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“Close the hatch now!” Maddock ordered. Gunfire rattled above. The submarine shook. The very air seemed to vibrate.
Bones didn’t hesitate to reach up, draw the heavy steel door over his head, and dog it shut. They descended a vertical cylinder and slid out through a second hatch.
“Escape vestibule,” Bones said. “We practiced with them in BUDS, but I’ve never used one. Look, it’s like an upside-down airlock.” He frowned. “Of course, we’re back inside. This is where my plan ends. What now?”
Maddock bared his teeth in a wolfish grin. “We take out Junior. Then we drive this thing back to Guam and let the Coasties take care of it.”
Bones said. “Okay, get Junior first. How we gonna do it?”
“Shut her down. I lost the Makarov when Mako jumped me, so you’ll have to cover me,” Maddock said, pointing at the Kalashnikov Bones had snatched up. “I’ll go in and pull the panic-dampers, kill the engine.”
Maddock pushed open a hatch and crawled through. Four crewmen sat at consoles in the next compartment. One stood and reached for his pistol. Bones took him out with a well-aimed shot.
“Don’t be shooting up the equipment,” Maddock said. “We’ll need it.”
Following the fleeing crewmen, they entered a long gallery housing the engine. Maddock could hear nothing over the howling superchargers until three bullets pinged off the deck. Bones returned fire as Maddock bent double and crossed a steel grating. One, two, three, four gray steel levers, he slapped them down in sequence and the howl died along with the engine.
“There, nice and quiet,” Maddock said.
A burst of automatic weapon fire from the forward end of the gallery sent them both flat on the deck.
Bones yelled, “Ivan! slooshey. Nikureet, comrade. Nikureet.” Silence followed. He grinned at Maddock. “I just told them not to fire.”
“I think what you actually said was, ‘No smoking,’ but it worked.”
“Looks like you’se all done w’ crewing ol’ Lyn here,” someone yelled out.
It took Maddock a moment to recognize the voice. “Jungle Jim. So, you found a new master.”
“Yep, one that pays. So you’re gonna put that gun down now. Better give it up, or I’ll pull the fire suppressor and gas you both. Gas the girl here, too.”
“That’s not going to happen, and you know it,” Maddock said. “We’ll just retreat back a bulkhead and wait until this thing runs up on the beach.”
“We got us about two days of battery power. Think you can last that long?”
“Bring us our gold bar,” Bones yelled back, “then maybe we won’t flood another compartment.”
“What about your lady friend? My boss made a good start on ‘er. How ‘bout I just let Mako finish it?”
The engine room lurched and rolled. Odd bits of equipment slid across the deck, rattled on the grating and fell clattering below. Bones had handed him the rifle and disappeared during the exchange.
“Your buddy Mako is nothing but squid poop by now. You want to join him?” He punctuated the question by firing off a single shot.
“That was foolish, Maddock. You wasted your ammunition and might’a hit your pretty girlfriend here. Say something for the boys, Lyn.”
Maddock heard a muffled scream, and Jungle Jim said, “Oh wait, I done forgot to remove the tape.” A second later, the gallery echoed with shrieks and sobs. “She’s got a surprisingly high tolerance for pain, but we got there in the end. So, you ready to do a little trade? Say the weapon for the lady?”
The deck heaved and rolled beneath Maddock’s feet. Maybe it had electric power, but this sub wouldn’t dive again without major repairs. He crouched to steady himself and tried to figure what Bones was up to. Likely he was weighing the odds of jumping an armed man before being shot. Angling for time, Maddock said, “How do we know you won’t kill all three of us if I give you this gun?”
“You don’t. Either way, you’re probably dead.”
“I’ll lay it on the deck. You send Lyn to get it. The deal is, she comes back here after she gives it to you.”
“Eject the clip and put it where I can see it.”
One round left in the chamber, she gets one shot. Maddock hoped Lyn understood. He ejected the clip and made sure the safety was off. Hiding behind a gray steel cowl, he pushed the carbine out, barrel first. Footsteps on the steel grating, but instead of Lyn, Jungle Jim appeared, pistol in hand. “Never, ever give up your weapon. Didn’t they teach you nothin’ at school?”
Pale Horse rolled, then pitched forward. Jim grabbed a bundle of conduit for support as the Kalashnikov skittered down the deck. Bones rose from behind an air duct, snatched the carbine, and put a ragged hole where Jungle Jim’s third cervical vertebra had been. “And never turn your back on the enemy,” Bones said.
