The pirate ship isn’t small but it’s still dwarfed by the Freedom. I’d breathe a sigh of relief if my breath wasn’t still hitched in my throat, courtesy of that ever present knife. My ship has been running for a while – there is no easy way for the pirates to board. With the crew on high alert, they’re sure to be spotted when they attempt to scramble on board. I wonder how they’re going to do it.
My question is quickly answered when one of the men unties several long bamboo poles from the side of the ship. With the help of a crewmate, he stands it against the side of the ship. I can’t help the expression of awe on my face as two men hold the pole and a third scrambles up the precarious ladder. Four more follow. My heart is pounding against my chest when they make is safely over the rail. Where are my crew?
Finally, there is a shout. The next three pirates up are all thrown into the sea as they reach the top. I hear a gunshot and curse my inability to do anything. My guard, and DJ’s, are still right beside us with their knives. I briefly consider using the water glove to crush the men between the two hulls, then I see DJ’s expression of concern and decide against it. I’m angry, but I’m no killer, and any impact with the hull would be a death sentence. Frustrated, I actually clench my fist and ensure that the hulls remain separate.
Another gunshot sounds and, with the silence well and truly broken, the pirates flood the area with light. They have several powerful spotlights and they point them at the Freedom, ensuring they have enough light with the added bonus of blinding anyone looking down. Several men shout to their comrades in the water, throwing life preservers for them but making no effort to pull them out. Two more pirates head up the bamboo poles only to be knocked back down.
“Looks like that is our cue,” Sah says, approaching us. The guard gives me a shove towards the pole and I manage a panicked laugh.
“Are you kidding me? I couldn’t have climbed that before you shot me!” My guard takes offense and presses the knife harder into my back while raising a fist to strike me. Sah holds up a hand to halt him.
“Do you not want to rejoin your crew, Andy? Do not fear. We have something for your inadequacies.” Sah barks an order in another language. One of the bamboo poles is pulled away from the hull and supported by several pirates as another scrambles up with a rope ladder across his back. While he is up there they give the pole a firm push, shoving it into the Freedom’s hull. Quick hands secure the ladder before one of my crewmates gives the pirate a shove. He falls back, his leg bouncing off the edge of his ship and breaking with a sickening crack before he hits the water.
His pirate friends immediately pull him from the water, clearly aware of his injury. I keep him near the ship until they get him on board, at the same time keeping the hulls separate. The urge to cough is suddenly overwhelming, and I bow over slightly. DJ makes eye contact with me and mouths his thanks as I’m shoved in the back by my guard. I stagger and release my control over the waters. The shortness of breath eases slightly – until the knife is jammed up against my throat again.
“Climb,” Sah says. “You will be our shield.”
With another shove, the guard gives me a little room away the knife. I take several deep breaths to steady myself, fully aware that either Sah or the guard could still stab me easily – not to mention a third pirate with a gun pointed at me. I raise my arms, wincing at the pain in my ribs, and grasp the ladder. My bare hand is slick with sweat, water, but the dried blood on it gives me some grip. Placing my foot onto the ladder, which moves, sends another wave of pain through my ribs.
I push through it. I mean, for a gunshot, it’s probably not all that bad. Still hurts. I don’t look up, or down, as I climb, I just focus directly in front of myself until my hand clasps the rail of my ship and I flip myself over it. My guard is moments behind me and I look around the shadowy ship, frantically searching for a quick way out. We’ve boarded near the front of the ship, which is fairly cluttered with bits of machinery, a few containers, and a lifeboat. There are plenty of places to hide. Unfortunately, the first person I spot is a pirate and he points his gun at me. I wait for Sah and the others to board.
My guard grabs my collar and marches me forward, brazenly through the centre of everything. Sah, DJ and the other pirate guard are following me. A gunshot echoes loudly and DJ’s guard drops. DJ, looking terrified, darts away. Sah, cursing, follows. Sensing my opportunity, and sure the gunman is watching, I suddenly drop onto all fours and kick my leg out, sweeping my guard from his feet. I’d forgotten my fear of the knife until it clatters to the ground beside me. I hesitate, and am thankfully saved by the gunman, who fires at my guard. He misses, and the man has the good sense to clamber away.
