“That’s a four-seater. We can’t fit everyone.”
“We’ll figure that out after we’re safe.” I didn't care how this was working.
“We should kill them all and steal the boat and sail away.”
“None of us knows how to drive a boat, especially one this size. We’re a long ways from anywhere. We have to do this.” I hurried away from him, up the stairs and down the other side of the hall, to where we’d found a small office. I grabbed a chair from there and rushed back to the door to the bridge. I stuck the chair under the handle, preventing it from opening.
“What are you doing?” Logan asked, following me.
“I’m going for the bomb. I’ll activate it and blow up the boat. You climb up the side of the boat while I distract those two then I’ll get the bomb. I’ll meet you back at the beach where our ship is destroyed.” I pointed toward the front of the boat.
“This is a terrible idea.” He shook his head.
“I know,” I agreed. “Do you have a better one? You can’t drive a boat, but you can fly a helicopter.”
He gave it some thought. I could almost see the wheels spinning. But after a couple of seconds, he conceded. “You’re right. We’ll end up sinking in the Atlantic somewhere else. This is it.”
“Go to the back of the boat and find the ladder up to the helicopter pad. Shoot anyone you come across. You’ll have to hurry. The captain’s bridge has access to the pad. Maybe block the door to the bridge from the outer deck before you start the helicopter.”
“Jesus,” he whispered and grabbed me, hugging me tightly. “Be careful. If anything happens to you, Jesse will kill me.”
“Okay. You too.” I tried to smile like this was just another ordinary parting between two friends.
But that couldn't have been further from the truth.
We weren’t friends and this wasn't ordinary.
“I’m serious, be safe. And don't mess around with distracting those two. Kill them fast and get the bomb set and then get off this boat.” He turned and ran down the stairs as I looked up to the floor above, him heading for the back of the massive yacht and me going toward some sort of possible death.
I swallowed hard, trying to imagine a different way to play this story out.
What if I managed to distract them and knock them out like the others, except Black Beard of course?
I pushed the thoughts of his death to the back of my mind.
There was no time for screwing around.
Logan was right.
Forcing my brain to play that game of being on a set again, I took a deep breath and began creeping up the stairs.
When I got to the top, I slipped my gun into the back of my pants once more and held my arms behind my back as though they were tied there, covering the gun.
I looked worse for wear, I was worse for wear, so I wasn't certain the plan I had come up with would work. It was actually a scene from my last movie. But it wasn't shot on a boat. It was in a warehouse, the final fight scene where I pretended to be bound and ended up killing everyone. Though I hoped this wouldn't be my final scene.
Taking another deep breath and trying to muster courage, though I was running short on it, I walked forward, toward them.
“And then she said—” The man speaking on the left caught me in his peripheral and paused. “Who are you?”
“Holy shit, that’s Lizzie Benedict.” The other guy smiled wide, standing up but grabbing his gun.
“Well, well, well. Looks like Ian is going to get that happily ever after he was gunning for.” The guy on the left stood as well, also grabbing his gun. “Who brought you in?” He peered past me.
“They-they told me to co-come up here.” I sniffled and forced my breath to hitch and tried not to think about what I was about to do.
It’s a set.
The bullets aren’t real.
“Oh, did they?” The guy on the left gave the other man a smirk. “That was nice of them. I think we might need to take you to the showers though. Get you nice and clean. Tend your wounds. I’ll take care of that, Perry. You wait here. Maybe they’ll send another girl up.”
“Maybe I wanna take her to the showers.” Perry turned on his friend, grabbing his arm and spinning him to face him.
“Why can’t we both go?”
“Rick said stay here and watch for trouble. One of us has to stay.” Perry rolled his eyes. “Let’s do rock, paper, scissors to see who gets to wash her.” He transferred the gun to his left hand and lifted his right.
“Fine.” The other guy lifted a hand after placing the gun in his left hand.
Taking a deep breath, I slipped my hands into the back of my shorts and squeezed my fingers around the gun, fingering the frame and waiting until they were midway to pull it out.
The bullets aren’t real.
“Ready? Rock. Paper—”
I moved lightning fast, pulling my gun.
Boom.
I turned the gun from Perry to the other guy and pulled the trigger on his surprised face as he fumbled for his weapon.
Boom.
They both dropped to the floor.
I staggered back, shaking and horrified by what I’d just done. And how easy it was to do. And how real the bullets visibly were.
Numbness rushed like ice crawling through my veins, closing off everything.
Survival instincts from many millennia of evolution screamed my next orders.
I turned and ran for the stairs, heading for the smaller rooms below, searching each one until I heard the chopper start.
My heart raced and my breath rushed from me so fast I was dizzy, but I pushed on, searching.
On the bottom level of the boat I found what I was searching for. In the storage room sat a briefcase amongst other crates.
My fingers shook so hard I was barely able to unsnap the clasps and lift open the lid.
