Thomas Prescott Superpack (77 page)

I passed the room, filed past the elevator lobby, and entered the corridor leading to the guest suites. Frank and Susie’s room was Suite 06. One of the Presidential suites. I walked briskly through the tight halls. Then I stopped dead. I turned to my right and stared at door 319. The lock was mangled, the door slightly off its hinges.

From inside, I heard a girl scream.

SUITE 319

5:12
p.m.

R
ikki heard the TV crash to the floor and she knew she was in trouble. She peeked through her fingers. An African man with a shaved head and red eyes stared at her with a wide grin. He had two large scars running diagonally across his cheeks, feeding into a mangy beard.

She could feel his hot acrid breath move through her wispy blond bangs. The man reached out and grabbed her by her hair. He pulled her off the ledge and she fell to the floor.

She looked up at the man and said, “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt me. I’ll do whatever.”

“You betta,” he laughed

He pushed down on her chest with his foot, leaning her backwards onto the sharp edges of the broken TV. His eyes ran up her compact body. The top button of her small white shorts had come undone and Rikki knew he was staring at the top of her pink underwear when he licked his bottom lip. He lifted up her gray tank top with the tips of his dirty black boot. She wasn’t wearing a bra and the man pressed the tip of his boot into her left nipple. Her stomach tightened and she held back a scream. No one would hear here. Better to let him have his way.

She said desperately, “I will give you as much money as you want?”

“Monay?” he asked questioningly. He pulled a large roll of bills from his pocket and said, “This?”

She nodded. “A million dollars.”

He was quiet.

“Just don’t kill me,” she begged. Her eyes began to water. She had never begged for anything in her life.

He grabbed her by the hair and walked her on hands and knees to the bedroom. Then he yanked her upwards and pushed her down on the bed. She looked up at him. He pulled a gun over his head. Her breath caught. How had she not seen the gun yet? She quivered. Her mind raced. Could she fight off this beast? She had a hard time carrying four hardback novels; there was nothing she could do.

She felt a tearing near her groin and opened her eyes. The man was cutting off her small white shorts with a large knife. “PLLLEAAASE…,” she cried.

He didn’t even look up. He cut the shorts off and tossed them on the ground. Rikki felt her panties pulled down and a tiny pinprick. She looked down. The knife nestled in her thin patch of light brown pubic hair. She instinctively tried to bring her legs up to her chest. The man grabbed at her foot and twisted her. Then putting all his weight on top of her, he stuck his face in hers. He said nothing. His hand was around her throat. Rikki wanted to keep her eyes closed, but the man’s hand was tight around her windpipe and her eyes bulged. She sobbed.

The man let up on her neck. Rikki lolled her head to the left. What fight she had was gone. Tears poured down her cheeks onto the bed.

She felt the man’s hand. Inside her. She whimpered. His touch disappeared for a moment and Rikki heard a soft rustling, the unbuckling of pants. Rikki bit down. Blood ran from her bottom lip, mixing in with the stream of heavy tears, forming a pink river of anguish, hate, and hopelessness.

DECK 6

5:15
p.m.

The muffled scream of a woman stopped me in my tracks. I took a step towards the blistered door and listened closely. I could hear the low moans and shifting body of a struggling woman. Instantly, I thought of Lacy. Maybe, my plan had failed me already. Maybe, the pirates had hit the lights. Noticed I was gone. Taken Lacy and dragged her to this room.

I pushed the door inward a foot. It was a small stateroom, with a wall that jutted out into the living room blocking any view into the bedroom. On this note, from the bedroom, I could hear soft whimpers. I visualized Lacy underneath one of the dirty pirates and my stomach churned.

I quickly surveyed the suite’s foyer. The bathroom was off to the left. I poked my head in, but didn’t see anything I could use. I looked at the closet off to the right. If it was similar to the closet in my suite, it contained an ironing board and a nice heavy iron. I slid the door open half an inch, waiting for some sort of screeching. None came. I opened the door another foot and spotted the large steel
Sunbeam
high up on the shelf.