At that moment, Pale Horse put its bow to the air, rearing like its namesake. Maddock clutched the deck, then fell tumbling backward. Bones came crashing down on him. Duct-taped to a chair, Lyn slid screaming past, little more than a falling projectile.
She bounced off a cooling pipe and hung in the air as the sub toppled like a felled tree. The lights flashed, then dimmed to orange as emergency lamps came on. Maddock slid forward, skidded across the engine grating, and collided with Lyn’s chair. He hung on as once more Pale Horse pitched on its stern.
A loose carbine bounced past. Set on full automatic, it fired random bursts that pinged and whined about the compartment. This time, the sub rolled as it came down. The canted deck turned until Maddock and Lyn slammed together against the engine. A shower of debris, bilge and loose furniture cascaded around them. Maddock called out for Bones and his friend answered from somewhere in the chaos. Another roll and the submarine heaved up, then slammed down hard.
Someone grabbed Maddock’s leg. He looked down and Bones grinned back at him in the dim red glow. “Hang on buddy, this tub’s coming apart.”
“I’ve got Lyn, but she’s strapped to a chair.”
“Got Mako’s knife right here.” Bones dragged himself along the engine and slashed away the woman’s bonds. “Back, everyone back aft,” he yelled.
Lyn didn’t move. Maddock slung her across his shoulder and worked his way along the canted deck. Between the two of them they carried her through a hatch into the next compartment. More shots pinged off the bulkhead as Maddock scrambled after. He shut and dogged the hatch. Pale Horse rolled to her starboard side and shuddered. “We’re on the bottom, Bones. What in hell is going on?”
“The curse of Maug. We need to get the hell out of here before this thing floods.”
Maddock paused to get his bearings. In the red emergency lights, he made out an open hatch behind them. At that moment, a loud horn began to sound. “Too late, the batteries are on fire and someone has pulled the halon gas system.”
––––––––
“Mako,” Willis said. His voice betrayed neither surprise nor fear.
“Maksim, Mako, da. Is perhaps unfortunate for you I find shelter in boat. Is uncomfortable ride, but have useful weapon. Ha?”
Matt moved slightly to the left, as Willis crouched. Sally clutched her purse and retreated into the shadowy bunker interior. Mako grinned. “Do not do stupid things. Have four targets and five shots. I think is advantage mine.”
Willis said, “Shoot me, and see if you can move before Matt brings you down.”
“Is not a problem. See? I take New York City girl instead. Come, boss wants you. Makes Maksim very rich cheloveck.”
“Your boss is dead, smart guy. His sub is a debris field right now.”
“You are ignorant. Boss has escape pod. Is not a problem. Now move aside or I waste shot.”
Sally said, “Move Willis, it’s okay.” She saw him glance over his shoulder and nodded. “Really, I’ll be fine, won’t I Maksim?”
Willis moved. A single shot blasted out in the cramped chamber. Mako recoiled a step, leveled his twelve-gauge; then a second shot spun him around. His shotgun discharged against the doorframe, peppering them all in cement and lead fragments.
Matt tackled him first, sending Mako to his knees. The big merc slammed the gunstock into Matt’s face and racked another round. Willis lunged up with the iron pipe and smashed it down on Mako’s shoulder. He grunted and gave Willis a shove. As Mako stumbled away, Corey dashed toward him, fists clenched.
Sally stepped up and thrust her purse in Mako’s face. The next instant, Mako’s head exploded in a spray of blood. The boom of the gunshot rang in their ears.
Sally pulled the smoking Smith and Wesson from her purse and held it out in a trembling hand. “A wise man once said, ‘Whoever shoots first, gets to live.’ That one was too stupid to live.” Her brave words rang hollow.
Willis recovered his wits. “Damn. You packing heat too?”
“Bonebrake gave it to me. Thought it might come in handy.” She paused and stared at the old revolver. “I just...”
She suppressed a sob, and Willis finished for her. “It’s all right. You did what you had to do, but it ain’t easy.”
Sally turned pleading eyes upon Corey. “I had to. We’ve already lost so many.”
“You did the right thing, the necessary thing,” Corey assured her. “Now, it looks like the storm is letting up and Spidey is probably still lurking around here somewhere. What did Mako say about a boat?”
“I don’t know. I was a bit distracted,” Willis said as he dragged the ruined corpse aside.
Corey was first to duck outside. “Look, there is something down there.”
Sally followed him out just as the rain squall passed. “Holy crap. It’s Lark come to get us.”