It wasn't huge but it was plastic and scary looking with wires and a small timer.
I entered in five minutes and pressed start.
It was so simple but I imagined that’s what was needed on a boat like this.
I had just shot two men in the middle of rock paper scissors. They weren’t rocket surgeons as my dad always joked.
My brain changed the channel from the dead men, switching to survival again and whispering, runnnnn!
As the red numbers counted down quickly, I closed the case and tucked it underneath a couple of boxes, just in case anyone came.
Then I opened the door, checking the hallway. It was dark and clear, like the hallways had been all evening. Luck. It was dumb luck up to this point, and I was grateful for all of it.
I hurried to the stairs and raced for the back deck. But when I hopped down onto the dock, I froze.
“Where ya going?” the bald guy asked, gasping for breath.
The Bear turned around, grinning when he saw me but acting a bit disoriented like he just woke up.
The gun shots.
Stupid Lizzie.
I’d woken the Bear and he must have thought whoever had done the shooting had left the ship.
I took a step back. “I don't want to kill you.” I lifted my gun, hands shaking as I continued to inch back toward the boat.
“Come on now, Lizzie. You’re only going to get one shot off before one of us gets you,” the Bear growled as he and the bald guy stepped toward me, both of them had guns drawn and pointed at me. “Just be a good girl and we’ll be gentle, I promise. You’ll like it.”
The bald guy grinned.
“Please, stop coming toward me. I don't want to shoot you!” I sounded a little more desperate than I was.
If I could get them next to the boat, there would only be two men left on this island when the explosion hit.
Logan was gone with the chopper. I didn't hear it anymore, not even in the distance. Which meant there was a chance he was safe on the beach. And he had the assault rifle with him, so if the last two men made it to him, they wouldn't stand a chance.
As I crept closer to the end of the dock, I made my peace with the fact I had maybe a minute left. Which meant we had maybe a minute left.
I wasn't getting away like I’d thought.
I was going to die with them.
I lifted the gun and sighted in the bald guy, the one who’d hurt Maya.
“Think about this, little girl, you don't want to piss me off more than you already have. I like that you’re scrappy but if you push it too far, I’m gonna get angry.” The Bear smirked as I pulled the trigger, missing the bald guy.
The bald guy lifted his gun as if about to shoot but the Bear pushed it down. “No, she’s mine.”
“What is going on down there?” Austen’s uncle shouted from the deck off the bridge. “Who took the helicopter?”
As they looked up, I fired again, hitting the bald guy in the chest. He staggered back shooting but missing me as the Bear ran at me. I fired at him, not aiming just shooting. His heavy footsteps coming at me counted down the last seconds before the boom of the explosion hit.
The impact shocked me as it sent me sailing over the water, turning me upside down, and landing hard in the waves.
When the cool ocean hit, my eyes were still open. I was mid scream but the crash shut it off.
The salt water collided with me, pushing me down.
Everything flickered around me as a haze took over my mind.
I sank into the dark water filled with lights and thrashing movements. It was just like the first time I entered these waters.
The waves above churned and frothed but down here, in the rays of light coming from the explosion, it was calm. I blinked, gradually moving with the objects around me—downward.
Everything sank slowly in the silence.
My arms lifted above my head and I realized I was alone.
It was the perfect end of this tale.
It had started in the water and it was ending here.
Just me and debris.
The thrashing was gone and the lights were becoming smaller. The water was colder. It was peaceful here. Slow and peaceful.
The peacefulness lasted but a moment before objects started to dance around me. Again, something swirled in the water above.
I was again numb, sinking slowly and watching the lights dance—another show of ballerinas made of stars.
As my blinks got longer, my dad’s voice whispered to me, “Swim, Lizzie. Swim hard!”
His face would be the last thing I imagined. The last image I saw.
I wished I could have said I love you once more.
“Swim, Lizzie,” he whispered again as a jolt hit me in the chest, taking away the tranquil sense of sinking.
I jerked and gasped, panicking at the feel of the heavy water as it molded around me and pushed itself inside me.
Thrashing and kicking, I made my way upward.
As I broke the surface, sound switched on and the chaos I left a moment ago ripped through the air.
I was tossed about, coughing and gagging, watching the debris and flames all around me.
Someone was yelling from the shore.
Screaming my name.
I bobbed, watching them for a second before I realized it was Jesse. I waved my hands in the air, trying desperately to speak, “Jesse!” Seawater got in my mouth, making me cough more. “Jesse,” I croaked again, through the coughing.
“Lizzie!” he screamed and ran down the rocky beach, jumping into the dark water.
The moonlight and firelight led him to me, his strokes were broad and strong, like him.
When he got to me I was done.
My fight was gone.
My body was aching and maybe a little broken. I wasn't sure.
The blast had been brutal.
I choked and coughed as he grabbed me and started swimming back. He dragged me from the water, lifting me up and clinging to me. “Never do that to me again. Never.” He sprayed his watery whispers at me.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, a sigh of relief for the first time in a long time. He scooped me up and carried me like the damsel.