I grabbed the iron and took three silent steps into the living room. On the ground, near the large wall, was a shattered flat screen TV. I was barefoot and I gingerly stepped around the jagged pieces of black plastic. The bedroom had two large doors and they were pushed in halfway. I could see the back half of the pirate. He was standing at the edge of the bed. Dirty black pants. A pistol held in a holster. A bare foot draped over the edge of the bed. It could have been Lacy’s foot. On the ground, near the door, I could make out the pirate’s shiny AK-47.

I took a deep breath. I angled my head so I had a better view. I could see the pirate in his entirety. It was the man with red stained eyes. Common.

Motherfucker.

I thought of his fondness for Lacy and my head spun. I could only see the bottom half of the girl, who was fully nude, and I guess it was a good thing, but from this view alone, I couldn’t ascertain if the girl was Lacy.

I could hear a low murmur. Then silent sobbing. It took almost everything I had to keep myself from crashing through the doors. But in the man’s right hand, holding the woman’s legs open, was the deadliest knife I’d ever seen. If he caught my advance through his peripheral, he would slice and dice me. No, I had to wait. Just a bit longer.

I pulled my head back. I heard rustling. I took another peek. Common was unbuckling his pants. I watched as they fell to his knees. The pistol in the holster thudded as it hit the floor. His huge slong stood at full salute. His right hand opened and the large knife fell to the soft carpeting. He grabbed his penis with his right hand, his lips turned upward in a wide grin.

I went.

I threw the door open. Common’s head turned towards me, his red eyes open in surprise. He let go of his penis and started to bring his arms up. It was too late. I smashed the iron against the right side of his face. The sound of splintering bone filled the room. The momentum sent the pirate reeling, hitting the wall, then crumbling to the ground.

I stole a quick glance at the woman in the bed. It wasn’t Lacy. I grabbed the thin comforter from the edge of the bed and tossed it to the woman. She covered herself, her eyes never straying from mine. I turned away, glancing at the fallen pirate. He wasn’t moving. I knelt down, grabbed the knife off the carpet, and knelt over him. Blood gushed from the side of his head where I’d connected with the iron. For all I knew he was dead already. Then his eyes snapped open. Glazed over and neon red.

I was glad. I was glad he watched as I slammed the large knife down hard into his chest.

SUITE 319

5:19
p.m.

The blood poured from the pirate’s convulsing chest and his red stained eyes flickered, then closed for the last time.

I peered up from the dead pirate to the woman on the bed. She was still staring at me. At first glance, I had only cared the woman
wasn’t
Lacy. I hadn’t cared who the woman
was
. It took me a moment to recognize her. Her face was red, her eyes puffy. Blood and tears clung to her cheeks. I smiled and said, “There are a lot of people looking for you, Rikki.”

She didn’t smile, but her face changed at the sound of her name. She nodded.

I said, “Get dressed. We have to hurry.”

She nodded again.

I looked down at Common. I had a feeling when he came up missing they would search the ship for him. And I didn’t want them to know one of their own was dead. I knelt beside him, wiggled the knife from his chest, and then rolled him under the bed.

“You don’t think they’ll look there?”

Rikki was standing over me. She was wearing large yellow athletic shorts, a gray tank top, and appeared remarkably composed all things considered. She said, “They’re going to see the busted telly and the blood. You don’t think they’ll check under the bed?”

She was right. I looked around. We could stash the body in the closet or somewhere else in the master suite, but they would eventually find him. And when they did, I had the feeling people would start dying. And fast. I peered at the thick glass windows. I wondered if I could shatter one, then heave the body overboard. But these windows were made to withstand high winds and hard seas, it would take quite a bit of effort to break one of them. Of course, I could use the gun. But I didn’t want to risk being overheard. I said, “You have a better idea.”

She nodded.