Matt pushed past her. “I’ve got to see this.”
Willis had started down the slope, with Corey right behind him. Sally and Matt followed. They stepped over broken bits of steel and plastic all twisted up in great mounds of seagrass. The field had been stripped to the bare rock, with only piles of coral debris to mark the waves’ passage.
Scattered clouds followed in the wake of Typhoon Chaga, but the rain had stopped. They all stood staring up at Lark. It sat perched on the hillside, trim and upright on its flat bottom. Sally stood back, clutching her purse. Somehow this apparition of a boat seemed ready to spawn yet more enemies.
Beaten and battered, Lark rested on the slope with its bow hanging out over a ledge like some huge seabird peering from its nest.
“We must be eighty feet up,” Sally said. “I’d stay back. If that thing falls.”
Willis ignored her. He jumped for a frayed line that hung from the port side and pulled himself up. “Engine compartment is flooded,” he shouted down. “But the forward cargo well is dry.”
Matt examined the stern. “We’ve lost both rudders and the starboard wheel is pretzeled. Port side doesn’t look too bad, a little dinged.”
“Who gives a rat’s ass about the rudders?” Sally asked.
Matt gave her a confused look. “Unless you plan on swimming to Saipan and get us some help, it’s the only boat we got right now.”
“That’s not a boat. It’s a wreck.”
While they were bantering, Corey had climbed up the side. He stood conferring with Willis, then said, “C’mon up Sally. I want to show you something.”
Wondering if Ma’óghe had already affected all of their minds, Sally accepted Willis’ outstretched hand and found herself teetering on the aft deck. Hatches gone, she stared down at the engines submerged beneath three feet of clear water. “Are those fish in there?”
“Yeah, I think I saw a big eel, too,” Willis said. “Look, Corey’s got an idea. You explain, man.”
Corey said, “Come up forward with me. Watch your step and hold on to the rail.”
Sally did her best to give him the don’t patronize me look, but Corey wasn’t paying attention, and Willis didn’t comment. Forward of the cabin, she felt a moment of vertigo, staring out across the lagoon. The setting sun painted streaks of red across the sky. From the south, a gentle breeze belied the storm that had just roared past.
“I’m somehow not feeling like ‘king of the world’ here, you know. Even though the context seems right.”
Corey said, “Imagine what would happen if we pumped all of the water from the engine room, up to the bow.”
“It’d run out the drains.”
“We plug ‘em.”
“Then you’d tilt forward until this wreck goes over the ledge and sliding down the hill. Whoever is left on board better know how to fly.”
“Okay, we jam our anchor into the rocks back there and let out the line slowly.”
Sally thought about it for a while as darkness spread across the lagoon and climbed the hill below her. “I guess you couldn’t make things too much worse.”
Huddled together, they rested in the lee of the hull as the moon climbed above the east island. When it finally climbed high enough to cast dim gray shadows, they set to work. A hand pump built into Lark’s deck drew from the bilge and discharged overboard. Matt used a length of salvaged hose to direct it into the forward cargo well. Flashlights in hand, Corey and Sally scrambled around stuffing rags into all the drains.
Willis unlashed Lark’s heavy grapple and wedged its hooks beneath a slab of rock. He looped the anchor rope through an eye in the grapple and doubled it back to the deck. “I’ll stand up here and pay it out slowly. We’ll just cruise on down the road, all chill.”
Matt started pumping. He and Sally took turns until the moon dimmed and the eastern horizon lit with a golden glow. Sally watched the cargo well fill with water until she felt a tremor in the deck and said, “I think I’ll go ashore now. Bon voyage, boys.”
Corey had climbed down ahead of her. Sally wondered if that made him the smartest person on the island. The sky lightened, and the first rays of dawn lit the hilltop in shades of yellow. Matt and Willis argued about who would ride down and pay out the line. Moments later, Lark lurched forward, and Willis jumped to snub the anchor rope around a deck-bollard. “Okay,” Matt said, “I’ll feed you the line and you pay it out. We both ride down.”
Lark tilted and slid a little further over the brink. Sally watched Willis’ muscles bulge as he eased rope over the bollard. The line ashore had pulled tight as a bulldog’s leash. It thumped and vibrated every time Lark lurched forward. A few more feet, and the boat hung like a swimmer on the blocks, just waiting for the gun.
With a crack, the line broke, zipping past Sally like a giant rubber band. Lark lunged toward the water and disappeared over the edge.