

TIDES OF

PERIL

by Rick Potter

Copyright © 2014 Rick Potter

All rights reserved. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Author, except where permitted by law.

Rickstermsn@gmail.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Written for Kristina,

and dedicated to the memory

of my father

Cover design by: San Giovanni Valdarno

### Part One

### Chapter One

A mist of hushed whispers clouded the canteen of Florida's Correctional Facility for Women. A stabbing was about to occur. No one knew the identity of the victim, but they knew it would be Beatrice grasping the taped handle of the shiv.

Beatrice Johnson was butch, a stout bull of a woman who was convicted of slashing her girlfriend and a man to death with a box cutter after discovering them together. Her prison reputation for disregarding human life catapulted her to cellblock boss. Not only was she feared by other convicts, even guards were intimidated by her.

Beatrice rose from the company of her girls, and marched with stoic indignation down the aisle of lined tables. Convicts kept their heads downcast toward their food trays, tensing as she neared, then sighing with relief when she passed. Without glancing at the nearby guards, she stopped behind the victim of her fury and drove the sharpened end of a toothbrush into the woman's kidney, jackhammering quick jabs. The woman's eyes rolled back as her head slammed into her food tray. An outraged convict from the same table, leaped from her chair and attacked Beatrice. Her hands firm around Beatrice's throat, Beatrice sunk the shiv into her attacker's jugular. A volcano of blood erupted.

The alarm triggered. Before she was able to handoff the murder weapon to one of her passing girls, guards unleashed batons and blew whistles, forcing onlooking convicts to the side. It took seven guards to wrestle her to her knees, and fifty-thousand volts from a taser gun to calm her.

After restraining her in shackles, guards dragged Beatrice through the corridor of convicts who chanted her name with fists raised high overhead. She would spend thirty-days in solitary confinement, or Lock, as it was referred to in the prison.

Lock was a room even the toughest inmates feared. The size of a small apartment balcony, there was barely enough room to stretch. Located across the yard, the only light was from the small palm-sized window on the door that faced a cement wall just feet away. Thirty-days of darkness and silence drove inmates rabid; doing more harm than good when they were released.

After being knocked and nudged to the front by angry taunting convicts, petite Dorothea Silva stood in clear view of Beatrice. She had been warned by her veteran cellmate to avoid eye contact with other convicts. They were animals, and looking into their eyes was a sign of challenge. "And with your size, that's not something you want to tempt," her cellmate had told her.

Dorothea stared in awe as Beatrice was dragged by shackles in front of her. It took just a moment for her to glance up at Dorothea, but a bit longer for Dorothea to look away. It was too late. A challenge had been declared. "You're next, fish."

Dorothea Silva had grown up in a musty two room shanty located in a blighted area of a small Mexican village, each house worse than the next. Her room, shared with her little brother, consisted of a single-sized mattress on the floor, and a blanket hung by nails for a door. Her mother slept on a ragged sofa found discarded in a field, while her father, on the nights he decided to come home, passed out on a tattered armchair coddling a bottle of comfort.

Scrap plywood torn from another house took the place of a front door. She didn't know what her father did for money, but whatever he earned, they saw very little of it. Dorothea guessed it went toward women and booze, at least those were the words she heard in-between her mother's screams.

Dorothea and her little brother were inseparable. In most instances, she took better care of him than her mother. When he outgrew the mattress they shared, she surrendered it to him, while she slept in the corner on floorboards. Although it was colder and much harder, she never complained. It was easier to feel the vibration of her father's steps approaching their room in the middle of the night. In return, her little brother shared his birthday with her, she never knew the exact day or month of her own.

The squeak of plywood opening from twisted nails in the middle of the night warned their father was home. The foul stench of alcohol confirmed it. She would listen to his yelling, which always concluded with the sound of a painful slap. The cadence of footsteps approached her room, stifled the sound of her mother's sobs. Dorothea would pretend she was sleeping, or sit-up in the corner clasping her knees to her chest. Either way, when he came into their room, it usually meant only one thing.

His powerful grip would encompass her thin arm, compounding bruises from nights before. Fighting him became a needless utility that was only followed with beatings. Her brother, only a few years younger, but already the size of their father, tried protecting her, but that usually left him close to unconsciousness. She was fourteen.

Her frail uneducated mother, Andrea, was beaten down in body and spirit, and helpless against her father's drunken tantrums. When he wasn't home, she'd talk of someday all three of them fleeing the village to find a better life, but Dorothea should learn English first, then teach her little brother. "Opportunities are found for those who speak English," she'd tell her.

She did as her mother wished, but the timing to pack up and leave never seemed right. They waited and waited, until it was too late. Dorothea's mother was killed.

After being processed into the prison system on her first day, Dorothea was introduced to her cellmate, Marta. Dorothea was a reminder of herself thirty years earlier, petite and naive with an innocent demeanor. Although appearing to be fragile, Dorothea possessed a toughness about her, but Marta made it clear she was in no position to invite confrontation with other seasoned convicts. "They're like wolves," Marta had told her. "They travel and fight in packs."

Marta invented a mental illness so other convicts would think she was crazy and leave her alone. She'd amble through the cellblocks and yard speaking to the people in her head, making her the butt of jokes when she passed by them. That was how she earned her nickname, Voices.

After Beatrice had threatened Dorothea, Marta told her, "If she says you're next, you damn well better believe it. We gotta get you out of here."

Marta had already served thirty-years of her fifty-year sentence for a crime she swore she didn't commit. Like most prisoners, she pleaded innocent to her intentional manslaughter charge.

Over the years, she had earned the trust of guards and the warden by exhibiting model behavior. During the following week, she helped Dorothea compose an escape plan. Yard time was spent educating Dorothea on the vulnerable weak spots, while in their cell at night, they discussed the best dates and times for escape.

Marta would recommend her the yard duty position of mowing the lawn. This would give her the opportunity to be a safe distance away from convicts and guards. Located at the end of the side building, out of sight from the tower guards, a portion of the fence had rusted and unraveled through the years. Marta would distract the guards by creating a diversion, allowing Dorothea to burrow under the fence and make a run for freedom.

"Are you sure you won't come with me?" Dorothea asked.

"Yes, I'm sure. I'm too old to make it through those swamps. Besides, a woman my age wouldn't last long on the run."

"But you could be next."

"If all goes as planned, that problem won't exist."

### Chapter Two

Sam Peterson's handsome boyish looks were invalidated by his obtrusive centerpiece, a name his mother coined for his nose when he was young schoolboy. She had told him he'd grow into it, while his father had assured him it would attract girls and make men envy. Neither were right. Instead, it promoted years of jokes and ridicule. Together with his passive demeanor and shorter than normal stature, Sam was a prime target for even novice bullies. The one occasion during grade school when he defended his honor, he was awarded a trip to the emergency room with a broken centerpiece.

When he was sixteen, Sam grew tired of being picked on. He decided to bulk up and enroll in an after school self-defense class. He learned various martial art and boxing techniques, most centering on moves which scored the highest points for organized competitions which he never took part in. The enjoyment of hitting another person evaded him. He couldn't understand how hurting another could be construed as having fun.

Months of working out and mauling the heavy bag, the opportunity arose to test his newfound strength. Feeling confident, he attempted to push a car which had jackknifed on a steep incline during a snowstorm. Sam braced himself against the car, but when it slid back on the icy cement, his arm pinned against a tree, fracturing his arm. After six months of tolerating a cast, his desire for fitness had faded.

The lunch bell sounded when the clock struck twelve. Students in the eleventh grade Geography class rose from their desks and darted for the door. "Have a good Spring Break," he said.

As usual, no one responded.

He strolled through his classroom picking up dropped notes and trash, preparing for the afternoon classes. Posted to walls were maps of continents and major cities from around the world, and satellite photos of the worlds oceans and seas. He was proud of his classroom, and wished his students had been more interested in the subject.

When he had finished tidying his classroom, he parked in his usual spot at the end of the table in the teachers lounge, nibbling on his peanut butter and honey sandwich, while listening to his colleagues share plans for summer vacation. It was always the same this time of year.

Most teachers were leaving town to visit friends or family, while others had reserved hotels in Atlantic City, or the Big Apple. Some had arranged camping trips near the Chesapeake Bay. "I prefer camping in the comfort of a four or five star hotel," a pretentious teacher blurted.

"Hear, hear," several agreed.

The more they spoke, the more his dislike of his colleagues grew, but maybe it was just envy. 'A vacation would be nice, but Maddie would never agree,' he thought.

She perceived vacations as an impractical way to spend money. "Vacations are temporary," she'd tell him.

The last vacation they took was visiting her mother just before Jake was born, but he didn't perceive that as a real vacation. That was ten-years ago.

Seated behind him was boisterous Thad Brewster. At age ten, Brewster's large frame of baby fat earned him the status of school bully. His reputation followed him through high school, as his punches increased with strength. Sam continued being his number one target, evidenced by a shattered centerpiece.

Soon after that incident, Sam realized vocabulary was more powerful than brawn. He began using words like, "Low self-esteem" and, "Narcissistic". Brewster soon developed a confused sense of respect for Sam, and left him alone in search of other prey.

"Hey, Peterson, what are you guys doing this summer?" bellowed Brewster, in his familiar condescending tone.

Sam answered without the respect of looking up. "Probably nothing, just stay home and relax with the family."

"That sounds adventurous. You must be the only geography teacher that's never been anywhere," Brewster blurted, followed by laughter from everyone.

Sam abhorred Brewster's attempts of demoralizing him. The physical treatment once inflicted, had been replaced with verbal innuendo. His lack of retort made Brewster bored, so Brewster's attention was turned back toward the others.

Sam swirled his brown locks and continued to eavesdrop. "What are you guys doing this year?" a teacher asked, Brewster.

"We're going sailing again this year. The kids loved it last year, and it's the perfect therapy for Doris and I." then added, with a wink, "If you know what I mean."

Sam liked the word, "therapy," and considered what Brewster was saying. His daze muted the bell for class. "Come on, Peterson, that's the warning bell," Brewster said, flicking Sam's ear as he passed.

Sam twitched from his thoughts, then placed his unfinished sandwich back in the paper sack. He followed Brewster and a rookie teacher named, Buddy, toward the door. When Buddy started teaching at the school, he latched onto Brewster, following him around like a faithful puppy. Brewster took an instant liking to him. They were close in stature and shared the same demeaning sense of humor. They became instant friends.

"I can't believe Maddie's his wife," Buddy whispered. "What does she see in that guy?"

"Who nose?" Brewster answered, rubbing his nose with a grin.

###

Sam tapped the steering wheel of their mini-van they purchased just before Jake was born, wondering what excuse she'd use today for being late. He understood being the Principal's assistant required additional responsibilities, but her bag of excuses were running low.

He suspected some of those responsibilities included flirting with the Principal after school, but restrained himself from bringing it up. He knew today she'd use, "It's the last day of school" excuse. The car door opened. "Sorry I'm late. Last day of the year, you know."

He nodded and smirked.

For most guys, Maddie's good looks, slender frame and sex appeal would have been the main attraction, but for Sam it was her ability to dominate and manipulate a conversation that captured his attention when they first met in college. She reminded him of his mother, independent and opinionated.

Sam was the perfect guy for her. Not only was he forgiving and patient, but he accepted her dominant demeanor, something no other guy tolerated. She warned him right from the beginning she was a control freak, a gene she attributed to her father. She was perfect for him.

Maddie's resentment for her father came at an early age and for a good reason. He had made it clear she wasn't the boy he had hoped for. He was an overbearing man who believed men were superior to women, but she set out to prove him wrong. When other girls were primping themselves for homecomings and proms, Maddie was busy donning Levis and suspenders to accompany her father on fishing and hunting expeditions.

To make her father proud, she excelled in all sports, often competing with boys and beating them. Still, her father refused to acknowledge her accomplishments. Despite his dismay, Maddie enjoyed spending time with him.

Her father was a journalist for the local paper, with dreams of becoming a famed novelist. When he wasn't writing for the paper, or hunting and fishing, he spent endless hours in his study, standing and tapping away on his Corona typewriter, emulating his inspiration, Ernest Hemingway. Her and her mother's framed photos on bookshelves were eclipsed by pictures of his inspiration, and family portraits hanging from the wall were replaced with deer heads with massive antlers, and marlins he had reeled in on fishing boats in the Atlantic. But still, no matter how long and hard he worked, he still remained unpublished.

While on hunting excursions with her father, Maddie had the eye of a sniper, but took great pains to miss the deer she aimed for. She didn't believe in killing a defenseless animal staring you in the eye, that had nothing to do with skill. To her, true hunting was stalking an animal of equal, or more strength and experiencing the fear of it killing you.

Her mother was passive and obedient, fearing she'd become her father's number four ex-wife. Maddie swore she'd never be like her.

As if her sports abilities and reputation as a tomboy weren't enough to repel boys, she had also developed an argumentative style of communication, which acquired her the title of, Bitch.

Her disguised beauty wouldn't be noticed until she entered college, when she began sprucing herself up and started dating. She was a head-turner, but her dates eventually dismissed her due to her overbearing attitude.

She and Sam met in the college cafeteria. She admired his centerpiece, and his demeanor reminded her of her mother. She was convinced he was a gentleman with a solemn temperament, unlike other obnoxious guys. Her control over him was apparent, but had not yet been proven. She tested him by asking permission to have dinner with a classmate. He only said, "Be careful."

Months later, after discovering her pregnancy, Maddie and her classmate married, but it wouldn't last. Arguments turned into drinking which led to physical abuse. It was over before it began, and they divorced soon after Emily was born. That's when Sam re-entered the picture. He took care of Emily between classes so Maddie could study and graduate. He had won her admiration and gratitude, and six-months later they married.

But, the years with Sam took their toll. She yearned for more. She wanted stimulation and excitement. She wanted someone to thrill her, to control her, to take her breath away. Something Sam couldn't provide.

On their way home from school, Maddie gazed out the window, while Sam thought about Brewster's sailing vacation. His routine stop to help out a beggar with a few bucks annoyed her more than usual. "Always the knight in shining armor," she said, under her breath.

"Rescued you from your ex didn't I?"

"Yeah, at least we had excitement in our marriage."

Their silence resembled strangers in an elevator. They slowed to a stop at a red light when a car with blaring music pulled up along Maddie's side. The young driver completed a solo on his air-drums, then flashed Maddie a grin. "Hey, babe. Ditch your old man. Let's go for a ride."

Maddie was always flattered when guys mistook her for being younger. She returned the young man's grin and shrugged. Sam placed the gear in neutral and revved the engine with his hands gripped tight to the steering wheel. The engine made a loud smooth hum and he hoped smoke wouldn't rise from under the hood. The man followed suit. His engine roared with deep popping sounds. "Wanna play, huh?" the man asked.

When the light turned green, both slammed their pedals. The young man's car jumped off the line, leaving strips of rubber in his rear-view mirror. Ready to turn the mini-van into a sprint dragster, Sam pounded the pedal. The mini-van froze, parked at the line. "Try taking it out of neutral," Maddie said.

Sam's quirkiness used to amuse her, but that had even faded.

They traveled a few miles farther before turning the corner of a well-manicured neighborhood. Each home mirrored the other with picket fences and flower beds. Sam had idled into the driveway between the American Elms that lined the sidewalks, when Maddie spotted two boys picking on Jake. One boy kicked Jake's bicycle, while the other boy straddled Jake laying on his back on the sidewalk. Jake's arms were pinned against the sidewalk over his head.

She kicked off her heels, and leaped from the idling car like a mother lion ready to protect her young, then heard one of the boys say, "You pussy boy, you're just like your old man." Thad Brewster, Jr., was following in his father's footsteps, as the baby fat bully of the school.

Maddie's long dark hair trailed in the breeze. "You guys are dead!"

The two boys glanced up with fear, watching Maddie come at them in her tight skirt. Without hesitation, they took off running down the street.

Maddie yelled, "I know you, Thad Brewster, Jr. Next time I see you, I'm going to cut you to pieces and boil your body parts in oil!"

"A wolf in sheep's clothing," Sam mumbled, as he stepped from the car.

Maddie offered her hand to Jake, "Are you okay?"

"Why'd you do that?" he said, brushing her hand away, embarrassed.

Unlike his father at age ten, Jake had the heart of a lion, and the conviction of an ant, two dangerous traits that made him a target for, Thad Jr. He never tattled or sought comfort after being bullied, but Sam and Maddie knew how he felt. They'd offer words of encouragement to him, and remind him, "You're the Sampson of the family."

In spite of his certain demise, Jake had the confidence to face any confrontation. Though he appeared weak and frail, and unable to defend himself, he wasn't afraid to be outspoken. It was a game he played with other kids bigger than he. He would like to see how far he could taunt them, and still escape unharmed. He was a fish tempting a hook.

When he wasn't playing in the safety of their backyard, Jake enjoyed reading one of his books on sharks. His fascination stemmed from a class field trip to an aquarium where he discovered the menacing gray-skinned predators gliding through the water in search of their next meal.

Recognizing his thirst for shark knowledge, Sam and Maddie purchased every shark book they could find. He learned about all the different species; their locations in the world; whether they were deep water or shallow water sharks; their preferred diets; and everything else there was to know. He became an expert in sharks.

Jake recognized the uneasiness with his parents. He felt it a personal duty to safeguard his father from his mother's sometimes oppressive behavior by spending more time with him. He viewed his father as an unappreciated hero.

As Jake brushed by Sam through the front door, Sam said, "Remember those self-defense moves I told you about?" Sam was a good fighter, but only in theory.

"Yeah, I didn't want to hurt them."

The scantly decorated home was a parallel to an I Love Lucy set, resembling more of a house than a home. The living room was plain and simple with no conversation pieces, or family photos. Sam switched on his tired dial-up computer resting on a table placed in front of the sliding glass doors which led into the backyard. Jake was steadying his slingshot with one eye closed, then released the leather pouch. It was a bullseye. "Hey buddy, you're getting pretty good at that," Sam complimented.

Without acknowledgement, Jake aimed and concentrated on his next shot. Similar to most boys his age, he had mastered blocking out distractions. Another bullseye. "Thanks, Dad," he said, with a proud grin.

Sam turned and watched his computer finish downloading. He thought about them being alone in the open sea. He thought about teaching Jake how to reef sails and steer, and how to read compass bearings. But it wasn't Jake he needed to prove anything to, it was Maddie. He knew once he had won her over again, Emily would soon follow. After more thought, he realized more than anything, that the person he needed to prove something to, was himself. He needed to demonstrate that he could be confident and without fear of being in the open-water again. Out of curiosity, he typed, sailboats for sale, then waited for the computer to download, again. "Where's Em?" he asked, Maddie.

She was seated on the plaid sofa facing the black screen of the Motorola TV, sorting through the day's mail, placing the junk mail between the collection of outdated Home Decoration magazines and the empty coaster rack. "Probably in her room listening to music."

Just then, Emily marched in from her bedroom with a look of determination and gripping a baseball bat.

Over the years, Emily and her mother's relationship had developed more into that of best friends. Maddie consistently complimented and encouraged Emily, telling her, "I'll be proud of you no matter what you do," words Maddie would have liked to have heard from her father.

At the age of sixteen, she resembled her mother in more ways than not. Not only had she become quick tempered, but she had adopted her taste for clothing, wearing provocative outfits that displayed her mature features. She found it sexy to display her strawberry tattoo inked below her waistline when she wore low cut pants. That little act landed her on restriction for a month, but she didn't mind. 'The tattoo is permanent, the punishment is temporary,' she had thought.

Like her mother, Emily grew a dislike for her father, developing a lack of respect for him. Since Jake sided with his father, her attitude toward him turned changed as well.

Bat in hand, Emily brushed by Sam seated at the computer and stood at the opened sliding glass door. "Keep your things out of my room you little dwarf," then heaved the bat at Jake.

Jake scrambled out of the way, then pointed and fired the empty slingshot at her. She flinched and ducked. Jake laughed. "Chicken."

"I'm gonna kill you, you brain dead embryo."

Jake puffed and blew smoke from a make believe cigarette. He knew she smoked when he snooped around her room and found a hidden pack of cigarettes with a lighter tucked inside the box. When he confronted her, she said she was holding them for a friend of hers. He didn't buy it. She glared at him, then paraded back toward her room.

"Can't you kids be civil to each other?" Maddie suggested in a calm tone, keeping her head down at the advertisement brochures.

"Tell your adopted son to stay out of my room," Emily retorted.

"Em, be nice to your brother," Sam said.

"Not by choice he is," she replied, slamming the door behind her.

###

Later that night, Sam and Maddie hugged their edges of the bed propped against the headboard. Their bedroom was as plain as the rest of the house, with only trial sized perfumes and lotions resting on a vanity, and a portable TV perched on a chest of drawers at the foot of the bed. Sam studied sailboat pictures in the magazine he purchased earlier, while Maddie stowed away in her romance novel, a ritual that replaced actual intimacy. "When was the last time we took a vacation?" Sam blurted, placing the magazine on his lap.

Maddie glanced around the ceiling as if trying to find the answer hovering in the air. "Gee, let me think," she said. "Never."

"Exactly, how about we take one? It'll be good therapy for all of us," he said, remembering Brewster's comment in the teacher's lounge.

She finger-marked her page. "What brought this on?" then glanced at the cover of Sam's magazine. "Never mind."

Sam was persistent, "What do you think?"

Vivid photos of rock climbing, swimming, massages, shopping, and music raced through her mind. "You know my feelings on vacations, but maybe a cruise wouldn't be so bad." It wasn't quite the adventurous excitement she had been thinking of, but it was better than staying home all summer.

"I wasn't thinking of a cruise, per se, but rather sailing on a boat."

"Sailing? You mean like a charter boat?" She had enjoyed being on boats with her father when they went deep sea fishing.

Sam stuttered, "K-Kind of. It'll be the perfect escape for us. What do you say?"

"What about Jake's baseball season?"

"We'll be back in time."

"What about the self-defense classes Em and I are signing up for?"

"You can't postpone it for a week?"

Again, she hovered at the ceiling in search of another question. He knew she was trying to find reasons not to go, but he had prepared himself well, like a chess player plans many moves ahead.

"What about your fear of water?"

Checkmate. She had made the move that stumped him.

Sam was Jake's age when he watched his parents drown in the choppy waters of the Atlantic. He and his father decided to have his mother accompany them on their first overnighter through Chesapeake Bay to the unpredictable waters of the Atlantic Ocean on their twenty-eight-foot keelboat. His father had insisted everyone wear a life vest, but his mother was hardheaded and refused to be tied up in that, "Bulky faux of fashion."

Sam and his father navigated into the Atlantic while his mother lay on the stern bench, sunbathing. Winds had picked up to fifteen knots when his father had gone topside to reef the mainsail and raise the storm jib. Young Sam remained behind the wheel following the compass downwind. They were a couple miles from shore when his mother rose to head into the cabin to escape the sprays of the choppy waters. The mainsail line released from the winch causing the boom to swing toward her, knocking her into the water. Sam yelled, "Dad, do something!" but his father had already dove in after her.

When his father tried to grasp her flailing arms, she used her strength to climb onto him, pushing him under. When he stopped surfacing, his mother receded into the ocean's depth with him. Witnessing the power of the ocean, Sam developed a fear of open water, and hadn't been on a boat since that day.

"Fear?" he questioned. "It was more of an aversion, and I've probably outgrown it by now."

"Like not going to the beach with us, or going to the swimming pool?"

"I don't go because I'm afraid of water, I don't go because you never ask."

Maddie drifted back to the ceiling searching for her next excuse. He'd broken through her tough facade. "How much will this trip cost us?" she finally asked.

"I'll figure it out, it'll be fine."

She thought for a moment then said, "You deal with your aversion, and figure exactly how we're gonna pay for this adventure, then we'll talk. Remember, our finances are limited."

He had already figured everything out and made sure the boat prices he searched were well within their budget. Between never having used money from their home improvement account, and skimping on Christmas, both accounts had plenty of money for a downpayment on a nice ocean cruiser.

"I'll take care of everything."

She lifted her book and resumed reading.

The next morning, Sam strolled to the living room in his pajamas, and headed for his computer. Taped to the screen was a note from Maddie. It was a reminder that she and Emily were spending the day together. Maddie had promised they'd celebrate the first day of Spring Break, with shopping and pampering themselves. Over the past weeks, he heard them discussing a trip to the beauty salon, relishing in a massage, mall shopping, and ending the evening by catching a movie at the cinema. 'Hope it's in our budget,' he thought, flipping on his computer and watching Jake practice home run swings in the backyard.

Morning rolled past lunch, and Sam was still in his pajamas researching boats on the internet. Trying to keep the cost down, he searched for used boats. His search was narrowed to a forty-foot Island Packet sailboat that boasted all the amenities of their home, and was in most ways more luxurious. Best thing was, it was a Death forces sale, boat, which meant the sellers were motivated. He decided not to tell Maddie the reason why they were selling.

Sam and the boat broker, Captain Kent Poulsen, from Mango Bay Marina, in Key West, spoke several times during the morning. He assured Sam the boat was well built and not used a lot. "It'll withstand unfavorable conditions, and remain stable in the choppiest of waters," he told Sam. "And trust me, your family will appreciate that."

He answered all Sam's objections, but didn't sound like a typical salesman after a commission. In fact, he even offered to reduce it, sounding like he didn't need the money. The more they spoke, the more Sam grew comfortable, like old friends who had met up after years of not seeing each other. "You still sound hesitant," Captain Kent had told him. "What else is on your mind?"

Maddie often told Sam it was a good thing he didn't play poker, he was too easy to read.

Sam confided his concerns about Maddie's reaction when finding out what he'd done, but Captain Kent assured him he'd talk to her if needed. "I appreciate that," Sam had said. "She might listen to you."

Sam agreed to wire money for an inspection, or survey as Captain Kent referred to it. Just as Sam was about to press the send key from their Home Improvement account, a voice spoke out from over his shoulder, "What's up, Dad?"

Sam jumped, "Jakester, how long have you been standing there?"

"Not long, what are you doing?" .

"Just looking up something for a friend."

"Wanna play some catch?"

"Sure, buddy. Give me a minute to finish this and let me change. I'll meet you in the backyard."

Sam and Jake stood at opposite ends of the yard tossing the ball back and forth. Sam rehearsed various scenarios of how he'd break the news to Maddie. His only comfort was, Emily and Jake would be excited. It was the hurdle of telling Maddie that made him nervous. Jake noticed his father's lack of attention. "Is something wrong, Dad?"

To give himself piece of mind, he decided to throw the idea out to Jake. "How would you like to go on vacation this year, Jakester?"

"What about baseball season?"

That wasn't the answer Sam was hoping for. He thought Jake would jump with joy at the idea. Besides, Jake hadn't realized his talents were better displayed in the dugout, but that made him more motivated to improve.

"I know." Sam hesitated, then asked, "What if we're back in time?"

After a few more throws, Jake spoke up. "Sure, a vacation sounds like a great idea, if you promise we're back before the season starts. Where are we going?"

"It's just an idea right now. Let's keep this between you, I'd like to surprise your mother, okay buddy?"

A week slipped by without mention of a family vacation. It seemed Maddie had forgotten their conversation, and Jake had kept the secret. Maddie and Emily swam at the local college pool and had begun their kickboxing classes, while Sam concealed his refresher sailing class at the marina. He told Jake he had a friend who was moving, and his help was needed to pack boxes. Jake didn't mind, he preferred spending time in the backyard practicing baseball, and performing strategic warfare methods with his slingshot.

Sam's four day refresher sailing class went well. Not only did he learn to tie all the knots and the rules of seamanship, but he discovered water was no longer his Kryptonite, as long as he was snug in a life vest.

Driving home from his last sailing lesson, Sam whistled, Pirates of the Caribbean. He had purchased skipper hats at the marina supply store then shopped for ingredients for the special dinner he would prepare later. His plan was to astonish them with a great meal, then wait and gather everyone on the sofa. He would reach into the bag and toss a skipper hat to each of them, then unveil photos of their new boat he'd printed from the computer. Everything was in place. He was confident this rare surprise would be the beginning of a new start for them.

Sam turned the engine off just before pulling into the driveway, then coasted the rest of the way so he wouldn't be heard. Bags in hand, he trekked to the front porch. As he cracked the door open, he heard Maddie's voice. He slinked to the edge of the dining room and peaked around the corner when he heard her say, "Survey?"

He froze in his tracks.

"Okay, a survey is an inspection, I see. All right, no problem. Yes, I'll make sure he get's it all right. Thank you... Captain Kent."

Sam heard the phone being placed on the receiver. The slow rhythmic beat of her fingernails strumming the countertop sounded like the beat of a drum during a march to the gallows. With nowhere to escape, he waited around the corner with his back against the wall. Then the sound of rushing water came from the faucet. He peeked around the corner and saw she was getting a glass of water and staring through the window. Just as he took a step across the dining room entry, he heard, "The items on your survey are completed." Her tone was nonchalant. It was the calm before the storm.

He knew she had seen him through the reflection in the window. She turned and faced him. "Anything else you want to tell me... Sam?" The only times she ever used his name was when she was being condescending when angry.

After hesitating a moment, he stuttered, "I-I can explain. What is it you don't know?"

"For starters, when are we selling this floating coffin?"

He knew there was nothing he could say to prevent her short fuse from igniting. She folded her arms. "I'm waiting."

He reached into the bag and pulled out a skipper hat. "I got you and the kids a gift." His plan was breached. Her fuse ignited.

She ranted, rambled and raved for forty-minutes, while he slumped in a dining room chair reaping her rage. Maddie had the memory of an elephant, reincarnating incidences that had long been buried. She interrupted her own questions with more accusations and complaints. She unleashed a primal scream, and he was the spoil. He had attempted to convince her it was the best thing for them, a way to improve what had already been broken. But it was as though she had found the final justification for their demise. At the conclusion of her denouement, the ultimatum came. "If this excuse for a plan fails, so do we. Do you understand?"

Sam felt like a child hearing his punishment from angry parents. There was nothing else to say, and his string of, "I'm sorries," had worn thin. "Yes, I understand," he answered.

Chapter Three

Trigger fingers rested firm, ready to fire as guards paced the yard on high alert. It was a textbook drill when convicts rejoined the general population of the prison after being released from Lock. The early morning mist made it difficult for guards to see from the tower, but Beatrice's robust redwood frame stood out amongst her circle of girls, as she waited for the opportunity to claim Dorothea as her next victim.

Earlier that morning after discovering Marta's friend failed to pinch a guard's uniform, Dorothea was forced to deviate from the plan. She approached a guard tucked behind trash dumpsters near the laundry room, sneaking a cigarette. "What are you doing here, fish?"

Dorothea glanced around making sure no one saw them. "Those things will kill you," she said, then covered the guards mouth and ran the shiv along her throat.

It took Dorothea only a minute to strip the guard's uniform from her dead body and don them under her prison khakis. She rushed to the entrance of the yard and strolled to where she had left the lawnmower days before. As drizzle turned into rain, guards blew their whistles and ordered everyone back inside the cellblock.

Marta was a favorite inmate amongst guards, and tolerated by the other convicts. Her presumed senility assured her exemption from attacks, allowing her to roam the yard without threat. "Everyone inside," a guard yelled.

Convicts lined up single file at the door, but Beatrice's troupe remained firm in their circle, waiting for Dorothea. Whispering and snickering to herself, Marta strolled through Beatrice's circle. "Hey, it's Voices," one of Beatrices' girls said, then shoved her into Beatrice.

"Leave her alone," Beatrice said.

Marta snickered and took a deep breath, anticipating it might be her last. She positioned the shiv concealed in her sleeve to her palm, then discharged several jabs into Beatrice. As Beatrice toppled, her girls jumped Marta, beating and kicking her. One of the women scooped the shiv from the ground and commenced sticking Marta's body like a pin cushion.

Guards broke through the circle of mayhem to break it up, while tower guards fired shots feet away from the crowd, striking innocent onlookers. By the time guards had gotten to Marta, she was already dead.

During the commotion, Dorothea loosened the fence wire from the first and second fence lines, and burrowed under. She had about thirty minutes to make it through the swamps to the main highway before the Line Guards took cell count and discovered her missing.

###

After her exhaustive dash across the open field outside the prison and through alligator swamps and snake infested mangroves, Dorothea emerged near the roadside. As she disrobed her prison khakis, leaving her wearing the dead guard's uniform, she thought about how much time she had left before being discovered missing. The only indication would be the sound of the siren, which hadn't gone off yet. She clasped her knees to catch her breath, when the sound of a sputtering late model pickup truck appeared through the fog. She jumped up to position herself in the truck's path and waved her arms.

As the truck slowed to a stop, an elderly man with a weather-wrinkled tanned face, reached across the torn plastic seat covers and opened the door. A strong odor of Old Spice slammed into her, making her noxious. Doused in water, she slid in beside a wrapped gift in birthday paper. "What in tarnation happened to you, young lady?" the old man asked, in a raspy smokers voice. "A purtty lil thing like you shouldn't be out in this kind of weather."

She hesitated, running her fingers through her hair. "Thanks for the lift, my car broke down."

"That's a shame, where ya headin'?"

"All the way south."

The man hovered his chin over the steering wheel. "That's a long way to go. I'm just headin' up the road to the edge of town."

"That's fine."

"You must be the first hitcher I've picked up in years. A person never knows what kinda people are out there these days. But, what could be safer than giving a guard a lift?"

"Yeah, right." She hoped the old man would shut up and drive faster.

"By the way my name's, Cleave. Rupert Cleveland. What's yours?"

Dorothea thought of her mother. "I'm Andrea."

"Well, nice to meet ya, Andrea. You can call me Cleave, all my friends do, or what few I have left anyway. Seems age got the best of 'em. Not me, though. I'm a decedent of, Moses Cleveland. Ya ever heard of Moses Cleveland? He lived to be in his eighty's."

Andrea couldn't care less. His constant babbling was getting on her nerves. "No," she answered.

"Well, I suppose you wouldn't have. Moses Cleveland was one of the first settlers in America back in the 1600s. Came straight over from Europe." He was proud of his founding father, and spoke of his heritage like he had royal blood. "To be honest, he wasn't actually one of the first people in America, but he did bring the name, Cleveland, here," he added.

The truck backfired and sputtered as he shifted his three-on-the-tree into third gear. Andrea cowered and wiped her brow to hide her face from the passing sirens and flashing lights. It was a high speed bumper-to-bumper procession toward the prison.

"Sounds like trouble stir'n at your work again. Looks like ya got out just in time."

Wishing Cleave would speed up, she mumbled, "You have no idea."

"I'm headin' to my granddaughters birthday. She's turnin' ten today."

The truck rambled through the fog at parade speed. She knew it would be just a matter of time before the news of her escape would be on every TV and newspaper in the State. Her thoughts were interrupted. "Ya got any children?"

"Excuse me?"

"Children... how many children ya got?"

She didn't see the purpose of polluting the world with more people. "No children."

"That's a shame. Children complete a person. You know that, don't ya? If the Cleveland's didn't have children, I wouldn't be here today, and neither would my little princess."

Cleave kept his eyes fixed on the road, then wavered his finger in front of her. "Open that thar glove box, I'll show ya a snap of her."

She reached in the glove box and grabbed a small leather wallet which lay in the midst of loose change, papers, and a pen. She grabbed the wallet and pen. Inside the wallet a photo showed a little girl with bows in her hair, wearing a pink ruffled dress perched on grandpa's lap. "She's my little princess. Ain't she a sweetheart?"

Andrea thought about her childhood and how opposite her and his granddaughter were. "Yeah, she's top dollar."

"That thar little princess is what keeps my engine purrin'."

She placed the wallet back in the glove box, then tapped the pen against her leg. Another caravan of State Troopers roared by with sirens blaring, as Cleave coasted past boarded up fruit stands surrounded by brush along the highway. "You might know this, but I provide much of the fruits and vegetables that are sold in those," he said, pointing at the stands.

'This is a fucking sight-seeing tour,' she thought.

"We got about ten minutes of drivin' left. If you have time, my granddaughter would love to meet a real life prison guard."

She couldn't take ten more minutes of his babbling and reminiscing. She pressed the point of the pen into her leg until she felt pain, then glanced through the side mirror and rear cab window. "Ya okay young lady? If ya don't mind me sayin', ya seem a bit nervous."

. She thought about watching Beatrice plunge the shiv into the woman's neck in the canteen. "Yeah, I'm fine, but unfortunately you won't be seeing your little princess this trip."

Before he could respond, she plummeted the pen into his leather-lined neck. Blood gushed as the truck swerved lanes. Andrea grabbed the wheel to regain control, then pulled to the side of the road. With one shove, Cleave's body rolled into the bush, leaving behind a river of blood.

A few miles up the road, she spotted a phone booth on the roadside in front of a small rundown two-pump gas station and mini-mart. Parked in front of the pumps, she opened the glove box and rummaged through Cleave's wallet for cash. It only contained photos of the little 'princess', and a photo of him with a woman. She guessed it was his wife, 'Probably dead too,' she thought.

