I froze. Then I dropped my mug.
“Don’t move.” It was a voice I knew. The captain of the Sea Wolf.
What came next happened so fast, it’s hard to capture in words. Lisa whipped out her can of pepper spray and sprayed the captain in the eyes. He flew backwards and his rifle went off by my ear with a blast that almost deafened me. The bullet tore a hole through the tarp. Then another man—dressed entirely in black—stepped up to the fire and aimed a speargun right at Willie’s gut.
But, unknown to his assailant, Willie had already drawn his hunting knife.
Wild Man Willie let out a hair-raising roar, and flung his knife at the man just as he fired his speargun.
Willie spun away. The spear twanged into a tree trunk—barely missing Willie’s belly. Simultaneously, Willie’s knife grazed the man’s shoulder as Cassidy did a flying tackle around the man’s knees. The man dropped his speargun, toppled, and crashed into the fire, scattering sparks like fireflies. Then he rolled out of the flames just as Roger crawled out of his tent. His fishing knife flashed in the firelight.
But at that moment, the captain sat up on the other side of the fire, gripping his rifle and blinking rapidly, tears streaming down his eyes. The barrel of his rifle swung back and forth between Roger, Willie, and Cassidy. Roger held his knife at the ready, while Cassidy, hanging on like a bulldog, kept a lock on the fallen man’s legs.
Dad rushed the captain and grappled for the rifle, just as Lisa lunged and bit the captain’s arm. I was blown away by her courage! But Dad, still wrestling for the rifle, was no match for the captain, who elbowed him in the face. Inspired by Lisa, I dove at the captain, too, and got punched in the throat.
I gagged at the explosion of pain, clutched my throat, and dropped to the ground like a sack of clams.
Then the captain shook Lisa off, jumped to his feet, and jammed the barrel of his rifle to the back of my head. He glared at Roger and growled, “Drop the knife or he’s dead.” Roger didn’t hesitate. He dropped the knife at his feet. The captain’s head twisted toward Lisa. “And you,” he hissed, “drop the pepper spray.”
Lisa followed his orders, but stared daggers at him.
He rammed the rifle against my head harder and rumbled, “Get up!”
I crawled to my feet and faced him. Strangely, he was wearing his yellow sunglasses in the dark. I saw my doubled reflection in the fire-lit lenses—like a tiny frightened creature trapped inside, surrounded by flames.
I was breathing now, wheezing really, but my throat felt like there was a brick lodged in it. “UP!” he snarled again.
He spun me around and jabbed the barrel of his rifle into my back and started shoving me away from the fire. He kicked Cassidy in the ribs as he walked by. A grunt escaped Cassidy’s lips and he finally released the legs of the man in black.
Brushing burning cinders from his sleeve, this guy stumbled to his feet and weaved like a drunkard. His shoulder was bleeding where Willie had nicked it with his knife, but he ignored it. He picked up his fallen speargun, and tried to yank the spear out of the tree trunk, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Leave it!” snapped the captain.
The man gave the spear one more jerk, then gave up. Firelight licked his face, and I got a better look at him. I made out the Chinese geoduck diver, Wong, beneath a black wool cap. With his dark eyes darting in the fire glow, he looked more scared than vicious.
The captain kept jabbing me along. His eyes were scorched red from Lisa’s pepper spray, and tears still streaked down his cheeks. “The boy’s coming with us. As insurance,” he rasped. “You’ll find him in Chinatown. Vancouver. Report us, and he’ll be a dead duck hanging from a hook in a Chinese butcher shop. Our cargo is money. This boy is worthless.”
Still holding the rifle against me, we backed away from the fire circle. Over his shoulder he called out, “And if you try and follow us, you’ll never see him alive again.”
He turned and we made our way through the woods, followed by Wong.
“Better watch your backs, suckers!” Cassidy hollered.
Knock it off, Cassidy! I wanted to yell. His reckless words pushed me further toward the brink of panic.
The captain and Wong marched me through the forest and forced me into their dinghy, which was pulled up on the rocks in the inlet. Then they pushed us into the surf and the captain pointed his rifle at me while Wong rowed. My teeth clacked from cold and fear. The rain was just a drizzle now, but the clothes Cassidy had lent me were already soaking wet.
Soon I could make out the dim outline of the Sea Wolf, rocking above its anchor chain in deeper water. It looked a lot like the typical commercial fishing boats you’d see in Bodega Bay, but bigger than most. As we drew closer, I thought I could make out the dark shape of the third man from the other night, standing at the helm in the cabin.
The captain forced me up the ladder that hung over the side of the boat, and we boarded the Sea Wolf. Wong tied my wrists with rope, and opened a hatch to a hold belowdecks. The stink hit me like a blow to my face—dead fish, gasoline, human waste. Then Wong shoved me down into it.