I took the 9mm from the pirate’s holster and tossed it on the bed. I then pulled the pirate’s pants up and buckled them. We then hefted the pirate up—me on the arms, Rikki on the legs—and waddled over the broken
telly.
We set him down near the door, checked the hallway, saw all was clear, then dragged him fifty feet to a closet. Rikki opened the door and wheeled out a large cart filled with towels. We pulled out the towels, tossed the dead pirate in, then covered him.

“Do you moonlight as a maid?” I asked.

She smiled, the diamond in her right bicuspid flashing a bead of light. She quickly recounted how she was attacked and how she had hidden in a similar cart for three hours. On this note, I asked, “You have any idea why they’re after you.”

“Money.”

I would have pried more, but I had bigger fish to fry. I told Rikki to sit tight for a second. I ran back to the room, tried to cover most of the blood with the comforter, slung the AK-47 over my shoulder and jammed the gun into the waist of my shorts. I thought about taking the knife, but it was too bulky and I stashed it under some clothes in the dresser. Then I ran back to where Rikki was leaning against the wall. She was standing two doors from the Camper’s room.

I signaled for her to follow me into the room, then said, “We are looking for insulin and syringes. I know she keeps them in a leopard skin fanny pack.”

“Got it.”

The Camper’s room had been ransacked. Or they were just slobs. The room was strewn with Frank’s huge flowered shirts, whitey-tighties, opened bags of chips, salsa, Pepsi, Dr. Pepper, Mountain Dew, macadamia nuts, Three Musketeers. I picked things off the bed and tossed them on the ground. I opened up the top drawer of the dresser and spotted the fanny pack. I opened it. It contained Susie’s diabetes kit, a waxy chunk of cheddar cheese, a bag of gummy worms, and a prescription bottle. I opened up the kit. Inside were her tester, test strips, and needles. No insulin.

I almost screamed.

Rikki came up beside me. “Find it?”

“Yeah. But there’s no insulin.”

Her eyes lit up. She ran to the mini-fridge and pried it open. She removed her hand and revealed three vials. She said, “This old guy who let me rent a room from him had diabetes and he kept his insulin in the fridge.”

I threw the vials in the fanny pack.

There was some cheese and other goodies in the fridge and I realized how hungry I was. I opened three string cheeses and ate them in six bites. I spent the next minute throwing all the Camper’s snacks into a backpack. There was a giant bag of trail mix and I took a handful and ate it, then washed it down with a yogurt smoothie and a Three Musketeers.

Exiting the room, we walked briskly down the hallway, back through the sports bar, and found our way outside. The crisp ocean air felt amazing. Cleansing. I peered over the side of the ship and looked down. Swaying in the small waves were three fishing boats. They appeared to be tied to the ship with rope. Rikki and I could have easily jumped the sixty feet into the ocean, climbed into one of the boats, and zipped away from this nightmare. If Lacy had been with us, I might have given the idea a second’s thought.

But it was good to know the boats were an option. I was thinking that if worst came to worst, the boats could be crammed with ten people each. Thirty of us.

Anyhow, the fishing boats were a moot point. I wasn’t going anywhere. I ran up the walkway to where our failed lifeboat experiment dangled off the edge of the railing. Rikki watched idly as I climbed up the railing, and jumped into the swaying boat. I grabbed my backpack and the fanny pack and gave a cursory inspection for Baxter. “Hey, you little shit. Where are you?” I whispered. “Baxter, seriously, get the fuck out here?” I spent three more minutes searching every nook and cranny. He wasn’t on the boat.

I climbed back over the railing and Rikki asked, “
Who’s Baxter?”

“Uh, nobody. Let’s move.” I handed the backpack to Rikki and said, “Hold this.”

She took the backpack and slung it over her shoulder. We were near the stairs leading up to Deck 7 and I wanted to take a quick peek around. It was risky, but I wanted to learn as much as possible while I had the chance. Rikki followed me as we crept up the stairs. But we had nothing to worry about. The back bar, the hot tubs, the pool, they were all empty. Not a pirate in sight. I was set to go back down the stairs, when I noticed something glimmering in the late afternoon sun on the large open area of deck. I took a couple hesitant steps forward.