After pocketing the loose change, she headed toward the phone booth and dialed a number. "I'm on the way. Tell my brother I'll be with him soon."

###

Bells jingled above the door of the quaint market as Andrea strolled in. Containing only a few rows of snacks and personal hygiene products, it catered more to tourists who had forgotten something on the way home. Hanging from a pegged rack were Florida keychains and cheap jewelry, items often purchased as last minute souvenir gifts. Next to it, a clothing rack displayed assorted souvenir t-shirts.

Entering the market from a back room, a jovial middle-aged lady wearing a smock and name tag which read, Christina, greeted Andrea. "Hi there, anything I can help you with?"

Andrea noticed her examining her shirt. "I just dragged a dead deer off the road," Andrea volunteered. "Do you sell shirts here?"

Christina hadn't ever heard of deer being seen in that area, but she never doubted anyone. "Sure, right behind you. We got a whole rack full," then took a seat behind the register counter and flipped the small portable TV on.

Christina's phone awakened her earlier that morning. It was a workmate pleading with her to open the store and work a few hours for her. Christina had already worked an extra day that week so she could have this one special day off. It was her daughter's tenth birthday, and friends and family were coming from out of town to help celebrate.

Without inspecting sizes, Andrea grabbed a couple of shirts, a windbreaker and a baseball cap, then hurried to the counter. "Will that be all for you?" Christina asked.

"Yep." Then both their attention was drawn to a news reporter on the TV: "Police urge the public to notify local police authorities immediately if Dorothea Silva is seen. Do not approach her, she is considered armed and extremely dangerous."

Andrea remembered the dead guard's gun dropping into the water as she waded through one of the swamps. She had hesitated, thinking of retrieving it, but the approaching eyes of an alligator peeking from the surface of the water deterred that idea.

Just then, her booking photo appeared on the screen. Christina exchanged glances between the TV and Andrea, then dipped her shoulder as if to reach for something under the counter. Andrea leaped the counter and shoved her to the floor. Before Christina made it to her feet, Andrea ripped the TV from the wall and smashed it into Christina's head. Andrea reached under the counter grabbing the pistol and slipping it under her belt. She didn't know why, but she claimed a pair of scissors as well.

After changing into the t-shirt and windbreaker, bells jingled from the front door. Startled, Andrea spun around, slipping for a moment in the puddle of blood oozing from Christina's head, and saw an elderly couple standing in the doorway. "Good morning," the man said.

Andrea was flustered, not sure what she should do next. She smiled and said, "Good morning," then ripped the phone cord from the wall.

"Why'd you do that?" the woman asked.

She thought about putting a bullet in both of them, but then sirens sped by. Instead, she rushed around the counter, darting past them through the door, leaving footsteps of blood in her trail.

She slowed her pace to a nervous stroll toward the couple's car, expecting to find keys dangling from the ignition. When she found none, she headed toward the mini-mart doors again, but was stopped short from the sirens blaring by. She turned and hopped in the truck, then sped off, spitting mud from the rear tires.

Inside the mini-mart, the man asked, "I don't think anyone else is here. How do we pay for gas?"

"Something's not right, look at the red prints on the floor. We should call the police."

###

The sound of whupping helicopter blades awoke Andrea from behind the steering wheel. Parked off the highway under the protection of camouflaged mangroves, she squinted into the morning stream of sunlight piercing through the windshield. She pondered her next move, and thought about what Marta would do. She missed her friend, and wished she would have come with her.

She realized by now, the entire State would know of her escape and there'd be roadblocks and posters everywhere. A change in appearance was needed. It occurred to her why she took the scissors from the market. She repositioned the rear-view mirror and started cutting. By the time she was finished, Andrea looked like a teenage boy.

The old truck sputtered and spitted, until a backfire sparked the engine into life. She glanced through the wooded ambiance with the mistaken belief it was a shotgun being fired. After the helicopters faded into the distance, Andrea followed the muddy road back to the barren highway. 'I gotta ditch this truck,' she thought.

Several miles later, her heart pounded when she noticed a barricade of boards strewn across the road with two State Trooper cars parked alongside. There was no way around it. Her idea of barreling through it would only create a high speed chase with the use of helicopters. Her capture would be inevitable, so she discarded that plan. There was only one solution.

She slowed the truck as she neared the roadblock, and stuffed the pistol in her windbreaker pocket. Coming to a stop behind another car, she had thoughts of being captured There was no way she could go back to prison, her brother's life depended on her. Maybe they wouldn't recognize her with her hair cut and cap on, but perhaps they had found the old man laying dead on the roadside and had been searching for his truck. Ideas raced through her mind, each being discarded as quickly as she thought of them.

When the car in front of her was waived through, The State Trooper motioned her to pull forward. "Hello ma'am. Where you heading?"

Andrea wondered if they knew what her voice sounded like. "I'm just going to my brother's house, it's his birthday," she answered, in a deeper tone.

The Trooper scanned the cab and noticed the wrapped birthday gift. "What did you get him?" he asked.

She couldn't believe she hadn't opened the box. "It's a shaving kit."

She knew he was just creating smalltalk while the other Trooper called in the license plates to the truck. She had to do something before it was too late. "Can I see your license and registration, please?"

She reached across the cab, retrieving the old man's wallet from the glove compartment while he scrutinized her every move. She then noticed the expression on the Trooper standing outside his car with the mic to his mouth. It was the same frightened expression she had as a child when her father would enter her room late at night. The Trooper released the mic then unsnapped the safety strap to his gun holster. With his hand pressed firm against the gun, he started toward the truck. "Bill?" he said.

The Trooper standing outside her window stepped away from the truck door and drew his gun. "Step out of the truck, slowly."

It was time. Andrea opened the door and stepped away from the truck with her finger on the trigger. "Slowly," he said. "Let's see both hands."

Two rapid shots fired from Andrea's windbreaker. The Trooper fell, moaning. The approaching Trooper stopped in his tracks, but before he could draw his gun, she fired two more shots, one striking him in the forehead. Andrea stood over the Trooper whose bulletproof vest had prevented the bullets from killing him. She placed the barrel tip against his forehead. Then fired.

###

Andrea had moved the Trooper cars to the side of the road, and dragged the bodies to where they wouldn't be noticed, then removed the roadblock. Time wasn't on her side. The gas indicator was in the red, and it wouldn't be long until the dead Troopers were discovered. She veered to the roadside and stopped, taking a moment to think, then opened the engine hood and loosened a carburetor plug.

Moments later, a dull brown car with a child seat strapped in the back pulled up in front of her. A man decked in a business suit exited the car. "Hi, what seems to be the problem?"

"I don't know, it just stopped."

"I'm not too familiar with engines, but I have a little time. Let me take a look."

"I'd appreciate that."

Careful not to oil his sleeves, he probed under the hood, hand twisting and tightening anything that moved.

"I don't see any problems, try it now."

Andrea climbed behind the wheel and turned the ignition. "Still won't start," she hollered.

He resumed his inspection with his head buried under the hood. "Hope you're not in a hurry," he said. "Where you going?"

Andrea had reached for a crowbar from the bed of the truck. "Just heading to a birthday party up the road."

Still slumped under the hood, he scratched the back of his head. "I don't see anything out of the ordinary. I'm more than happy to give you a lift, if you want?"

"Oh you're too kind," she answered, strolling up behind him. "But that won't be necessary," then she lowered the crowbar from above her head, bursting into the back of the man's head.

He turned toward her, dazed and numb from the blow. She raised the bar again, and cracked the side of his face. He spun and wheeled to the ground, groaning. "Why..." he started to say, just before the fatal blow to his skull.

Chapter Four

The mini-van was packed with duffle bags of clothes while Maddie and Emily slept in the backseat on the way to Key West. Sam and Jake whistling the tune, Pirates of the Caribbean was often interrupted by Sam who pointed out sights of interest. "There's Kennedy Space Center. That's where NASA is. See the launch pad?"

Jake was reborn, seeing things he'd only seen on TV, but more enthusiastic about possible alligator sightings, and seeing sharks later. "Do you think we'll see any sharks when we're on the boat?" he asked.

"It's possible... but I hope not."

Sam became more nervous the closer they got to Key West. Recalling Maddie's verbal explosion and ultimatum plagued him with regret. He had agreed, purchasing something as expensive as a boat online and having not had seen it in person was irresponsible, but he was determined to prove this trip would be a cure for all their problems. Captain Kent had assured her she was making the right choice, and promised to help them anyway he could.

As an added sign of good faith, he had planned on stopping at Sloppy Joe's Bar, where Hemingway often frequented while in Key West. Seeing how her father was a Hemingway fan, he thought she'd enjoy the detour. But time was running short, they needed to be at the marina well before dark.

Hours elapsed, when Sam announced the arrival to Mango Bay Marina with the blasting of the van's horn. Maddie and Emily gazed out the windows watching peoples heads turn in their direction. "Gotta make the grand entrance, huh?" Maddie remarked.

Emily perked up when two tanned young men with ripped abs approached and guided them to the unloading zone. Even Maddie sneaked a glance at the handsome studs. "I'll show them where the bags are," Emily said, then slid the door open and stepped to the rear of the van.

Amazed at all the boats, Jake flew out and ran to the docks. "Jake!" Maddie yelled. "Don't go far."

Moments later, a handsome middle-aged, Captain Kent Poulsen drove up in a golf cart with the inscription, Captain Kent, your trusted boat broker, written on the sides. Tall and full of energy, he leaped from the cart and greeted them with a jovial Scandinavian accent. "Welcome, you must be the Peterson Family. I'm Captain Kent." His baggy white pants and blue striped shirt made him look more like a skipper than a captain.

Kent Poulsen had started sailing at a young age while living in the quaint Danish harbor town of, Struer. Young Kent had no intentions of following in his father's footsteps as a fisherman, he had bigger plans for his life. The idea of circumnavigating the globe was more adventurous than spending his life around fish. Fearing how his father would react, Kent packed their thirty-two foot sailboat and set sail in the middle of the night, never saying goodbye, or returning.

He made his way across the Atlantic, to the upper east coast of the United States, then took his time sailing down to Key West. He picked up odd jobs at various marinas along the way, getting paid under the table. It wasn't what he had planned, but since he didn't have a passport, he didn't have much of a choice.

His charming personality and knowledge of boats awarded him many invites on customers boats. He had become the "Go to" guy, attracting customers from other marinas. He was a goldmine to the marina, and after several years when the position opened, was promoted to marina manager. His income as manager and the commissions he earned from selling boats, allowed him to maintain the lifestyle he desired, but it was his moonlighting job that earned him the most.

The closer he got to them, the more handsome he looked. Maddie couldn't help but stare at his piercing blue eyes and windblown curly golden hair. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a Tommy Hilfiger catalogue. His accent was the icing on the cake, and her attraction for him was apparent to Sam.

Sam extended his hand. "Yep, we're the Peterson clan. It's nice to meet you, finally."

"Clan?" Maddie mumbled. "Really?"

"I'll have the kids put your bags in the trolley," Captain Kent said, motioning to his two shirtless helpers gawking over Emily. "Let's go to my office and get you set up."

"Come on, Em," Maddie said.

"I'll stay and help with the bags."

The large office was decorated with nautical knick-knacks and fishing nets with seashells attached. A large marlin spanned the length of one wall with photos of being reeled in. Boating reference books filled a bookshelf placed next to a cork board with Polaroid photos of satisfied new boat owners. "Nice office," Sam said.

Captain Kent stuffed papers into an envelope and handed it to Maddie. "These are for you," he said. "And these are for you," he added, handing Sam the keys to their boat. "Congratulations."

Sam concealed his excitement, but his smile told another story. "Thank you," he said, with a handshake.

"Come on, I'll show you to your boat."

Sam felt like a VIP being escorted to the next tee box. Maddie and Emily strolled behind the cart chatting with the two tanned boys pushing the trolley. "Really? I thought you were sisters?" one of them said.

Captain Kent idled slow through the meandering road of the marina, making sure to point out all the amenities. Mango Bay Marina was a scenic botanical garden paradise. The smell of seawater mixed with the scents of flourishing exotic foliage, lush grass, and scattered coconut, banana and mango trees created an atmosphere of relaxed therapy. Small outbuildings were painted white with shades of blue trim. Red umbrella canopies rose from a sandy beach area where children constructed sandcastles, and adults read their favorite novels, or magazines.

Through the second story glass plate window of the quaint restaurant, employees were getting ready for Happy Hour. Tiki lamps were being lit on the veranda that overlooked the marina with an endless view of the horizon. A large grassy area near the marina slips provided enthusiasts with exercise equipment, playground, basketball, and enough room for Frisbie, and a mini-soccer game. There was something for everyone.

Captain Kent stopped in front of a locked chain link gate. Beyond the fence, rows of sailboats were docked in slips. Putting on airs like a Mayor in a small town parade, Captain Kent returned greetings from his many guests. "We have a nice community here," he said.

"You mean, some of these people are live-aboards?" Sam asked, climbing out of the cart.

"Some are, but most are annual repeat visitors."

After unlocking the gate, he led them down the dock, while Jake ran ahead pointing at boats, declaring of each one, "I'll bet this is it."

They approached Jake at the end of the dock standing in front of a forty-foot Island Packet sailboat. "Good guess, young man."

It looked better than the photos Sam had seen on the internet, especially with the name, Madeline inscribed across the bow. Sam had gone to great lengths to get her name changed in time for the unveiling. Her fine lines and white glossy hull revealed she had been well cared for by the previous owner, just as Captain Kent had told him. The tall mast seemed to rise above the others in the marina. Her bow pulpit extended over the dock like a hood ornament on a luxury car. Sam's expression validated his gratification. "What do you think?" he asked Maddie, then placed his arm around her expecting an affectionate response.

"Not too vain," she remarked with a snide tone, then slid out from his arm to tighten her shoelace.

Jake and Emily dashed across the gangplank and boarded. "This is great, Dad," Jake said. He darted the length of the boat to the bow pulpit and spread his arms. "I'm king of the world!"

"You're such a cliche," Emily remarked.

After Captain Kent introduced features of the cockpit, he led them down four steps to the cabin. Sam stood in awe. It was complete with more conveniences and luxuries than their home. Under the cockpit at the stern were two separate bedrooms, which Emily and Jake had already declared. In front of Emily's room was the kitchen, or "galley" as Captain Kent referred to it. The navigation table with all the instrumentation a sailor needed, was situated in front of Jake's room.

Lined along the starboard and port side, portholes were above the wrap-around sofas and tables that faced each other. Sam and Maddie followed Captain Kent between the tables down the narrow aisle to a door at the bow. "And behind this two inch solid teak soundproof door," he said, like a game show host, "is where magic happens," then swung the door open, flashing a suggestive wink to Sam. "The last owners installed new weatherstripping around the door to prevent air from entering. No drafts. No noise."

Sam and Maddie stared down at the wall to wall bed in the stateroom, larger than the one they had at home. The empty book shelf, attached to the wall, was positioned between portholes with curtains tied back by decorative rope. A roof hatch above the bed allowed for additional sunlight and air.

"And the head is a Jack and Jill setup, with doors from the cabin and the stateroom for added privacy," he added.

After family photos were taken posing on the dock in front of Madeline, Captain Kent offered the use of his golf cart. "You might want to stock up on some last minute provisions. There's a good sized market about a mile up the road, and they also have boating supplies. They're actually cheaper than we are. And just to be on the safe side, don't forget about the flares. You never know."

Sam and Maddie stood in the cockpit, waving at Captain Kent strolling back up the dock toward his cart. "She's officially ours now," Sam said, placing his arm around her.

"I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat," she said, once again escaping his arm.

Seated in his golf cart, Captain Kent dialed a number on his cell phone, smiling and waving to Sam and Maddie. "It's all set. Meet me at the restaurant, I'll give you the information there," then flipped his phone shut.

###

Sam and his family huddled in the quaint marina restaurant booth against the glass plated window feasting on burgers and fries. Decorated in a nautical theme with signed photo frames of celebrities pasted the wall behind the bar area, gave an appearance it had been frequented by many famous people. The framed photo of Ernest Hemingway, told the truth that it wasn't. The marina was built years after his death.

Sam and Jake admired the parade of boats sailing through the harbor. Emily kept watch for handsome boys. Uninterested, Maddie stared through the reflection of the window surveying the room of customers.

"There's a nice sailboat," Jake kept saying, pointing to one of many.

"They all look the same after a while," Emily retorted.

Through the reflection, Maddie noticed Captain Kent entering through the front doors. After a brief glance around, he marched to a small corner table where a person was seated. All Maddie could see of the person was the red and blue hooded windbreaker. Standing over the table, he handed the person a small piece of paper, spoke a few words, then pointed from the hip at the booth where Maddie was seated. He was there for less than a minute before turning and exiting.

Maddie turned toward the person reading the note and wondered what it said. Her attention was then diverted to a news reporter speaking on the small portable TV hanging by a chain over the bar area. "New evidence confirms the brutal slaying of at least five people to be at the hands of escaped fugitive, Dorothea Silva..."

At the same moment, Jake yelled out, "Look, Mom. That one looks like ours."

Maddie turned toward Jake, but listened to the reporter. "Her escape has left authorities baffled to her whereabouts. Serving only four months of her thirty-year prison term for..."

Jake's nonstop excitement prevented her from hearing everything the reporter said, and the photo of the woman on the screen was blurred from the reflection of the window. When she turned toward the TV, she was able to only catch a glimpse of a long-haired Hispanic woman just as it disappeared from the screen. "Again, she is considered armed and extremely dangerous."

Maddie scanned the room. Patrons were too busy conversing about boating experiences to pay attention to the TV. She glanced back to the table where Captain Kent had been, but the person with the windbreaker had gone. She whipped back toward her family. "Did you guys hear that?" Her question went unanswered.

When they had finished eating and were exiting the restaurant, a news reporter on the TV announced, "Up next, an advisory warns boaters to take precaution for the first summer storm approaching."

###

After accompanying Emily and Jake back to the boat, Sam and Maddie accepted Captain Kent's offer to borrow his golf cart to drive to the market. "Don't forget the flares," he had told them.

Propped against the shopping cart handle, Sam ogled Maddie leaning over and rummaging through the frozen fish bin. Her shorts crept up, exposing more leg than he thought appropriate. "We are fishing, you know," Sam reminded her.

"Exactly, that's why I'm buying it here."

Just feet away, a large rugged looking Latin man appearing to be in his early forties, held a basket looped through his arm containing a box of Trix breakfast cereal. Maddie straightened from the bin, and adjusted the back of her shorts. He glanced down and away, flustered at quick peek of her protruding nipples through her thin white tank top. "You f-fishing?" he stammered, with a dumbfounded Spanish accent.

Maddie giggled. Most men wouldn't be able to take their eyes off her, but not this one. There was something about this large innocent man that attracted her. "Not if we can help it," she answered, placing packages of filets in the cart.

"W-Where you s-sailing to?" the man asked, trying to avoid eye contact at her chest.

"Who said we were sailing?" Sam asked.

Maddie sensed the man was harmless, and probably just made a lucky guess. "We're going to visit the Dry Tortugas."

"And do some fishing along the way," Sam added.

"Th-Th-That sounds f-fun, we used to d-d-do that, too. I'm C-Carlos," he said.

Maddie inspected Carlos's large hand being offered to her. It was clear he wasn't too bright. In fact, he seemed to be a pleasant simple man with a child-like chastity concealed behind his brawny build. He held her hand like a fragile porcelain figurine. His hand was rough, not like a school teacher's. She guessed he was a migrant farmer, or laborer of some sort. "You're t-top d-d-dollar," he said, releasing her hand, then offering it to Sam.

Sam prepared for a squeezing contest, wiping his hands on his pants first. To his surprise, his hand was held with gentleness of a woman. "It's nice to meet you, Carlos, but we better get going now, our children are waiting for us."

"W-Wait a m-minute, b-before you go. You t-think you c-can g-give me and my s-sister a ride d-down the c-coast? We promise n-not to be any t-trouble." He was a child asking for a toy in a toy store.

Maddie felt sorry for him. In a sympathetic tone she answered, "I'm sorry, but this is kind of a special trip for us, maybe another time, okay?"

"O-Okay. You f-f-folks have a nice t-trip," he said, scratching his five-o'clock shadow.

Sam whispered to Maddie as they approached the register, "That guy's not the sharpest hook on the line."

"Be nice."

Maddie left Sam to take care of the groceries while she examined a Missing Persons bulletin board near the exit. Displayed were photos and posters of people of all ages overlapping one another. Most had been reported to the local police with case identification numbers, while others had been posted by concerned friends or family members. One thing they all had in common were, they disappeared from the same area while on vacation.

Sam caught up to her fumbling the bags of groceries, "What are you doing?"

"Look at all these missing people. Here's two sisters about Em and Jake's age. They've been missing since the day before yesterday."

"So young," he whispered. "How sad."

After a long pause skimming through the assorted photos, he added, "They all seem to be last seen from this area."

Maddie was struck with a sense of urgency. "We better get back to the boat."

###

Sam glided the golf cart back to the marina under the starlit sky, while being preoccupied with thoughts of romance. Screeching cats darted across the highway in front of them, followed by a ferocious growling dog in hot pursuit. It made Maddie think of hunting defenseless animals with her father, and how those missing people on the bulletin board might have disappeared. She deliberated on the escaped fugitive on the news report in the restaurant, and the lucky guess from the man in the store. She now regretted leaving Emily and Jake behind, alone on a strange boat in an unfamiliar environment. 'What was I thinking?'

"Can't this thing go any faster?"

"Patience my dear," Sam said in a calm voice, "I'm going as fast as it'll go. We'll be there soon."

Sam was eager to make a move on Maddie. The night air, the new surroundings, and the fact she was willing to come on the trip, all led to inevitable romance. He placed his hand on her lap, ready to tempt fate. "Little early in the game to start thinking of scoring, don't you think?" she said, removing his hand.

"A team always thinks of scoring before the game starts," he countered.

"Just drive, I'm worried about the kids."

###

Inaudible whispers and faint laughter permeated the marina amid sounds of lines clanging against masts and the gentle slapping of water against boat hulls.

Maddie's faster pace left Sam behind bungling bags of groceries on the dock toward their boat. She had expressed her concerns of the day's events to him, and resented his mundane attitude and attempt at disregarding her uncertainties. She restrained herself from commenting on his patronizing remarks. "Don't worry about it so much. Let's just try and have a good time," he had told her.

Madeline came into view as they neared the end of the dock. Through the portholes, she noticed Jake following Emily walking from the bow, possibly coming out from her and Sam's bedroom. She was filled with a sense of relief, and slowed her stride. But when she saw the dark haired stranger following Jake, her sense of urgency returned. They weren't alone. Her steps turned into a sprint toward the gangway. "What's going on?" Sam asked, not yet seeing what she had seen.

Sam trailed in her tracks, charging up the gangway. When they entered the through the companionway, Emily, Jake and the dark haired stranger were just seating themselves on the sofa behind the table. Emily and Jake smiled. "Hi Mom, hi Dad."

Maddie was overwhelmed with fear, anticipating the worse, but their pleasant voices put her at ease. She remained fixed at the stranger who was seated with her back to her. Remaining calm, but still suspicious, she asked, "Are you kids all right?"

"Of course," Jake answered. "Why wouldn't we be?"

The dark haired stranger rose from the end of the sofa and faced Sam and Maddie. "Nice to meet you both, your children are truly top dollar. I'm Andrea," then she extended her hand to them.

Sam glanced between her piercing green eyes and fit bronzed abdomen. She was a petite Latin beauty, inches shorter than Maddie. With her jet black hair groomed just below her ears, she could have easily been mistaken for a young boy, but her appealing assets revealed the truth. Under her unzipped red and blue hooded windbreaker was a t-shirt knotted above her bronzed navel. It read, Fun in the sun, Florida.

Maddie recognized the windbreaker from the restaurant earlier. "Thank you," Maddie replied, sizing her up and scrutinizing her every move.

It was obvious Sam was absorbed by her exotic beauty. He struggled to find something to say, then blurted, "Can we offer you something to drink?"

Maddie flashed a queer expression at him. They didn't drink much and never kept alcohol in the house.

"Thank you, but no. I don't drink."

'This woman has probably never used makeup in her life,' Maddie thought.

Maddie decided to explore her suspicions. "Tell me Andrea, what brought you to our boat?" She tried not to sound so interrogating.

"Mom," Emily said. The question embarrassed her. She knew that familiar tone when her mother suspected something.

Andrea glanced at Emily and giggled. "That's okay." Then added, "I was just taking my evening walk. I enjoy looking at the beautiful boats and thinking of the freedom they represent."

Sam hoped Maddie would have the same feelings by the time their trip was over.

"Your lovely children noticed me walking around outside and invited me onboard to look around. I hope you don't mind?"

"Of course not," Sam said. "In fact, you're welcome anytime."

Andrea maintained her smile. "You're all too kind."

Maddie flashed Emily a look that said, "We'll discuss this later, young lady," then asked Andrea, "Do you have a boat here?"

"Oh, I wish. But I hope to one day."

A moment of uncomfortable silence ensued, then Andrea said, "Well, I must be getting back now, I know you have things to do."

Maddie had many more questions to ask, but was anxious for her to leave. Andrea slipped through the companionway door and disappeared down the gangway. "She was so nice," Jake said.

"Yeah, and beautiful. I'd die to have her skin," Emily said. "It was like light brown silk."

Maddie ignored their infatuation. "How could you invite a total stranger in our home when we weren't here? You know better than that, Em."

"She was walking around admiring our boat, so we showed her around," Emily answered, with an attitude. "What's wrong with that?"

Maddie recalled the missing person photos, then raised her tone. "You don't know what kind of nut cases are out there just waiting to get their hands on you."

Emily exhaled a deep sigh. "Right," then stormed to the companionway and stepped into the cockpit.

Half way up the steps to the cockpit, Jake turned and said, "Mom, we didn't invite her, she asked if she could come in."

Maddie thought about Andrea telling them she was invited. Sam had remained silent the entire time, putting away groceries. "Thanks for your support on this," she told him, then slid in the sofa where Emily had been seated.

"I don't think it's worth getting all riled up about. People are out walking all the time. It's the marina life. People meeting people."

"But she didn't even have a boat here. How did she get through the gate?"

"Maybe someone let her in, who knows?"

Maddie fidgeted in her seat, then reached under her leg. A cigarette lighter had been left behind. She assumed it was Emily's and thought, 'Look's like she won't be lighting up tonight,' then slipped it into her pocket.

Emily leaned against the mast with a cigarette hanging from her lips while digging through her pockets for the lighter, when Jake approached her. "What are you doing, Em?" he asked.

Startled, she grabbed the cigarette and dropped it before he could see. "Nothing, just pissed off."

Jake pretended not to see the cigarette, then glanced at the gate at the end of the dock. "Isn't that Andrea talking with Captain Kent?"

"Yeah, can you hear what they're saying?" she asked.

Emily and Jake were silent, bending their ears to listen. "They're too far away, but I think he said something had to happen tonight, and then mentioned the weather."

Jake glanced up at the sky. "Looks fine to me."

Chapter Five

The warm starlit sky had been covered with clouds sweeping by, filling the air with a slight breeze and chill. Night strollers dispersed back onto their crafts while whispers and occasional laughter from fellow boaters echoed throughout the marina with lines rapping heavier against masts. Aromatic fragrances of the assorted fruit trees had dissipated, replaced with scents of salt from the sea.

Emily shivered unmoved, still crouched against the mast watching Jake positioned at the bow pulpit. He was in the last game of the World Series, taking his stance with the bases loaded, and waiting for the next pitch. He swings the bat he brought from home. "Swing and a miss. Strike two," he said, emulating a sports announcer.

The third pitch came barreling near the plate. "He swings and hits it. It's going, it's going, it's gone. Jake Peterson has just hit another home run, winning the game and the World Series," he said, trotting in place around the bases, yelling the cheering fans cheers in a high whisper.

Sam and Maddie warmed the stern bench cushions staring at clouds pass. "Isn't this nice?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's nice," she agreed, then added, "For a temporary fantasy."

It had been months since Maddie and he enjoyed any form of intimacy. This was the moment he had been waiting for. This was what this trip was all about. Nervous, like a first date, he yawned and reached for the sky. He wasn't going to wait for permission. This time he would just take her. Torn between what he had envisioned and her possible rejection, he discarded all negative thought. 'I will not be rejected again,' he thought to himself over and over again. His arm lowered around her shoulder, but at the last second, rested on the back of her seat.

Maddie remained with her head toward the sky. He had no idea what was going through her mind, but one thing was certain, he was going to kiss her. He grasped her shoulder and pulled her toward him. That would be the moment when she would bend down, or have an excuse to escape, but instead, her shoulder relaxed. It was the white flag of surrender and he had become the victor. He reached in to plant his lips on hers, then they heard the running footsteps of Emily and Jake. "Mom, Dad."

Sam retreated, withdrawing his arm from around her. "What's going on?" Maddie asked, as they approached the cockpit. "Is everything okay?"

Then they heard a familiar voice and clanging bottles. "Ahoy there mates."

Mesmerized by his unexpected appearance, it was as though Maddie had long forgotten the moment. Stepping down from the gangway and into the cozy area of the cockpit, Captain Kent held a grocery bag of clanging bottles. "What a pleasant surprise," she said.

Sam peered up. "What are you doing here?" He tried to sound polite, but animosity could be sensed in his tone.

Out from behind him, Andrea came into view holding a platter of pineapples, straws and drink umbrellas. "Hope we didn't interrupt anything," she said, setting the platter on the cushions.

Maddie's face dropped. Rather than greet Andrea, she started to ask, "How do you two know each... ?"

"Thought we'd give you a surprise bon voyage party. Hope you don't mind," Captain Kent interrupted, while unfolding the helm table.

Sam wasn't pleased with them showing up unannounced, but he didn't mind seeing Andrea, again. He wished she'd unzip her windbreaker like it was before, revealing her firm abdomen. Maddie could tell he was pleased to see her, as well. "Thought she didn't drink?" she mumbled.

"Yes, it is quite a surprise, but we don't drink much," Sam replied.

"It's a time for celebration," Captain Kent said. "How often do you get to have a bon voyage party?"

'Yeah, we were just getting ready to celebrate,' Sam thought.

Emily and Jake worked their way down to the cramped quarters and joined them. "Hey you two, how do you like your new boat?" Captain Kent asked, setting the contents of bottles on the table.

"We love it, Captain Kent," Jake answered.

Emily noticed the pineapples and rum. "Awesome, party time. I'm parched."

"Settle down, young lady," Maddie said, then exchanged glances between Captain Kent and Andrea, "I'm sorry, how do you two know each other?"

Captain Kent and Andrea grinned, then answered, "My radar led me to her when she was trespassing on the docks, slip-shopping for boats."

Maddie thought about the restaurant earlier when she saw them speaking briefly to each other. "And how long ago was that?" Maddie probed.

Captain Kent chuckled, evading the question. "Seems like forever now."

"I see." Maddie didn't find the humor in his answer. She paused, then asked, "You're together, then?"

Andrea snickered, "He wishes."

"I've been flooding her with my charms, but she's a tough banana to peel."

"Stop it," Andrea said. "I think you're cute."

"Hooray for cute," he said. "At least it's a start."

Captain Kent prepared cocktails for everyone in the hollowed out pineapples, while Andrea garnished them with cherries and umbrellas. "Just try one," he persisted. "They're not strong, you'll like them."

Sam sipped through the curly straw. "It's not bad."

"Not bad? I'm known for these, they're my specialty."

Emily reached for a pineapple on the table. "Can't wait to try one."

"Not so fast, young lady," Maddie said, with a stern voice.

"Come on, Mom. Let her have a little, you're on vacation. Besides, she'll sleep better." Captain Kent was persuasive, and his wink sealed the deal.

Captain Kent reminded her of Sam's lackadaisical and easygoing demeanor. "I want one, too," Jake piped in.

"Absolutely not," Maddie barked.

"There's only a little rum in them, nothing to do any damage, except maybe help them sleep better," Captain Kent assured, then handed Jake one.

Captain Kent reached in his pocket and took out an aspirin bottle. "Here, everyone take one of these. I guarantee you won't wake up with a headache."

"What are they?" Maddie asked.

"Just aspirin. Trust me, it works every time."

Everyone took an aspirin and Captain Kent spoke of his exploits at sea. Maddie kept quiet most the time, while Jake remained captivated by how much sailing Captain Kent had done before settling down in Key West. Sam couldn't escape eye contact from Andrea who was seated across from him. He hadn't been looked at that way since he and Maddie had first met. Her suggestive grins as the evening wore on were a pleasant deterrent from the sailing stories.

Captain Kent grabbed another bottle of rum, when they heard footsteps coming from the gangway again. Sam and Maddie looked up and heard, "Sorry I'm l-l-late."

Maddie stared at Sam. Her suspicions were coming together.

"That's it," she whispered.

"Relax. It's a small world," he whispered back.

"Come on down and take a seat, Carlos."

Carlos seemed apprehensive.

"You're the guy from the store," Sam said.

"You know him too?" Maddie asked.

"He better, he's my little brother," Andrea replied, rising next to him and peering up. The top of her head barely reached his chest.

Carlos had been a normal child growing up with his parents and Andrea. Even before his altercation, they'd huddle in their room and she'd fill him with dreams. Dreams of someday traveling and opening a small business by the sea. She'd tell him they'd work under a thatched hut on the beach, surrounded with coconut trees. They'd rent electric scooters, bicycles, and water toys to people on vacation. Her words painted a picture fun and forgetting the past. They wouldn't be rich, but would be happy. It was a dream he relished, and always asked her, "When are we going to open our business, D?"

She'd reply with the words their mother used. "Soon, when the time is right." It was a dream that pacified the horrors of realty.

There wasn't much he could do to prevent his father's attacks on his sister, and had agreed to tolerate them at the advice from her. But when he turned thirteen, he had grown larger than their father. The sounds of her beatings and torment drove him crazy. He had to put a stop to the abuse.

The night came when Carlos snapped. He opened the blanket from their room and saw his father straddling his mother with his hands wrapped around her neck. "Carlos, get back in here," Dorothea said.

Carlos ignored her, knowing his mother was in grave danger this time. He ran toward his father and leaped into him, knocking him to the floor. "Carlos, no!" his sister called out again.

His mother's clothing had been torn from her. Her blank stare past Carlos told him he was too late. Carlos ripped the blanket from the doorway and covered her naked body.

Raged with hatred, he rose to punish his father, but he was nowhere to be found. Carlos turned in every direction searching for him. Soon, his father appeared from the shadows with an iron cast frying pan and beat him over the skull until he fell to the ground. Carlos lay helpless, receiving repeated bashings. Before he drifted into unconsciousness, he managed to reach for a carving knife on the floor. With blurred vision, Carlos hurtled the knife into his father's heart.

During Carlos's coma, Andrea was told by the doctor that her brother's skull had been severely cracked. "He's going to live the remainder of his life with the mentality of a child," he told her. "In addition, his speech will probably be effected as well."

When he awoke from his coma, he and his sister went to live with relatives. His condition was too much for them to handle, so they were passed off to others. After being passed around several times, his sister made the decision they were better off alone. For years, they roamed the streets of small villages in Mexico, seeking shelter anywhere they could, and trying to earn money for their dreams. Housekeeping and waitress jobs paid little, and dancing in tourist bars humiliated her. Men grabbing and forcing themselves on her was a constant reminder of their father.

Carlos's dumbfounded demeanor as they walked the streets brought laughter and ridicule from strangers. He had become a circus sideshow. At their most vulnerable point, they met a man named, Chavez who changed their lives forever.

Carlos noticed Jake and worked his way next to him. There was an instant connection. He stood, towering over Jake with a smile, and in perfect speech, said, "Hi, I'm Carlos. How are you?"

Captain Kent and Andrea looked in awe at Carlos, "I can't believe it," Andrea mumbled. "That's the first time I've heard him speak without stuttering, since he was a child."

"Jake's probably the one to thank for that. He's finally found someone his own age to talk to." Captain Kent said.

"Carlos? Do you feel all right?" Andrea asked.

"Yeah, I f-f-feel fine," he replied. "Why?"

He was the biggest man Jake had ever seen. He looked up at Carlos's friendly face like looking up at the Empire State Building. Intimidated by him, Jake glanced at his parents as if to ask for approval. When Carlos offered his hand to him, he wondered which was larger, his hand or his baseball glove. "I'm Jake, nice to meet you," then cringed when Carlos engulfed his hand.

Carlos and Jake sat next to each other and spoke non-stop. "Me and my sister are going to have a business on the beach and rent motor scooters, bicycles, and beach toys to tourists. It's gonna be under a thatched roof surrounded by coconut trees," he told Jake, without a stammer. "We've been planning this since we were small children."

Jake couldn't believe this man was ever small. "Really? That sounds awesome. Where will it be?"

"I don't know, we haven't decided yet, but I think it'll be in Mexico someplace. Lots of tourist in Mexico. My sister says, wherever the wind takes us."