I look around, suddenly unsure of where I need to go. Chaos reigns on deck with numerous fights occurring, punctuated by the occasional gunshot. There are barely a dozen men that I can see, though, and I wonder how anyone could tell each other apart in the old days of fighting.
“Andy!” Cap calls, leaving cover for half a moment, his gun still in hand. I hurry towards him. He freezes as I approach.
“Are you ok?” he asks. I realise how I must look – the blood from my ribs has bled through my shirt, and half my face is a mask of red. “Get over here.”
“I’m fine,” I say. Cap goes to duck back into cover, but he instead grabs his stomach and drops to his knees. I rush forward, but am stopped by the pirate that was my guard. He’s holding a gun.
“Stop,” he says simply. I glance back towards Cap and see blood on his hands. Furious, I stalk towards the guard, who points the gun at me. With both my hands clenched, I stop.
“Why not just shoot me?”
“You’re a useful shield,” he says, grinning as he reaches out to grab me. I bat his arm to the side and punch him in the stomach with all that I have. He doubles over and I follow up with another punch to the side of his head. I try to finish the fight with my left hand, but he grabs it and wrenches it hard around, throwing me sideways into the base of a crane. I bounce to the ground, my wrist still firmly held and twisted by the guard. He stands me back up by my limb before pulling me in close and twisting me around so that he’s behind my back with my wrist and hand wrenched upwards. The pain brings tears to my eyes. It also spurs me on. I have to get free. I stomp down hard, raking my boot down his shin, and he loosens his grip ever so slightly. In a move Mac taught me, I snap my head backwards and into his mouth. The grip loosens further, and I manage to slide my hand out and spin. Angry, the pirate smashes a punch into the centre of my chest, launching me several feet backward onto the deck. I land back near Cap, who has a weird grimacing smile on his face.
The guard, his gun dropped somewhere – I didn’t see it happen – approaches me with a wicked grin. It fades when he walks into Cap’s sights – and my captain doesn’t miss twice.
I’m laying there, breathing hard, when Mac skids to a stop in front of me.
“I thought I saw you. What are you doing here . . .” Mac trails of when he sees who I’m looking at. “Ugh! Stev! I left you alone for a mere minute to follow their captain, and you go and get yourself shot!”
Mac grabs me and unceremoniously drags me so that we’re all in cover.
“Where’d their captain get to?” Cap asks, his voice pained.
“He’s still around,” Mac says, pressing his hands firmly onto his friend’s stomach and getting a low groan in response. “Andy, what happened?”
“DJ. We were intercepted and brought back here.”
“How many of them?” Cap asks.
“No more than twenty. Is he going to be ok?” I ask Mac.
“It’s not great. If we can control the bleeding and get help soon, he’ll probably be ok.”
“He’s right here,” Cap says, but I’ve fallen into silence. I’m thinking and watching the main deck. The fighting is still raging, far more brutal than I expected.
“They’re putting up a good fight,” Mac muses, noticing my gaze.
“I can end it. Or at least hurry it up,” I say finally, and both men stare at me.
“How?” Mac asks.
“The glove. If you get everyone to brace, when I say, I can submerge the deck for a moment. Wash all the fighting away.” The idea is still forming. “I can’t guarantee I can save your yacht, though.”
“Where is it?”
“Tethered to the pirate ship.”
Another of our crewmembers suddenly skids to a stop beside us. He’s got a few bruises but looks to be itching for another fight.
“Bryson, did you find their captain?”
“No. He’s hiding.”
“You’re a fighter, yeah?”
“Former boxer,” Bryson answers, confused.
“Andy, can you get him onto the yacht?”
“Yes,” I answer firmly.