But we both knew I wasn't.
I was a survivor.
I was a fighter.
I was a killer.
I would never be the same again.
Chapter Twenty
We lived
When we got to the lagoon, I drank five coconuts of water and sat, staring at the rippling waterfall for some time before I was able to limp down into it to wash myself.
I hadn’t cared or barely noticed my dirty hands before, but these hands were more than just dirty.
They were tainted.
Sliced and wounded in ways that would scar, yes, but also responsible for so many deaths.
Coming down from everything that had happened was like a scene from Macbeth and I would never be free of these stains.
This blood had not only landed on me, it had sunk down into my skin, absorbed to become part of who I was.
As I scrubbed each spot it linked to a memory or moment I never wanted to remember. Silent tears washed my eyes as my mind replayed the days of hell being here.
Scrambling in the trees.
Living on scraps.
Burning in the sun.
Everything about being here had been hard.
But once they arrived, that had changed; hard wasn't the right word. I didn't have a word to describe it.
They arrived and everything changed.
Running scared and seeing Liam injured had been frightening.
Hearing my friends scream from the boat had been the start of the end of me.
Listening from the bathroom while Nikki was assaulted was the end.
It was the place where the Lizzie I was before died. Like a snake, I shed my skin and crawled out a monster like them. A monster driven by instinct and desperation and a need to save my friends.
After I drove that shard of glass up into Black Beard’s neck and baptized myself in his blood, I knew I couldn't turn back. I had taken lives. Even if they deserved so much worse and ended up getting off easy, no real suffering, I had murdered people. I took lives.
I sank down into the water of the lagoon, holding my breath and floating as the light of the fire danced above me.
Down here in the filter of the watery light, I saw everything differently. Angled and misshapen. If I could see my heart, that’s what it would look like now. Each life lost twisted it a little more.
I wondered how I would manage my way back, what the road to redemption looked like. Or if there was one.
What if there wasn't?
What if I was stuck here, reliving the smell and taste of death in every inhale?
When I couldn't hold my breath any longer I kicked with my sore legs and surfaced, bobbing.
In the light of the small fire Becca and Sarah had made, I swore I still saw blood on my hands. Close inspection proved it was gone and my skin was as clean as water could get it.
But I didn't feel clean.
I might never.
Moving quickly, I pulled off my clothes in a panic to be free of any remnant of what had happened.
And like he knew, Jesse was there, holding up a fresh shirt from his bag. He didn't smile or try to charm me. He didn't speak. He held out his hand.
I swam to him and let him pull me from the water, wincing at the aches and pains as they each individually occurred as he dressed me.
He held me tight, making me warm with his touch.
Something at my feet startled me.
I shrieked when I saw him. “Cat!” I grabbed him, ignoring my pain and pulling him up into my face. I brushed a cheek against his soft fur, inhaling the woodsy scent of him. “You’re alive.” I hadn’t thought about him since I’d left him behind but now I was grateful he was all right. “You’re coming home with me. It will be fresh tuna and purified water for the rest of your life. No more pirates or kidnappers or getting lost at sea.” I kissed him and cuddled in.
“We have to find everyone else,” Jesse said. I detected a hint of agony in his tone. No doubt dread from the idea of hiking more after carrying me to the lagoon. But he was right. We needed to go to them.
“They’re at the beach,” Becca said.
“Here, let me carry him,” Sarah whispered, putting her hands out for the heavy cat.
“Okay.” I didn't want to give him over but I knew I couldn't manage him.
Jesse crouched. “Get on.” He pointed a thumb at his back.
Not wanting to be the girl who had to be carried twice in one night, I parted my lips to protest but realized he was right. I was exhausted but also my wounds would make me so slow they’d all end up leaving me behind.
Becca put out the fire as we readied ourselves to leave. Which for me meant climbing onto Jesse’s strong body and clinging to him. He still smelled like himself, somehow. His tee shirt clung to his sweaty body, but it made hanging on much easier.
“You ready?” he asked back softly.
“I guess.” I nodded against him, resting my cheek and closing my eyes for a second.
The trek through the woods was brutal.
My arms ached from hanging on and twice Sarah cried softly to herself, hugging the cat to her body and trembling.
Becca was silent until I asked her a question.
“You managed to avoid them after you lit the fires?”
“Yeah. We’d made up a small shelter for ourselves way up the beach. I lit the fires and ran to where Sarah was hiding at the shelter. I never ended up seeing a single one of them. We didn't even hear them.”
“Did you hear the gunshots or the explosions?”
“No. When I heard nothing, we came back to the lagoon. No one was there but I still had the flint rock so we lit a fire and waited. Maya, Pete, Liam, and Nikki showed up with Austen. Logan came a few minutes later and they went to the beach where Logan said he has a helicopter.”