Jake and Carlos asked many questions and became better acquainted. Jake spoke about his school and what he enjoyed doing. He felt comfortable confiding in him about, Thad Brewster, Jr., baseball, and his slingshot talents. Carlos leaned in, engrossed at Jake's every word. They hit it off like they were best friends. Jake finally had someone other than his father taking interest in him. "Do you like baseball?" Jake asked.

"I don't know. I've never played it before."

"You wanna see my bat?"

"Sure," Carlos answered with enthusiasm.

Jake ran topside to the bow pulpit and brought back his bat for Carlos to see. "Come on up here, Carlos," Jake said, standing above the companionway.

Once Carlos joined him, Jake demonstrated his swings. "And this is what you do when you bunt the ball."

Carlos hung on every movement from Jake, learning the different stances and swings. "And this is my home run swing."

"I'll bet you do a lot of those swings, huh?"

"Yeah, every time at bat, but I can't seem to hit the ball."

"Practice makes perfect."

"Perfect practice makes perfect," Jake corrected.

"Who's ready for a refill," Captain Kent asked.

Carlos followed Jake back to their seats. "Here you go kiddo," Captain Kent said, handing Jake another drink.

"No," Maddie insisted. "They've had enough."

"One more, what's it going to hurt?"

"Okay, but no rum this time," she said.

Moments later after slurping the bottom of her drink, Emily stood. "I'm getting really tired. I think I'll go to bed now."

"Can Carlos spend the night?" Jake asked.

Sam and Maddie flashed a curious grin. They couldn't understand the attachment Jake had developed for this massive boy-like man.

"Tonight's not a good night, maybe when we get back," Sam said.

Jake shook Carlos's hand. "I had a lot of fun, Carlos. I hope to see you again soon. Goodnight."

"Okay Jake, you too. I'll see you soon."

Emily and Jake headed toward the companionway door to the cabin. "Can I sleep with you, Em?"

"Sure, just stay on your side of the bed."

"I'm going to make sure they don't kill each other," Maddie said, rising from her seat.

She motioned Sam to join her. "I better go with her." He shrugged. "We'll be right back."

Maddie faced Sam in the cabin. "Don't you think all this is kind of strange?"

"What do you mean?"

"I saw Captain Kent giving her a piece of paper when we were in the restaurant."

"Are you sure it was her?"

"Yes, I'm sure. She's wearing the same windbreaker."

"Wow, that is strange. She's wearing the only windbreaker ever made."

"I'm not kidding, Sam. Something doesn't seem right.

He couldn't believe what a big deal she was making. "She lied to us, too. She said Jake and Em invited her on the boat, but Jake said she asked to come in."

"Semantics. Now you're reaching."

"What about running into Carlos at the store, and being her brother?"

"Coincidence. It's a small world," he said. "Come on, stop being so suspicious, they'll leave soon anyway. Let's get back out there."

"Okay, but not for long, I'm getting tired, too."

###

Sam and Maddie returned to their guests. "Here's a nightcap," Captain Kent offered, handing them refilled pineapples. "After this, I gotta get going, I have a busy day tomorrow."

They continued talking and telling them of their plans, and how this was more of a, "Therapy cruise than anything else."

Originally, they were to set sail just after daybreak, but the way the evening was going, it would be a bit later. They would sail along the coastline and head for Dry Tortugas National Park. They would explore Fort Jefferson, then sail around nearby islands before heading back. The whole trip would last less than a week. They'd be back in time for Jake's baseball season opening game, and Maddie and Emily would resume their kickboxing classes.

"That sounds like a good plan," Andrea said.

Sam and Maddie slurped the last drop of their drinks, both feeling the effects. "I think I've have too much. We better get some sleep," Maddie said, with a slur. "Besides, I'm beginning to see two of everything."

"That goes double for me," Sam said, chuckling by himself, then massaging his temples.

"Yeah, I feel the shame," then chuckled. "I mean same," then chuckled again.

"You were right the first time," Maddie said.

Captain Kent glanced at his watch, "It's about that time. I should be getting back now." He stood and congratulated them on their new boat, again. Sam and Maddie tried to stand, but wobbled back to their seats. "It's okay, you don't have to get up." Captain Kent said, then headed across the gangway.

Andrea examined the two lab experiments. "How about we leave, tonight?" she suggested, then added, "There won't be any boats to dodge."

"Right," Maddie giggled. "Isn't there a law about driving a boat under the influence?" Then after a moment of silence, she whispered in Sam's ear, "Did she say, we?"

Sam laughed, "I don't know. Who cares?"

Carlos and Andrea remained seated. Sam stood and stretched his arms, but again, teetered back to his seat and clutched Maddie for balance.

Maddie wavered against the weight of Sam. "Those last drinks must have been really strong." Placing her hand on the table, she staggered to her feet. "I'm going to bed," then stumbled back next to Sam.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked.

"I don't think so."

Their slurs were becoming worse.

Sam rose, then faltered into Carlos's lap. Carlos became confused, and slammed Sam back next to Maddie, smacking his head against the edge of the boat. "What's going on?" Maddie asked, in an angry tone. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"Sorry, he doesn't know his own strength," Andrea answered. "He gets angry when he's touched too much," then commanded him like a faithful dog, "Tell him, you're sorry."

"I'm s-sorry," he said, fidgeting.

The apology from Carlos didn't satisfy Maddie. "I think you both need to leave now," she said, in a tone that sounded more like an order than a suggestion.

Andrea remained seated. Maddie wobbled to her feet, leaning against the table to help her balance. "Did you hear what I said?"

Andrea shoved her foot into Maddie, forcing her back with Sam, then unzipped her windbreaker and grasped the butt of a pistol tucked in her waist. "Keep your voice down," she warned. "I was hoping this would have to wait."

Sam glanced down, trying to focus on Jake's baseball bat laying next to Carlos. HIs arm wavered to it in slow motion. Carlos gripped the bat at the same time as Sam. "Hit him," his sister ordered him like a faithful hound.

Carlos snatched the bat from Sam's grasp, and slammed it across his knee. When Sam doubled over, Carlos swung the bat and connected flush with the side of Sam's head. Sam crashed into the table and fell to the cockpit floor. Carlos stood, ready to attack more. "That's enough," Andrea commanded.

"It doesn't have to be this way," she said, in a calm voice.

Andrea noticed Maddie scanning the marina. "I'd think twice if you're thinking of yelling," then brandished the pistol and pointed it at her. "Don't be stupid."

"What's this all about? What do you people want?"

This exotic beauty released the appalling demon within. "Shut up! I swear, I'll kill your children."

"If it's the boat you want, take the damn thing. We're not worth anything to you," Maddie pleaded. Her speech was still slurred but coherent.

"Don't underestimate yourself," Andrea replied, rising and stepping behind the helm.

"You drugged us," Maddie said, as she slumped against Sam on the floor.

Her eyelids closed, but she heard Andrea's distant voice, "They'll be out for a long time, let's get things prepared. Get them in their rooms and throw the cell phones in the water."

"D-did you m-make sure to b-bring enough d-drug this t-time?"

Andrea reached in her jacket pocket and pulled out the zip lock baggie of capsules. "Yes, we've got enough to last the entire four days if we need them."

### Part Two

Chapter Six

Rain capped the heavily treed rural village of Limones, Mexico, well-known for its orchards of lemons and limes. Travelers would have easily sped through the town on Highway 307, one of the only paved roads in Limones, if it weren't for the scented mist that permeated the air. The aura of fresh squeezed peels tempted senses, luring the travelers to pull over at roadside tailgates or grass huts to make purchases. But that was years ago.

A retired military transport truck turned off the highway, onto a muddied narrow road under a dripping umbrella of broad-leafed trees. It meandered to the rear of three abandoned aluminum structures between the once flourishing citrus orchards with Keep out signs posted. Each structure was the size of a basketball court, and had been a thriving location for packaging and distribution of fruit to local peddlers and nearby towns. Now displaying rust covered graffiti under neglected overgrowth of foliage, only one building was occupied.

The truck bumped to the rear of the middle warehouse where slovenly dressed Spanish guards stood in wait. Dressed in military uniforms and clasping semiautomatic rifles, they guided the tailgate of the truck against the loading dock. "Everyone out," a man yelled, spreading the canvas tarp with the barrel of his rifle.

A small group of tourists shuffled onto the dock with cameras hung from their necks, and crinkled maps hanging from their pockets. The last man out, a nervous feeble man with thick spectacles, floundered to his knees as he surveyed the unplanned destination.

A vacation to Mexico was the honeymoon he had promised his wife sixty-years earlier, but had never found the time. Recently losing her to Alzheimer's, and realizing his own ailing condition, he insisted to accompany his granddaughter for her Spring Break before she moved away to study at the university.

"Get up," a mustached man shouted, while grasping a whip.

A young girl rushed to the old man. "Grandpa, are you all right?"

When she got as far to helping him to his hands and knees, the leather tip tore across the back of his shirt. "Stop it!" the girl screamed, watching her grandfather's chest hit the cement.

Blood seeped from the rooted gash. Unable for him to withstand the sting of the leather strap, he remained face down. "Get up old man!" ordered the guard, with another penetrating crack.

The man's spectacles flew from his face, sliding near the boot of another guard. "What are you doing? He hasn't done anything wrong," the girl sobbed, watching her grandfather tremble.

"I said, get up," the guard demanded a second time, smashing the old man's spectacles.

When her grandfather didn't move, another guard booted him in the ribs. "Stop it!" his granddaughter screamed again, enveloping her arms around him for protection. "Grandpa! Say something." Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as he forced a breath.

Guards jerked her to her feet. "Let him go. Can't you see he's old?" she said, twisting to escape their grips.

"Silence!" the mustached guard ordered. "Get rid of him." He had for this useless old fool.

"No!" she screamed. "Leave him alone. Someone, do something. Help him." She watched her helpless grandfather being dragged through the canvas flaps of the military truck.

Others in the group only glanced away, fearing the same punishment.

"Grandpa!" she screamed again, still trying to escape the hold of the guards.

The group was nudged through the doors by rifle tips into the cold and dreary warehouse. Stacked rows of pallets and wooden crates on the chipped concrete floor, separated five numbered doors along one side of the warehouse. Light fixtures with flickering bulbs swayed from metal rafters. It was a dreary ambiance, a destination not on their itinerary.

"Line up. Toes to the line," he ordered.

Then, a single gun shot was heard from inside the truck.

The granddaughter fell to her knees, cupping her face and weeping.

"Standup!" a guard demanded. "Or you'll be next."

"Tell the boss the new shipment's arrived," the mustached guard ordered.

Squeezed into his large leather armchair, Chavez perched his feet on his executive sized desk in his private quarters. Nursing a cigar clinched between his teeth and a half empty bottle resting on his lap, he gazed past his bed into emptiness, thinking of the past.

After a serving in the Mexican military where he learned to speak English, Chavez rented a cheap one room loft above a seedy bar he had often frequented before enlisting. It provided his cravings of cheap tequila and cigars, and raunchy prostitutes. It was there he ran into an ex-military partner who persuaded him to enter the local drug trade with him. Running low on his nominal severance pay, he agreed.

Warned away from the more profitable tourist districts by long established competitors, Chavez entered the world of pimping. It proved to be a high dollar business with repeat clientele, but like his drug business, he received threats of violence and forced to relocate.

He moved his business far outside the city limits to an abandoned warehouse located in a small village. It was difficult to locate, and lacked the glamour of other established venues, but it provided his clients who paid top-dollar a discreet environment with sought after privacy. His clients consisted of businessmen, government officials, and doctors.

Business was profitable, but clients demanded more diversity in choices. Women were difficult to come by, preferring action of the city, rather than being in the sticks, so Chavez expanded his business to another level.

He amassed groups of men, typically poor farmers in the area, to work as his guards in the warehouse. He then chose despondent men who were hired as kidnappers and transporters, to which he assigned the name of Enforcers. Their job was to assure the safety of captives, and provide unharmed delivery to the warehouse. Each group of enforcers worked under a person he called, Captains. These men worked in people-oriented industries, positions that enabled them to come into contact with new people everyday. Tourism was the preference, taking days, sometimes weeks before they were missed. This allowed time for their passage, sale, and transport to their final destination, usually to other countries. He insisted his guards at the warehouse speak basic English, so he found women who could help teach them.

Failure from his enforcers was intolerable, but killing people himself was below him. He believed someone else's blood on his hands evidenced weakness and obedience, two character traits he refused to succumb to. Rather than hear their excuses, and place his operation at risk, he'd order one of his faithful guards to, "Deal with them."

His guards knew how he preferred to dispose of people, either cutting them from navel to sternum, or putting a bullet through the back of their head.

The sound of his cell phone ringing jarred him back to the moment. "Talk to me," he grumbled in his deep hoarse tone.

"Another cargo is on the way, a family of four."

"Good." He slapped his phone closed and took another swig from the bottle when there came a knock from his door. "Enter," he bellowed.

The guard peeked in. "The new cargo's here, ready for your inspection, boss."

Chavez waved the guard out, then choose one of the plastic draped officer's shirts hanging in his closet. He emptied the tequila bottle, wiped his mouth, then entered the warehouse.

He browsed the new arrivals, sizing them up for sale. Women between the ages of twenty and thirty were worth at least ten-thousand US dollars. Women over thirty usually brought in around eight-thousand, unless they looked younger. It was the teenaged girls where he made his profits. Girls nineteen or under earned him upwards to twenty-thousand each. They were top dollar.

The men usually brought in seven-thousand per healthy organ. These usually consisted of kidneys, hearts, livers and eyes. If young boys couldn't be sold, they joined the men as organ donors. "Seven pounds of riches," Chavez referred to them as.

He examined each captive as if they were thoroughbreds in a stable. Every mark, scratch, or bruise, was a potential money loss, but his team of women had become experts in concealing flaws and deficiencies, and knew which drugs to give them to make them less combative. The young boys joined the men at the end of the hall until called out to the yellow line for exhibition. If the buyers found them unworthy for paying clients, the boys were taken back to the room of organ donors to await their fate.

After Chavez's inspection of the group, they were assigned rooms with other captives waiting their turns to be presented for sale.

Once sold, they were given new names and fake passports. Often times, minor facial surgery was conducted to prevent them from being recognized. They were then transported overseas, usually to China, Thailand, Philippines, or Malaysia. They were never heard from again. Their new life began immediately, being thrown into the world of sexual compulsion. Chavez's reputation for supplying the most diverse and attractive product had made his operation into a revolving door of international success.

Chapter Seven

Andrea perched on the Captain's chair staring at the warning signs of the approaching storm. Breaking news of her escape had now taken backseat to the weather, and chances of her being apprehended had now put her mind at rest. She was on her way back to Mexico.

Carlos slipped in and out of sleep during the day. Bored at only seeing water, he'd flood her with questions about the same topic. "When d-do we g-get our b-business by th-the sea?"

She'd answer, "Like I said, after we deliver this cargo."

"R-R-Really? D-Do you m-mean it?"

"Have I ever let you down?"

While he slept, she devised several plans for them to leave, every one resulting in possible capture by Chavez's men. His people were everywhere, and she had only met a few from different locations in the United States, Mexico, and the Caribbean. It would be almost impossible for them to go somewhere without being noticed. Still she had to try.

Carlos awoke. "I-I'm hungry. C-can I m-make a s-sandwich or s-something?"

"That's a good idea, I'll come with you. Let's see what they have to eat."

Maddie awoke from sounds of seas smacking against the hull, unaware of the time, or how long she'd been sleeping. Beside her was Sam, still sleeping. There were no smells of meals being cooked, or sounds of people laughing and conversing in the marina. She peered through the portholes on both walls hoping for an indication of their whereabouts, but the endless mass of blue water and absence of land provided no answer. She had no idea where they were, or how much time had past, or who was sailing their boat.

She examined Sam lying next to her. His swollen face had pain written on it. A large swell had formed below one of his eyes, encompassed by a black and blue bruise, an indication they had been out for at least a full day. The events of the other night shocked her into reality. She brushed her finger across the top of his wound. He flinched and brushed the unknown intrusion away.

"Sam, wake up."

He fidgeted and moaned.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Tired," he answered. "What happened? Where are we?"

"They drugged us and put us in our room. We're somewhere in the middle of the ocean. I don't know what's going on, but they're not the nice people we were thought they were. See if you can get up."

"They drugged us?" he asked, shifting to the edge of the bed. "How do you know?"

"I don't know. Maybe when we put the kids to bed, they put something in our drinks. Maybe it wasn't just aspirin they gave us. I don't know."

"I don't think it was the pills," Sam said. "It was Captain Kent who gave them to us."

"Yeah, maybe you're right. Can you get up?"

He buckled when he tried to sit up. "My knee hurts pretty bad."

"I should have listened to my intuition," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"Just like I told you, everything was too coincidental. There were too many signs, and we just ignored them. You just passed them off with the 'small world' excuse. How can you be so naive?"

Sam remained focused on massaging his knee. It was the same rant he'd heard many times before. She leaped from the bed in a panic. "The children, we gotta get the children." Then she tried the door handle. "It's locked. They locked us in."

She rushed to the bathroom and checked the door leading to the cabin. "We're locked in, what are we gonna do? I can't believe this is happening to us."

Sam perched on the edge of the bed and peered out the porthole. "Let's keep our voices down and think of a way out of this."

Her lips tightened and her body tensed. She was lava breaking through the earth, ready to explode into a fiery explosion. "Sam, you never... ," she started to say.

Sounds of dishes clinging together and muffled voices coming from the cabin, interrupted her train of thought.

Sam hushed her. "Listen," then they pressed their ears to the door.

"W-What d-do they have?" they heard Carlos ask.

"How about a couple ham and cheese sandwiches?"

"I l-like ham and ch-cheese."

"Okay, I'll make them for you if you. Go ahead and sit down."

"They're eating our food," Maddie said.

"Listen."

"D, I'm s-so happy you're b-back home. F-Four months seemed l-like for-forever. I r-really m-missed you."

"I know, I missed you too. I thought about you everyday."

Maddie pulled on Sam's sleeve. "I remember her now. She's the woman who escaped from prison," she whispered. "It all adds up. I saw her face on the TV. She's a killer, Sam. They're going to kill us."

"Are you sure it's the same woman?"

"I only caught a quick glance at her, but I'm almost positive. Other than the short hair, she looks the same. Plus, she's been away for four months, exactly the time they said on the news," she whispered, then paused a moment. "I should have noticed her right away. How stupid can I be?"

Sam and Maddie kept their ears pealed to the door, as Carlos spoke over the rustling in the kitchen.

"W-Will you b-be going on another b-business t-trip, again?"

"Not if I can help it."

"See? I knew it. Her business was killing all those people to getaway," Maddie whispered.

"W-What will hap-happen to th-them?"

"To who?"

"Our n-new f-friends."

"Have you forgot? When we get to the Península de Yucatán, they'll be sold like the others," she answered. "They'll have new owners soon, and make lots of people very happy."

"Th-Then we c-can have our b-business?"

"As soon as we get paid. I promise."

"Sold?" Maddie said, flying back in a frenzy. "We can't let this happen. What are we gonna do?"

"We're going to the Yucatan," Sam mumbled, then hushed her, again. "Listen."

"C-Can we t-take Jake w-with us? He's m-my f-favorite friend."

"Carlos, they're not your friends. They're very bad people who want to hurt you. All we want to do is help them be happy. You must remember that this time, okay? You don't want me to have to go on vacation again, do you?"

"B-But Jake d-doesn't want t-to hurt me."

"He's worth a lot of money. If we don't let them have him, we won't be able to start our business," she tried to convince him. "Remember, if they try and hurt you, you protect yourself. But try not to leave marks on them. Do you understand?"

"I underst-stand."

"Good, now let's get back out there and get us home."

Then the sound of the cabin door slammed shut.

"I can't believe this," she said. "We gotta get the kids, we can't let this happen. What are we gonna do? Think of something. Think."

She grabbed the door handle again, and pulled with all her strength. When nothing happened, she leaped on the bed and opened the roof hatch. It stopped half-way opened. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Don't just sit there. Help me find a way out of here." Maddie was in a frenzy. "Come on, Sam. Help me."

Still seated, Sam surveyed the room. "Don't worry, we'll think of something. The important thing right now is that we remain calm," he said, in a consoling tone.

Still standing on the bed, Maddie looked down at Sam. "Keep calm? You want me to keep calm?" Lava had broken through the earth's crust. "Were we just listening to the same conversation? Don't you realize what's going on here? They're pirates. Even worse, they're human traffickers. They're gonna sell us like cattle! Make people happy? Can you guess exactly how we're gonna make people happy? Do you want me and your daughter under some sweaty fat man? What about you? What do you think they're gonna do with you? They'll probably kill you, and use Jake to please some perverted old man. For God's sake, think about it."

Maddie caught her breath, then added, "Sam. Get your head out of your ass, in the game, and for once in your life, man up!"

Maddie's purgatorial state of rage and sorrow was a crashing typhoon, inundating him with floods of anguish. Sam thought about his self-defense classes as a teenager, but had never used the techniques on a real person. The practice gym dummies didn't fight back, and he knew he didn't have the heart to harm other people. After a long hesitation and an expression of a beaten dog, he reached to pull her down beside him, but the unlatching of the door and twist of the handle diverted their attention.

"Hi S-Sam, hi M-Maddie, you're aw-wake."

Maddie rocketed from the bed. "You sick bastards," pummeling her fists into Carlos.

Carlos grabbed her arms and shoved her back to Sam, but she bounced back in rage. Carlos whipped her around, and held her tight from behind. "P-Please d-don't d-do this."

"You're crushing me!" Maddie screamed.

"Let her go!" Sam ordered, leaping from the bed.

Carlos shoved Maddie into Sam. "W-Why are you d-doing this?"

Sam charged again, but Carlos's fist stopped him. He rocked back, blood pouring from this nose.

"Stop it!" Carlos bellowed, in anger. "I d-don't w-want to hurt you. P-Please, stop."

"Then let us go," Maddie demanded, then attacked again.

Carlos gripped her, detaining her motionless.

"If it's money you want we'll give it to you. Just let us go."

"I c-can't do that. M-My sis-sister w-won't l-let me."

"Get your filthy hands off me. I can't breathe," Maddie said, gasping for air.

Sam searched for something to hit him with, but couldn't see anything. Maddie relaxed, hoping Carlos would feel her surrender.

"Carlos, please let her go. You're hurting her."

Carlos's grip loosened enough for Maddie to retreat into Sam's arms.

"I-I'm s-sorry," Carlos said, with sincerity in his voice.

Sam peered up at him. He knew Carlos didn't want to hurt them, he was only protecting himself, doing as his sister instructed. They had to prove they meant no harm, and try and convince him his sister would be proud of him. It was only her who had control over him.

"We don't want to fight with you, Carlos. We only want you to get your business and be happy. Isn't that what you want?" Sam asked.

Carlos sensed Sam's sincere tone.

"Yes, b-but why are you t-trying to hurt m-me?"

Maddie knew what Sam was trying to do. "We don't want to hurt you. We just want to see our children," she said.

"I have t-to go n-now."

"When will you come back?" Sam asked.

"Where are my children?" Maddie asked, again.

Carlos left the room without answering, locking the door behind him.

"Emily and Jake are safe," Sam said.

"We gotta find a way out of this room," she suggested, glancing around the quaint quarters. "There's gotta be something in here we can use."

"You know? He's basically a child. I'm sure we can outwit him," he said, sounding like he had a plan.

"Yeah, a child that can break your neck with the snap of his fingers. If he would have squeezed me any harder, he would have broken my back. I hope you have a good idea."

###

Emily and Jake awoke and propped themselves up when they heard the sound of the creaking door.

"Hi Carlos," Jake said, surprised to see him.

"Hi Jake, did you sleep good?" He was still comfortable with his new friend, the only real friend he'd known.

Jake nodded. "Yeah, how long have I been sleeping?"

"Just since last night."

"What time is it?" Jake asked, again.

"I'm not sure, but you've been sleeping for most of the day. Maybe it's almost dinner time."

Jake shuffled to the edge of the bed. "Carlos? What are you doing here? Where's my mom and dad?"

"They're resting in the other room."

Emily listened under the blanket in a fetal position with one leg stretched and exposed. It was long and unblemished, and Carlos grew nervous at the sight of it. Jake could see he avoided eye contact with her leg, and found it a bit humorous. "What are you doing here?" Jake asked, again.

"Your folks are taking me and my sister home."

Jake rose and tried to step around Carlos who was blocking the door. Carlos stood disquieted. "Can I see them?" Jake asked.

"I'm not supposed to let you leave the room right now."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, it's what my sister said."

Emily peeled the blanket away, exposing both legs. Her shorts were low cut with various fruits imprinted on them, and revealed her strawberry tattoo just below her waistline. Her sheer tank top rode up above her abdomen, revealing a shadow of mature nipples. Carlos fidgeted. He was just feet away, close enough to reach out. He recalled his sister warding him off women, warning, "They'll only make you weak."

The truth was, she feared he might harm a woman if he became too excited. Things were difficult enough without having to escape a potential lynch mob.

He diverted his attention, glancing around the room and through the porthole.

"What do you mean she won't let us out of the room?" she asked. "That's crazy," then she climbed from the bed.

Carlos's large body blocked the door, preventing her from advancing. "Move out of my way," she told him.

The three stood by the door with Carlos's heal against it. "Let us out," she demanded.

Carlos responded in a calm tone, "I can't. I told you my sister said... ,"

"I don't care what your fucking sister said, let us out now." Emily tried shoving him aside.

Carlos felt her firm round breast against him. Other than his sister hugging him, it was the first time another female had pressed herself against him like that. He placed his arms around her and lowered his head, pressing his nose against her jasmine scented hair and sniffing. "Let go of me, you pervert," she demanded, while attempting break away from his grasp.

The smell and touch of a female aroused him, and she could feel it. The more she struggled, the tighter his grip became. "You're hurting me. Let me go," she yelled.

"Carlos, let her go. You don't want to hurt her. She's my sister." Jake hoped Carlos would respond to kindness.

"Okay, Jake," then withdrew his grip.

Emily sprang from his arms, retreating back to the bed. "Thank you, Carlos," Jake said. "Now please open the door so we can see our parents, okay?"

Emily remained silent, watching Jake work his magic.

"I can't do that, I'll get in trouble."

"You can do that. We're friends, right?"

"Yes, but my sister will be angry at me."

"If you don't let us out, I'll get angry at you," Emily shouted.

Carlos hesitated, then replied, "B-But you're not my sister. You d-don't take c-care of me."

Emily couldn't hold her temper back. She slid off the bed, and reached around him for the door. Carlos whipped her around and threw her back. "You hurt me," she snapped.

"I-I d-don't want t-to."

Jake inspected her red wrists. "You left marks on my sister." Jake held her arm up. "See?"

"Be nice to him," Jake whispered to Emily.

"Carlos? Will you sit beside us?" Jake asked.

"Do you mean it?" Carlos asked.

Jake patted the bed beside him. "Come on, have a seat."

He trusted, Jake. "Okay."

Emily shifted against the wall, unable to figure out what was going on.

"Isn't that better?" Jake asked.

"Yeah."

"Now, why can't we see our parents?"

"Because you're not supposed to."

"When can we see them?"

"When we get there."

"When will we get there?" Jake's interrogation was calm.

"In a couple of days."

"You mean, we can't see our parents for a couple days?"

"I don't know."

Jake inched off the bed and stood in front of him. Carlos remained still, his hands resting on the bed beside him, unaware he was touching Emily's foot.

"Where are we going?" Emily asked, also in a calm voice.

"Mexico."

"Mexico?" Emily said. "What's in Mexico?"

"It's where we live. It's a big house with lots of people."

Jake shuffled back while Emily distracted Carlos with more questions.

"Do my parents know about this?"

When Carlos turned his head toward Emily, Jake felt for the door handle behind him. "I don't know," Carlos answered.

"Why are there lots of people at your house?" she continued.

Carlos was becoming agitated. To avoid suspicion, Jake withdrew his hand from the handle, displaying it in plain sight for Carlos. Emily shifted on the bed, placing her foot on Carlos's hand. Carlos looked down at Emily's foot. Jake spun toward the door, but before he could take a step out, Carlos reached out for him. Jake's arm was a twig in his grasp. Jake howled in pain.

"W-Why d-did you do th-that?" His stammer had returned. "You t-tried to t-trick me. D-Do you w-want me t-to get in t-trouble?"

Jake's eyes swelled with tears. "Let him go!" Emily demanded, then clung to his back with her arm around his neck. Carlos threw his free elbow around, smashing her in the face. She tumbled off and cracked into the wall. "You're a bad man," Jake said, sobbing.

"I'm s-sorry E-Emilly. I d-didn't mean t-to hurt you."

Carlos rose and set Jake next to Emily. "I-I th-thought y-you were m-my f-friend," he said, then opened the door and exited, locking it behind him.

###

Andrea piloted Madeline, keeping watch on the dark clouds ahead. Light rain had begun to fall, and seas were becoming choppy. Carlos rejoined her, breathing heavier than normal and still fidgeting. She knew something had gone wrong. "Everything okay down there?"

"Yeah, everything is f-fine." She could always sense when he was trying to hide something.

"Listen to me, Carlos. You only need to peek in on them from time to time. If you go inside their rooms, they'll try and hurt you, okay?"

Carlos understood his sister, and nodded. "Okay. C-can I steer?"

"Why don't you get the raincoats for us first?" She pointed to a compartment under the stern bench.

Carlos loved to steer. He'd ascend over the wheel like a captain of a large cruise ship. It was the only time he felt truly in charge. "How my d-doing?" he asked, with a proud tone. It was as though he had forgotten everything that just happened.

"You're the best, Captain" she said, taking a seat in front of him.

Carlos flashed a proud grin and glanced over the surface of the ocean. "L-Looks like a storm c-coming. We b-better button d-down the hatches."

Chapter Eight

Mango Bay Marina bustled with joggers and people strolling under the afternoon sun, while boats motored in and out of the harbor. From the sounds of boaters, it was a successful day of basking in the sun, or fishing for trophy limits. Those departing at that hour wouldn't be seen for several days, or perhaps never again, heading toward their next destination on their itineraries.

Captain Kent exchanged greetings to passing people as he idled through the busy marina. Noted for his amiable disposition, he was more than happy to go out of his way to accommodate his guests, even just stopping for small talk. His charismatic personality and good looks captivated others from first sight. He had become the marina's concierge.

"Hey, Captain Kent, we still on for tonight?" called out a gray bearded gent holding a bag of clanging bottles. Beside him, a sporty dressed lady smiled and waved, like she'd just strolled off Wimbledon in a victorious defeat.

Two months ago, while docked in Panama, Tom Morrison and his wife Sadie, learned that a man named, Captain Kent could help with their daughter's kidney transplant. Captain Kent arranged everything, and the operation was a success. They arrived at Mango Bay Marina a week ago to personally thank him.

The golf cart slowed to a stop. "Aye! Me hearty and his buxom beauty, sounds like echoes of grog," Captain Kent greeted, in his best pirate voice.

Everyone enjoyed it when he spoke like a pirate, it seemed befitting for the sailing environment. It was something he picked up from his father, who claimed to be a decedent of Blackbeard, but never could prove it. Kent would ask him when Blackbeard ever visited Denmark, but he received a different answer each time, depending on how much his father had to drink.

Tom and Sadie laughed. "You do that so well. All you need is a patch over one eye and a parrot on your shoulder. You'll have everyone fooled," she said.

"I could never fool you, my dear."

Tom pulled a bottle from the bag. "We got your favorite, Cap't Morgan, right?"

"Aye, thar be me treasure," he answered, with a wink and a nod.

"Remember, we're setting off tomorrow morning, and Kimberly and her friends will be here soon. She really wants to thank you personally for saving her life," Sadie said. "The kidney is working like a charm."

"Good to hear it, always like to help out a girl in need," he said. "And no, I haven't forgotten about tonight either. I'm looking forward to meeting her."

"We can't thank you enough for everything you've done for us," Tom added. "God really has answered our prayers when he brought you to us."

"Too bad she wasn't a little older, you're the type of guy who we'd love to have as a son-in-law," Sadie said, giving him a hug of appreciation.

"Okay, we'll see you later then," Tom said, unlocking the gate to their dock.

Captain Kent resumed down the road, when a soccer ball crossed his path and rested against the fence. "Hey, Captain Kent, can you get our ball for us?" a young boy yelled.

He stopped the cart, and hopped out, then began dribbling the ball with his feet. After a few bumps off his knees, chest and head, he booted the ball toward them, emulating a Spiker shooting a goal. "There you go," he said.

The boys were surprised to see him perform. "Wow, you're good Captain Kent," a boy shouted. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

Fodbald, as they referred to it in Denmark, was a sport he seldom played, but learned basic dribbling techniques to impress the girls. It was something he enjoyed doing for kids visiting the marina. "Just something I picked up over the years," he answered. "Keep practicing and you'll be better than me."

Back in his cart, his cell phone rang. "Yeah," he answered. After a hesitation he said, "Count on about five leaving tonight."

Moments later, Captain Kent parked the cart near the front door of his office. He marched around the vacant reception desk to the door of his office. Six women with the energy of college students, and dauntless in their revealing bikini tops, danced with vulgar intentions to Bob Marley. He slapped his chest and said, "So this is what Heaven's like. How'd you get in here?"

"There you are," Becky said, then wrapped her arms around him, as the others sipped on their umbrella drinks. "The door was unlocked so we thought we'd surprise you."

Becky Bridle's husband had been City Manager for seven years when he was indicted for embezzling city funds. It was certain he'd spend time in prison and have to pay the city back. His attorney assured them, if they divorced before he went to trial, she would be awarded the money, and he wouldn't have to pay anything back due to being insolvent. They took the attorney's advice, and she received every penny. He was later convicted and spent ten-years in a minimum security prison, which resembled more of a country club.

Being a middle-aged single and attractive woman, worth millions, she decided to listen to her friends' advice. "Why settle for one fish, when there's plenty in the sea," they had told her.

Months before his release, she absconded with all the money, leaving him the oceanfront villa she had paid off.

"We thought you'd never get here," Lisa said, then nudged Becky and whispered, "You weren't kidding, he's a doll."

"Sorry I'm late, but from the looks of things, I'm glad I was. It smells like raging estrogen in here. Any later, I would have caught you in the act."

The women laughed, then Veronica said, "Yeah, we're dripping with happiness. Besides, we've known each other since college. It wouldn't be the first time."

Veronica was the witty naughty girl of the bunch, who kept things interesting. "So tell us Captain. Do you prefer vertical or horizontal salutes?" she added.

The women snickered. "Don't mind Veronica, she has a tendency to misconstrue just about everything," Becky said. "Anyway, these are my friends, Sharon, Melissa, Lisa, and Mary. And of course, you've already met Veronica."

"Every man knows Veronica," Mary said, under her breath.

"Here, we mixed you up a drink," Sharon said, handing him a tall garnished glass.

"Thanks, it's really getting hot in here," he said.

"You think it's hot now? Wait until tonight," Veronica said, with an insinuating wink.

"Where's my boat?" Becky asked. "We're ready to party."

He reached in a drawer behind his desk and pulled out an envelope. "Here you go," he said. "And here's your keys, congratulations."

"I've been waiting for this for a long time," Becky said.

Veronica fed him her cherry from her drink, then whispered in his ear, "This won't be the last cherry you get tonight."

When they separated, the women mobbed him. Arms and legs clung to him, as lips covered his face. "Oh my, God," he said, out of breath. "If were to die right now, I'd die the happiest guy on earth. I'm coming with you guys."

"Already?" Veronica said. "I thought the five-second rule only applied to ex-husbands."

Becky reached out and grabbed Veronica's drink. "No more for you young lady."

"I'm just getting warmed up," she responded.

"You've simply been fantastic, Captain Kent. I don't know how I could ever repay you."

"I think you already are," he said.

"Buying a boat and cruising the Caribbean was the perfect decision, Becky," Lisa said, shimmying Sharon's leg, while Bob Marley sang, Bend Down Low.

"You couldn't have picked a better way to spend your ex-husbands' money," Lisa added, then held up her glass and toasted, "Here's to ex-husbands."

Then Veronica, added, "Here's to ripping out their genitals through their wallets."

They all joined in, laughing and emptying their drinks.

Veronica snuggled up to him. "You're coming over tonight for a bon voyage drink, right Captain?" she whispered, rubbing his chest.

"What? And get my genitals ripped out? Doesn't sound like a very pleasant time."

"I promise, we'll be gentle... at first," she replied.

"Yeah, it'll be fun, come on," Melissa said.

He thought about his appointment meeting Kimberly, but that would be earlier. "Sure, but how about a little later tonight," he suggested.

"That's fine, but don't be too late." Lisa said, with a flirtatious grin.

"I thought you said, it's better to be late than early?" he said, with a wink.

"I like that, a man who pays attention to details," Sharon said.

"All right you guys, leave the man alone. Let's get out of here, and get the blender set up," Becky suggested.

Veronica stood with her back to him, and gyrated against his torso. "I'm feeling a salute. Better save it for later, Captain."

