7. Caleb
SEVEN
Caleb
It was clear we only had one choice. We were going to have to fight our way off this boat. We had steered miles off the coast. The sun had set, and it was dark. The theory that they would leave us on one of the barrier islands seemed to be falling apart. The farther we went out on the ocean, the more I considered they might dump us here for the sharks. It was too far to swim to shore. The conditions were perfect for second-degree burns, dehydration, and a shark attack or two. We could make it twenty-four hours only if we didn’t have visitors with big teeth.
I nodded to Gabe to follow my directions. The captain of the boat had cracked open a beer and every few seconds lifted his bandana to take a swallow. The next time he did would be our chance to strike. He would have two hands off the wheel.
The guy with the gun pointed at us had started to doze off. His legs were propped up, and he leaned back in the fishing chair.
The fishing boat that had lured us to the site either kept a steady pace or sometimes tried to pass on the right before dragging in the wake again. To them, it was a big party. A joke. A heist that was a couple of boys out on a joyride. I was certain they didn’t realize the severity of assaulting, kidnapping, and stealing from U.S. military officers. The consequences for them once Gabe and I escaped were going to be life-altering.
First, we had to get off this fucking pirate boat.
“Buddy, grab me another beer,” the captain hollered.
He captain took another sip. I raised my fingers to Gabe to count down when we needed to strike. We had been trained for almost any emergency situation, but this one was on us. Our instincts. Our combat skills. Our will to survive over our assailants.
Gabe responded with a wink. He knew the plan, and we were ready to attack. All we needed was for the captain to crack open the new beer Buddy handed him from the cooler. The seconds it took for the beer to travel across the boat deck felt like an hour. My entire body was rigid with adrenaline and the anticipation of timing. We had one shot to get this right.
“Aye Aye, you piece of shit.” Buddy handed the captain his beer.
“Shut the fuck up, Buddy. We’re almost there.” Buddy turned away from the wheel and shuffled a few paces.
“You didn’t say anything about this taking all day and all night,” he muttered.
Gabe was right behind me the moment the bandana moved above the captain’s chin. This was it. The moment his hands were free. He was unarmed and unprepared.
I tackled him at the waist, hurling both of us to the floor of the boat. The beer flew through the air.
“Mother fucker!” he screamed. “Buddy!” He hollered for backup. I worried Buddy would grab the gun. I had to hope Gabe had tackled him too.
But the boat veered hard left without the captain steering. It was enough of a pitch to throw Gabe against the pole. Buddy landed on his knees as the gun skittered across the floor. I couldn’t reach for it and keep the captain down. Buddy grabbed for the barrel, spun it around, and smacked Gabe on the temple with the handle. I heard the crunch of bone against metal. Shit. Gabe slumped over. Lifeless. Fuck no.
I didn’t have time to think of a backup plan. I had to fight my way out of this to save us both. The captain, still stunned, tried to wrestle me off his chest. I reared back and punched the captain. The beer must have given him a boost of painkiller because nothing seemed to take him out. Not the bloody nose or the eye that was quickly swelling. By the third punch, his eyes rolled back, and he relaxed under me.
Buddy was nervous. He stared at Gabe, who still hadn’t moved. I edged toward my friend.
“Buddy, you don’t want to do anything else. You’re already in a lot of trouble.”
He shook his head. The gun wobbled in his hand. He was holding the wrong end toward his chest. He was in shock from hitting Gabe. He must have thought he killed him.
“Give me the gun, and we can get your friend some help. My friend some help.” I inched closer, still blocking Gabe from him.
Buddy shook his head. “I’ll go to prison.”
I exhaled. The fishing boat had drifted ahead and still didn’t know what was happening. As soon as they looked back and realized the captain was down and Buddy was in a faceoff with me, I was going to have more to deal with. I didn’t know how many of the other men were armed, only that there were three of them on the boat with the dive equipment.
“Buddy, no one else has to get hurt. But if you don’t cooperate. One more person is going to get hurt.”
He blinked, puzzled. “Who?”
“You!” I roared, racing toward him. My feet left the deck as I threw my body over the deck chair and hurled myself on top of Buddy. The gun flew toward the bow, landing on one of the cushions. Buddy’s body fell against the railing. His head dangled over the edge of the boat.
“Help!” he screamed. “Help me! I can’t swim.”
I planted my feet on either side of him and hoisted him upright. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I spun him around, cinching his wrists together.
He started to sputter about how everything was Darryl’s idea and he was just supposed to be on the boat to help with things that hadn’t even been named yet. I yanked the cording off the life preserver hooked against the low wall of the boat and tied his hands together.
I did the same with the captain, whom I assumed was the Darryl Buddy had whimpered about. He was breathing but unconscious.
“Don’t move,” I ordered Buddy. I sat him in one of the fishing chairs and laced his ankles to the pole of the chair. He wasn’t going anywhere.
I knelt next to Gabe and patted his cheek. “Come on, man. Wake up.”
Gabe groaned. His eyes flickered open, then shut again. I checked his pulse. It was steady, but I didn’t like that I couldn’t get him to wake up. The side of his head had swollen to the size of a baseball.
The radio was tucked under the steering wheel. I fiddled with the channels until I had a clear connection to Channel 16.
“Base, this is Coast Guard Cutter 21. Mayday. Mayday. This is O’Connor. On a fishing vessel with Captain Axton and two other passengers who have been apprehended. Two need medical attention. Unsure of coordinates. Over.”
I tapped the radar and the compass, but they didn’t move. I didn’t know where in the hell we were. I worried for a minute that Channel 16 wasn’t working, but then I heard the radio crackle.
“Coast Guard Cutter 21, this is Base. Confirmed. We will send the chopper for medical assistance and to locate you. What kind of vessel? Over.”
I smiled, shaking my head. It worked. I began to circle the boat when I saw the fishing boat realized we were no longer headed in the same direction. They were coming back for us. Shit.
“Base, I’m moving fast. There is a fishing boat behind, tailing me. Can you get Brady in the air, asap? Over.” I held the radio to my mouth, but my hand was on the throttle, while my knee steadied the wheel.
Daryl groaned as he seemed to come to more with the acceleration of the boat and the wind in his face.
“What the fuck?” he grumbled.
“Base, we need law enforcement to take in five. Ready them at base. Over.”
“Coast Guard Cutter. Confirmed. Chopper will be in the air. Police are en route. Over.”
One of the first lessons we learned at the academy was star navigation. We used to joke about it. But after tonight, I’d never joke about using the stars to find my way back home. I looked up and located the Big Dipper. I saw the pink shimmer of Venus. I knew exactly which way to steer home. To steer toward Margot.