I landed hard on what felt like slimy dead fish, then crawled over and slumped against the hull, shivering and fighting nausea.
The hatch was still open, so I could just hear the captain talking up on deck. From what I could make out, he was planning to take their boat out of the cove to make Dad and the others think they’d left, so no one would try to follow. “Then we’ll anchor around the point in the next cove, out of sight, until first light tomorrow morning. Then off to Vancouver.”
With me trapped inside.
Then the hatch slammed shut, locking me in.
A dull orange lightbulb glowed in the hold. I looked around. Dark, haggard Asian faces peered out of the shadows, their bodies draped in ragged scraps.
To my right, an old man said something to me, but I didn’t understand a word. He had white hair that poked out of bony scalp and chin. He was wearing a shiny battered suit that hung from his shoulders like a clothes hanger. Reaching out a shaking finger, he touched the back of my hand, like he was checking to see if I was real.
To my left, a skinny teenaged girl leaned against a middle-aged woman whose mouth opened like an O in a silent wail. The girl was looking at me, her expression hard to make out in the dim light. From what I could see, she was maybe a little older than me. Super skinny, but you could tell she was pretty, with wide cheekbones and deep-set eyes. She was partially bundled in a torn blanket.
Beyond her and the woman, two young men rolled in their blankets, their heads lolling against the hull. And beyond them were three more piles of clothes with people inside them. They were hard to make out. I think they were men, maybe middle-aged. They were lying on the bottom of the hull, atop their blankets. They each had bundles under their heads.
And there were baskets full of stuff and travel bags crammed between them. Tiny living spaces, I guess.
Suddenly I heard the motor start up, and the clang of the anchor chain being hauled in.
My heart went into fast gear. We were motoring out of the cove. Hopefully the next cove was nearby. Hopefully Dad and the others would . . . what? Come and save me?
Hopefully.
We moved slowly. I could feel the swells as we left the cove. I concentrated on trying to slow my breathing down, slow my heart down.
Maybe ten minutes later the motor stopped. We coasted. I heard the anchor being lowered, the splash as it hit the water.
We weren’t going anywhere. Not till first thing in the morning, anyway.
I looked around. In front of us, there was a bucket with a ladle sticking out. Drinking water. Beyond that, attached to the far hull, was another bucket. It reeked, even from where I was sitting. I hoped I wouldn’t need to use it.
The rain had stopped. The only sound was the creaking of the boat as it rocked back and forth, the slosh of waves against the hull.
“Who are you?” came the soft voice of the girl. She sat up, facing me now. A long braid hung down her back, like a shiny black rope. “Why are you here?” She spoke good English, with a slight accent. A touch of an English accent, actually, above her Chinese accent.
“I’m Aaron. I was on a kayak trip and these guys kidnapped me. They’re holding me hostage. Who are you? Why are you here?”
“My name is Shai. We’re going to Vancouver,” she said in a whisper. “All of us. Some have already paid a lot of money, and we all owe them lots more when we get there, but they treat us poorly. Very little food. Barely enough water. No sunshine or fresh air. Many are sick. Where are we now? How much longer until we reach Vancouver?”
“Maybe two or three more days. But that’s just a guess.”
Shai said something in Chinese to the others, but no one seemed to be listening. They were all asleep or half asleep. Miserable. Hungry. In pain, by the look of it.
“How long have you been stuck in here?” I asked. My back itched, but I couldn’t scratch it. My hands were still tied. They were going numb. My Adam’s apple still throbbed from the captain’s punch to my throat.
“A very long time,” Shai said. “Almost a month. At first they gave us seafood to eat, all thrown together in a pot. Leftovers. But not enough. Never enough. No rice. No vegetables.”
I thought about that. A month stuck down in a hold like a cell! Little light. Little food.
“What do you do to fill the time?” I asked.
“It is impossible to fill the time. I have a book to read but it hurts my eyes. Too dark. We talk and tell stories, even try to sing songs, but mostly we just sleep.”
The older lady started to sob quietly and to repeat the same words over and over in what I assumed to be Chinese. Shai turned and stroked her bony arms, calming her.
“Now we are scared,” Shai whispered. “We don’t know what will happen. We are afraid.”
I knew how she felt. I was afraid, too.
I tried to loosen my hands. I twisted and yanked and squirmed, but the rope didn’t budge. I felt hopeless, like an otter caught in a steel trap.
Suddenly, panic gripped me like the fangs of a wolf. I stood and yelled at the top of my lungs, “HELP ME! LET ME OUT OF HERE! PLEASE HELP ME!”
But who would come to help me? Who would help any of us?
No one.