"We better leave," Becky said, reaching up and giving him another kiss, before grabbing Veronica and pulling her to the door.

The women giggled, ready to open the door. It flung open, standing in the doorway were two handsome men. "Oh my God," the women said in harmony, scanning them from head to toe. "Bring them too. This night is getting more interesting by the moment," then the door closed.

"You heard them, boys. Don't make plans. Look's like we got a party to go to later." He scribbled information on a piece of paper, and handed it to them. "See you at nine, and don't forget the party favors," he added.

When the men had left his office, Captain Kent punched in a number from his cell phone. "Four more leaving tonight," he said.

###

The morning had begun with happy anticipation of viewing mysterious Mayan Ruins deep within the rainforest of the Yucatan Peninsula. A van would take the tourists as far as it could go, until they would be separated into smaller groups and driven in Jeeps and authentic military transport trucks over rough terrain into the forest. Hours later, they had made an unexpected stop.

Terror was defining itself behind each closed door of the rooms, each the size of a large master bedroom. The last door at the end of the aisle, a mixed odor of rubbing alcohol, formaldehyde and mildew permeated the dreary room. A blood stained mattress lay on the floor in front of a gurney, where a man with his chest cavity pried open, was having his organs extracted and placed in zip-lock baggies, then stored in an ice chest. Three guards with surgical masks played cards on the other side of the room, ignoring the little boy sleeping on the mattress.

In an adjacent room, men with pants hugging their ankles mounted female captives. Hypodermic needles, rubber tubings, and bent spoons lay on the floor between mattresses. Lifeless faces of numbed girls stared at the ceiling, while receiving a taste of their future from the drooling thugs.

In another room, Ramona and two other women, Pilar and Filomena, put the finishing touches on drugged girls. Once their cuts and bruises were concealed with make-up, they were dressed in yard sale evening gowns and heels. "They're ready for them," a guard said.

"No, I won't go," a girl sobbed.

"Please child, do or as you're told, or they will kill you," Ramona said.

Ramona was a pint-sized rotund lady whose face could easily be mistaken for a mold used for Cabbage Patch dolls. Her personality matched her colorful baggy jeans, t-shirts and sneakers. They had become her signature outfit while working under the blazing sun of the orchards. Her comedic demeanor and clown like appearance made it tolerable for others while laboring alongside her.

Ramona and her husband looked like high school sweethearts, hand-in-hand, strolling through the winding dirt streets of the village on the way to the orchards on the morning of their anniversary. It was difficult for her to ignore the streamers lined overhead, and the boxes of fireworks and balloons near the picnic tables. It was a dead giveaway. Cinco de Mayo had passed days earlier, and it was too early to begin decorating for the next birthday at the end of June. This is one time she'd keep her lips sealed and not ruin her surprise twentieth wedding anniversary. In fact, she would make it easier and sneak off to the perimeter of the orchard along the highway where no one liked to work. This would give her husband and friends plenty of time to scurry back and forth from the nearby village to put the final touches on her party.

Picking lemons near the roadside was an undesirable chore by everyone. Not only did you have to put up with thieves, but had to listen to obscenities yelled from car windows speeding by on the main highway. But today, Ramona didn't care. It was a special day. It was her day. Nothing was going to get in the way of her happiness. She had the best friends anyone could ask for, and the most loving and caring husband that all the women envied.

She spent the day alone, picking and packing lemons into crates left there from others on previous days. It was a truly blessed day for her. In spite of the monotonous work, she wouldn't trade her life for anyone's.

As the sun dipped behind the hills casting the day's last shadow, Ramona began organizing the crates for the flatbed truck that would soon be driving through the orchards. The day had slipped by without incident, until the sound of a truck idling down the highway caught her attention. Two men in the cab seemed to be surveying the orchards. 'Poachers,' she thought, then gathered several lemons as a gift to them. Nothing was going to ruin this beautiful day.

The truck slowed to a stop. Two men in army fatigues approached her. "Good day gentlemen," she greeted with a smile. "I have a small gift for you," then tossed each a ripe lemon.

"Working alone today, are you?" one of the men asked.

"Si, but the day is over, and I've got a fiesta to go to. Just waiting for the truck," she answered. "But if you hurry, you can have your pick of any crate to take with you. Just don't tell anyone where you got it from," she snickered, then glanced around sheepishly through the trees. "It's a special day, and I want everyone to share in my happiness today."

"You're too kind, señorita," one of the men said, then tossed the lemon back to her. "Unfortunately for you, it's not the lemons we're after."

The instant she stretched for the lemon, a large man grabbed her and set her in the truck. The morning of her twentieth wedding anniversary would be the last she'd see her husband, and the first day she'd meet a man named, Chavez.

Two sedans with tinted windows turned off the highway onto the muddied road. Bumper to bumper, they idled through the drapery of mangroves to the rear of the abandoned warehouses. As if routine, they parked in unison alongside the military transport truck backed against the loading dock where guards stood at attention like chauffeurs, waiting to open their doors. Two men from each car, designated agents for various rings around the world, stepped out and were escorted into the warehouse. Hair slicked in oil and donning a professional military officer's shirt, Chavez greeted them with expensive Cuban cigars and Cognac.

The girls were paraded to the yellow line in front of the table where the buyers were seated. "Just stand here, no one will harm you," Pilar told a girl, then crossed her chest and glanced toward the ceiling.

One of the girls stumbled in her heels before reaching the line. "Get her up!" Chavez ordered.

Filomena assisted the girl to her feet, then guided her to the line. "Turn around," Chavez demanded, the girls.

Pilar and Filomena were to fruit packing in Limones, what generations of family members were to a university. But expectations of these paternal twins ran high amongst the close knit village of Limones. Pilar, considered the prettier of the two, had dreams of becoming a famous movie star. When she turned twelve, she began experimenting with makeup she stole from the older women's handbags at the packing plant. Pilar loved to mix colors, inventing her own shades. She could give her only doll, a hundred different looks. Her mother used to wonder where she got all those dolls from. When her sister began refusing to be her guinea pig, nearby ladies in the village and at the plant, allowed Pilar to practice on them. In return for her services, they'd gift her cheap makeup to practice with. She never ran low on supply, again.

Filomena's dreams centered on helping people. When their mother died shortly after their tenth birthday, Filomena began adopting motherly traits. Anyone in the village who became ill, Filomena was there to provide soup with medicinal herbs her mother had taught her about. She learned how to fix dislocated joints on boys who occasionally fell from trees, or tripped running from girls. She became the village expert in mending cuts and bruises, and bandaging wounds. She even put her self-taught seamstress talents to work by stitching up gashes on people, earning the nickname of, Doc, by others.

After their mother's death, Pilar and Filomena were pulled from school by their father, and made to work alongside him in the packaging plant. This was a welcomed surprise for Pilar, but Filomena felt her dream of being a nurse slip away. She knew how important a formal education was if she were to fulfill her dreams as a nurse. But that didn't stop her, there were plenty of children willing to give her their school books. She spent every spare moment at the plant absorbed in reading and learning English.

Soon after turning seventeen, Filomena's ambition was boiling, it was time for her to move to the city and begin her education. Her mind was set on a small vocational nursing school, a two day trip by bus. But just days before leaving, Pilar informed her of a man she met in the city who was searching for a nurse. "He has an international business with many employees, and he needs someone to teach them English and take care of them when they become ill," she said. "You'll be doing both things you like the most."

Filomena's attention peaked and prompted her to accompany her sister into town to meet this prosperous man in need. It was the last time they'd be seen again.

One of the bidders lowered his sunglasses. "Stop. I'll give you ten-thousand for that one," he offered, pointing to the girl in the middle.

The other bidder inspected the girl's backside. "I'll give you sixteen-thousand," he countered.

"You can have her," replied the first bidder.

A guard led the sold girl behind the successful bidder, holding her at gunpoint.

After the last of the three girls were sold, the mustached guard collected the money, then with the assistance of other guards, lead girls to the cars. One of the girls broke away and dashed toward the orchard across the road. When a gunshot rang out, striking the ground beside her, she screamed and stopped. A guard gripped her arm to pull her back, but her nails dug into his face. She resumed running, tripping and falling. "Stop her!" Chavez demanded.

"Should we finish her?" a guard asked her new owner.

"No, bring her to me alive. I'll teach her a lesson later."

Chapter Nine

Hours skated by, and Sam and Maddie were becoming restless. The only sounds they heard were rain pounding topside, and the movement of the boat rocking from side to side from swells passing under them.

They had turned the room upside down searching for something heavy or sharp, anything they could use for a weapon. Under the cushions of the bed were storage compartments where Sam found sailing magazines, loose rope, books, and spare linens. Maddie rooted through the bathroom, finding Emily's jasmine scented shampoo, hair conditioner, a can of hairspray, and a bottle of liquid soap. Before giving up, she took a second look, then grabbed the hairspray. "I have an idea."

"Style their hair to death?"

"Something like that." Maddie reached in her pocket and pulled out a lighter.

"Where'd you get that?"

"I picked it up from the sofa the other night when we found the kids alone with Andrea."

"So, your plan is to light them on fire on a flammable boat in the middle of the ocean? Sounds extreme."

"You have a better idea?"

He thought for a moment. "If we can make it to the radio, we can contact the Coast Guard, or Captain Kent, or anyone for that matter. I'm sure we're not the only ones out here."

"I thought about that too, but what about the door? How do we get it open without making a lot of noise? It weighs a ton," She had hoped for a different plan.

"Maybe we don't go through the door," he said, then paused. "Maybe we go over it."

That was something she hadn't thought of. She peered at the roof hatch, and noticed the clew of the jib sail blowing in the wind. "It might be just large enough for one of us to get through," she said. "What do we do once we get out there?"

"Isn't there another hatch over the cabin?" he asked.

"I don't know, I never thought of looking."

"This is a forty-foot boat, I'm sure there is, and it's probably just on the other side of the mast." Sam didn't sound certain, but it was better than the risk of torching the boat on fire.

"You know," she said, "that's gonna leave us exposed. What if they see us?"

He had thought about that, but more important was being out on top of the boat without a life vest. "That's just a chance we'll have to take. It's better than lighting the boat on fire."

She knew he was right. "We'll save this idea for a backup." Then she tossed the can and lighter on the bed.

They stood on the bed, inspecting the roof hatch. "It's gonna take some tools, and we don't have any," she observed.

Sam hopped off the bed and tugged on the empty bookshelf. "It won't budge. Give me a hand."

"How about a foot?" she said. "Stand back."

Maddie took a deep breath, then performed a roundhouse kick. The shelf loosened from the wall. "You got it," he said.

"Kickboxing classes are paying off," she said, then discharged another powerful kick.

Sam tugged on a piece of wood and ripped it from the wall.

Moments later, after prying the hinges to the hatch, it separated just enough to squeeze his head through. When he peeked over the edge of the hatch, sprays from large swells showered his face. He turned to see Andrea behind the wheel, attempting to steady Madeline. Before ducking back in the room, he caught a glimpse of the other hatch. He evacuated back into the dryness of the room, and told Maddie, "I saw the hatch. It's just in front of the mast, about twenty-feet from the cockpit."

"That's great."

"But, there's two problems."

"Yeah?"

"Andrea's staring in this direction, she'll see me for sure."

"What's the second?"

"The seas are the size of mountains." That was the worse problem for Sam, being on top of a rocking boat during a storm with no life vest.

"Okay, forget that idea," she said.

"Let's think a minute," Sam said. He really didn't want to resort to implementing her idea. "We have a broken bookshelf, a rope, a source of fire, and a can of flammable hairspray. We should be able to do something with these." All indications pointed to using her idea.

"If we can get them back here one at a time, we should be able to knock them out and tie them up," she suggested.

"I don't know. I'm not worried as much about her as I am him. He's a big boy."

"Sam, we're smarter than he is?"

"Yeah, it's worth a try. But how do we get him back here?"

"I'm sure they'll be checking on us," he answered. "If it's her, then we'll just have to try and knock her out."

"And if it's him?"

Sam gazed around the room, again. "I don't know."

"I know," she said, without pause. "Sex."

It was as though she had already thought of that before. "Excuse me?" Sam asked.

"What guy doesn't like the promise of sex?"

"You have a good point, but I don't think he even knows what it is."

"I guess we'll find out. If he doesn't, I'll have to educate him."

Sam was reluctant to agree. "What do you have in mind?"

Sam's bewildered expression told Maddie he didn't like the idea. "It sounds pretty dangerous."

"Our whole situation is dangerous. Do you have a better idea?"

She was right. He had exhausted all possible scenarios and concluded it was the only way. It was still a large risk, but anything they did would be a risk.

It was time to set the stage. Maddie unstrung the rope from the curtains, while Sam prepared slip knots with the rope. He had learned all the various seaman knots during his refresher classes, and had become proficient at them all. Just as everything was in place, they heard footsteps topside. "It's Carlos," he said.

"What's he doing?"

"I don't know, but he should be reefing the sails."

"What if he sees the hatch loose?"

Carlos's footsteps became louder as they neared the hatch. "Quick, lay down," Sam said.

Sam peered up, squinting at Carlos peeking through the hatch. Carlos's size thirteen crashed down, slamming the hatch sealed. Then the sound of his footsteps dissipated toward the cockpit.

Sam couldn't stop thinking of Maddie's idea. "What if he hurts you without realizing it," he asked. "Remember before, when he grabbed you?"

"Don't worry, I know how to speak to children," she said. "I've raised two, already."

Still, he wasn't comfortable with her luring Carlos in the room with the promise of sex.

A while later, they were lying on the bed staring at the ceiling when they heard Carlos's faint voice. They leaped from the bed, ears flush to the door. "M-Madeline to El C-Capitan de Barcos, c-come in?" they heard him say.

"This is M-Madeline. C-Come in?"

"Whose de barcos?" Maddie whispered.

Carlos repeated, "El C-Capitan de barcos, are you th-there?"

"I can't make out what he's saying," Sam answered.

"El C-Capitan de Barcos, are you th-there?"

"El Capitan means, The Captain," Sam said.

"I know that. But, whose de Barcos?"

"I think Barcos means boats. He's saying, the Captain of Boats... whatever that means."

After several more attempts, they heard him say, "C-Captain Kent, this is M-Madeline, are you there?"

Maddie glared at Sam. "Captain Kent? Why's he contacting him?"

"I don't know, listen."

"C-Captain Kent, the c-cargo is on the way."

"He's one of them!" Maddie said, then stepped away from the door. "We trusted him. He was our friend. We were gonna radio him for help. He gave us the pills, I knew they weren't aspirin."

"He probably had us setup from the first day," Sam said, in a condemning tone. "I had no idea."

Maddie was heated. "I can't believe it, we were the perfect targets. They probably thought of us as a simple family that no one would miss. He had us pegged from the..."

Sam gestured to her. "Keep your voice down, he'll hear you."

"C-Captain Kent, p-please come in. This is C-Carlos."

Maddie's mind was spinning. She remembered her telephone conversation with him, he was kind and reassuring. She remembered his generosity in loaning them his golf cart. He was so pleasant, greeting everyone at the marina, and how everyone admired him. She envisioned the insignia written across his golf cart, ...trusted boat broker. Then she had flashes of the missing person posters at the store, and how they were all abducted from the same area. It all made sense.

"He's a fucking con man," she said. "I'll bet he's not even a real captain. I'll bet he lied about his sea stories, too. Hell, he probably doesn't even know how to sail."

"Maddie be quiet," Sam barked.

Then they heard his voice again from just outside their door. "Are you o-okay in th-there?"

"Hurry, get into position," Sam said.

Sam dove on the bed facing the wall, clutching the lighter and can of hairspray. "Remember the code words."

Maddie sprawled into a wanton position beside him facing the opposite direction. She ran her fingers through her hair, pulled her shoulder strap down, and exposed her slender legs, then rested her head on her hand, facing the door.

"Are you all r-right in th-there?"

"Carlos? Is that you?" She spoke in a soft calm tone.

"Yes, it's me."

"My head really hurts, will you bring me a cup of water?"

He remembered his sister's orders. "I c-can't come in there."

"Please, Carlos, I need your help."

"No, I c-can't."

"I'm really thirsty, Carlos. Please?"

"Try something else," Sam whispered.

"Carlos? If you come in here, I have a surprise for you."

"I c-can't."

"Carlos, I need you so bad, please come in here."

"I'll g-get in t-trouble."

"I need your help, Carlos. I promise I won't tell. She'll never find out. Please?"

"D-Do you p-p-promise?"

"Yes, Carlos, I promise. Please hurry."

There was a long silence, but they knew he hadn't left the cabin. "What's he doing?" Sam whispered.

"Carlos? Are you still there? Please, hurry."

The door unlatched. Carlos peeked in and saw Maddie lying on the bed. He flinched back at the sight of her legs, and pivoted around the room to avoid staring.

"I g-got w-water for you." Then he handed her the water in a paper cup.

"Oh, that's so good, thank you so much."

"Wh-what's wrong w-with him?" he asked, glancing at Sam.

"He's sleeping, he doesn't feel well either. My head really hurts Carlos, will you rub it for me?"

"You w-want me t-to rub your head?"

"Please? Will you do that for me?"

"I'm n-not supposed t-to touch you."

"But it hurts so much. I need you to help me. Don't you want to help me?"

"Okay," he agreed, then inched toward her.

"That's it, closer," she said.

Carlos tried not to look at her, but it was difficult for him to look at anything else in the confines of the small quarters. The closer he neared her, the more his eyes made contact with her. He exchanged glances from her legs to her shoulders. "It's all right, you can look at me, Carlos. It makes me feel nice when you look at me."

Carlos's rugged appearance and strong handsome frame attracted her. If she hadn't been married and he didn't have brain damage, he'd be the perfect solution to her carnal desires.

Sam cringed in disappointment and anger at what he was hearing. She never spoke to him like that.

Carlos placed a knee beside her foot, then shifted his heavy body up further. "Where d-does it hurt?"

"Right here," she said, touching the side of her head.

He placed the palm of his hand on her head and began petting. "Gently," she said. "Rub gently." She knew he could crush her skull at any moment. "Like this," she added. She set her hand on his leg to demonstrate a massage. It felt like a granite slab and she wondered if he even felt her hand.

"L-Like this?"

She moaned. "Yes like that." She slipped her bare leg across his lap. "Oh, that feels nice, Carlos. You're so good."

Carlos reminded her of a child caring for a doll.

"R-Really? You think I'm d-doing g-good?"

"Yes, you're very good."

"Th-Thank you, b-but I better go n-now."

"No, please, I need more."

"You s-said you had a s-surprise for me."

Maddie thought that would have been enough of a surprise for him, but his mental capacity persuaded her she had to take it further. She needed to get his head lowered so he wouldn't notice Sam rising to attack.

"You want your surprise now?"

"Yeah."

It was time. There would be no turning back. She gave him a cordial smile, then asked, "Have you ever had a woman, Carlos?"

"W-What d-do you m-mean?"

She answered in a sultry voice. "I mean, have you ever had sex before?"

Sam's anger rose to a new level. Her voice sounded like a telephone sex call he had heard from a movie. He gritted his teeth, wondering if she'd ever spoken to anyone like that before.

He withdrew his hand from her head, remembering when his sister and he walked the streets of Mexico. Bars lined the streets with women wearing revealing skirts, and high heels, their faces painted with war paint. They'd flash gestures and taunt him with words he'd never heard before, then invite him in for a good time.

"M-My sis-sister says it's a s-sin."

"It's only a sin if you force yourself on someone. You don't have to force yourself on me. I want you, Carlos."

Carlos thought a moment. "B-But it's n-not a g-good th-thing to d-do."

Maddie was getting frustrated. She never had to talk a guy into having sex with her. "Carlos, sometimes people have to have sex. There wouldn't be any people, or babies if we didn't have sex. Isn't that right?" Her pacifying tone kept him calm. "And if we don't have babies to grow up, how would you get your business? There wouldn't be any people to rent ocean toys from you."

She made sense to him. "Yeah m-maybe."

Carlos stared at her leg still lying across his lap. "Do you want to touch my leg, Carlos?"

"I d-don't kn-know. M-Maybe."

"Go ahead. You can touch it, just be gentle. You don't want to hurt me, right?"

"I w-won't hurt you."

Carlos skimmed his hand along her leg. He stopped just below the bottom of her shorts, hiked above her thighs. "Does that feel good for you?" she asked.

"It's s-so soft."

"Do it again, Carlos, slowly."

She elevated her leg and rested it on his shoulder, spreading her legs. "Will you kiss my leg, Carlos?"

"K-Kiss it? I-I d-don't know how."

Maddie took his other hand in hers and kissed it. "See? Just like that."

"O-Okay." Then he turned his head and kissed it.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she tensed. It felt good to have a hand of another man on her. 'He's like a puppy,' she thought. 'Like Sam.'

"You know, Carlos. I usually like it rough, but not on our first date. I need you to be really gentle with me this time, okay?"

"Okay."

But she wanted more. She wanted a relentless savage that forced her into erotic submission. Someone experienced in pleasing women. Not someone tame and tender, she already had that. She knew Carlos could be trained, but feared he'd seriously injure her in the process. It was safer to keep him on a leash. Besides, Sam was only inches away, listening to her every word. Perhaps on some subconscious level, she was telling Sam what she needed, and hoped her words would register for later times.

"Come closer to me now," she said.

Carlos shifted closer. She took his hand and placed it on her belly. "You want me to rub there too?" he asked without stammering.

"Yes, Carlos."

Sam's face reddened, wondering where she wanted him to rub. 'What's taking so long? Why won't she call out the code words?'

Carlos's large hand engulfed her abdomen. With a slight arch, she moaned. "That feels so good."

His hand brushed the bottom of her breast with each stroke. She pushed his hand over her nipple. "Massage me here," she said.

It was strange to see a man this size, so calm and gentle. She positioned her foot between his legs, working up toward his groin. She felt his large muscle, but it hadn't yet begun to flex. She gently stroked him with her foot until she felt him harden.

"How do you feel, Carlos?"

He stared at her body, "I don't know. You're so soft."

"I mean, how do you feel here," then pressed her foot into his groin.

"It's a strange feeling, but it feels nice."

She wondered if he realized he was speaking without stammering. 'Hell, he just needs to get laid.'

"Put your lips here," she said, rubbing her breast.

"I don't know, my sister will really get angry with me."

"It's all right. I told you, your sister will never know. We'll just keep this our secret, all right?"

"All right."

Sam was fuming, listening to everything she was saying, and visualizing everything she was doing. His impatience was growing and wanted to give her a nudge, afraid she was lost in the ecstasy of the moment.

When Carlos bent his head down to press his lips against her breast, her leg slipped from his shoulder and draped his back. "You want me to kiss them like this?" he asked.

'Kiss them? What the hell is going on?' Sam feared she was going too far.

"Yes like that. Now these," she said, squeezing her nipples.

It was different from when Sam used to do it. This was tantalizing and exciting. She had a rush of energy feeling his lips on her erect nipple. It must have been driving Sam crazy with jealousy, but that wasn't her intention. Well, not totally anyway. But that wasn't part of the plan. They had to subdue this giant sleeping monster.

She combed her fingers through his hair, massaging his head, while still massaging his groin. It had grown more than the size of her foot.

She started to speak again, then hesitated. She wanted this feeling of being kissed by a stranger to last, but Carlos's head was where it needed to be, buried in her breast. She knew all his thoughts were distracted to his groin area. It was the right moment. "You're so strong," she said.

Those were the words, the code words for Sam to spring into action. He slipped out from under the blanket and rose to his knees like a predator sneaks up on its prey. Filled with anger from Maddie's performance, he pointed the hairspray at the lighter, inches away from the back of Carlos's head. The sight of Carlos's head buried in his wife's breasts -- her foot between his legs -- and her moans of sexual pleasure of another man, enraged him. A stream of fire shot from the can, engulfing Carlos's head.

It took a second before Carlos realized what was happening. When the heat turned into a burning, he reflexed his head back, slamming it into Sam's face. Carlos screamed in pain, as he sprung from Maddie, knocking Sam to the door. The lighter and can of hairspray tumbled to the floor.

Carlos stood and smothered his head with his hands. "W-What a-are you...?"

"Get him again," Maddie yelled.

Sam scrambled for the lighter and hairspray, then sprayed him again. Carlos let out another scream. "S-Stop...!" He turned and twisted, convulsing out of control.

His flailing arms caught Maddie in the face. A large gash above her eye streamed blood, impairing her vision. She skimmed the bed with her hands, searching for the rope. She wiped the blood from her eye, then looped the slip knot around his neck and pulled. His fight leveled Maddie to the rear of the bed with him falling on top of her. Sam tried to slip another rope around his feet, but Carlos was a writhing animal.

Flash memories of being on the streets of Mexico with his sister raced through Carlos's mind. Groups of men would approach him with challenges to test their strength and fighting ability. They'd shout remarks of sarcasm and ridicule, then shove him and burst into loud drunken guffaws, watching him falter like a redwood. He'd give a confused look, and ask, "Why?"

It was only after his sister gave the order. He'd render his attackers disabled, groveling on the ground, or limping away in agonizing pain. But Andrea wasn't here now, and he never harmed people without her consent.

"W-why d-d-do..." he started to say.

Sam torched another stream of fire at him, but that only made him angrier. Sam reached for another rope, then looped it around his neck. "Pull!" Sam yelled.

Carlos's face turned red, as the ropes tightened around his neck. Carlos was out of fight. He was out of air. "He can't breathe, we're killing him," Maddie said.

Carlos stretched near Maddie, remaining motionless with his eyes closed. "We killed him," Maddie said.

Then he moved again, trying to lift his head from Maddie's lap. Still seething with anger, Sam took the piece of shelving and cracked it over Carlos's head several times. "What are you doing, Sam? Are you trying to kill him?"

Sam dropped the board and felt him for a pulse. "Apparently not," he answered. "He's still alive."

Sam and Maddie hogtied him, but it was Sam's idea to connect a piece of rope around the front of his neck and ankles. "Are you crazy?" Maddie asked, concerned for Sam's state of mind.

"Maybe," he answered. "It'll take longer for oxygen to reach his brain. He'll be out much longer now."

Sam and Maddie stared at the tears streaming down Carlos's face. His hair scorched, the odor of smoldering skin and hair was unbearable. "Why do I feel like we're the bad guys?" she asked, out of breath.

"Keep focused," he demanded. "Let me see your eye." He grabbed her by both shoulders and forced her in front of him so he could examine her eye better. "You're gonna need stitches." Then he tore a sheet and covered her wound. "Keep this pressed against your eye, it'll help stop the bleeding. Any questions?"

His determined expression was a part of him she'd never seen before. It almost frightened her. "Yeah, who are you?"

"Very cute. Night's falling and we've got bad weather. You check on the kids, I'll radio for help. Then we'll worry about Andrea."

Sam had been reborn, and she didn't know exactly what it was that made him click. Whatever it was, she liked the new Sam.

Chapter Ten

Emily and Jake balanced themselves Indian style on the bed. Emily watched the porthole submerge, wishing she were home, while Jake remained anchored to his solitaire card game, unable to stop shaking from the fight they had had with Carlos. "Are we gonna sink?" he asked.

Emily hesitated before answering. If they did sink, it would be better than the alternative. She didn't want to tell Jake about overhearing Carlos and Andrea's discussion about their plans for them. "No, we're not gonna sink."

"How long do you think we'll be in Mexico for? Do you think we'll make it back in time for baseball season? How did Carlos get like that?" His string of questions went unanswered, but she assured him, "Don't worry about anything. It's all gonna be fine."

She sounded like her father, and now understood why her mother became irritated. But, she also realized that it was his attempt at making them feel comfortable during times of hardship, or conflict. She was developing an appreciation for him.

"I'm bored, Em. Are you sure you don't want to play another game?"

She had already played hours with him, in the futile attempt of taking his mind off their situation.

"I'm sure. Why don't you try and get some sleep?"

"I'm not tired. I just want to get out of here. I feel like I'm in jail."

She sympathized with him. "I know, it won't be much longer."

He joined her, staring out the porthole. She continued to think about their fate. She had heard there were present day pirates and human traffickers, but that was only something that happened to other people on the news.

"Well, just remember," Jake said, "if anything else happens, I'll protect you."

"Thanks, Jake."

Staring through the porthole was like staring into a tunnel of regrets. Her attitude toward Jake and her father was unforgivable. The way she abandoned her friends, and tested her mother's friendship with how much she could get away with. There were no excuses for her behavior. She vowed if they ever got out of this mess, she'd be a better sister and daughter. She even promised to do better in school.

Her regrets and promises were interrupted by the jiggle of the door handle. She grabbed Jake and recoiled to the corner of the wall, clinging to him in terror. "Who's there?" she asked.

The door creaked open. "Em? Jake?"

It was a familiar voice. They vaulted from the bed, "Mom!" they shouted.

"Keep your voices down," Maddie said, hugging them. "I'm so glad you're safe. Did they hurt you?"

"No, we're okay," Emily answered.

"Where's, Dad?" Jake asked.

"He's coming."

Emily looked up at her mother, "What happened to your eye? It's huge... and bleeding."

Maddie dabbed her wound with the torn sheet soaked in blood. "I just had a little accident."

Sam stepped into the room. Jake threw himself into his arms. "Dad!"

"You kids all right?"

"Where's Carlos and Andrea?" Emily asked. "Did they do this to you, Mom?"

Before Sam or Maddie could answer, Jake asked, "Are they dead? Did you kill them?"

"No, they're not dead, but he won't be bothering us anymore," Sam answered.

"Where's Andrea?" Emily asked.

"Listen kids," Sam said. "Carlos is tied up in our room, but we still need to get his sister. We need you to stay in the room for a while longer, okay?"

This was the first time they had been together since the bon voyage party, and now they were being separated again. "I don't want you guys to leave again, please?" Jake pleaded.

Maddie understood his fear. "Listen, we need you to help take care of your sister."

Emily wrapped her arm around his shoulders. "Yeah Jakester, I need you to protect me. Remember what you said?"

"I remember."

It was nice to see Emily and Jake not jumping down each others throats for once.

"Listen, kids," Sam said. "When we leave, lock the door and don't let anyone in. Got it?"

"Okay, but hurry," Jake said. "And if you need any help, just call my name really loud."

"You got it, Jakester."

Sam and Maddie gave them another hug and kiss, before closing the door behind them. "Lock the door," Sam told them.

Emily turned the lock. "Be safe," she told her parents.

Jake leaped to his backpack leaning against the wall. He was resolute, a man on a mission. "What are you doing?" she asked.

He reached in the bag and felt around, then mumbled, "I hope I didn't forget it."

"Forget what?"

"Got it," he said, with an evil grin. "I can't believe I forgot about this."

###

Leaning on the counter and navigation table to balance themselves from Madeline's rocking, Sam and Maddie planned their next moves. "I'm gonna try radioing for help, again." Sam said. "We gotta work fast. She could walk in at any minute."

Maddie glanced around the cabin, then unhooked the fire extinguisher near the cabin steps.

Sam held the mic and made sure the switch was still on channel sixteen. Speaking in a quiet voice, he said, "This is Madeline, anyone out there? Come in?"

Static came from the speaker. He tried again. "This is Madeline, in the Gulf of Mexico. Can anyone hear me? Come in?"

"Try saying, pan, pan, pan," Maddie suggested.

Sam knew that was the distress signal, but he didn't see the sense of saying it if no one could hear him. "Pan, pan, pan. This is Madeline in the Gulf of Mexico. Anyone come in?"

He glanced over his shoulder to Maddie, now seated at the sofa balancing the fire extinguisher between her legs. "This is Madeline. If anyone can hear me, we need assistance. Our family is being held by kidnappers. We're in grave danger. We're being kidnapped to Mexico and need help badly. Please come in," he said, trying to determine their exact coordinates as he spoke. "If anyone can hear me, please send help. Again, this is Madeline, we've been kidnapped and need help," then concluded with, "Pan, pan, pan." He depressed the mic button and listened. Only the sound of static came over the speaker.

"The storm must have knocked out the antenna," he told Maddie, then replaced the mic back on its hook.

"Maybe someone heard you."

"Maybe, but the Gulf's pretty big, and they don't know our position," he said. "Let's get ready, she's gotta be wondering where her brother is by now.

"Are you sure you don't want to just blast through the doors and charge at her?" she asked.

"If she didn't have a gun, it might be a good idea. We'll just have to wait here."

Sam balanced himself out of sight in front of Jake's room beside the navigation table, holding onto the fire extinguisher. Maddie stood braced in the bathroom at the bow, maintaining eye contact with Sam. She also had a clear view of Andrea when she entered the cabin.

They were finally cooperating, or maybe they were just in survival mode. It didn't matter to him, he liked the feeling of having courage and confidence, and sensed Maddie liked it too. Subduing Carlos was a rush he had never experienced, and Maddie witnessed it. He knew he had put his family in peril, and he was doing whatever he needed to protect them.

His thoughts scratched like a needle scratching across a vinyl record, when the companionway door whipped open. Balancing himself, he gripped the fire extinguisher and waited. Timing was everything, he couldn't afford to make a mistake. Drenched in water with wind blowing at her back, Andrea slammed the door with both hands, and charged down the steps. "Carlos?" she yelled.

It didn't seem right, something was wrong. She reached for the pistol tucked under her belt and pointed it toward the back bedroom door. "Carlos," she yelled, again. "Where are you?"

Sam held his ground, poised to attack. "Carlos, you better not be where I think you are," she said, working her way between the tables.

A glimpse through a plastic framed poster on the bulkhead wall, reflected Sam behind her holding an object above his head. She spun, ready to pull the trigger, but the sudden impact of the fire extinguisher crashing down on her head, dropped her to the floor. Dazed, she rolled on her back and pointed the pistol at him. "Now, it's my turn," she said.

When Madeline rocked from a violent swell, Sam stumbled back against the steps, releasing the fire extinguisher. It rolled along the door, bashing into everything in its path. The pistol fired. If Sam would have still been where he was standing, he'd be dead on the floor.

Andrea aimed the pistol at him again. Maddie rushed from behind the bathroom door, and kicked the pistol from Andrea's hand. The pistol flew in the air, letting off another shot that echoed throughout the cabin. The bullet went through the ceiling as the pistol slid under the table. With another rock of the boat, Andrea and Maddie lost balance and were forced into Sam, spread across the cabin steps. He shoved Andrea off, spinning her back toward the middle of the aisle. Maddie leaped at Andrea and ducked at Andrea's swinging fist. Maddie countered with an uppercut to her chin, followed by a powerful kick to her face. Andrea twirled and hit the floor at the foot of the table. She crawled and reached out for the pistol, but was cut short by Maddie's foot slamming into her face, again. Maddie reached for her hair, but Andrea twisted and pulled Maddie down with her. After a brief bout of pulling hair and exchanging slaps and fists, Andrea worked her way on top and gouged her thumbs into Maddie's eyes, pressing with all her might.

Emily and Jake heard the gunfire and ran out from their room into the kitchen. Emily rushed to her father to help him, while Jake steadied himself from behind the kitchen counter. Resting his elbows on the counter, he took aim with his slingshot. He released the leather pouch and a knuckle sized rubber pellet zinged across the room. Andrea's head jerked back, as the pellet struck her forehead. "Bullseye," he murmured, then reloaded another pellet.

Before she wobbled off Maddie, another pellet nailed her on the side of the head.

Furious and out of control, Maddie sprung to her feet and began plunging foot blows into Andrea's body. It was a brutal attack on the woman leading her family into hell. Andrea lay defenseless on the floor, out of strength to raise her hands to protect her face. Maddie's fury continued until Sam rose from the floor. "Maddie!" he yelled. "Stop."

Emily and Jake ran to their mother. "Mom!"

Maddie snapped from her spell and ceased her attack.

Andrea lay paralyzed, her face painted in blood. "You killed her," Jake said.

Sam kneeled and placed his fingers on her wrist. He looked up at Maddie catching her breath, then moved his fingers to her neck. "Is she dead?" Emily asked.

"No," he answered. "Let's get her to the room."

Sam scooped her in his arms, while Jake opened the bedroom door and witnessed Carlos wrapped in ropes like a defenseless animal. The smoldering odor of burnt skin and hair slammed into him, stumbling him back. "What's that smell?" Jake asked. "It's gross." Then after a closer look, he noticed Carlos's scorched head.

Jake was filled with a sudden sense of remorse. Despite his bout with him, Jake thought of him as a gentle giant, a friend.

Maddie noticed Jakes sadness. "We had to do it," she said, pulling him away from the doorway.

"Let's get it done," Sam said.

He and Maddie secured Andrea beside Carlos with the same hogtie technique they had used on her brother. "We'll keep an eye on them until we return, then we'll turn them over to the police," Sam said.

As he exited the room and locked the door, Madeline pitched to one side from the force of another violent rock. Her near horizontal position threw everyone over the table and into the portholes. "I gotta get out there. We're gonna capsize," Sam said, struggling to get to his feet.

Maddie helped him with the life vest. "Please be careful, Sam."