“Bryson, I want you to dive overboard. Trust me. Get the yacht, get it loose, take out anyone in your way, and get away from the ship.”
“Sir?” Bryson’s expression is wide-eyed and lost.
“You’ve got two minutes,” Mac says. If it were me, I would have questioned or argued, but Bryson simply nods, running to disappear. Cap pulls a walkie-talkie out of his pocket, one of only two on board, and my eyes are drawn to his blood-soaked hands. Mac is now sitting, his friend between his legs, so that he can apply pressure to the front and back of the wound.
“Bobby. Move up and brace yourselves for incoming water. When it clears, come out and help us clear,” Cap says into the walkie-talkie. With his other hand, he grasps his gun more firmly. “I assume you’ll have to concentrate or something, Andy. I’ll cover us.”
I nod and reposition myself so that I sitting with my back against a crate. Bryson is my first concern, and I focus on the water directly around the ship. I feel safe with Mac and Cap watching over me, so I close my eyes for a moment. I’m surprised when I sense Bryson hitting the water. I’ve never attempted anything like this before. The cough rises in my chest and I ignore it as I push a wave under Bryson and dump him on the deck of the yacht – I hope. As I do, though, a new pain overwhelms me for the briefest of moments. It’s on my pectoral muscle, and felt distinctly like a blister bursting, complete with the sting that accompanies it when it explodes too soon. The feeling repeats, a second blister, when I use the ocean to shove the yacht away from us. I gasp aloud and raise my hand to my chest.
“What is it, Andy?” Mac asks, concerned. I shake my head without opening my eyes.
“Get ready to give the crew a warning,” I say. I give the yacht one last shove and focus on the seas around us. When I try to raise the ocean around us, though, the pain on my pectoral is nearly overwhelming. I start to cough and am surprised when it sounds wet. I lean forward, rising onto my haunches, and open my eyes. Mac is staring at me. He’s easy to ignore.
In a moment of brilliance, I realise I don’t have to move all the water. I have my own element – or lack thereof. I focus my own power underneath the ship, shifting all the water aside and replacing it with nothing. The ship sinks lower, and I keep the walls of water rising around us away for the moment. I cough again and make eye contact with Mac.
“Now.” My voice is almost a growl.
“Batten down!” Mac calls at the top of his lungs. As they’ve been trained, three voices echo the words in quick succession around the ship. Mac wraps his arms firmly around Cap and holds on as I drive my palm onto the deck and splay my hand, releasing the power I’ve built up. Water surges around us at the same time as the water below the ship rushes back in, rocking it violently but saving us from sinking.
As soon as I release the power, I begin to cough. My chests tightens and the stinging sensation returns tenfold. It’s all I can do to stay conscious. I look around, my vision mildly blurry, and see that the glove has done its job.
It’s reassuring as my cough worsens until I can’t breathe. I gag and throw up, dropping to all fours in an attempt to ease the stress on my chest. I’m still in that position when a boot meets my chest, reopening my gunshot wound as it splays me onto the deck. I simply curl into the foetal position, all fight gone. A dripping wet DJ appears in my darkening vision and I realise I am entirely dry – whether that was the water glove or my own power, I don’t know.
DJ yanks on my hand and I clench it shut, barely moving otherwise. Sah appears, also wet.
“Come on DJ! Leave him!”
“I want his glove,” Dj says desperately. Sah grabs my hand and I relax, knowing that he can’t take it. He reaches the same conclusion in seconds, and shoves DJ upright.
“We’re going. This isn’t worth it.”
I roll slightly. I figure the only reason I’m still conscious is the cough. I’m crying, my breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps, my stomach heaving, and my vision is tinged with darkness. DJ has turned back to me and is lining me up for another kick when a chunk of metal flashes behind him and he drops like a stone. Bobby stands, a wrench in his hand. Behind him, above all the noise, Sah turns – and immediately raises his hands when he realises he is surrounded by several of my crew.
I give one last cough and, thankfully, pass out.
© KL Burgess