"Don't worry about me, just keep the kids together, and hang on to something strong." Although his terror was morphed by courage, he couldn't help think of the five-thousand foot depth and navigating through the storm in complete darkness. "Keep trying the radio, maybe we'll get lucky," he added fighting to climb the stairs to the cockpit.

"I love..." Maddie's sentence was muffled by the slam of the cabin door behind him.

Maddie tried the radio, but it was still down. "What do we do now?" Emily asked.

Maddie glanced at Andrea's blood. "Let's see if we can't get this place cleaned up a bit."

Then another large surge rocked the boat, powering them over the table and into the portholes, again. "Maybe we should just hang on tight for a while," Emily suggested.

Jake's face was against the porthole. "I gotta help, Dad." Then he ran to the room and grabbed his life vest.

"You're not going anywhere. It's too dangerous out there," Maddie said.

"He's gonna need help. He can't do it alone. It's a two person job," he insisted.

Maddie thought about for a minute. "Let me help you," she said, then secured his buckles and straps.

"I can't breathe."

"Make sure you attach yourself to the jack-line first thing. Stay low to the floor, and hang on to anything you can find."

"I know. I know."

"And be extra careful. And make sure your father is attached to the jack-line, too."

"Anything else?"

Maddie hesitated. "If it gets any worse, you and your father..."

"I know," Jake interrupted, "get back in here."

"Good," she said, then reached in a panel in the navigation table. "Take this with you in case you need help."

Jake inspected it. "An airhorn? What's this supposed to do?"

"Just take it, and blow it if you guys get in trouble."

"What's it supposed to do? Save us?" he asked, climbing the steps then disappearing out the door.

"I hope they're careful," Maddie said.

"If something happens to them, it's gonna happen to us, too. Try not to worry, Mom."

Maddie hesitated, watching fallen items roll around on the floor through Andrea's blood. Before she could say anything else, Emily asked, "Were you serious about doing housework? You just got through lighting a giant on fire, tying him up, kicking the crap out of a woman and almost killing her, and all this in the middle of the ocean during a storm that might sink us. And you really want to do housework? Are you serious?"

"Well, when you put it that way, it almost sounds humorous. Let's sit down and hang on."

Maddie and Emily climbed on the sofa behind the table. The constant rocking of Madeline made Emily tired, forcing her eyes shut. She heard her mother rising from her seat. She cracked one eye open and saw she was cleaning Andrea's blood, and picking items up from the floor. She didn't say anything, she knew her mother's adrenaline was still coursing through her, and she probably just needed to keep busy.

There were books, magazines, kitchen canisters, charts, and fruit from the hammocks rolling everywhere. She reached under the table for some more books, and noticed Andrea's pistol laying on the floor.

Maddie hadn't fired a gun since she was sixteen, when she her father were on their last hunting trip together. Her father had bought her a Kimber 84 Classic with a twenty-two inch barrel, just the gift every girl dreams of receiving on her sixteenth birthday. But now she wasn't holding a rifle, it was a handgun, and her first time held one.

She glanced at Emily who had closed her eyes, then inspected the murder weapon, wondering how many people had lost their lives while it was in the palm of Andrea's hand. Was this the weapon used to force the missing people on the posters into submission? The more she thought, the angrier she became.

She exchanged glances between the pistol and the locked room, then remembered her father's words, "All stories, if continued far enough, end in death." She would later find out, after her father took his own life by emulating his mentor, that it was Hemingway who first quoted those words.

She glanced at back at Emily, and noticed her eyes still closed, then placed her ear to the bedroom door where Carlos and Andrea were. She gripped the door handle, unlatched the lock, then thought, 'Were they watching the door in anticipation of someone entering?' Maybe Carlos would barrel through the door. She clicked the hammer. 'Maybe they heard that.' Transfixed on the door, she took a deep breath then pushed it open.

Carlos and Andrea hadn't moved. Before she could raise the pistol, she heard, "What are you doing, Mom?"

Maddie leaped back, slamming the door shut. "Em, I thought you were sleeping?"

Emily sat up and faced Maddie. "Where'd you get that gun? Oh my God, you were gonna kill them."

"Of course not. Do I look like a killer to you? I was just checking on them."

"Where'd you get the gun?"

"It was under the table."

"We should hide it in case we need it later," Emily suggested.

"Don't about it, I'll take care of it." She could have gotten the whole thing over with right then and there. They could have dumped the bodies in the sea, and just had the storm to weather through. Then they'd head back home, and no one would be the wiser. She set the pistol on the sofa beside her. "Let's try and get some sleep now."

"I can't sleep. Maybe I should go help them."

"No way, if something happens, God forbid, I don't want to lose all of you.

"But, I'm a better swimmer than both of them. Besides, Jake's too small to really help."

"What do you think you're gonna do?"

"I can takeover steering when Dad needs a break. He can't do it by himself all night."

Emily was right, she would be more help than Jake. His courage was commendable, but he wasn't as strong as Emily. She agreed.

"The same goes for you what I told your brother. Stay low, and..."

"I know, attach the jack-line first thing." She grabbed a life vest, and darted for the door.

Maddie started to say, "Put your vest on first," but it was too late, a wave caught Emily and thrust her outside, slamming the door behind her.

Maddie turned toward the gun on the sofa. She held it in her hand and balanced herself toward the galley. She then turned, facing the closed bedroom door again. After grasping the mast pole from another sway of the boat, she decided to head back toward the bow.

Chapter Eleven

Lightning flashed, striking the surface of the raging sea. Madeline breached the peaks of tireless onslaughts of rolling swells, slamming down in preparation for the next. The constant battery of waves exploded topside, flooding the cockpit faster than it could drain. Madeline had dwarfed in size, becoming a focus of target practice for the determined salty moguls. Sam guessed swells to be eight to ten feet, with winds from thirty knots. Attached to the jack-line, he leveraged himself behind the wheel.

With the engine running, Sam battled to keep Madeline at a twenty-degree angle into oncoming swells. Sam aimed the bow into each relentless wave, then spinning the wheel to control her as she traveled down the backside. It was textbook storm sailing, but he wondered if he could keep this up all night.

Jake was clutched to his father's leg. "How big do you think the waves are?"

"Too big," Sam answered.

The numbers didn't matter to him, it was the length of time it would last that concerned Sam the most. "Don't worry, squalls vanish as fast as they appear," he yelled back. "They can last from minutes to hours."

"Let's hope for minutes," Jake yelled.

A light appeared from the cabin door. Emily crouched from the crashing wave, as it forced the door shut behind her. "Emily!" Sam yelled. "Get back inside."

Before Emily could respond, another wave launched her into the lifeline. The vest flew in the air and into the darkness over the sea. Emily grasped the line screaming, "Dad!"

"Jake, take the wheel and aim for the swells."

Jake took over the wheel, putting all his weight into it. Sam waded through the flooded cockpit, warding off oncoming waves. Emily fought to lift herself up, but another forceful wave pushed her further between the lines. "Dad! Help me!" she screamed again, dangling above the waterline outside the boat.

The turbulent sea rocked Madeline, tossing her about like a bottle floating on the water. Jake's weight wasn't enough, as the wheel spun through his fingers.

Friction from the lifeline bit through Emily's fingers. She held tight with one hand, while the other dangled behind her. She struggled to reach for something to grasp, but the weight of the water was too much. "Dad! I can't hang on!" Her grasp was slipping.

He stretched his arm and yelled, "Grab my hand."

Her voice shivered in terror. "I can't reach!"

He reached farther, finally grabbing her flailing arm. "Hold on tight!" he yelled.

He used his last ounce of energy to pull, but another relentless wave crashed, pushing him into the lines.

"Don't let me go!" she screamed.

His grip was slipping. He leveraged himself to use his other hand, but as Madeline leaned, his grasp loosened. "Dad!" she screamed, before sliding into the sea.

"Emily!" Jake yelled. "Dad! Do something!"

Sam froze at the edge, staring into the water. It was the same place on the boat he stood as a child, watching his mother climb on his father, pushing them both under until they vanished forever. "Dad!" Jake yelled, again. "Do something!"

Jake's voice sparked life back into him. He unhooked the carabiner, releasing his tie to the jack-line. "Throw the life ring to her, and keep pointing at her!" he yelled back to Jake.

Jake released the wheel and grabbed the life ring. Before being hit by another wave, he heaved it into the water near her, then grabbed the wheel with one hand, while pointing at his sister with the other. "Grab the ring!" he yelled to Emily.

Jake couldn't bear to watch his sister in helpless fear. He began regretting arguments, and wished he and his sister had been closer. He loved his sister, and knew she had a kind heart. All she wanted was her independence and privacy, and he should have given that to her. Now, at the risk of losing her forever, he promised to himself, if she made it out alive, he'd treat her better. 'Please, God, don't let her die,' he whimpered.

Emily reached for the ring, when a large swell dragged her under. With his life vest still on, Sam cut through the mountainous swells toward her. "Emily!"

Emily emerged, and attempted to swim toward the boat. The swells pushed her toward it, but Madeline's distance increased as she passed over the peaks. Emily's legs were like windmills kicking through the heavy current, but it seemed hopeless as she drifted farther away. "Dad, where are you?" she yelled.

Choking and spitting out sprays of water, Sam glanced over the swells. He knew just seconds could be the difference between life and death for Emily. Seeing her head merge to the top, he yelled, "Swim toward me!" He gurgled, as he swam with unforgiving intention toward her distant cries for help.

For a split moment, he remembered his mother's refusal to wear that, "Bulky faux of fashion." He now realized what she meant. The vest was awkward, and prohibited speed. Each stroke seemed to increase distance between them, as he wobbled from side to side over the swells. Spotting the rope, he pulled the ring toward him, then threw it like a Frisbee to her. "Grab the ring!" he hollered. "Grab the ring, Em!"

Emily's arms matched her legs, propelling her through the current. "I can't get to it!" she screamed, then vanished.

"Emily!" Sam yelled. "Emily!"

Jake's arm teetered with the rocking of the boat, still trying to maintain his pointing direction. "Emily!" he screamed.

Sam continued swimming toward his sight he last saw her. "Emily!" Then he spotted the vacant ring ahead of him.

"Do you see her?" he yelled to Jake.

"No," Jake answered, then Emily emerged, taking a deep breath and choking.

"Dad!" she yelled, as the swell subsided.

"Grab the ring! It's beside you," Sam said.

"I got it!" Emily pulled the ring to her chest and hugged it.

"Kick, Em," Sam yelled.

She kicked toward him, as he hovered between the boat and her. "Jake, pull me in!"

The current's weight proved too strong for Jake. He wrapped the rope around a spare winch that wasn't being used, then began cranking. "Kick, Em! You're almost here!"

Out of energy and exhausted, Emily's kick slowed. "I can't anymore." Her lack of energy effected her voice, too weak to yell anymore.

"Hang on. Don't let go!" Sam insisted. "You're almost there."

Sam pulled her near him, as she lay weakened on the ring. Sam looped her arm through his vest. "Try and hang on. We're just about there," he instructed, then draped himself over her and kicked to the stern ladder.

While Sam was stretching for a rung Madeline breached the peak of a swell, lifting her stern out the water and away from Sam's reach. The moment the bow slammed down, Sam reached for the ladder again, and shoved Emily up. "Jake! Pull her up!"

Another swell swept under them. Madeline rose in the air, with Emily's arm wrapped through a rung. The bow slammed again. Jake leaned over the edge and grabbed Emily's arm. "Come on, Em. You can do it," he told her.

Sam boosted her from behind. "Climb, Em," he said, with a final shove, pushing her over the edge.

Sam followed behind, toppling beside her in the water-filled cockpit. "Can you make it to the door?" he asked her.

"I'll try," she answered, then began crawling through the water.

"Go on, Jake. You, too," he said.

"What about the boat?"

"Just get inside, I'll handle it."

Sam prodded them through the door, as another wave pummeled him against the lifelines, again.

Chapter Twelve

The following morning, mountains of swells had transformed into a flat oasis, while Madeline drifted, wounded by her lengthy thrashing just hours before. The welcoming sunrise brought warmth of pleasing solace, as Sam lay slumped from exhaustion in the captain's chair.

Sprays of water shot through the air from the tranquil surface like a blowhole enveloping the cockpit. Disturbed from his sleep, Sam glanced at the compass making sure they were heading back toward Key West. A vertical spray aroused his attention to the side of the boat. He slumbered out of his chair and peered into the water. A pod of whales were seen breaching. 'Sign of freedom,' he thought.

He wished Jake would have been there to see it. It wasn't a shark or alligator liked he wanted to see, but it was a rare sighting that he knew he'd remember for a lifetime.

The flooded cockpit had drained and everything appeared undamaged, with the exception of the missing seat cushions, and radio antenna swinging from the mast. Sam had ignored the advice of his sailing instructor and Captain Kent, who had suggested he study some electrical know-how before going on the trip. "At least take a book on the mechanics of electricity," his instructor had advised.

Sam had never figured they'd be far enough off land for a breakdown to matter. If he was knowledgable in electrical wiring, he'd still be apprehensive to climb the tall mast, a fear he managed to conceal from his family. Even their Christmas lights remained hung year round. He'd just have to settle on sighting another vessel on the way, or return unannounced and without assistance. Either was fine with him.

The roof hatch over the cabin had a piece of weather stripping pealing away, an easy fix. He searched for the two bullets holes, but only found the one near the hatch over the cabin. After his inspection, he pushed the throttle into high and found the cruise control to be operating fine.

He cracked the cabin door open to find Maddie, Emily, and Jake huddled behind the table. Maddie's arms were wrapped around them, with their heads resting on her chest. She was like a mother Eagle protecting her young.

The door to the room that housed Carlos and Andrea appeared undisturbed. The door to the bathroom was the same. Everything appeared cleaned as if nothing had happened, even Andrea's blood had been wiped clean. He closed the door, then strolled over to the edge and peered down. The whales had moved on. He wondered where they might be going. Maybe they were fleeing danger, as well.

Taking his seat behind the helm, a sudden sense of grief came over him. As if in a confessional, he whispered, "It's all my fault. If I wouldn't have taken them on this damn trip in the first place, all this wouldn't have happened."

Keeping his eyes on the horizon with long-shot hopes of seeing land, he continued torturing himself. All the events leading up to this moment had culminated into guilt and regret. "What was I thinking? Was this trip really to improve our family, or was it to fulfill some mid-life crises? Did I ever have a mid-life crisis? Hell, I don't even know what a mid-life crisis is."

The more he thought, the more depressed he became. He knew whatever the reason, it was irresponsible what he had done, placing his family in the hands of sex-traffickers. 'God, strike me down right now,' he demanded, as his anger grew.

It was an absolute certainty Maddie would leave him now. Who would want to stay with someone who had lied and deceived the ones he claimed to love? Her earlier ultimatum at home confirmed his thoughts. "If this excuse for a plan fails, so do we."

His eyes swelled. His mouth twitched. He felt like breaking down, releasing his anguish. "Man up," he told himself, using Maddie's words.

He sniffled, wiped his eyes, then the cabin door opened. 'Here they come,' he thought.

He guessed they had discussed matters, and were ready to tell him their decision. He listened to their footsteps, then shifted tall in the chair with his shoulders back, a defendant ready to hear the verdict.

Maddie was first out of the cabin. Dark shades of bruises framed the bandage that concealed the gash above her eye. Her smile appeared forced and painful, as she approached him. "Good morning, Captain," she said.

Thoughts of a Black Widow spider flashed before him. "Good morning."

Emily followed behind with a platter of sliced pineapple, mango, oranges, and bananas. She placed them on the helm table in front of Sam. "Good morning, hero," she said, then approached him with a hug.

Sam's thoughts became askew, a total state of confusion.

Maddie reached for a piece of pineapple and hand-fed him. She shrouded him with her arms, then whispered in his ear, "The kids told me everything. I can't believe what you did."

The last time he heard those words, he was sitting in a dining room chair being berated for purchasing the boat.

Then she continued, "You actually jumped in and saved her life?"

"I just did what anybody else would do," he said, in a modest and humble tone. "Jake was a big help, too."

Jake pulled up the rear holding a coffee pot and two cups. "Coffee, Captain?"

"Sure, skipper. But what do you say about calling me something else besides, Captain?" That's the last thing he wanted to be reminded of.

"What do you want me to call you?"

"How about, just plain old, Dad?"

"You got it... Dad."

Emily weaved in between Maddie and Jake and presented her own hug and kiss. "Thank you so much, Dad. You saved my life last night."

Sam was smothered with hugs and kisses by the two women he not only loved the most, but feared most. "You were so brave," she added. "I was ready to give up, but you made me keep going."

"Yeah, Dad, you were awesome. Like those guys who jump out of helicopters to rescue people."

"Hey, you were there to help too, buddy. Without you, neither of us would have made it."

After a moment of silence, Sam added, "I'm sorry I put you guys in this kind of a situation. I should have listened to you from the beginning, Maddie. We never should have gone on this damn trip."

"Hey, I'm a big girl," Maddie said. "It's not your fault. Stop beating yourself up. If it wasn't this, maybe it would have been something else. Besides, I know you had good intentions."

Her understanding was worse torture for him. He didn't deserve her kindness.

"Besides, looks like your aversion to water is gone," she added, with a grin.

"I didn't even think about it," he lied.

Jake was getting restless, he wanted to begin his new day of freedom. "Where's the binoculars?" he asked. "I'm gonna see if someone's looking for us."

Sam reached in the compartment under the cushion. "Keep your eye out for whales, I saw some earlier, swimming right next to us."

"No way," Jake said, excited.

"Yeah, it was a pod of about five. They were only about ten feet away."

"Cool. Maybe there's some sharks nearby, too." Jake leaped topside and ran toward the bow.

"Careful, buddy," Sam said.

"I see the storm knocked out the antenna," Maddie said. "No wonder we can't get ahold of anyone."

"We've come this far without it. We can make it the rest of the way."

Emily nudged Sam from the wheel. "Why don't you guys relax, I'll chauffeur you," she said. "Think of it as a romantic gondola ride in Venice."

"It's on autopilot," Sam said. "But since you offered."

Sam and Maddie snuggled like two sweethearts falling in love. "I don't think I've ever seen you two like this before," Emily remarked.

"Get used to it, kiddo," Maddie said, then kissed Sam.

Sam hadn't felt this proud since the day he and Maddie proclaimed their love. They were watching the sunset from the tailgate of his small pickup at the beach. He held the sushi, she held the blanket that was wrapped around Emily. "I love you," he had told her. Something he wanted to say since the day they met in the college cafeteria.

"What about, Emily?" she had asked. "Don't you love her, too?"

It wasn't exactly the response he was hoping for, but he said with a mouthful of calamari, "Of course, I love her."

But then she finally turned to him and planted a kiss on his lips, "And we love you, too."

Knowing she could have had her pick from any guy, he never felt her sincerity. But he was content with the fact that in some cultures, relationships weren't based on love, but rather, convenience. So he accepted her reply and would spend his life proving she made the right choice. Now, they were somewhere in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico, on a trip she didn't really want to be on, a trip designed to save their marriage.

He wanted to ask if she checked on their uninvited guests, but didn't want to spoil the moment. This is what he had waited for.

They spoke about home, and how nice it would be to get back. She told him that she and Emily would teach him and Jake what they learned in their kickboxing classes after each lesson. They spoke about having family picnics, and going for pizza after watching Jakes little league games. They spoke about taking the kids to cinemas, and eating popcorn. She suggested they choose one or two nights a week, just for a private date night. "Maybe we can even rent a hotel room for a night," she suggested.

Sam talked about buying a tent trailer, and going on local camping trips, "The operative word being, 'local,'".

Emily honored their private moment by pretending she wasn't listening. She stared across the sea, and watched Jake surveying the water with the binoculars. After a moment of silence, she said, "It's surprising how the ocean can be so calm after a storm."

"It felt more like a hurricane," Maddie said, before taking a sip of coffee.

"How did you come up with this idea, Dad?" Emily asked. "I mean, sailing."

Sam liked her calling him, Dad, it made him feel accepted by her. They had told her the truth about her real father just last year, a few days after her birthday. She deserved the truth, but they agreed to wait and tell her when they thought she was old enough to except it. "You mean, I'm a half-breed?" she had asked.

Sam thought of a quick answer. He didn't want them to know it was an idea he heard from their nemesis. "I don't know, I think I just followed a popup ad on the internet. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"You must be the only one who clicks those things," Maddie snickered.

Conversations continued with laughter and future plans. It was a pleasurable diversion from their present reality, 'It doesn't get any better than this,' he thought.

A moment later, Jake yelled from the bow, "I see a boat!"

'It just got better,' he thought, twisting toward Jake who was pointing out to sea.

Sam, Maddie, and Emily rushed to Jake to see what he had spotted.

They clustered around the bow. "See it?" Jake said, still pointing.

Maddie scanned the horizon. "I don't see anything."

"Over there" Sam said.

"I see it now," Maddie said.

Sam peered through the binoculars on the starboard side at two o'clock, giving a play-by-play description of what he saw. "Looks like a bunch of kids dancing and drinking. They're on a Catamaran, maybe fifty, or more feet long." Then he paused.

Maddie, Emily, and Jake waited for more information, before he added, "They're probably a few miles from us. I wish the radio was working."

"What about the flares?" Emily suggested. "They'll be sure to see them."

Captain Kent had told them that was the only thing they needed to purchase. "That's what we forgot to buy," Maddie said. "We were in such a hurry to rush out of the store."

"Let's catch up to them, then," Jake suggested.

"That's a big boat. It's probably much faster than ours," Sam replied, then peered around the boat. "I've got it, follow me."

Sam ran ahead and stood in the cockpit. "We'll take the dinghy. It's lighter and probably faster than our boat."

"Good idea," Jake said.

They lowered the dinghy into the water behind the stern. Inside, was a tackle box with two fishing poles and a set of oars strewn across two benches, and a five-gallon plastic gas container beside the small outboard engine.

Sam climbed in the dinghy and examined the outboard. "It's got four horsepower, that's plenty." Then he hopped back into the cockpit.

"Cool. There's just enough room for all of us," Jake said.

"I don't think we should all go," Maddie said. "It'll be too heavy and slow it down."

Sam thought a moment. "Yeah, you're probably right. You go, and the kids and I will stay here."

"I'm not going out there alone. You and Jake go. We'll be fine here."

Sam and Maddie discussed who should go. Sam didn't like the idea of leaving them behind with Carlos and Andrea, and Maddie didn't want to be in the middle of the ocean in a small inflatable dinghy. "We better hurry and decide something," they're not getting any closer," Emily sounded.

"All right," Sam finally said. "I'll go. But let's check on them first." He was referring to Carlos and Andrea.

After listening for noise with his ear against the door, Sam unlatched and cracked it open just enough to peer inside. Carlos and Andrea lay in the same positions they had put them in. "Everything looks fine," he whispered to Maddie, standing behind him.

Maddie and Emily helped Sam with his life vest. "Dad, I think I should go with you," Jake said. "I discovered it."

Sam chuckled. Jake's offer didn't surprise him. "That's okay buddy, you stay here and protect your mother and sister. I won't be long."

"I agree with him," Maddie told Sam. She knew he still had an aversion to water, and didn't like the idea of him being alone in the middle of the sea in a small raft.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, Just hurry back."

"Okay, hop in," Sam told Jake.

Maddie tightened Jake's vest and slipped the binoculars around his neck. After receiving their hugs and kisses, they climbed down the swim ladder into the boat. Jake perched at the bow, while Sam positioned himself next to the small outboard. "Do you know what you're doing?" Maddie asked.

"How hard can it be?" he replied. "Just like starting the lawnmower," then a thought flashed to him, and added, "That we used to use."

"That's what I was going to say," Maddie remarked. "Do you remember how?"

Sam pulled the choke, then yanked the cord. After a few attempts, the engine started.

Jake detached the rope from its hook and dropped it in the water, while Sam revved the engine. "Make sure you follow behind us," Sam said to Maddie.

"Okay. You two be careful, and hurry back."

"We'll be back soon with help," Jake said.

Emily turned toward the wheel and spun the boat around at full power. "Good luck, guys," she yelled.

When the dinghy sped, leaving a wake in Maddie's path, Carlos opened his eyes and moaned.

Chapter Thirteen

The sea was as calm as a lake and the sun shone through clear blue skies. It was a perfect day for recreational boating. It was the kind of weather boaters dreamed of. Carlos and Andrea had been subdued and bound, his family was together again, they had survived the stormy night, and he and Jake were on their way to their rescue boat. 'Everything is perfect. What could go wrong?' Sam thought.

Under power, Madeline could cruise between four to six knots, the four horsepower outboard could travel around 10. Madeline's bow was left in the distance, as the dinghy gained on the Catamaran.

Sam admired Jake's posture at the bow. He was like a veteran sailor in a crows nest peering over the sea in search of land. He expected him to cry out, "Land ho!"

He told Jake about the discussion between Maddie and him, and how they were going to do everything with each other. Jake spoke about his baseball team, and how he was determined to show-up his teammates this year. Sam promised to attend all his games. Sam told him about the camping trips they'd go on, and promised to teach him how to catch trout using night-crawlers, and bass using lures. They spoke about girls, but Jake made it clear they were a waste of time, stressing his desire to focus on baseball instead. It was a father-son moment. Not the first they had, but the first that gave hope for a brighter future.

"You know, Jakester? Despite everything that's happened, I'm very proud of you. You've really proved yourself on this trip."

"Thanks, Dad. You know? When you jumped in after Em, I was so scared. I thought for sure you and her were gonna drown. You were really brave to face the danger of the sea."

Sam hesitated, then said, "Perils of courage. If I would have thought about it, I probably wouldn't have done it. The longer you think about fear, the more difficult it is to overcome. Do you know what I mean?"

Jake gave it some thought, then said, "I think so. It's kinda like what Nike says, Just do it?"

"Yeah, like that, but it's more complicated. It's the ability to manage fear, rather than overcoming it." Sam sounded like a motivational speaker and was ready to change the subject, but Jake persisted.

"What do you mean, manage it?"

Whatever he said right now, Jake would remember his entire life, and probably pass on to his kids. He had to choose his words carefully. "Fear is only an emotion. As humans, we're programmed to think of the worse things that can happen," he said. "Does that make sense so far?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"You need to practice reinterpreting situations, and reprogramming yourself to think of the positive things, rather than the negative things."

Jake was puzzled.

"Let me give you a little example. When I was younger, my friends and were jumping from a waterfall. Everyone was screaming, laughing and having fun, except me. I was afraid of heights. It didn't look that high from the water where we were swimming, but once I was looking down from the top, it seemed like a mile drop."

"What did you do?"

"At first, I just stared down, letting everyone go ahead of me. The more I thought about it, the more scared I got."

"Did you finally jump?"

"My friends kept yelling for me to jump, but I froze."

"What did you do?"

"I thought about how much fun they were having, and the good feeling I'd have splashing in the water and swimming. So I backed up so I couldn't how far down it was, then ran toward the edge of the waterfall and jumped."

"Wow. Did it hurt?"

"Not a bit. In fact, I did it several more times, and spent the afternoon having fun."

"So, you overcame your fear of heights?"

"Well, not exactly. I still have the fear, but I manage it, thinking of only the positive things, rather than the negative things. Understand now?"

"Yeah, I think I do. So, instead of spending time thinking of the bad things, think of the good things, and just do it."

"That's right, Jakester."

"I can't wait to try it."

A sense of relief came over Sam, so he continued. "Another way to manage fear, is not to put yourself in a situation that will create fear, but sometimes we don't have that choice."

"Like, when Emily was thrown in the water."

"Yes, exactly like that. I didn't have time to think about the fear, I just jumped, knowing I had to save her."

Sam's story was true, except it was his father who told it to him when he was a child.

Jake drew his shoulders back, and grinned. "Thanks, Dad." Then he looked puzzled.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, expecting to delve deeper in his explanation.

"Do you hear music?"

One hand on the throttle, the other holding binoculars, Sam gazed at the Catamaran. The crew were still dancing and drinking, but coming in much clearer view now. "We're getting closer," Sam said.

There were an equal mix of guys and girls, probably college students. 'Daddy's boat no doubt,' he thought.

Jake screamed and waved his arms. "Hello, we're over here. Help."

"Don't think their gonna hear, buddy. Sounds like they got the music turned up pretty loud."

Despite his father's words, Jake called out several more times. "Hey, over here! Help us!" then asked, "What are they doing?"

Minutes later, a young man strolled to the starboard side, holding a cell phone. Sam guessed it was his father who owned the boat. His clothing looked preppy and expensive, with a gold chain around his neck, and an expensive looking watch.

Jake continued waving and screaming, when the young man darted through his friends into the cabin, and returned with a pair of binoculars. From a distance, they were eye to eye. "Hello! Help us!" Sam yelled, waving his arms. "They see us," he told Jake.

The young man smiled and waved. Sam surged from his seat, knocking the gas container over. "Please, we need your help. Stop."

The young man placed his thumb and pinky to his mouth like drinking from a mug of beer. Then he performed a wobble like he was drunk. "He doesn't know what we're trying to say," Sam said.

One of the girls approached the man. She looked angry. 'The girlfriend,' Sam surmised.

Sam could see he was trying to tell her about the dinghy, and even tried pointing, but she'd slap his arm down. She pointed her finger at him, then shoved him back. He yelled something to her, then she grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward the others before disappearing into the cabin.

Shortly after, Sam noticed the Catamaran's wake increase in size, pulling away from the dinghy. "They're going about twenty knots now," Sam mumbled. "We'll never catch them."

"What happened?" Jake asked.

"I don't know. It looked like he was trying to tell her about us, but she was angry, maybe wanting to get home faster."

"Keep going, maybe they'll see us, again."

Sam took his seat and reached for the gas container to stand it back in its place. It was lighter than it should have been. Curious, and with no effort, he lifted the container over his head toward the sunlight. It was empty. He glanced at the fuel indicator, it was in the red.

###

The inside of the bedroom cast a foul odor of singed hair and scorched skin. Damp bedding from the leaking hatch roof added an odor of mildew. It was a smell certain to have an effect on one's sinuses. Finally able to keep his eyes open, Carlos tried to move, but the excruciating pain radiating through the surface of his scalp forced him to stop. He felt the restraints around him and a body next to his. He guessed it was his sister. "D? Are y-you awake?"

His hair had been burnt down to his scalp, revealing blisters the size of his knuckles. "D?" he said, again. "W-Wake up. Are you okay? M-My head hurts r-really b-bad."

His slight movement awakened her. "What's wrong?" she moaned. "Where are we? Are you all right?"

"M-my head hurts. I w-was on f-fire. I'm sc-cared."

Andrea's body ached. She was infuriated. No so much at the thrashing she received from Maddie, but by her lack of awareness of allowing them to get the jump on her.

While in prison, she learned to anticipate an attack before it happened. Prison women weren't sharp when it came to concealing their intentions. They didn't have to be, there was nowhere for an inmate to run. They'd stand in groups and stare at their victim, or approach them with their arm tucked behind their back, an indication someone was about to be stabbed.

"What do you mean, on fire?" she asked, sniffing the foul odor lingering in the room.

Carlos sounded like he was ready to cry. "Th-They lit m-me on f-fire," he repeated. "They b-beat me."

Andrea couldn't believe what she was hearing. She hadn't seen him get a beating since they lived with their mother and father as children.

"How did they do that?" she asked. She was becoming angrier.

"I d-don't know. Th-They just did."

Andrea tried to move, but the ropes tightened. "Can you work your hands through the rope?"

"It's hard. My n-neck is t-tied, too." With each tug and twist of his hands, the rope dug deeper into him. "Stop," she said. "Do you still have the pocket knife I gave you?" She had taken a Swiss Army knife from glove compartment of the car with the child seat. She thought it would be a nice gift for her brother, and help take his mind off her being gone for so long.

"Yeah, I th-think so. It sh-should be in m-my p-pocket."

"See if you can reach it."

He struggled to get his hand in his pocket. He worked the knife to the top of his pocket, then grasped it. His fingers were too large and clumsy to open the blades. I c-can't open it."

"Let me try," Andrea said.

Andrea fingered the knife from Carlos's hand, but was only able to use her touch to feel which blade she was opening. She opened the fingernail file, then a screwdriver and bottle opener, all of which she retracted. Then the scissors sprung open, but the blades were too dull. The next blade was the knife. She ran her thumb across the blade, it was only a little sharper than the scissors, but it would have to do. She wrapped her hand around the handle of the knife, then in an awkward movement, ran it over the rope, a quarter of an inch both ways. "See if you can rock a little," she told, him.

###

Carlos continued to rock back and forth as Andrea held the knife pressed against the rope. A few minutes later, another strand had snapped. "How l-long do I have t-to d-do this?"

"Not much longer," she answered, concentrating on keeping the knife steady. "We're almost there."

Several minutes later, the last strand snapped free. Andrea felt the sudden release of pressure, as the rope unraveled between their wrists. "Got it," she said, then cut Carlos's hands free and unwrapped the rope from around his neck and feet. When she was able to turn toward him, she noticed his head. "What the hell?" she said. Then she muttered words in Spanish.

A part of her wanted to kill the family for what they did to her little brother, the other part told her this was their last payment before beginning a new life. "What did they do to you?" The burns had to be at least second-degree.

Carlos tried to touch his head, but the sting was too great. She had never imagined someone would ever get the best of him. "Let's get some water on you."

"W-what about you?" He could see his sister had been beaten. Andrea's face was swollen with cuts, and dried blood.

"Don't worry about me," she said. "Let's take care of you."

Carlos dropped to his knees in the bathroom, then hung his head over the sink. "This might sting a little," she said, "but it'll make it feel better."

After soaking his head in water, she asked, "How's it feel?"

"It still hurts, b-but better."

Andrea found a towel and wet it. "Put this on your head."

"Th-That f-feels nice," he said, then seated himself on the bed.

"Do you think you can bust the door open?" she asked him.

He rose and tapped it with his knuckle. "N-No p-problem."

###

Sam made a u-turn back to Madeline. About two miles ahead in the distance, Sam could see the bow heading toward them. "Dad, we can't go back yet, it's just a matter of time before they turn around and come save us."

"Jake, we can't risk it, we're almost out of fuel. If we keep going and they don't see us, we'll run out for sure."

"But Mom and Emily will catch up to us. What do we have to lose?"

Jake had a good point, but Sam feared leaving Maddie and Emily alone on the boat for so long with Carlos and Andrea. He had to act responsible this time. He'd never forgive himself if anything happened to them.

"Just sit tight," he told Jake. "If they see us again, they'll turn around and come back."

Jake remained on the bow, scanning the sea. Sam maintained full throttle hoping they had enough gas to get them back. Soon, Madeline drifted to port side. Unable to detect a wake behind her, he knew she had become adrift. Sam wasn't going to mention anything to Jake, but he turned behind him and noticed the same thing. "Dad, what's going on? Why are they going in a different direction?"

"They're drifting," he mumbled.

"I don't see anyone," Jake said, then grabbed the binoculars.

They were about half mile away when Sam asked, "What do you see?"

After a few seconds, Jake answered, "I don't see Mom, or Em."

A hundred yards from Madeline's port side, the small outboard sputtered. "Are we running out of gas?" Jake asked, just before the engine cut out.

In desperation, Sam pulled the choke then pulled the ripcord several times. It only tore a thin layer of skin from his fingers.

"I'm afraid so. We'll have to row the rest of the way," he said, then grabbed the oars.

Jake kept an eye out for his mother and sister. "I still don't see them. I think something's wrong."

Hearing it from Jake made it sound surreal. "Whatever you do, don't yell out. If Carlos and Andrea got free, we don't want to alert them. Let's try and catch them by surprise," he said, not paying attention to his sneakers getting wet.

"Okay," Jake agreed, looking around Sam's feet. "Dad? I think we're sinking."

Water gushed from a hole the size of a credit card from under a peeling patch. "Crap," Sam whispered. "See if there's a fishing knife in the tackle box," he said, increasing his rowing speed.

They were still about a hundred yards from Madeline, and water was filling the dinghy. "Hurry," he told, Jake.

As Jake rummaged through the tackle box, Sam unscrewed the outboard from the stern plate, and let it sink. It was the only thing he could get rid of to make the dinghy lighter. Jake pulled out bobbers, sinkers, hooks, fishing line, then held up a pair of needle nose pliers. "What about these?"

Sam grabbed the pliers, then pinched and twisted a portion of his life vest. "What are you doing?" Jake asked.

"PFDs float. If I can rip off a good chunk, I can plug the hole."

Jake emptied the balance of the tackle box. "What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"Gonna use it for a bucket," then started scooping water overboard.

'Resourceful,' Sam thought, but the dinghy was filling faster than Jake could scoop.

Sam had stuffed the hole with a chunk of his life vest, but ripped the raft, letting in more water at a faster pace. He resumed rowing, but water began spilling over the stern plate where the outboard was mounted. He moved closer to Jake seated on the edge of the bow, estimating the distance to Madeline to be around 30 yards. After a heavy sigh, he said, "We don't have time for this. I'm gonna swim to the boat. When I get there, I'll toss you the line and you hook it to the dinghy, then pull yourself in. You know what to do if it sinks before that."

It was no problem for Jake to swim thirty yards. "You got it, Dad. Be careful."

"When you get back onboard, just sit tight and wait, got it?"

"Got it."

Still donning his life vest, Sam leaped in the water, beginning his awkward swim toward Madeline. It reminded him of the previous evening. But, Emily was right, it was surprising how calm the sea can be after a storm. Twenty-five yards to Madeline, he stopped and peered over the surface around him. "What's wrong?" Jake asked.

"I felt something hit my legs."

Jake scanned the surface. "I don't see any..." then he saw the fin. "There's a shark!" he yelled, then pointed.

Sam panicked.

"Stay still. Don't move. Put your legs and arms together," Jake instructed, learning most sharks fed on octopus and squid. He needed to spot the prowling predator to determine its specie. Once he could determine that, he could predict its behavior and feeding habits. He could then instruct his father what he needed to do, if it wasn't too late.

Sam tensed with nightmare visions of being eaten alive. He'd feel the razor-sharp serrated teeth biting through his flesh. He'd hear his bones crunching, ripping his legs from his body. He'd taste the salt water flowing through his lungs, being dragged through the water. It was a vision he preferred not to think about. He waited for instructions from Jake.

Jake's angle from the bow allowed him to see the gray streamlined body of the menacing beast preying through the water toward his father. "Stay still," he said.

The shark darted from Sam an arms length before ramming into him.

Sam kept his eye on it, circling under him. "What do I do?"

"If you move, it'll think you're a fish. Just stay still," Jake warned, again.

The shark took several passes near Sam. He remembered seeing the whales earlier, and thought it may have sensed food nearby. His first thought was a Great White, a man-eater. 'If there's one, there's probably more,' he thought.

Weaving through the water, its fin protruded the surface leaving a small wake. "It's coming back," he yelled.

"It's a Black Tip Shark," Jake said. "It won't bite unless it thinks you're going to hurt it."

Sam didn't have time to ask questions. He listened to Jake and floated as still as he could, vertical in the calm water. He hoped his son knew what he was talking about. "Start treading slowly toward the boat after it passes you," Jake instructed. "Don't make any splashes, and it'll leave you alone. It's just curious."

The shark continued to make passes, coming closer to him each time. With his legs clinched together, he treaded toward the stern at a slow pace.

More than half the dinghy was under water, and going down fast. Jake perched at the highest point on the bow, knowing he'd have to abandon ship at any second. The shark glided near Jake, nudging the dinghy from underneath. A closer look at it, he recognized the beast as a White Tip Shark, more dangerous than the Black Tip Shark he previously thought.

Sam climbed over the edge of the stern into the cockpit, when Jake yelled, "Hurry, Dad, it's coming back."

Sam scanned the water around Jake and saw the outline of the torpedoing object heading toward Jake. He rummaged through a compartment and found a spare loaded flare gun entangled in spare line. Jake floated like a fishing bobber above the submerged dinghy. In a panicked tone, he yelled, "Dad, it's getting closer."

Sam aimed at the gray figure just under the surface of the water, approaching Jake, then fired. The flare splashed through the water, hitting just behind its fin. A bright glare illuminated, igniting a smothering fire. Sam dropped the gun, then threw the rope at Jake. "Hurry, Jake. Hang on, I'll pull you in."

Jake grasped the rope, as Sam pulled him toward the stern ladder. When Jake reached for a rung, Sam yanked him onboard.

"That was close, great shot, Dad. Where's Mom and Em?"

Sam hadn't had time to look around until now. Madeline drifted with the engine off, when he noticed the keys weren't in the ignition. Something was definitely wrong and he had a good idea what it was. He glanced around the boat searching for something to use as a weapon. "What are we gonna do?" Jake asked.

Inaudible voices came from the closed cabin door. 'Even if we found a weapon, it wouldn't do us much good,' Sam thought.

"It's no use. Just follow close behind me."

"We're going in?"

"We don't have a choice. Just stay close."

"But Dad, we gotta do something. What if they kill us?"

"Don't worry, they're not going to kill us."

Sam cracked the door to the cabin open, when he heard Emily crying, "Please don't kill me."

Chapter Fourteen

When Sam turned the handle to the cabin door, the muffled voices he heard earlier had silenced. Jake followed him close behind, as they climbed down the steps. The first person Sam saw was Maddie, just feet away. Carlos towered behind her with his arm wrapped around her neck and his hand pressed against the side of her head. Her face was smeared in blood with the bandage hanging loose from her brow. Scratches and cuts on her face that weren't there before, were evidence that she had been beaten. Her eyes were faint from his python grip. "Let her go," he said. "You're killing her."

"Welcome back," Andrea said, position behind Emily with the blade of the Swiss Army Knife pressed against her throat. "We've been waiting for you."

Jake stood in fear beside his father, watching his mother and sister in their helpless condition. He saw the pain in his sister's eyes. He saw his mother's reddened face, and wondered if she was still alive. His face was pale, like all blood had been drained.

Andrea and Emily were positioned in front of the closed bathroom door in front of the bulkhead wall. Blood trickled from Emily's throat. "Dad," she murmured.

The sight of Maddie and Emily in the hands of these two psychotic demons turned his stomach. "Please, let them go."

"Where's the gun?" Andrea snapped.

"I don't know what you're talking about. What gun?" he asked, taking a step toward Maddie. "Carlos, you're killing her. Please, let her go. She can't breathe." He took another step.

"Carlos? If he comes any closer, snap her neck."

"O-okay."

"I want the gun now," Andrea demanded.

"Honestly, I don't know what you're talking about."

She moved the knife to under Emily's ear. "If you don't tell me where it is, I'm gonna put a permanent smile through her throat," then she yelled, "Now where is it?"

"I'm telling you, I don't know where it is! Do you really think I'd risk my daughter's life by not telling you?"

With a surgeon's precision, Andrea glided the knife from the bottom of Emily's ear, to the middle of her throat. Fresh blood seeped over old. "Next time, it'll be deeper," she said, then raised her voice in fury. "Where's the gun?"

"I told you..." Sam started to say before being interrupted by Jake.

"I threw it in the water." Jake had to say something to save his sister.

"Over here, sit down," Andrea snapped at Jake, motioning him to the sofa.

Jake trembled past Carlos and Andrea, sliding in the sofa behind Andrea. Seeing Jake from the corner of her eye, she said in a calm voice, "Now that we're all together again, let's get something straight."

Maddie's hands released Carlos's arms and fell limp to her sides. Sam shouted at Andrea, "Tell your brother to let her go. Can't you see he's killing her."

"Loosen up a little, Carlos," she said. "But if he steps toward you again, kill her."

Glued to his seat, Jake's sedated expression revealed a time bomb ready to explode. Sam worried he had slipped into severe catatonia by envisioning his mother and sister being slaughtered.

As Jake placed his hands on the seat to prop himself higher, one slipped between the cracks of the cushion. He felt a cold metal object.

"Now, if there's anymore trouble from any of you," Andrea said, "I won't hesitate to cut your pretty little daughter's throat, and dump you all overboard. Trust me, sharks crave the scent of fresh blood, and will have a feeding frenzy with a nice little family like yours. Am I clear?"

Jake felt around the metal object. It was a pistol.

Sam nodded. "I didn't hear you," she barked, grasping Emily.

"Yes, you're clear?" Sam blurted.

"Good, just one more day and we'll part company forever. Now get back to the room," she ordered.

"What about them? What are you gonna do with them?" Sam asked, as he sidestepped around Carlos.

Jake fumbled the pistol, not taking his eyes off Andrea.

"You just worry about yourself right now. Just do as I tell you."

Sam stared into Emily's reddened neck where the knife had cut through a thin layer of skin. "Dad," she whispered. "Do it."

He felt disabled. He was no longer the courageous father she had admired just hours before. He nudged past Emily, staring into her destitute eyes. 'How could anyone do these things to such a young girl?' he thought. "Don't worry Em, I'll just be..."

"Quiet!" Andrea snapped. "No more talking."

Andrea peered down at Jake. "Move over, so I can keep an eye on you," she ordered.

Jake hesitated, then grasped the butt of the pistol.

"Did you hear me, boy? Move over there, now."

Jake didn't move.

"Do as she tells you Jake," Sam said, from inside the room.

Jake remained catatonic, placing his thumb on the hammer.

"Did you hear what I said, boy?"

Her orders were oblivious to him. His finger slipped through the trigger guard, as Andrea glared. He could see her anger rising from impatience. 'Just like shooting my slingshot,' he thought. It was the only weapon he'd ever shot, but was a dead-aim.

Maybe he'd kill them both and get his picture in the paper and earn the respect of the kids in school. Or, maybe the mayor would have a parade in his honor. He'd be a hero. His picture would be on the cover of every newspaper and magazine in the country.

Andrea pressed the blade into Emily's throat. "Jake!" Sam yelled, "Do as she says."

Emily's fear absorbed him in further thought. Maybe he'd miss? What if they moved, and he killed his mother and sister instead? What if he put a hole in the boat, and they all sank to the bottom of the sea?

He looked at his mother's lifeless face, as she hung like a tangled marionette doll from Carlos' thick arms.

"Are you deaf, boy?"

With the pistol held shaking in the palm of his hand, Jake took a deep breath, then clicked the hammer back.

"Maybe you need a picture drawn for you. I'm going to cut her carotid artery, and press firmly on her neck. Blood will drain from her head faster than you can change your mind. She'll lose consciousness, but her body will twitch as she chokes on blood. It's not a pretty sight. Is that the way you want to remember your sister? Do you really want to kill her?"

Jake remained still without a word.

Andrea pierced the knife against Emily's throat and slid it across her neck. Small droplets of blood oozed like molasses down her chest.

Tension filled the cabin waiting for Jake to react. "J-Jake," Emily murmured before inhaling and holding her breath, preparing for the blade to whip across her neck.

With horror masking his sister's faced, he released the pistol and slammed his hands on the table. "Okay, I'm moving," then slid over to the other corner.

"You don't know how close you came to watching your sister die in torture."

'You don't know how close you came to having a bullet in your head,' he wanted to tell her.

Andrea whipped Emily into Sam, still positioned in the room. He clutched her tight. "What about my wife and son?"

Andrea ignored him. "W-what should we d-do with her?" Carlos asked.

"Put her in the front room this time. I'll take care of her myself."

"What are you going to do to my mom?" Jake shouted.

"I'd like to carve her up, and feed her to the sharks."

Jake cringed. 'I should have shot her,' he thought.

"Don't worry," she added. "She's worth more to us alive than using her for chum. Hopefully, she's not already dead."

Carlos released Maddie. She faded unconscious through his arms to the floor. He reached down and grasped a fistful of her hair, and dragged her through the kitchen like a caveman. "Be careful with her," Andrea said. "We don't want to make her look worse than she already does."

Before leaving Sam and Emily alone in the room, Andrea warned, "If I hear one sound from either of you, you'll never see her, or your pretty little boy again," then slammed the door.

"What about me?" Jake asked. "What are you gonna do with me?"

With a cold stare, she slid in where Jake was seated before he moved. Doing his best to avoid eye contact, he glanced around the cabin avoiding the cushion where the weapon was.

"You look nervous," she said. "Anything you want to tell me?"

Jake clasped his hands on the table. "No," he answered with a shaky voice.

Andrea hesitated for a moment, "You know, people who lie go to hell." Then she placed her hands on the cushion.

"People who kill people go to hell, too," he spouted.

"I only kill when it benefits me," she said. "And killing your family wouldn't be a benefit. Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"

"No." Then he tensed watching her hand slide down the crack of the cushion.

She gave him a stern look. "What about this?" Then withdrew the pistol from between the cushions.

She pointed the barrel at Jake's face. He could see the tip of the bullet aimed at his head. "You know? I never did like you. In fact, you're just like your father, a little man who tries to be something they could never be."

Jake remembered Thad's words. His fear turned into anger, and she noticed it. "Besides," she continued, "You're not really worth much to us anyway."

Jake shifted flush against the back of his seat, with a look that made her feel he was ready to attack. "Say good-bye little man."

The gun shot echoed throughout the boat. Sam and Emily screamed in terror. "No!"

Chapter Fifteen

Madeline motored under drizzle through headstones of protruding masts rising from the lagoon's bottom. It was a cemetery of visitors before them. Eerie echoes of fauna rustled from beyond the wall of exotic flora of Noni, Che Chen, papaya, and sea grape trees, choking the remote lagoon.

Through the funnel of foliage near the water's edge, headlights flashed in the dusk from a ten-wheeled canvassed military truck that looked like it had transported its last troops into battle. Two rifled men in military fatigues stepped from the cab and approached Madeline. Andrea felt good to finally be home, and didn't care about careening the boat into the dilapidating dock.

Still drowsy from the injected drugs, Sam and Emily stumbled ahead of Carlos onto the stern under the pouring rain. It was difficult to tell the time of day, but Sam guessed it might have been late afternoon.

"Where's my brother? Where's Jake?" Emily asked. "Did you kill him? Where's my mother?"

"They're where they should be," Andrea answered, tossing the boat keys in the water.

Sam and Emily steadied down the gangway onto the rickety dock. "You don't think she killed him, do you?"

Sam could't answer her question. They'd find out shortly and felt the wait would be better than taking a wrong guess now. He only drew her against him and held her tight.

"Where is this place?" Emily asked.

An intimidating man resembling Fidel Castro approached from the truck. Although Cuba was his first thought after seeing the man, he replied, "Somewhere in the Yucatan." Then he asked Carlos, "Why is the army here?" Sam knew governments could be corrupt, but didn't realize it extended to militaries.

Carlos flashed a fearful glance at the two rifled men. "I'm n-not s-suppose to t-talk. I'll g-get in t-trouble, again," he replied, with a dejected expression.

"Where in the Yucatan are we?" Emily asked.

"I'm not sure," Sam answered, peering around for possible signs or indications that might give some specific evidence.

"Put them in back," demanded the Castro looking man to Carlos.

"Where's my brother?" Emily yelled. "Where's my Mother? Where are they?"

The only response was from a man pointing a rifle near the tailgate of the truck. "Entrar y cállate."

Emily kicked and squirmed, as Carlos lifted her through the tarp enclosure of the musty truck. "Put me down!"

"I-I'm s-sorry, E-Emily."

The inside of the truck provided evidence of others before them. "Look's like we're not the first ones to be back here," Sam commented.

"You don't think they killed Jake, do you?" she persisted.

"No, he's worth too much to them. They won't risk losing money. Try not to worry about it, he'll be along soon," he answered, trying to convince himself.

Despondent, Sam stared at the forgotten itineraries, receipts, and maps scattered on the floor, then gathered some up to inspect them.

Emily picked up a Boston Red Sox baseball cap and thought of Jake. A sudden emotion of guilt came over here. The kind one feels when a loved one passes. She reached for an earring lying on the floor, and a key ring with a picture of the beach. It read, Belize.

Sam examined the itineraries and the circled locations on the various maps. "Can you tell where we are?" she asked.

"Not specifically."

A moment of silence passed while Sam focused on an idea. "How many people did you see out there?"

She thought for a moment, "Only four, counting Carlos and Andrea."

He rose and peeked out the tarp enclosure. "What do you see?" she asked.

"Looks like a truck path going through trees and brush."

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking, we're going to have to make a run for it."

Emily was stunned. "How are we supposed to do that? We don't even know where we are."

"It's better than being in the back of this truck."

"Okay, but we gotta wait for Mom and Jake." She tried convincing herself her little brother was still alive.

Before either could say another word, Sam lifted his hand. "Quiet, I hear someone coming."

Their attention was turned to the tip of a rifle barrel spreading the tarp. Maddie stood at the foot of the tailgate with Jake by her side. "Mom, Jake," Emily screamed.

One foot on the tailgate, Jake leaped in the bed of the truck and clutched Emily. "I was afraid you were dead," she said.

"I almost was. The bullet shaved the ends of my hair."

"I'm so glad you guys are alive." A rush of relief came over Emily.

Sam stretched his arms around his family, but their reconciliation was cut short when a man spread the tarp. "Sentarse cállate," he yelled in a demanding tone before the tarp feel back into its closed position.

"We gotta make a run for it," Sam whispered. "We can't let them take us."

"You're right, but how?" Maddie asked.

"We're going to have to jump from the truck before it has a chance to speed up."

They heard the metal slamming of the truck doors followed by the rumble of the engine. Sam peeked through the tarp. "Get ready," then in the same breath, "Someone's coming, sit down."

A moment later, a man climbed through the tarp and slumped on the bench across from them. "What do we do now?" Jake whispered.

"Where are you taking us?" Emily asked.

The man remained silent. "I don't think he speaks English," Maddie said.

The truck jerked forward then grated into reverse, jockeying into position toward the path. The man sitting across from them held his rifle across his lap and reached in his pocket and pulled out a cigar. Sam thought fast. 'He's gonna need both hands to light that thing.'

Maddie read Sam's expression. He looked like a wild dog ready to attack. The truck shifted into gear and started over the bumpy dirt road. "You guys ready for the trip?" he asked, not wanting to give an indication of his plan in case the guard understood English.

Emily and Jake glanced up, confused.

The man released his grip on the rifle to light his cigar. Just as the truck shifted into another gear, Sam reached across and grabbed the rifle from the man's lap. The man dropped his cigar, but before he could stand, Sam smashed the butt of the rifle into his face, jarring him into the tarp enclosure behind him. Sam reared back again with another powerful smash into his face. The man drifted to the bench, unconscious.

Sam's steely look told them he was focused on getting them out of there. "Get ready to jump," he instructed. "As soon as you hit the ground, run to the bushes and hide."

Maddie, Emily, and Jake stood as Sam parted the tarp. "Come on. We have to do this while they're still going slow."

"I'll go first," Jake said. After a few deep breaths, he climbed over the tailgate and jumped to the ground, then ran into the bushes.

"Okay, who's next?" he asked, as the sound of the engine accelerated.

Maddie, Emily, then Sam followed, each darting into the brush beside the road. The truck shifted gears as it picked up speed along the dirt road. Sam watched the truck's tail lights from behind bushes as it disappeared around a bend.

"Everyone all right?" he asked.

"Yeah, what now?" Jake asked.

"It's beginning to get dark, let's head back to the boat and get the hell out of here. Follow me," Sam said, then began running back toward the water thinking an escape by sea would be the safest route.

Upon reaching the clearing where the truck had been parked, Emily pointed. "It's sinking," she said in astonishment. "Why would they sink it?"

"Evidence," Sam said.

Maddie glanced around the mysterious confines of the surrounding jungle.

"What are we gonna do now?"

"I think we should go through the jungle and follow the water to the ocean," Jake answered.

Toads croaking, crickets chirping, and the high pitched caws of birds reflecting from unknown depths of the jungle, persuaded Maddie and Emily against Jake's suggestion. "You're not gonna find me traipsing around in there, who knows what kind of creatures are waiting for us?" Emily said.

Ground leaves ruffled with movement near them. "What's that?" she asked, clinging to Maddie.

"Probably just a small animal," Sam answered. "Let's stay together and follow the road, it's gotta lead to a highway. If you notice headlights, duck into the trees and don't move."

Sam and Jake led the way through the darkness along the path lined with brush and trees. A fork in the road presented a short debate of which path to follow, but after some discussion, they agreed to stay along the path where water could be heard. Jake educated them on the feeding habits of crocodiles, and how they were prone to marshy areas, much like what lay near the water through the adjacent foliage.

Strange sounds and movements coming from within the jungle never ceased, frightening Emily, but Jake assured her they were in no harm. "They won't hurt you unless they feel threatened," he told her, but added in jest, "And of course, unless they're hungry."

Emily screamed and clung to her mother when she heard high pitched screams coming from leaves being brushed together in the trees above them. "What is that?" she asked.

"Just sounds like monkeys jumping branches," Jake said.

Appearing from out of the bush were beautiful phosphorescent green flames dancing in the air. "Look, fireflies," Maddie said.

"They're actually flying beetles," Jake said. "Careful, they'll bite you."

Everyone ran ahead along the path, leaving behind the dancing flames as it began to rain. Jake asked, "How much further? It's starting to rain."

Maddie thought about the overnight hunting trips with her father. They would walk through the forest for hours, as if he knew the exact location they were heading. She'd hound him with the same question, "How much further?"

Her father would respond, "We gotta keep going, we'll be there soon."

Jake trotted ahead. "Where you going?" Sam asked. "Get back here."

"We're gonna get soaked if we don't find a place soon."

"You think by running in front of us, you're gonna find something?" Emily asked.

"Yep, and I think I just found it. Hurry, come on everyone." Jake said, pointing down a narrow brush covered path through the trees.

###

The military truck forged at a steady speed on the highway through light drizzle. Carlos groaned from the burns on his scorched head, while Andrea comforted him. "Pull over, I need to get this soaked for him," she told the driver.

The truck slowed to the side of the road. "Check on the cargo while you're out there," he said. "And hurry up, we're already late."

Andrea climbed down from the cab and headed for a puddle. While soaking the towel, she thought about getting Carlos away from there, and how she would tell Chavez this was their last job. She thought about his reaction, then decided it might be better to duck out unnoticed one night. She regretted not taking off while they were in Key West, but Captain Kent was always nearby keeping watch over them. She returned to the cab of the truck and helped Carlos wrap it around his head. "Keep this on," she told him. "I'll be right back."

Carlos held the towel on his head and moaned. "D-Don't b-be long," he told her. "M-My head still hurts."

Andrea ran to the rear of the truck and separated the tarp expecting to find everyone sleeping, but instead found the guard slumped on the bench with the rifle laying on the floor. "Dammit," she grumbled. She thought about how she would tell Carlos, and feared how he might react. It was better not to return there without his shipment.

She shook the man. "Get up," she said, then kicked him. "Wake up, you fool."

The man awoke. "Si?"

"Qué pasó? Idiota. A dónde se fueron?" Andrea snapped, she knew he had no idea where they were now.

"Que?"

"The people who were back here with you, you pendejo."

"No lo sé. I don't know. They hit me " he said. "Then... ,"

"Never mind. When did it happen? They can't be far."

"The lagoon."

"Get your shit together. The boss is gonna have your balls for this."

She leaped in the cab and slammed the door. "Turn around. They escaped."

"How'd they do that?" the driver asked, while making a u-turn.

"Just go back, they couldn't have gotten far," she said. "Let me use your phone."

"You gonna call Chavez and tell him?"

"Are you out of your mind?" she answered, then dialed a number.

As the phone rang a few times, she thought about getting rid of the driver and the idiot in back, then taking Carlos as far away from there as possible. But she had no idea where'd they'd go in this weather. Their plan would have to wait.

###

Captain Kent stumbled off the gangplank onto the gangway, slurring fare winds and seas to the sorority girls celebrating their Spring Break vacation. The night had been filled with drink, song and flirtations. Boyfriends were expected to arrive at any time, so he had to call off their untimely departure. It didn't matter to him, their were others he had plans for.

As he approached the gate to the slips, when his phone rang. He fumbled in his pockets for it. "Hello?"

"It's me, Andrea."

"Hello my tasty brownie, how'd everything go? Where are you?" he slurred.

"You've been drinking."

"Just exploring options."

"Those goddamn people got away when we docked. We're heading back to find them."

"You better hurry, I've had calls wondering what's taking you so long. He doesn't sound very happy."

"If he calls back, tell him we're on our way," she instructed. "Tell him the weather held us up."

"Will do," he said. "You better not show up empty handed. You know how he can get."

"Don't worry about us. Just tell him what I said if you hear from him again."

Captain Kent flipped the phone closed as several football type guys passed him through the gates. 'Good thing I left when I did,' he thought.

###

Tucked in the midst of dark and eerie foliage at the end of a path, was the facade of a wooden shack. Years of growing brush had all but swallowed the cabin, making it look more like a fallen treehouse. Everyone ran ahead and joined Jake who pointed toward his discovery.

"How could you spot that?" Emily said. "You do have good eyes. No wonder you're a good aim."

Beyond the thicket of brush, in front of the shack was a small clearing with circular tracks, just large enough for a small vehicle. Camouflaged from the main path, it leaned toward the adjacent river, more than likely soaked with dry rot. Along the shore were mounds of sticks and branches with torn nets strewn between trees and on the ground, alluding to evidence of large game. "Those look like croc traps," Jake said.

"Crocodiles?" Emily asked, searching the ground for signs of predators and clinging to her mother.

They approached the cabin, while keeping a careful lookout around it. The front overhang was tearing away from its pillars from the weight of overhead branches. The cabin was warped, peeling apart at its seams from neglect. "Who could live there?" Emily asked.

"No one has ever lived here, Em. It's a hunters cabin, probably for crocodiles." Jake said.

"I'll go in first." Sam said. Then he waited for Jake to say something.

"I'll go with you, I found it," Jake said, as if needing to stake his claim for his discovery.

Rain fell heavier while Maddie and Emily waited in the clearing, scanning the area for strange creatures to jump out of the forest. "Be careful," Maddie yelled out.

Emily let out a rapid fire of coughs. "You okay?" Maddie asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Sam and Jake approached the cabin, listening for movements inside. Only sounds of rippling water from the river could be heard. As they stepped up to the rickety wooden porch, they noticed the front door ajar. "Anyone here? Hello?" Sam asked, then pressed against the door with his hand. "It's stuck," he told Jake, then gave it a shove with his shoulder.

The door screeched open, blocked by warped floorboards, "Anyone here?" Sam called out again.

Sam and Jake squeezed through the door, but it was too dark to see anything. Maddie and Emily inched toward the porch. "What do you see?" Maddie called out.

"Not much of anything. It's pretty dark in here," Sam answered after feeling for a light switch.

"Look for a lantern, or candles." Maddie remembered there was never electricity in those dreary hunter cabins her and her father often stayed in during overnight hunting excursions. If she had her way, pitching a tent would have been more comfortable.

"Found one," Sam said, then lit it with the stick matches laying beside it.

Sam and Jake took a quick scan around. It was a one room cobweb infested cabin with a strong musty odor. The wall boards were split enough to allow small rodents or indigenous creatures to enter at will. An aluminum coffee pot lay on an iron stove top that must have taken five men to carry in. Two wooden tables the size of a game tables were butted together with newspapers, magazines, netting, rope, and two large blood spotted hooks, the size found in butchers freezers to hang animal carcasses. A couple chairs that had been tipped over lay near a torn armchair with cotton stuffing protruding from the cushion.

"Be careful where you step. There's loose floorboards," Sam mentioned to Maddie and Emily.

"Looks like the maid hasn't shown up for a while," Emily remarked, then added, "It's dripping in here."

"It'll have to do for the night." Sam said.

Emily let out another succession of coughs. "How do you feel?" Maddie asked.

"I'm okay."

Maddie felt her forehead "Do I have a fever?" Emily asked.

"No, but we got to get you warm."

Sam picked up a damp blanket that looked like it was used to wipe boots on. "Here, wrap this around her," he told Maddie.

"It smells like mildew," she said, then wrapped it around Emily's shoulders.

"We'll just have to make do with what's around here," he said. "See if there's other blankets or jackets laying around."

Jake scouted the room kicking junk out of the way. "There's mud coming in over here," he said.

Mud had been pushed up against the rear wall from the outside. "It's dry rotted from the river," Sam said. "Who knows how long this place has been here?"

Later, after rummaging through the contents strewn throughout the cabin, Emily lay on Maddie in the armchair with the blanket draped over them. Sam and Jake butted cots together away from the dripping roof and shared another found blanket.

"Try and get some rest," Sam said. "We'll set out first thing in the morning."

They tossed and turned trying to ignore noises from the forest. Something rustling in the bushes outside the cabin got their attention. "What's that?" Emily asked.

"Someone's out there," Jake said. "They're back."

Scratches along the exterior of the cabin were followed by a loud crash to the rear. Startled, everyone jumped from their positions, hearts racing.

"Someone's shooting at us," Emily yelled.

"Stay down, I don't think it's a gun," Sam said.

"If it's not a gun, then what the hell is it?" Emily asked.

Another crash vibrated the rear wall. Sam lit the lantern and held it up near the wall.

"It's just the wind." Maddie said. "These old cabins are surrounded by trees and brush. Even the slightest breeze can be heard. It used to freak me out when I went on hunting trips with my father."

Jake stood near his father when another crash sounded. "It's a crocodile," Jake said.

Emily screamed, "What is it, a crocodile or wind?"

"Why would a crocodile want to get in here?" Maddie asked.

"We're in its nest," Jake informed. "They're really protective." Jake was glad he had read some material on them on their way down to Key West.

"Like a birds' nest?" Emily asked.

"No, a mound of mud," Jake replied. "Look for eggs."

"Eggs?" Sam wasn't sure if he had heard Jake well.

"Yeah, mothers protect them," Jake answered. "It's their nature."

Jake pushed around the mud with his shoe. "See anything?" Maddie asked.

"Not yet."

"I'm telling you it's the wind. Go outside and you'll see."

Sam tugged the door open and stepped onto the porch. The drizzle had turned into a steady rainfall, being blown vertically into him. Careful to protect the light from the lantern from extinguishing, he inched toward the corner of the cabin with his back to the wind. Branches and twigs were scrapping the walls. "You're right, it's just the wind," he yelled.

"It still sounds spooky," Emily said.

Sam entered the cabin, pushing the door closed as far as it would go. "Everyone satisfied now? Let's get some sleep."

"Can we leave the lantern lit?" Emily asked.

"Sure, I don't see a problem with that. I'll just turn it to low," Sam said.

Sounds of scrapping limbs and the creaking of loose siding made it unbearable to sleep. Rain pelting overhead increased the dripping water on floorboards and items in the cabin, producing a warped symphony of music. Just as everyone had accepted the strange atmosphere and were about to fall asleep, the sound of an engine rattling through the brush neared the cabin. "It's them," Maddie whispered. "They found us."

Chapter Sixteen

Headlights illuminated the front of the cabin, shining through cracks in the wall that wouldn't be noticed in daylight. It looked like the glow of descending angels from the Heavens. Sam blew the light out in the lantern. "No one move," he said.

The engine continued to idle when they heard the slamming of a car door. "What are we gonna do?" Jake asked.

The next sound that followed was the back and forth action of a shotgun being cocked.

"Keep down," Sam whispered, staring at the door, still ajar.

Footsteps over rain puddles drew near. "Quién está ahí?" the man yelled.

"What did he say?" Jake asked.

"Quién está ahí?" the man repeated with an angry voice. "Venir aquí!"

The man fired into the wall of the cabin, leaving a hole the size of a baseball. "We're dead," Emily screamed.

Maddie cupped Emily's mouth, but it was too late.

"Sé que estás ahí," the man yelled, cocking his shotgun again.

The man continued speaking in Spanish, then another gunshot rang out, this time missing the cabin. "He's still shooting at us," Emily said.

"That shot was in the air, a warning shot," Maddie said.

"What should we do?" Emily asked, muffling a cough into the blanket.

"There's nowhere to run." Sam said. "We don't have a choice." Then he yelled, "We're coming out, please don't shoot. We're unarmed."

Then they heard the shotgun cock, again. "Careful, Sam," Maddie said.

Sam tugged to open the door. "Do you speak English?" he asked.

"Let me see your hands," the man said.

Sam held a hand up to his eyes to block the glare of the headlights. Despite a rifle being pointed at him from a stranger in the night, he was relieved to see the vehicle wasn't the military transport truck they had escaped from earlier. "We're sorry, sir. Amigo. We just needed a place to get dry and sleep for the night. My daughter's inside and she's coming down with a cold."

"What are you doing way out here in this weather? You're not from around here," the man asked, keeping the rifle pointed.

"You're right, we're not from here. We were kidnapped, but we escaped. Can you help us? Maybe take us to a police station, or a hospital?"

"Kidnapped? Your whole family?" The man sounded apprehensive. "Why'd they kidnap you? Are you someone famous, or something?"

"No, we're not famous. We can explain the whole story to you if you can take us. Will you help us? Please?"

"How many of you are there?"

"There's only my wife and two children." Sam turned to call them out, but they had already huddled near the doorway.

"Please sir," Maddie pleaded. "Can you give us a ride?"

With the blanket still wrapped around her, Emily's coughs were becoming more frequent. Convinced Sam and his family were of no threat, he lowered his rifle. "What the hell happened to you folks? You look like you've been through hell."

Emily's neck showed a reddened slash mark, and the cut on Maddie's swollen lip and bruises showed signs of struggle.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you," Sam said.

"Please, sir," Maddie pleaded. "My daughter needs a doctor. Can you help us?"

"Looks like she's not the only one. Hop in."

Maddie, Emily and Jake crammed in the cold, but cozy back seat with a fresh blanket the man had given them.

As the man put the jeep into reverse, a large crocodile scampered into the bright beams of the headlights. "The hospital is quite far from here, but I can take you as far as the police station up the road," he said.

"Thank you, so much," Maddie said. "You're too kind."

"By the way, I'm José."

Sam introduced himself and his family, then asked, "How do you speak such good English?"

"Lot's of school children where I live. They're eager to teach us what they've learned."

"Do you mind telling us why you're out in this weather?" Maddie asked.

"It'll probably sound crazy, but my wife told me to check on her granddaddy's cabin."

"Why is that crazy?" she asked.

José chuckled, again. "He's been dead for about ten-years, but she still likes me to check on it from time to time. Why she suggested tonight of all nights, was beyond me, but now I know why."

"Why?" Jake asked.

"To find you folks."

It did sound a bit crazy, but it didn't matter. They had found safety, and would be on their way home soon.

"If my wife, God Bless her soul, were still around, I'd invite you to my home. She was very good at caring for people."

Now he did sound crazy. "I'm sorry, I thought you said she told you to come check on the cabin?"

"I told you it would sound crazy," he said. "It's been a couple of years now, but I still see her around the house," he explained. "She reminds me to take my medicine, and wakes me up for church every Sunday. She was a God fearing woman, and never missed a week," he explained with a proud, yet solemn tone.

"She sounds like an, angel," Maddie said, still not sure what to think.

"That she was," he agreed, then corrected himself, " I mean, is. They never did find her, so the police got tired of looking."

"What do you mean? What happened?" Sam asked.

"A bunch of us were at work in the orchards on the day of our anniversary. When it was time to go home at the end of the day and celebrate, she was nowhere to be found. We looked for her all over, thinking maybe she had fallen down, or something. Hours turned into a day, and days turned into weeks, but still nothing. My compadres tried to convince me she was kidnapped. The police assured me she had run off with another. You're right, ma'am, she was an angel, but not exactly the type someone would want to run off with, if you know what I mean? She wasn't exactly on the thin side, like you and your daughter."

"That's so sad," Maddie said. "I'm sorry to hear about your loss."

"Thank you, ma'am, but I expect her back someday. I've never stopped loving her and she'll always be the only woman for me."

"That's so sweet," Emily whispered to her mother.

It was a quirky sad story from a kind and generous man. Quite a different story than the one they had to tell, so everyone kept quiet.

The jeep slowed at a fork in the road. Sam pointed, "We escaped from the end of that path."

"That path dead-ends at the lagoon. We call it the, Cemetery of Sails," José said. "Locals think it's cursed."

"Why's that?" Jake sat up, interested in a scary tale.

"We think people come in from the sea, lured in by the beauty of the jungle. Kind of a scenic tour. But when they reach the lagoon, their boats sink and the people are never seen again. You folks were lucky. Locals stay clear of that lagoon."

Sam turned and glanced at Maddie.

"Anyway, no need to worry, we're taking this path. It won't be long until we're on the main highway. Depending on the rain, we should be at the police station in about forty-minutes, or so. Sit back and relax, you're safe now."

The jeep bounced and thumped over potholes at a steady pace until the edge of the highway was seen. "Sorry for the ride, it'll be a bit smoother now," José said, then made a cautious turn onto the highway. As he turned the wheel, a truck pulled out in front of him. José sounded his horn, but the truck inched nearer causing him to stop. "Looks like someone else is in trouble," he said.

Sam and Maddie sat up as Andrea stepped from the truck waving a pistol. "Go!" Sam shouted. "It's them."

By the time José slipped the jeep into reverse, Andrea was already at the door pointing her pistol at his head.

Chapter Seventeen

The military truck backed against the loading dock through the gleam of security lights, and the spectacle of raindrops the size of dimes. Sam and his family filed from the truck into the rain, staring down barrels of pointed rifles held my military clad men. Huddled together, they glanced through opened doors of the warehouse, illuminated only by flickering bulbs radiating from swinging hanging lamps from metal rafters.

"Bienvenida," a man said.

Andrea led Carlos by his hand to the edge of the dock. They were met by a mustached man standing on the dock with the tip of his whip unraveled and hanging over the edge. "Grab it, I'll help you up," he offered, to Andrea.

"Do I look handicapped?" she asked with a hostile tone, then leaped onto the dock unassisted.

"Where is this place?" Jake asked, clinging to his father. For the first time, Jake's tough facade had faded, replaced with fear.

Carlos peered down at Jake and smiled. "This is my home, Jake," he said, with perfect intonation. "I told you it was big. Do you like it?" He was calm and proud like the first time they met. The warehouse wasn't much, but it was the only real home he'd known.

"Will you stay with us?" Jake asked.

"Don't worry, Jake. You'll like my house," he answered, as if naive of the evils that awaited.

He understood Carlos, and felt sorry for him. In some remote way, he was a combination of his mother and father rolled into one, possessing both their strengths and weaknesses.

"Getaway from him," barked Andrea. "Come with me."

"I'm sorry, Jake. I want to stay with you, but I can't."

Andrea faced the mustached man rolling up his whip. "Where is he?" she asked.

"In back. He's waiting for you," he answered. "He's not happy."

This would be the first time seeing Chavez since her incarceration, and she wasn't looking forward to it. She had spoken to him a few times on the phone after her escape, and sensed he was growing bored of her, and tired of Carlos, mentioning how Carlos was a risk to his operation.

They had first met in a busy marketplace in Mexico, where he had seen her pick pocketing an unsuspecting tourist. He was attracted to her immediately. She was beautiful, fearless, and vulnerable. She agreed to work for him, but had two caveats. The first was, wherever she went, her brother went. He agreed. The second was, if anything ever happened to her, he would agree to take care of Carlos. He lied, and agreed.

Over the years, she became a trusted servant of Chavez. She learned every aspect of the business, and was present when summoned. Then the day came when she was left stranded and apprehended by the Coast Guard. Before going to prison, she reminded him of his promise to care for her little brother. Chavez had no real need for Carlos, and she knew that. She assured him she'd find a way out within a year, and not to kill Carlos. He gave her four months.

She grabbed Carlos and yanked him away from Jake. Entering the warehouse, he glanced a precarious grin over his shoulder to Jake. Jake waved, wondering if that would be the last time they would see each other.

The whip sliced through rain droplets causing splashes in midair. "Get in there," a voice rang out, as a man shoved Sam into the warehouse.

###

Emily's cough rebounded off the aluminum siding. It had turned into a honking sound, rising from her chest. "Where's the doctor?" Maddie asked. "You said there was a doctor here. I swear if anything happens to her or my family, I'll kill you all."

Her words invited the crack of the whip, this time strapping her back and ripping through her skin. She buckled to her knees on the damp concrete floor, blood seeped through her opened wounds.

"Mom!" Emily and Jake cried, then Emily dropped over her mother to protect her from further infliction. They couldn't bear to watch their mother yielding to the needless pain being administered by these barbarians.

"Shut up!" the man with the whip ordered. "She'll get her medicine soon enough."

Sam stepped toward Maddie, but the impact of a rifle butt forced him to the ground beside her. Emily and Jake screamed out for the guard to stop. The guard's boot exploded into Sam's ribs, rolling him face up. Then the rifle butt crashed down into his face, coiling him into submission. "Get up, perro," a man ordered, spitting on Sam.

Sam lifted his head from the floor to rise, but another kick bludgeoned his face. Sam was oblivious to the pain. The humiliation of being tormented worse than an animal in front of his family, was more painful than the injuries he was sustaining. His family screamed and yelled, as several more kicks dispensed into Sam's body.

"Enough!" a guard snapped. "Get them up and put them on the line."

"I swear, you're all dead," Maddie said.

The snap of the whip struck Maddie's back again. She remained on her feet, cringing from the sting. "Is that all you got?" she asked.

"You're a tough dama," the man with the whip said.

"Stop it!" Emily yelled. "We'll do anything you want," then stepped against her mother in line with the stinging whip.

Carlos and Andrea followed Chavez through the door of his office. Chavez looked like a military leader with a cigar clinched between his teeth. His five-o'clock shadow made him look like nothing more than an ordinary street thug.

Surrounded by guards, Carlos stood at Andrea's side with the towel wrapped around his head, keeping his eyes on Jake. Chavez strolled in front of the line with his hands clasped behind his back, like a drill sergeant inspecting new recruits. "So, this is the little family that gave you so much trouble, no?"

Chavez stopped in front of Maddie, then ran the back of his hand down her cheek. Maddie recoiled. "These are quite some bumps you have," he said, inspecting the cut on her lip and lacerations above her swollen eye. He turned to Carlos. "You did this to her?"

"I-I d-didn't m-mean t-to."

"Something like this doesn't happen by accident. You must have been very angry."

"N-No sir, I d-didn't r-realize w-what I was d-doing," he said, stammering more than usual.

"That's what worries me."

"I s-said I w-was s-sorry."

"I gave her the bruises," Andrea said, protecting her brother from fault. "She kicked the crap out of me. She deserved it. I'd do it again if I had the choice. Besides, those bruises can be covered."

He turned Maddie around, examining the wounds from the whip. "We'll have to cover these up too, perhaps with tattoos."

Chavez continued inspecting Maddie. He lifted her shirt, exposing her abdomen. She grabbed her shirt and pulled it down. "Don't touch me."

The mustached man unraveled his whip. Chavez held his hand up, giving the sign to stop. Then he backhanded her across the face.

"Mom!" Emily and Jake yelled.

"You're all going to learn to do things my way around here. Fortunately for you, you won't be here for very long." Then he lifted her shirt again. "Very nice," then ran the back of his hand over her tummy. "And firm. I can't tell you've had children."

Maddie brushed his hand away, then spit in his face.

Chavez reared his hand back ready to strike her again, then stopped as his hand was about to make contact. He wiped the saliva from his face then licked his fingers. "You're tough, I like it. Maybe I'll keep you for myself."

Rain pelted against the outside of the warehouse, as everyone waited for Chavez's next move. Andrea felt uncomfortable, and squeezed Carlos's hand. Staring into the rain through the warehouse doors, Chavez spoke. "You know, when merchandise is damaged, its value decreases. When values decrease, income decreases. That's money out of my pocket. What's the solution for something that damages merchandise?"

Everyone remained silent. "No guesses?" he asked. "I'll tell you, we get rid of whatever is causing the damage."

"She'll heal, just give her a few days," Andrea pleaded.

"We don't have a few days!" his voice reverberated throughout the warehouse like an echo chamber. "You think we can put them up, bed them, and feed them? This isn't a hotel."

Andrea heard a snap. It didn't sound like the snap on her windbreaker. She squeezed her brother's hand.

"Is e-every th-thing okay, D?"

Emily was the first to break the silence with a series of echoing coughs. "Please, can my daughter get some medicine?" Maddie asked, with a whisper.

"I promise you, soon she'll get the best medicine we have here," he answered, then turned and glanced at a heavy-set guard standing in the group around Carlos and Andrea.

Andrea recalled the subtle, yet obvious glances of convicts in the prison. "Boss, I promise you..."

"Silence!"

Without further delay, the heavy-set guard reached around Carlos and sunk a foot-long serrated blade into Carlos's stomach, just above his naval. Carlos's eyes widened into large orbits boring into Jake. "I'm s-sorry."

Andrea turned and faced her brother, then screamed. "No!"

Several men moved in and restrained her.

"You bastard," she cried.

"No!" Jake yelled out, and started running toward Carlos.

He was stopped short by another guard and lifted off ground. "Put me down. Carlos!"

The heavy-set man carved the knife upward into Carlos's chest, leaving a gaping slice with blood forming a puddle where he stood. Andrea continued to writhe with hopes of escaping the clutches of the guards. "I'll kill you. I'll kill you," she repeated.

Chavez turned toward Maddie. "I'm sorry you and your family had to witness this, but he had it coming."

Maddie wondered if Andrea was next. If anyone deserved to be killed, it was her. She felt a mountain of remorse for the pain they had put Carlos through on the boat.

Carlos fell to the floor in his puddle of blood, as the knife extracted from his body. The knife dripped blood from its blade and the man's hand. Emily's face turned pale. She fought back the vomit rising in her throat. "The sight of blood disturbs you, no?" Chavez asked. "It does me, too. I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

She couldn't hold it down any longer. She bent over and vomited on Chavez's black shiny boots. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his shoes clean.

Andrea struggled and sobbed. "Let her go," Chavez said, with a nod.

She kneeled beside her brother, and rested his head in her hand. "I'm sorry. You'll have to get our business under a thatched roof on the beach, by yourself now," he told her without stammering. He choked on blood spewing from his mouth. "I love you, D." Then he closed his eyes.

Andrea's tears measured a lifetime of regressed mourning. It was the first time in her life she expressed true grief. When most people were saddened by experiences, she was filled the with anger. Her brother was gone, along with his dreams of a business. That was the only wish her brother had.

But her anguish didn't last long. Once again filled with anger, she leaped up and grabbed the closest gun to her. Before guards could react, she aimed at the heavy-set man and fired. The bullet went through his forehead, killing him instantly. Rifles pointed at her, Chavez shouted, "Enough!"

Andrea envisioned a massacre. She wanted to kill everyone in the warehouse, including Chavez. She no longer cared for her own life, but she wouldn't go out alone. She'd take as many with her as she could. "Dorothea, put the gun down," Chavez said, in a calm voice.

The last person who called her by her real name was, her little brother. She froze, trying not to shake or show fear. "Why?" she asked. "Why did you have to kill him. You know he's all I had. He never caused you any harm."

"You know this would happen sooner or later. He was too much of a risk."

"You promised," she said. "He was just a child." Her voice rattled in unison with her body.

"Exactly," he replied. "And there's no place for children here."

"He was my brother, you bastard!" Andrea charged Chavez, ready to pistol whip him. "I'll kill you!"

Chavez reached out and grabbed her wrists. Her pistol fired a shot toward the ceiling. The back of his heavy hand landed flush against her cheek, knocking her to the floor and dislodging the pistol out of her reach. She groveled to retrieve it, but his boot slammed down, pinning her hand against the floor.

"Stop your groveling," he ordered. "You're showing weakness."

Andrea remained on the concrete, sobbing. "Get her up and put her in my office," he ordered. Then he motioned to Carlos. "And get rid of him."

Carlos was dragged by his feet and lifted through the tarps in the truck, while two guards led Andrea by the arms to Chavez's office. Chavez resumed his inspection of his new arrivals. "Put this one in number three," Chavez ordered, gesturing to Maddie, "and get her cleaned up."

A couple of men grabbed Maddie's arms. "Leave her alone!" Emily screamed. "Mom!"

"Just do as they say, Em. I'll see you soon," Maddie said, as she was being led between doors and stacked crates.

Chavez stepped in front of Emily. "Are you feeling better now?" he asked, then rubbed the back of his hand over her abdomen. "Are you a virgin?"

Emily tensed, with her head downcast.

"Answer me!" he ordered. "Are you a virgin?"

"Leave her alone," Jake yelled.

Emily and Jake flinched at the sound of the cracking whip.

Chavez noticed some red ink below her waist. "What do we have here?" then pulled the top of her shorts down, exposing her strawberry tattoo. "Look's ripe," He remarked. "I'll have a taste of this later," he whispered to her. "Put her in number four, close to me."

Emily sounded off a series of coughs again. "And get her some medicine, first thing," he ordered, as she was ushered away in the same direction as Maddie.

"Don't worry, Em, we'll save you," Jake hollered, as Chavez approached him.

"Brave little man, you are, no?"

"You better not lay a hand on my sister."

Chavez chuckled, then blew a smoke ring. Two steps over, he stood and faced Sam. "You know what they say about a man with a large nose."

"You're original, no?" Sam mimicked.

"Comedian. Maybe we can transplant your pene to someone who needs to please the ladies."

Sam remained silent, not knowing for sure what he meant, but he had a good idea.

"I know how much you'd like to save your family, but unfortunately for you, it won't be their lives you'll be saving." Chavez didn't wait for a response. "Take them away. You know which room."

At gunpoint, Sam and Jake ambled between the rows of doors and stacked crates. Sam counted the distance between each door, estimating the rooms to be the same size.

Stepping out from the door, a man in a white blood-stained smock limped from the room toting a medium sized ice chest with blood smeared on the outside. It looked like a poor attempt of cleaning, and Sam hoped Jake didn't see it. "Give me thirty minutes," he told the guards, escorting his next operation.

Chapter Eighteen

The room was the size of an airport public bathroom. The invisible wall of stench cowered Sam and Jake. Together with the cigar smoke coming from three guards seated at a table playing cards, the room was like a morning fog ascending from a lake with a ripe odor of a slaughtered animal left in the sun to rot. Instead of flies and maggots one would expect to see, bloodied surgical tools and a bone saw lay on an operating table beside a gurney. Resting on the floor beside it, was a scuba tank sized bottle with tubes leading to a clear mask, the kind anesthesiologists use before surgery.

"What is this place?" Jake asked, maintaining a grasp on his fathers arm.

Sam scanned the room. "They're gonna keep us here until we're ready to leave."

Jake's suspicions told him different.

Rifles leaned against a wall where the three guards played cards at the other end of the room. "Puto pendejo," one of them shouted, thrusting his chair back and grabbing a rifle.

After a brief exchange of laughter and what sounded like verbal bashings, the man shouldered past Sam and slammed the door behind him.

The two remaining men laughed as one raked money from the center of the table. "Your deal," the other said, carving a slice of mango with the serrated hunters knife, perhaps the same knife used to gut Carlos with earlier.

At the foot of the gurney, a muscled Hispanic man with his eyes closed, lay on a soiled blood stained mattress, the thin kind found in jail cells. He looked like he had put up a good fight, but his tattered wife-beater and swollen face revealed evidence of a losing battle. Inked on his shoulder were the words, Semper fi.

"Sit," a man behind Sam and Jake ordered with a nudge of his rifle barrel. "They're all yours," he told the card playing men. Then left the room.

Jake clung to his father. "Look what they did to that guy," Jake whispered, as they neared the bludgeoned tattooed man on the mattress, then took a seat beside him.

Sam and Joseph were about the same height, but Joseph outweighed him by at least fifty pounds of muscle. "Hello. Are you okay?" Sam asked, with a slight tap.

The man groaned then opened the eye that wasn't swollen shut. "I'm Sam. This is my boy, Jake. Can you hear me? How long have you been here?"

"I-I'm Joseph," he said. "I think since yesterday, I don't know," he answered. "Where's Maritza?"

His voice was tired. It was a soft passive tone that sounded of defeat and surrender. Sam felt his pain.

Three days after being discharged from the Marines as an MP, Joseph and Maritza married. Together since high school, it was a given they'd spend their lives together. Joseph's plans on serving his country then entering the police academy after returning from their honeymoon, pleased Maritza's father. "It's just a stepping stone, though," he had told her father. "Someday I'll make detective, then God willing, Chief."

While in the military, Joseph turned his eyes at most minor offenders, while others were destined to spend time in the brig. He was a man who turned his cheek to confrontation, and believed everyone deserved a second chance.

"Whose, Martiza?" Sam asked.

Joseph seemed delirious. "Where's my, Maritza? I must find her," he asked again, in a tone you wouldn't expect to hear from a man of his stature. Enduring the pain, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a crinkled photo and kissed it. With an unsteady hand, he handed it to Sam. It was a picture of him and Maritza holding each other perched on boulders with a waterfall as the backdrop. "This is Maritza. It's our first photo together since coming here."

She was an attractive Hispanic woman with a shoulder length mane. "Our honeymoon, a sightseeing tour. They brought us here instead," then paused between his fragmented speech. Just a few words seem to exhaust him. "I must find her. Take her away from here."

"Where's here? Where are we?" Sam was anxious, the man in the white smock would be back at any time.

Joseph shook his head, "I don't know."

"My wife and daughter are here, too," Sam said. "We gotta find a way out of here, we don't have much time. Are you well enough to help?"

"There's many of them, and they have weapons."

"We don't have a choice, we have to try. But we gotta do it now." After a moment of hesitation, Sam decided to appeal to Joseph's love for his wife. He held the crinkled photo to Joseph's face, "Do you want to see, Maritza again?"

The impact of Sam's words sobered Joseph from his daze. They glanced at the men still playing cards when the man in the white smock entered the room and limped by them. "Get this one ready," the man said, gesturing to Sam.

###

Emily fought to resist the two men holding her on the vile mattress. "Get your filthy hands off me," she screamed.

"Shoot her, Ramona," one of the men said.

Ramona hesitated, staring at the defenseless rage in Emily's eyes.

"What are you waiting for? Shoot her!" the man ordered, again. Ramona wiped the tears from Emily's cheek and brushed hair from her forehead, "I'm sorry, child," then pierced Emily's arm with the needle.

Everything turned into a blur, attempting to keep her eyes open. Her captors felt her strength cease and released their grips. "Now she's all ours," a guard said.

"Why can't you leave her alone?" Ramona asked.

A guard pushed Ramona back. Her footing slipped, stumbling her to the floor. "Go mind your own business," he shouted.

"Someday you'll pay for your sins," she mumbled, standing and walking to the other side of the room.

###

Andrea had been pacing Chavez's private quarters, plotting a plan to kill him. She loathed him and wanted to give him the same death he gave her brother. Deep in her thoughts, she was oblivious to him entering and plopping in his chair behind his desk. When he fired up his cigar, she turned to him, startled at his presence. "Why did you have to kill him? You promised you wouldn't do anything to him."

Chavez remained silent with his cigar in his mouth. He knew she wasn't through venting.

"Since the first we met, you promised you would never do anything to him. I even risked my life, getting out of that hell hole in the time you gave me. Were they all lies?"

Carlos twirled his cigar in his mouth, still saying nothing.

"For years, I've done everything you've asked. Why? Why did you have to kill him?" Her tone rose as her anger increased.

She slammed her hands on his desk. "Say something, answer me."

"Quiet!" he snapped. "Your brother was a risk, you've always known that. How do you think you got busted in the first place? He even said himself, he didn't know what he was doing when he struck that family. If he had a half a brain, he would have handled things better."

"But you promised..."

"Promises are kept by those who fear consequences," he interrupted.

"What gives you the right...?"

"What gives me the right? This is my operation and nobody, even you, will risk what I have built," he barked. "You owe me. When I found you, you were nothing, nothing more than a circus sideshow. You should be thanking me. I've given you everything!"

"Everything? All I am is one of your dispensable thugs you order around."

Chavez rose from his chair and approached her. "You respect me, woman."

"Respect? The only respect you have comes from people who fear you. You're nothing more than an incompetent bastard, who needs others to do your dirty work."

"Callate!"

"You're a spineless jellyfish, that..."

The back of his hand slapped flush against her cheek. Veins protruded through his forehead. She had never seen him this angry, but it didn't scare her. Her life meant nothing with her brother there. She glanced around the table, searching for something to hit him with, then spit in his face. "I'll swear, I'll kill..."

Another slap stifled her. With a forceful twist he bent her over the table, smashing the side of her face against the surface. "Go ahead, kill me?" she said. "I don't care."

"I'm gonna do better than that," he replied, tearing her pants to her ankles. "I gotta remind you the way things are around here."

Her stone-cold face rubbed against the hardwood surface of the table, as she reluctantly tolerated his pelvic poundings.

###

Two men tilted their chairs against a wall blurting remarks in Spanish about the unclothed woman standing before them in front of the full length mirror. Maddie's aggressiveness was remedied by the injection of Haloperidol, the alternative to the OxyContin or heroin they often used in extreme cases.

Two Latina women mended Maddie and prepared her for her grand entrance, a loose presentation of a model strutting down a runway with ogling judges. It was their chore to make sure all blemishes and evidence of beatings were hidden. Another reason why Chavez preferred a dim lit environment in the main warehouse.

After Filomena injected Maddie with Haloperidol, she went to work on her back, mending the nine-inch long gashes torn into through her skin from the sting of the whip, and preparing it for the tattoo that would soon cover it. All aggressiveness had vanished from Maddie. She stood motionless, trance-like, in front of a full length mirror while they poked and rubbed her skin, ignoring comments made by the guards. Pilar applied mineral foundation to her face, then caked mounds of makeup to conceal the cuts and bruises. This was a distant cry from the dreams Pilar and Filomena once had, but dreams were for people who had choices, and they had lost their's years before. "This is gonna sting a bit, dear," Filomena said, as she dabbed her wound with peroxide.

When the final touches to Maddie were complete, she resembled a prostitute perched against a flickering light pole outside a corner dime store. The bargain basement evening gown chosen from the many hanging from the rack nearby, revealed hints of body parts only exposed during private moments.

The two guards chuckled remarks, gliding their tongues across their lips as Maddie was escorted to the mattress to wait her entrance. Maddie glanced around the room with a glazed expression, stopping her gaze just long enough at the two guards to give them the notion of an invitation. They wasted no time, they rose to their feet and sauntered toward her while unbuckling their belts.

Chapter Nineteen

Surgical tools were toweled, polished, and lined side-by-side on a tray, much like you'd expect to see a waitress carrying at a busy truck-stop diner. The failed medical student, now with gray showing around his temples, took a deep breath and summoned, "Hurry up, let's get this done. Another shipment will be here soon."

The sound of a hunter's knife brushing against a pant leg rifled Sam's attention. Standing over him, he stared down the pointed barrel. "Rise!" demanded the man.

Joseph kissed the photo again, but before he could return it to his pocket, the knifed man reached down and snatched it. "Ah yes," he said, inspecting the photo. "She was a fighter, this one."

Joseph's energy returned with surging rage. He clutched the man's wrist and twisted until the sound of breaking bones were heard and knife pointed toward the man's chest. With one sudden push, the knife plunged into the man. Before the rifled man could react, Sam buried his foot into his knee, hurling him to the floor. Like a leopard pouncing, Joseph sprung from the mattress, grasped the man's head, and with a quick jerk, twisted and snapped the man's neck. Joseph retrieved his photo, giving one last kiss before placing it back in his pocket.

Scalpel in hand, the man in the white smock stared with fear at Sam and Joseph. "Hope you're not planning on using that," Joseph advised.

Before Sam and Joseph could make it to their feet, the man made a break toward the door. Still seated on the mattress, Jake stretched his leg out, tripping the man to the floor. Just as the man inhaled to scream for help, Sam dove and cupped his mouth. Emulating Joseph, Sam grasped the man's head and twisted it. The man reached out, struggling toward the door. "Quick and firm," Joseph said. "Hurry."

Sam took a deep breath, clinched his teeth, then performed as instructed. The vibration of cracking bones, and the sight of the man's lifeless eyes, made him queazy. "Dad, you're a bone crusher," Jake said.

"Good job, take a rifle," Joseph told Sam, then tucked the knife under his belt. "Let's go get our families."

Sam probed the rifle, inspecting its parts. "They're 22 caliber semi-automatics," Joseph said. "Just point, aim, and pull the trigger."

"We won't use them unless it's absolutely necessary, right?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, right." Joseph's sarcastic answer came as no surprise. "We won't use them for long, if we don't find more ammo."

Sam knew many more would die before the night was over.

One hand on the door handle, the other on the rifle, it was a scene right out of Die Hard, and Sam was John McClane. Or so he felt. "Stay close to us, buddy."

"Come on, let's do this," Joseph blurted with an impatient tone.

Sam took a deep breath ready to lead his small brigade into battle, but before he could twist the door handle, the door flung open. Sam was forced back into Joseph and nearly knocking Jake to the floor. Sam regained balance and noticed the figure poised in the doorway. It was the man who had brought Maddie to her knees with the sting of his whip. "What's going on here?" he asked, unraveling his whip to the floor.

Sam reared the rifle back like a lumberjack about ready to strike a biscuit, then slammed it into the man's face knocking him to the floor. Joseph reached for the man's ankles and pulled him into the room. "Let me have him," Sam demanded.

After a torrent of thunderous kicks to the man's body, Sam caught his breath and mumbled, "Those were from me," then straddled the man's torso, grabbed his head in both hands. As a sharp crack of bones vibrated in his hands, he said, "And that's for my wife."

"You're a quick study," Joseph said.

Sam stared up at Joseph, retaining his, John McClane stern expression. "Let's go."

###

The warehouse resounded with mumbles and laughter from unseen guards, while the storm continued to beat against aluminum. It was the perfect audio camouflage. Sam, Joseph and Jake positioned themselves hidden behind stacked crates and pallets under strobes of unstable lighting, waiting.

"What do we do now?" Jake asked.

"We go from room to room and find our families," Joseph answered. "Follow my lead." It was a phrase he'd often use while leading a raid while in the military. But that was blazing in on fellow marines in brothels and catching them with their pants down. A favorite stunt amongst MPs.

As they approached the room adjacent to the one they had been in, Joseph and Sam sprung into action like a SWAT Team on a drug bust. With rifle butts firm against their shoulders, Joseph turned the handle to the door, then kicked it in and entered. Sam and Joseph, with an eye peeled down the top of their barrels, scanned for the slightest movement. Convinced it was still and quiet, they realized it was the same size as the room they had just been held in, without the gurney, tables and chairs. It contained only three mattresses thrown randomly on the floor with a mound of soiled blankets on each.

"People are sleeping," Jake whispered.

Rifles still steadied with fingers still on triggers, Sam and Joseph advanced toward the mattresses. "Stay behind us," Sam told Jake.

Joseph held his hand up motioning for silence then undraped a blanket with the tip of the rifle. Even with a beaten face, he knew who she was. He kneeled beside her. "Maritza, it's me, Joseph. Wake up." Then he examined her body.

She had been savagely bruised and battered. Needle marks riddled her arm as if she probably had warded off several injection attempts. Her panties were torn and hanging from severely bruised legs. Her makeup had been smeared with tears and blood caked on her face. Her broken fingernails told tales of resistance, but being ripped near her cuticles showed signs defeat. Weeping tears of guilt and regret, he clutched her lifeless body. "Maritza, my sweet Maritza. Wake up, please wake up."

Joseph remained mourning at Maritza's side, while Sam followed suit with the tip of his rifle, and Jake uncovered the third blanket. Sam stood over two more young girls, both mirroring the condition of the other. Both with bruised faces and blood spotted torn panties, their placid and expressionless faces showed they had endured a nightmare of ravage. He stared beyond their pillaged features into their lifeless eyes, recognizing them as the missing sisters on the bulletin board at the Key West store. He speculated they were well loved and admired, daughters parents raved about to others. Now here they were, side by side on germ invested mattresses, hundreds of miles away in a foreign country.

Checking for a pulse on the older sister, he thought about how they had been abducted. How they might have been deceived by lies then lured and held against their will. Perhaps they were exploring the marina at night, or offered help by some friendly people. He thought about how he and Maddie had left Emily and Jake alone while shopping that night. He lifted his fingers from her neck, then placed the blanket over her head.

Jake kneeled beside the younger sister about his age. She had ginger colored hair with a sprinkling of freckles extending over the bridge of her nose to both sides of her cheek. He held her hand and brushed her hair from her face. "Hello? Can you hear me? Hello, little girl."

"We gotta get going?" Sam said, fearing the worse for Maddie and Emily.

Jake placed her hand back on the bed, when he felt her hand tense against his. "Please," he heard her whisper.

"You're okay," he said, surprised. "Don't worry, we're going to save you."

Joseph held Maritza, whispering in Spanish. "Joseph, I'm sorry, but we gotta keep going?" Sam said, hoping he hadn't changed his mind. "Their gonna notice what's going and come for us if we don't keep moving."

"We gotta take her with us," Joseph said, wrapping the blanket around her.

"She's gone, Joseph. Cover her up, and we'll send someone for her when we get out of here."

Joseph remained fixed on Maritza. "I'll come back for you, my baby. You stay warm and sleep," he told her, then stood with a revengeful determination. "Those bastards are gonna pay."

"Come on, Jake," Sam said.

"Dad, we gotta take her, she's still alive. We can't leave her here."

Sam felt her carotid artery. "Okay," he said, then scooped her up over his shoulder like a bag of fragile merchandise.

Joseph stood by the door, rifle in hand and ready to implement pain. "Remember, we have to keep quiet. We use the rifles only if necessary," Sam reminded.

"I don't care what we use, they're going to pay one way or the other."

###

In the adjoining room, Maddie lie face down with her skirt pushed up her back and her buttocks exposed. The other man had torn a strip of sheet to tie around her wrists, and pulled her arms above her head. Another strip was waded and stuffed in her mouth. A slobbish man in a sweaty wife-beater, kneeled behind her with his trousers unsnapped and ready to mount. "Mamacita," he murmured, then flicked his cigar near the rifles.

Maddie's fight had returned.

"Make it fast," a guard said, pulling on the strip of sheet pinning Maddie's hands above her head.

Filomena and Pilar chatted in disgust at the nearby table. "I'm sick of witnessing the abuse these poor girls have to go through," Filomena said. "Why don't we do something? We need to tell Chavez," she added.

"Remember the last one who snitched?" Pilar reminded. "They beat her senseless and cut her tongue out."

"Yeah, then drove her into the orchard and left her for dead," Filomena added.

"Keep her still," the slobbish guard ordered.

Fists clinched around the sheet, Maddie kicked her legs and squeezed both sides of the mounted man's torso. As she prepared to receive her assault, the door flew open. Sam, Jake, and Joseph stormed in, guns pointed. All heads turned toward the unexpected intruders and before anyone could react, Jake had already brandished the knife from Joseph's belt and bolted toward the man straddling his mother. Joseph was close on his heals.

Noticing the little girl on Sam's shoulders, Pilar and Filomena dashed to him. "We'll watch over her. Hurry, go help."

Maddie's attacker stared up at the little boy's deranged face advancing toward him with the point of the knife raised in the air. "Get them!" he shouted, ready to block the knife.

Jake leaped, thrusting the knife through the palm of the man's hand. The other guard went for his rifle, a move Joseph had anticipated. As the guard reached for it, Joseph's foot slammed into his face, springing the man's head in a fierce whiplash against the wall. Maddie leaped from the mattress. She wrapped the torn sheet around his neck and pulled with all her might.

Sam scowled at the man trying to slide the knife from his palm. He was the reflection of every guy Sam loathed. He was all the Thad Brewster's and Captain Kent's in the world. He was the new teacher in the school and the flirtatious hotshot kid at the red-light. This man represented the countless number of intimidators before them. He was going to pay.

Sam's demented glare shuffled the man off the end of the mattress. The man grasped the handle of the knife, but before he could slide it out of his hand, Sam cracked the rifle butt into his face. Blood splattered like spray from an aerosol can. The man slammed onto the floor, defenseless. Sam proceeded with a relentless barrage of kicks, rendering the man unconscious.

Maddie confirmed the death of the man she strangled then glanced at Sam. He was holding the man's head in his hands while straddling him. With one quick violent twist, Maddie heard the snapping of bones from the man's neck. She stared in disbelief. 'Where in the hell did that come from?' Her mild-mannered husband had become a lethal weapon; transformed into a maniacal monster of raging revenge. The thrill frightened her, but at the same time created an excitement she hadn't felt with him before.

She embraced Sam and Jake. "Are you okay, Mom?" Jake asked.

"I am now, thanks to you two. Just still a little weak."

For the first time she felt safe in Sam's arms. She glanced over at Joseph who was standing near the two women and the little girl. "Who's that man?"

"He's our new friend, Joseph. I'll explain later," he answered. "We gotta get going now."

They rose and approached Joseph. "What do you want to do with them?" Joseph asked, motioning to the women.

"Please señor, take us with you, we can help. I'm Pilar, and this is my sister, Filomena," she begged. "Please?"

The rough appearance and diminished demeanor of both women resembled beaten dogs. "Si, we don't want to be here either," added Filomena.

"Okay, both of you take a rifle," Joseph instructed, while withdrawing the knife from the dead man's hand and stuffing it under his belt.

"How many of these military guys are there?" Sam asked.

"There's about fifteen, but they're not military men, they're just poor farmers who were recruited as Chavez's guards," Pilar answered.

"Then why the uniforms?" Sam asked.

"Chavez thinks the people brought here will be more scared and do what they are told." Filomena answered.

"Then they haven't had any formal military tactical training," Joseph said.

"Not as far as we know," Pilar said. "Like my sister said, they're mostly just poor farmers without families. We've never even seen them fire a gun before."

"Perfect," Joseph said, placing his hand on the door handle. "Let's finish this. Everyone stay behind me."

###

Two thugs conversed in Spanish at a table in the next room. One wore a baseball cap twisted to the back, while the other tall muscle bound man massaged his intimidating biceps. Seated with them in silence, was Ramona.

Single file, like cattle being herded through the narrow gates on the way to the slaughterhouse, Sam and his group clamored through the door, weapons ready. Startled, the two men rose. The baseball capped thug searched for his rifle, while the muscle bound thug kicked his chair back from under him and rose empty handed. He was built like a brick house, and resembled Carlos.

Jake recognized his sister on a mattress. Ignoring the others, he darted toward her. Before flinging himself beside her, he kicked away the needle, rubber tubing and spoon on the floor. "Em, wake up. We're here," he said, nudging her. "It's, Jake."

Filomena shifted the little girl she was holding and grabbed her sister's hand to step out of the path of the approaching men. Maddie rushed to join Jake at Emily's bedside.

As the baseball capped man worked his way to his rifle, Sam charged him with a baseball bat swing of his rifle, knocking the man off balance. When the man regained composure, he tackled Sam and began pounding him with hard-hitting blows. Sam released his grip on the rifle to protect himself, and began exchanging blows with the man.

Joseph dropped his rifle and sprung toward the muscled thug with his fist reared back. The thug shook it off, as if it were an annoying gnat, then attacked with both arms stretched out. Joseph slammed another fist into him, but again, the thug was unaffected. Joseph retreated a few steps back and stopped against the wall. The thug advanced toward him with his hands reached out. Joseph's feet lifted from the floor with the strength of the thug's hands around his neck.

Witnessing Joseph's peril, and fearing a gunshot would be heard, Filomena handed the little girl to Ramona, and joined her sister leaping on the thug's back. The thug released a hand from around Joseph's neck, still holding Joseph off the floor, and threw his elbow behind him. Filomena and Pilar flew to the floor. The thug then resumed his chokehold on Joseph. With little strength remaining, Joseph dug his thumbs into the eyes of his attacker, but his weakened strength wasn't enough to deter the large man. Joseph writhed and twitched, struggling for air, while reaching for the knife tucked under his belt. The thug shook Joseph against the wall, squeezing the last bit of air out of him. Joseph fumbled the knife to the floor near the thug's feet.

Pilar and Filomena reached for chairs and broke them on the back of the thug choking Joseph. Again, the thug was unaffected.

Sam and the other man continued exchanging blows to the face. "Get the knife," he yelled.

Maddie spotted the knife on the floor. She swept it up and plunged it into the back of the man Sam had been fighting. The man rolled off, when Sam rose and finished him, stabbing the man a number of times.

Without a second to think, Sam sunk the knife into the shoulder of Joseph's attacker. The grip loosened around Joseph's neck, but as his feet touched the floor, the thug wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in tight, then squeezed. Bones were heard cracking. Joseph slid to the floor, incapacitated.

The thug turned and faced Sam, pulling the knife from his shoulder. Grasping the knife with a sneer, he approached Sam.

Pilar picked up another chair and with all her strength, slammed it into the thug, tumbling the knife toward Maddie. Before it stopped moving, she gave the it a soccer kick, sliding it on the floor at Sam's feet. As the thug neared him, Sam bent over and retrieved it, sticking it into the thugs leg. The thug wobbled and hit the floor like thunder, face down. Worried the thug would recover, Sam climbed on his back like a cowboy riding a steer, and twisted his neck until bones cracked. "Where in the hell did you come from?" Maddie asked, amazed at the malignant evilness that had taken her husband over.

Without answering, Sam rushed to Emily. "Em, can you hear me?"

Emily's short giggle was followed by inaudible slurs. Maddie patted her face as if trying to awake her from a bad dream. Jake picked up a needle from the floor to show his parents. "Put that down," Maddie ordered in panic.

"At least she's still alive," Sam remarked, inspecting the red punctures on her arm. "We gotta get her to a hospital. See if she can walk."

Emily's legs buckled like rubber when Maddie and Ramona tried to help her up. "I'm afraid she's not going to be herself for awhile," Ramona said, trying to prop her up again.

Sam knelt beside Joseph who lay inert on the floor. "Joseph, can you hear me? Can you move?"

It was a labor for Joseph to keep his eyes opened. "You'll have to go without me," he said, with a defeated tone.

"Can you move?"

"I think my back's broken." His grip faded in Sam's hand.

"Come on, I'll help you up."

"No, don't worry about me. I'll just slow you down."

Sam peered around the room, focusing the man who did this to his friend. "Are you sure?"

Joseph closed his eyes, then whispered, "Save your family before it's too late. We'll be fine here."

Sam knew who he was referring to when he said, "We."

With his last breath, he exhaled, "Maritza."

Sam stared at him like he had just lost his best friend, then covered him with a torn sheet.

Ramona carted Emily like a rag doll to, Sam. "Please señor, take me with you?" she pleaded. "I have a husband waiting for me."

Joseph had been Sam's driving force that inspired his confidence. Now he had only himself to rely on. It was up to him to get his family and the others to safety. He agreed to take Ramona with them. Being the largest of the three women, Sam asked if she could carry Emily. She agreed. "Protect her with your life," Sam told her. He then turned to the next largest woman, Filomena. "You carry the little girl."

Sam handed Jake a rifle. "If you can stand, you can shoot. Do you think you can handle it?"

Jake stood firm with confidence. "Sure, no problem, just aim and fire," he answered, remembering what Joseph had said earlier.

He prepared everyone with a rifle then asked, "Is there more ammunition anywhere?"

Ramona pointed to a cupboard near the table. "There's some in here."

"Grab it all," Sam told everyone.

They were like an army troop stockpiling in preparation for a secret ambush. When they finished topping off their weapons, and stuffing the balance of bullets in their pockets, Sam asked, "What's the best way out of here?"

"There's a door in the front, but it welded shut," Ramona said.

"Yeah, we'll have to go through the back," Pilar added.

"How are we gonna get away from here once we're outside?" Maddie asked.

"They always leave the keys in the truck. We need to get to the truck," Ramona said.

"Okay then," Sam said, with a sigh. "Stay close and don't be afraid to shoot."

Sam's motley group reminded him of a crowd of angry vigilantes. "Remember, just point and fire," he said.

Jake took a practice aim at one of the dead thugs, then mouthed a firing sound. Sam grasped the door handle. "Everyone ready?"

Chapter Twenty

Thunder roared. Lightening flashed. Gale force winds whipped through everything in its path, snapping tree limbs like toothpicks, and uprooting small trees. It was a brutal punishment of natures fury, intended only for those courageous enough to venture into its path.

Headlights of two sedans with tinted windows veered from the highway and meandered down the muddy road toward the warehouses. They had braved the storm, ready to bid top-dollar for the mother-daughter team Chavez had assured them they'd make a fortune on. The cars parked alongside the military transport truck as they had done many times before. Two men exited, each holding briefcases, were greeted by guards holding umbrellas who escorted them into the warehouse.

Once inside, they were led to chairs behind a table, and offered cigars and their choice of brandy, whiskey, or tequila.

"Tell the boss they've arrived," a guard told another.

Chavez's men raised their voices over the echo of rain slamming the roof overhead. Guards stood their ground, spread throughout the front half of the warehouse. Nervous with anticipation of the gun battle that would soon take place, Sam's group waited against the stacked pile of crates. Maddie remained in the doorway of the room, taking up the rear. She waited for Sam's signal to join them. He heard the buyers had arrived, and wasn't quite sure what to expect. The only thing he did know for certain was, they would soon be discovered missing. "Now," Sam mouthed to her.

In the midst of her first stride, two men appeared from across the warehouse and caught a glimpse of a figure darting behind crates. To get a closer look and confirm what they thought they saw, they strolled closer to the crates. Hearing shuffling sounds the men raised their rifles.

Sam heard their shuffling footsteps getting closer. With his finger on the trigger he knew the second he fired, all hell would break loose. He wished Joseph would have been there for added courage, but convinced himself he didn't need him. He was going to do this himself. Besides, they had rifles and all the ammunition.

When the two men neared the crates, Sam stepped back from his position and pulled the trigger. Two thunderous shots echoed the warehouse, interrupting the sound of beating rain. The blast could have been mistaken for thunder if it weren't for the two thugs dropping dead on the floor. Sam's group had lost the element of surprise. 'It's showtime,' he mumbled.

Thugs yelled, "Detenerlos!" then scattered, taking cover wherever they could find it. Unaware of the exact location where the shots came from, they commenced firing over the dead bodies of their two compadres. Explosions of gunfire and zinging bullets rang throughout the warehouse as they unloaded their ammunition aimlessly toward the rear of the warehouse. Bullets ricocheted off the floor into walls, metal plates above flickering light bulbs swayed, bullets embedded in crates and pallets. Sam recognized their erratic shooting, and told his group to hold fire until he gave the order. "Why?" Jake asked.

"They don't know where we're at yet," he answered. "Let them use all their ammo up first, then we'll surprise them. Just stay low and ready."

"Good idea, Dad."

Inside Chavez's office, gunfire aroused Andrea from her chair, still weeping at the death of her brother and the brutal tabletop punishment Chavez had given her. Chavez leaped from the comfort of his chair, dropping the bottle of tequila on floor. "What the hell's going on?" he bellowed, in a furious tone. "Get out there and see what's happening."

Grabbing her pistol, Andrea darted to the door with Chavez close behind. Before she could get a glimpse of what was happening, Chavez shoved her into the warehouse adjacent to the crates where Sam's troop were hidden. "Get out there and handle it," he yelled.

Maddie spun toward the door at the sound of Chavez's voice. Standing in the corridor was Andrea. With the rifle at her hip, Maddie fired a shot. Andrea grasped her thigh, knocking her back against the wall. As she wormed her way back into the office, Andrea fired a shot, fatally striking Pilar in the back. Filomena let out a shriek of terror witnessing her sister hitting the floor. She set the little girl down, picked up Pilar's rifle, then without showing an ounce of fear, opened fired at the guards.

Andrea scampered past Chavez's feet just inside the door, as he yelled orders in Spanish to his men. His thunderous voice was cut short as a bullet from Sam's rifle scraped his shoulder. Chavez flinched back and retreated into his office. He fumbled for his cell phone, then punched in a number. "We need you!" he said. "Get over here, now! Bring everyone you got." Then he slapped the phone on his desk.

Now that all the guards knew where they were, Sam yelled, "Everyone fire."

Aiming from behind the crates, Sam's troop shot at random at anything that moved. Guards kneeled on the floor with no protection, while others hid behind a stationary forklift in the corner near the dock. The only other barriers were the stack of crates directly in front of Sam and his troop, or the many stacks behind them. Anyone attempting to get to either, were shot dead.

Ramona remained against the floor of the crates, draping her body over Emily and the little girl. Chavez's men dropped where they stood, or kneeled. A thin cloud of gunpowder began forming, and its smell smothered the mildew odor from before.

The warehouse grew silent while guards fumbled bullets to reload. Like a platoon leader on the front lines, Sam motioned his troop to the next stack of crates across from Chavez's office. The transport truck was in clear view, ready to take them away from there. "How far from here to the truck do you think it is?" he asked Maddie.

She was still firing and killing men when she answered. "Not far, probably about thirty-feet, give or take."

Rapid gunfire from guards commenced again. "Hold your fire," Sam yelled. In the midst of the war zone, Chavez cracked his door open and yelled in Spanish. A bullet fired from one of his guards struck the doorjamb next to him. He slammed the door closed. "What he day?" Sam asked, Filomena.

"He said more men are on their way."

He turned and resumed shooting. Thugs fell at the relentless onslaught of bullets from Sam's troop.

After thinking of what Chavez had just informed his men, Sam made a decision. "We gotta make a break for it." Those were the words he hadn't looked forward to saying, and hoped he wouldn't need to say. All they meant were one of them, if not all, were going to get killed.

"I'll go first," Maddie said.

Sam didn't want anyone going first. He had hoped they could kill all of Chavez's men, and just walk out. It wasn't an impossibility, but with backups being there soon, there was no telling how much time they had left. The ammunition they had wouldn't last all night.

"Are you sure you feel well enough?" he asked, Maddie.

She reloaded her rifle, then took a deep breath. "I do now."

"Okay, wait until they reload again," he replied, aiming like he would've at ducks in a carnival booth.

Jake learned to cushion the kick of the rifle. It was like target practice in the backyard, except these targets were shooting back trying to kill him. Ramona had resumed her position on the floor, remaining with her body draped over Emily and the little girl, as their predators dropped one by one.

"Get ready," Sam told Maddie. "They've gotta be getting close to reloading."

Clutching her rifle with her finger wrapped firm around the trigger, Maddie took another deep breath, ready to sprint. "Cover her," Sam yelled to Jake and Filomena.

She mouthed a countdown from three, then started to zigzag the thirty or so feet to the dock, killing anything that moved. "Run, Mom!" Jake yelled, over the endless onslaught of bullets.

Chavez opened the door hearing Jake's voice. Jake turned toward Chavez and fired a shot. The bullet grazed his shoulder, then entered the wall next to him. Chavez grabbed his shoulder, then retreated back inside.

Several feet from the edge of the dock, Maddie leaped like an Olympic long jumper into a minefield of puddles between the sedans and the truck. The rifle tumbled from her hands as she hit the ground. Before she could reach for her rifle, one of the buyers aimed a pistol at her. "Where do you think you're going?" he said.

Maddie closed her eyes waiting for the bullet.

The pistol clicked. Then clicked again, and again. As if trained in military tactics, Maddie grasped the rifle. "Go to hell," she said, then shot both men dead.

After working her way to the cab of the truck, she peered inside and saw the keys dangling from the ignition. After shooting the rear tires of the sedans, she crouched behind the edge of the dock and fired at the security lights. She then turned and commenced firing at the thugs. They were taking gunfire from both directions now.

Back inside the warehouse, bullets appeared from all directions, leaving a minefield of dead guards. Oblivious to their near defeat, Ramona offered a continuous string of prayers and soothing words of comfort to Emily and the little girl.

Sam motioned to Filomena, "You're next. Can you carry the girl?" he asked. He knew her chances of making it were slim, with, or without carrying the little girl.

"Si, señor," she said.

Ramona helped her situate the girl in Filomena's arm, then took her hand. "Be careful, and may, God be with you."

Sam asked Ramona to take a rifle, it was the rifle Pilar had used. "We're going to need all the firepower we can get," he told her.

Ramona held the rifle, like it was the first time. "Have you ever shot one?" he asked.

"I've never even held one."

"Just keep pulling the trigger and aim the tip of the gun toward them when she runs across, that's all you have to do."

Sam could tell she didn't want to harm anyone. She didn't seem the type of person who could kill a fly. "You might be saving your friend's life, and you'll increase the chance of seeing your husband again, soon," he tried to convince her.

"Okay, I can do it."

With the rifle in one hand and the girl in the other, Filomena made her dash through the blitz of bullets toward the truck. Steps from the edge of the dock, a painful penetration entered the back of her leg. Filomena dropped the rifle and soared forward. The little girl flew from her arms over the dock's edge. Maddie dropped her rifle ready to catch her. The little girl's body landed into Maddie's clutches knocking her to them both to the ground. Maddie worked her way up and slid the little girl across the bench of the cab toward the passenger window. "You're safe now," she whispered. "We'll leave here soon."

Filomena lifted her head as she attempted to crawl the last couple feet to safety, when Maddie returned. "Help me," she cried, reaching for Maddie to take her hand. Maddie reached over the dock to grab her hand. Filmonea's fingertips stretched out to Maddie's, but when their hands clasped, Filomena's head slammed to the floor of the dock. Rain washed away the blood as fast as it drained from the back of her head.

Ramona's scream muffled the sound of gunfire. The sight of her friend lying face down gave her the strength to volunteer. "My turn," she said, with no regard for losing her own life. Her only thought was to get to Filomena.

Before Sam could utter a word, Ramona had already kissed her St. Christopher hanging from around her neck, and had begun her stride toward the dock. Sam, Jake and Maddie covered Ramona, as she made the desperate attempt to the dock. The few remaining men sought protection from behind the forklift, fearing to come out from behind it.

Under the darkness of the pouring rain, Ramona fell beside the fatally injured Filomena, sobbing. She whispered to her as if to be giving her her last rites. "Come on! Get down here! She's gone," Maddie screamed.

Ramona was oblivious to Maddie's pleas. Maddie stretched over the edge of the dock to reach for her. "Grab my hand," Maddie shouted. Ramona was determined to remain with her friend. "Get in the back of the truck and keep your head down. Now!" Maddie's tone reminded herself of Andrea giving orders on the boat before passing out.

Ramona completed her ritual with Filomena and crawled to the rear of the truck and disappeared between the canvas flaps. The last time she was in this truck was during her abduction when she was brought to the warehouse. She flinched at the stench inside. Carlos lay gutted like a fish next to a man whose chest cavity was open with missing organs. On a humid day, it would be a nesting ground for flies and maggots. The scent of her own vomit made her more nauseous.

Sam turned to Jake, "Okay, buddy, your turn. Do you think you can do this?"

"No problem, there's only a few of them left." Jake's fear was buried under ten-feet of confidence. He had made it this far, there was nothing he couldn't do.

"I want you in that truck in five-seconds."

"What about you and Em?"

"Don't worry, we'll follow you shortly."

Dead bodies scattered the concrete floor of the warehouse where Chavez's thugs once stood with pointed rifles. The sound of the pounding rain rose above the sparse gunfire. Sam figured they were running low of ammo and were conserving it for when they had a clear shot. Those who ventured from behind the forklift to retrieve one of the loose rifles laying beside their dead comrade's, were shot themselves. It was like shooting ducks in a pond, something Sam had never experienced before.

He fired a few more rounds, then paused in the silence. "Get ready," he said.

"I'm already there." Jake's response was without fear as he reared back like a lineman waiting for the hike. With clenched teeth, he tightened his grip on the rifle. Gunfire from Sam and Maddie forced thugs to remain in safety behind the forklift. It took only seconds for Jake to dart across and leap over Maddie. He sprung to his feet and twirled toward the warehouse. "Come on, Dad!" he yelled.

"Get in the truck," Maddie instructed. Jake ignored her and perched his rifle on the dock, aiming at the men around the forklift.

Sam positioned Emily high across his shoulder, while holding the rifle in the other. He waited until Maddie motioned him to run. The signal came. Sam charged through gunfire, discharging bullets toward the forklift. He felt like Rooster Cogburn without the patch, and hoped the outcome would be the same.

Ten-feet from the edge of the dock, Sam released his rifle and positioned Emily in his arms, then went into a baseball slide, feet first. He slid off the dock and landed safely on the ground with Emily still in his arms. "Get Em in the truck and start the engine," he yelled, climbing to his feet and grabbing Jake's rifle out of his hands. "I'll keep them busy."

Moments later, Maddie and Jake were crammed in the cab next to Em and the little girl who was still unconscious. Emily muttered inaudible slurs with fractions of giggles. Maddie turned the ignition, but the truck just stammered. After a few pumps of the gas pedal, the engine popped and sputtered to a steady roar, emitting a dark exhaust from the tailpipe. Maddie tapped the horn. "Hurry, Sam. Come on!"

Alarmed by the sound of the horn, Chavez ran from his office with Andrea limping behind him. She fired into the darkness at Sam, while Chavez screamed, "Get them! Ram the truck."

Bullets sprayed toward Sam as he back pedaled toward the cab of the truck. When Sam was a steps from climbing in, he took a final shot, striking another. He dropped the rifle and turned to leap in, but shots fired from Andrea exploded into him. Blood oozed as he slumped on the seat behind the steering wheel. "Sam!" Maddie yelled.

Chapter Twenty-One

Chavez's men shuffled alongside the forklift pelting the truck with bullets. Maddie saw blood draining from Sam's shoulder as he struggled to shift the grinding gear. Sam pressed the gas pedal to the floor expecting to pull away from the dock, but the rear tires spun, sinking deeper into the mud. "I can't get traction," he said in a panic.

Cramped between the kids and Sam, Maddie didn't have room to shoot back like she wanted, she'd have to depend on Sam to break free of the dock.

Ramona fidgeted in the truck as the sound of Chavez's voice approached. She was ready to plant herself on Carlos and the other corpse to fool them into thinking she had been shot. Instead, two steel forks entered through the flaps and began to rise, lifting the rear of the truck. There was nothing she could do.

Pain eclipsed his thoughts, while pain shuddered through his body. He had to find a solution before it was too late. While keeping the pedal to the floorboard, the truck lifted, jerking it forward as it peeled away from the dock and out of the puddled hole. "Hurry, Dad!" Jake yelled.

Sam cranked the wheel, his foot heavy on the pedal. As the truck broke free from the forks, the truck backfired down the road through the rain.

"Don't let them getaway," they heard Chavez yelling.

"How do we get out of here?" Jake asked.

"I'm not sure. I'm just following the road."

Sam peered through the outside mirror, as water flowed over it like a waterfall. Before a bullet shattered its glass, he saw Chavez's men emptying their rounds into the truck.

Sam tried to focus on the limited visibility. "Where are they?"

Maddie leaned and glanced through the mirror on the passenger side. "They've stopped. We did it."

In the distance, they heard Chavez scream, "Tomar los coches. Obtenerlos!" Then he pointed to the two cars.

"They'll be on our tail soon," Sam said.

"Not if they think they're taking the cars, they won't," Maddie responded.

Metal from the wipers scraped the windshield making visibility through the torrential downpour worse. Sam navigated through the mangled maze of severed limbs and branches scattered along the road under the umbrella of horizontal mangroves. "It would be easier if I knew where I was going," he shouted, above the pelting rain against the metal rooftop of the truck.

Jake noticed the pain on his dad's face. His shoulder had become a solid blanket of red. "Mom, Dad's really hurt, we gotta him to a hospital."

"No, I'm okay."

"Let me drive," Maddie said. "We need to get your shoulder wrapped, pullover."

Jake glanced down, noticing blood on Sam's pants. "Your leg's bleeding, too."

"I'm fine, just let me concentrate." He was getting irritated. "Let me get us to the main road first, then you can takeover."

Maddie glanced down at Sam's leg. Blood was seeping onto the seat, but she dared not say anything. She was sure he knew it.

"How do you know we're going in the right direction?" Jake asked.

"I don't know, but it's the only road there is right now. Please, let me drive."

Sam rambled the truck along the road, weaving around obstacles of debris when he noticed bright lights ahead.

"I see lights," Jake said.

"Yeah, I see them too," Sam said.

As they drove closer, the lights got brighter. "I don't think they're there to help us," Sam mumbled. "It's Chavez's backup gang. It's a barricade." Then he whispered to himself, "We're not out of the woods yet." He meant no pun.

As they motored closer to the bright lights in their path, he could see a half dozen, or more men perched in front of parked cars, taking aim. He knew death of his family would be certain if he slowed. "Get everyone down and hang on," he said.

"They're probably blocking the main highway," Maddie said.

Then instances of flickering light and the thundering sound of shotguns were heard. "Keep low!" he yelled, with both hands firm on the wheel and sliding down in his seat.

"Sam!" Maddie cried out.

The thick military windshield glass shattered.

"Dad," Jake screamed.

"Get down," Sam yelled.

Sam noticed ahead, there was a stretch of clearing free of debris. "Hang on," he yelled, shifting into a higher gear.

When the thugs noticed Sam wasn't going to stop, they wailed, "Alto!" the dove to the roadside. Sam closed his eyes and moved up in his seat. With his fists gripped around the steering, the steel grill cleaved through the cars and onto the highway. Explosions of fire rose from mutilated metal, as Chavez's men gathered their composure and resumed firing. Sam veered around a bend, then glanced out his window and saw the glow of fire. He turned to focus on the road, when another fiery explosion rose in the nights sky.

"Is everyone, okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Maddie answered.

"Yeah, Dad, that was great," Jake said.

"Why don't you pull over now so we can take care of you?" Maddie suggested. "Then I'll drive the rest of the way."

Sam felt under his leg and shoulder. The glow of the dim dashboard illuminated the red sticky substance on his hand. Feeling squeamish, he pulled over to the side of the road.

Chavez had been surveying the littered bodies on the warehouse floor, when the explosions were heard from the end of the road. When his men stepped in, dripping wet, he knew his cargo had gotten away. Failure had wiped its feet on his doormat, and there was only way to handle it. "Give these useless bastards a nightcap."

"But not all of them are dead," Andrea said.

"Then make sure they are," he yelled.

Andrea motioned to the men who had strolled in from out of the rain. "Them?"

"No, I need them."

"And the cargo?"

"Let me worry about that."

"If they get away, I'm not going back to prison," she said.

"You want your freedom? You better make sure they don't get away."

Chavez stormed toward his office while making a call. "Make your calls and give them heads up, there's a group who might be coming your way."

Andrea found Chavez pacing his office. She hadn't ever seen him this nervous before. "What do you want?" he barked.

"If I get rid of them, you'll let me go?"

Chavez had no intention of letting her go, but said, "Yes, you're free to leave, but you must get rid of them first. You better hope my connections don't take care of them first."

Moments later, Sam fell asleep leaning against Emily and the little girl, while Maddie drove. Whereabouts unknown, it was better than the horror they had just experienced at the warehouse. Unable to sleep, Jake remained awake keeping his mother alert by assisting her dodge the labyrinth of fallen brush in the highway. "Watch out, Mom," Jake would say. "There's another branch."

Soon, Maddie and Jake caught their first glimpse of structures along the roadside. Blighted concrete bungalows lined the roadside with plywood scattered from crumbled fruit stands and lean-tos. Debris blew across the road like tumbleweeds in a desert.

"Mom, look." Jake pointed to a half lit neon sign blowing from a broken chain. It read, -PEN 24 H-UR- . "It looks like a mini-mart," Jake said.

"Yeah, an abandoned mini-mart," Maddie replied. "We'll keep going."

A short distance later, Jake pointed to another building. There were eighteen-wheel diesel trucks parked in front, with lights inside revealing several patrons eating. "What about that place?" Jake asked.

"Looks like a truck stop, more promising than the last place," she said. Then pulled in and parked near the entrance. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

All heads turned when Maddie stepped into the diner. It wasn't her soaked appearance that attracted their attention, it was the blood on her hands and clothes, and the fact that she was a woman driving a military truck during a storm in the middle of the night. The only waitress, dressed she worked in a 1950s diner, was talking to several truckers at a table. She approached Maddie with an annoyed attitude like she was being taken away from a serious conversation with her trucker customers. "Te puedo ayudar?"

"Please, I need help," Maddie pleaded. "Can I use your phone?"

"No hablo Inglés."

Maddie glanced past her at the truckers. "Please, does anyone speak English? We need a hospital or police station. Please."

Without expression, the staring truckers turned toward their plates and resumed their conversations. "Does anyone in here speak English?"

Again, she was ignored.

"Please, can you tell me where a police station is?" she asked the waitress.

"No hablo Inglés.

"Police, policia," Maddie said. She wasn't certain if that was the right word, but she had seen it in movies.

"Ah, si. No muy lejos," she said, pointing in the direction Maddie had been driving.

Without acknowledgment, Maddie fled into the rain back to the truck.

"Did you find anything out?" Jake asked.

"I don't know, no one speaks English around here. I think we're going in the right direction, though."

Inside the diner, the waitress reached in her pocket and took out her cell phone. "La familia estará allí pronto," she whispered. Then through the windows of the diner, she watched as the truck spit mud from the rear tires as it sped from the parking lot.

###

Maddie fought to maintain control as she weaved over lanes of the two-lane highway. Structures appearing to be small markets, gas stations, and homes lined along the darkened road gave an eerie appearance of abandonment. They had traveled for less than ten-minutes when Jake noticed a building with a light on behind a barred window. "Mom, I see a light."

"I see it."

Keeping her foot on the gas, Maddie fish-tailed into a small muddy parking area beside a police car that looked like it belonged on Adam 12. Sam awoke from the sudden jar. "Where are we?" he asked. "Is anything wrong?"

"We found a police station," Maddie replied. "How are you doing?"

"I don't know, I'm feeling pretty numb."

"Just hang on, we'll be at the hospital soon."

Maddie dashed through the rain to the front door of the police station. It didn't look much larger than the room she had been held captive in at the warehouse. After trying the door knob, she pounded on the door and yelled, "Anyone in there? We need help. Hello?"

Standing in the bright light as the door swung opened, was a disheveled slim middle-aged mustached man whose uniform looked as though it hadn't been ironed in a week. Pinned to his shirt pocket was a badge that read, Lt. Alvarez.

"Do you speak English?" she asked.

"Of course señorita. I learned as a child."

Being stripped from his rank of Captain was a huge step down for Manuel Alvarez. Mexico City had always been his home, and he was on the verge of becoming Deputy Commissioner. This would've been advantageous to his backers who were local crime bosses, and would've assured him a lifelong position of status and wealth. It wasn't until days before the election when his own police officers raided his home and arrested him.

In exchange of staying out of prison, Alvarez testified against the crime bosses. He was demoted to Lieutenant and sent to Limones, kind of a Witness Protection Program.

His tired eyes and groggy voice spoke volumes of a disturbed night. "Come in," he said, with a yawn. "What can I help you with?"

The chilly and damp one room police station reeked of stale alcohol. Behind the only barred jail cell, lie an unshaven man spread out on a metal cot, too small for his size. Several feet from the cell was a paperless desk with a half empty bottle of whisky. Behind the desk on the wall, a police cap and keys hung from nails.

"Thank, God you're here," Maddie said, stepping inside. "We need your help. We... my family, was... were kidnapped by two people on our boat. We were in Florida... they brought us here... they were going to sell us... they tried to kill us... dead people everywhere... we need a hospital," she rambled, in fragmented sentences.

"Okay, calm down," Alvarez said, motioning her to take a seat.

Maddie remained standing near the door. "No, there's no time for that. We need to get to a hospital, my husband's been shot and my daughter is drugged. There's other people with us. There's dead people, too. Please, we gotta go, now. Please help us," she pleaded.

Unaffected by her urgency, Alvarez sauntered behind his desk and removed his cap and keys. "Okay. I'll take you in my car," he said, as he situated his cap on his head.

"We'll follow you," Maddie said, then opened the door. "Please, hurry."

"It'll be faster if we take my car," he insisted, then turned toward the snoring prisoner. "Don't go anywhere, Miguel. I'll be back soon."

Maddie continued her rant." We gotta hurry... my family is injured... we were kidnapped... they want to kill us."

"All right, settle down. You can explain everything on the way." As he slammed the door behind him, the cell door creaked open.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lt. Alvarez had placed Maddie's rifle in the trunk of the police car, while everyone huddled in the backseat. Sam propped in front with his belt pulled tight around his leg, replacing the use of a tourniquet. He pressed a torn shirt against the wound on his shoulder. "Looks like someone got the best of you," Lt. Alvarez said. Sam remained silent, slipping into a deep sleep.

The police car turned out of the driveway and headed through the narrow muddy neighborhood behind the station. "Where are we going?" Maddie asked.

"Don't worry, it'll be faster this way. There's too much debris along the highway," he said, weaving around a board with protruding nails in the road.

Maddie brushed Emily's hair from her face, "Hang in there sweetheart, we'll be at the hospital soon." Then she hummed a song hoping to soothe everyone.

Minutes later and after several more turns, the car turned onto the highway. Maddie glared at Lt. Alvarez through the rear-view mirror, "I don't understand why we just couldn't follow you. Can't you go any faster?" Maddie asked, with an impatient tone.

Lt. Alvarez lit a cigar. "Sit back and relax. I'm going as fast as I can in this weather," then let a cigar.

"Do you have to smoke that thing in here?" she asked. Her question was answered with a billow of smoke.

They drove through the wind and bantering rain for several miles until Jake whispered, "Mom, there's that place we past earlier."

Maddie noticed the half lit neon sign swaying from a broken chain. "Where are we?" she asked.

"Don't worry, it's a shortcut."

Ramona opened her eyes and scanned the road. "This isn't the way," she whispered to Maddie. "We're heading back toward the warehouse."

Maddie sat up against the metal mesh cage that divided the front and back seat. "Where are you taking us? This isn't the way to the hospital."

Lt. Alvarez remained focused on the road. "Turn this car around." Maddie demanded, rattling the cage.

Finally, Alvarez glanced through the mirror at Maddie. "Sit back," he said with a stern tone. "We're almost there."

"He's taking us back," Ramona mumbled, with a frightened tone. "He must work for Chavez."

"Stop the car, let us out!" Maddie was outraged.

"Relax lady."

"Let us out." Jake chimed, smacking the cage behind Lt. Alvarez's head.

"If you don't sit back and let me drive, I'm gonna pullover and take care of you myself."

"Sam, wake up. Do something!" Maddie screamed.

After several attempts to open the back door, Jake yelled, "Dad!"

Lt. Alvarez spoke in a calm tone. "Don't think he's gonna be much help. Looks like he's losing a lot of blood."

Jake squeezed his fingers through the metal cage and tugged strands of hair on Sam's head. "Dad, wake up."

"I'm not going to warn you again," Lt. Alvarez yelled.

Sam shifted and moaned.

"Dad!" Jake screamed out.

Maddie joined in, "Sam! Wake up! Sam!"

His family's cries for help sounded like faint desperate echoes. He knew they were in trouble again, but lacked the energy to move. They continued yelling and screaming, "Sam. Dad."

Mustering his last ounce of spirit, Sam reached for the steering wheel and stretched his leg in pain over the console to step on the brake pedal.

"What are you doing?" Lt. Alvarez shouted, struggling to control the car. "We're gonna get in an accident." Then his elbow flew into Sam's face.

Blood poured from Sam's nose. Still numb to the pain, Sam doubled his fist and landed several blows to Lt. Alvarez. The car swerved the width of the road. Sam unsnapped Alvarez's holstered pistol and withdrew the gun. Lt. Alvarez grabbed the barrel, when a lengthy diesel horn sounded from ahead. Headlights from the approaching truck blinded Lt. Alvarez. "Let go, we're all gonna get killed."

Sam glanced up at the sixteen wheel diesel's flashing lights bearing down on them. He cranked the wheel away to avoid hitting the truck head-on. While wrestling for control of the gun, they sped inches alongside the large truck, clipping its rear panel. The car spun out of control, hydroplaning over the wet asphalt. Moments later, it came to a rest alongside an embankment where it stalled.

The gun flailed near the ceiling of the car ripping the mirror from the window, while Sam and Lt. Alvarez refused to release grips. Maddie and Jake's screams of advice went unheard. A gunshot rang out, shattering the passenger window near Sam's head. Then another shot pierced the windshield.

"Get him, Dad!" Jake shouted. Maddie pushed his down, trying to restrain him from being hit by a stray bullet.

Maddie reared her feet into the side window, but it was too thick. Sam and Lt. Alvarez were chest to chest as another shot deafened them. A calm filled the car, as Sam's head lie slumped on Lt. Alvarez's shoulder. "Sam?" Maddie questioned. "Sam!"

Soon, Lt. Alvarez's head rolled into the driver's door. Fear came over Maddie. She grabbed Jake and Emily in her arms.

A moment later, Sam lifted his head. "It's over."

"Thank, God," Maddie said.

Moments later, Maddie completed the u-turn then hesitated before slamming her foot on the pedal. One last stare through the rear-view mirror, the silhouette of Lt. Alvarez's body lay in the glow of the tail lights. She felt no guilt. No pity. No blame. Only disgust at how easy his death was.

The early morning darkness brought a steady stream of rain. She fought her heavy eyelids to stay awake, as she drove in a trancelike state, not knowing when or where they'd find help from someone they could trust. "When will we be there?" Jake asked.

His voice startled her, but it was pleasant to hear. Rather than dash his hopes, she replied, "Soon, just try and get some sleep."

He couldn't sleep. He knew his mother was tired and needed to her stay awake. Before he could say another word, he spotted a light glowing from ahead. "Mom," he said. Then he pointed.

"I see it."

It was another diner. Maddie drifted the police car near the front glass doors. She replayed the events that led them to Lt. Alvarez last time, then grabbed the gun on the floor. She didn't trust anyone. "Wait here," she told Jake. "I'll be right back."

Jake looked puzzled. "Are you gonna kill someone else?"

"I hope not." She hoped he didn't think she was a killer.

"Can I sit in the driver's seat?" he asked, excited to be in a police car.

She opened a rear door to let him out. Once he was seated behind the wheel, she marched to the diner.

Jake gripped the steering wheel and pretended he was in a high speed pursuit. Inspecting the dashboard, he noticed something lying on the floor. "Cool," he said to himself, then put it in his pocket.

She could see the diner was empty. There was only a waitress leaning over the counter chewing gum and thumbing through a magazine. 'Probably waiting for me,' Maddie thought.

She stormed in with the pointed gun and demanded directions. The waitress glanced and saw a frantic woman with blood on her clothes. "No habla Inglés," she said with a fearful expression, then opened the cash register and handed Maddie a few pesos.

Maddie stood dumbfounded, but took the money. The waitress probably thought Maddie just wanted to rob the diner. She gestured for a phone. The waitress reached in her pocket and handed it to her. Maddie dropped it on the floor, and smashed it. She looked around the diner and found a land phone. Maddie ripped it from the wall, tearing the cord from its plastic connector. The waitress stared at Maddie's strange behavior, then watched as Maddie flew from the doors to the police car.

Jake was still pretending to drive when she appeared at the window and opened the door. "Do we know where we're going now?" he asked.

"We're gonna just keep driving."

### Part Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

The room was blinding white with sterile odor of medicines and antiseptics lingering in the air. Children occupied hospital beds as Jake wore his hospital gown at the little girl's bedside. Her battered face was cleaned and shined like an angel through her scratches and bruises. The rhythmic beat of the monitor evidenced she was still alive. He peered up at the nurse inspecting a chart at the foot of her bed, "Will she be okay?" he asked.

"She's been through a lot. A few more days and she'll be fine," the nurse answered, replacing the clipboard on the hook on the end of her bed.

"What's her name?" he asked.

"She's a Jane Doe at the moment," she answered before walking out the room.

Jake whispered to the girl, "I hope you find your family, Jane," then glanced around the room. He bent down and gave the little girl a kiss on the forehead then rushed from the room, embarrassed.

Sam and Emily lay asleep in adjacent beds, both hooked up to IVs. Sam looked like a wounded soldier recovering from injuries on the front line. He had a swollen face, black and blue eyes, a nose splint, shoulder sling and a wrapped elevated leg.

Emily rested with a few bruises and a bandage on her forehead concealing stitches.

Near the door outside their room, Maddie and two men were at a table with an album of mugshots and papers sprawled on the top. One man was a formally dressed caucasian wearing a tie, and the other was a Hispanic man dressed in uniform. Maddie concluded speaking as both closed their notepads. "I hope you can find them," she said.

"You've been extremely helpful. We'll do all we can to apprehend this ring," the Hispanic man said, as he handed her a business card that read, Detective Garcia, Chetumal Central Policia. "If you think of anything else that can be useful, please contact me directly."

Maddie handed the pen back to him. "Keep it," he said. "It also has my contact information."

She clipped the pen inside her shirt, as the other man reached in his jacket pocket and withdrew an envelope. "I almost forgot, compliments of the United States Government."

"What's this?" she asked, then opened the envelope. "Oh my God, thank you so much," then threw her arms around the man. It surprised her to see the four plane tickets.

Maddie waved as the elevator doors closed with the two men inside. Several nurses reviewed charts and performed small talk behind a circular counter across from the patients rooms. A middle aged woman watched the two men leave. "Excuse me, I've got to make a phone call," she told the other nurses. Then she strolled down the hallway for privacy.

Maddie went back into the room and sat on the edge of Sam's bed. "Sam?" she whispered, giving him a kiss on the side of his bandaged lip.

"Maddie?"

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Where are we?"

"We're in Chetumal, the capital of Quintana Roo."

"Still in Mexico. I was afraid of that."

"How do you feel?" she asked, again.

"I've felt better. Where's, Em and Jake?" Sam's speech was slow and painful.

"She's right here. Jake went to check on the little girl's condition. He should be back soon."

"What time is it?" he asked.

"You've both been sleeping since we got here the other night," she answered, then glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's 8:00 in the morning."

"The other night?" He was surprised he had slept for so long.

"Yeah, they had you pretty well drugged up."

Jake sauntered into the room. "Dad, you're awake." Then he pounced beside him.

Sam screamed out in pain, "Ouch! Careful."

"Still a wimp, I see," Maddie jested.

Sam carefully cocked his head toward Emily. "How is she?"

"They had to pump her stomach and give her some stitches. Other than that, they said she'd be as good as new," then added, "They're gonna let us go home this morning if you two are feeling up to it." Maddie showed him the plane tickets.

"One-way," he said.

"Would you rather it be round-trip?"

Sam attempted a laugh, but he was still in too much pain. "I can't wait to get back home."

Jake rushed to the closet and reached in his pants pocket. "Here, Mom, I don't think I'll be needing this anymore," then handed Maddie a pocket knife.

"Where did you get this?"

"I found it laying on the floor in the police car."

Maddie placed the knife in her shirt pocket with the pen and business card.

Jake sprung to Emily's bedside. "Em, are you awake?" he whispered, giving her a slight nudge.

"I am now. Where are we?" Emily's speech was docile.

Jake kissed her on the cheek. "We're all safe. We're at the hospital."

Emily struggled to focus through the bright light. "My brave squirt."

Maddie rested her head on Sam's chest and whispered, "I love you."

Sam forced a smile, "I love you, too. Things are gonna be different from now on, I promise."

"They already are. A new beginning," she whispered, then gave him another kiss.

"Yeah, a new beginning."

It was a moment of reunion and assurances. Maddie and Emily expressed appreciation to Sam for protecting their family. They renewed vows of love, and assured each other nothing could take that away from them. Jake told his father how he was the best dad in the world, and how he could take on any dad in a fight. Sam felt larger than life, receiving medals of valor from the hearts of his family.

A few hours later, the doctor and a nurse entered the room. The doctor pressed a button and Sam's leg lowered to the bed. "How do you feel," he asked.

"I feel like going home."

###

Fresh cut grass provided a canvas of manicured bushes with an array of orchid species outlining the entrance to the hospital. An orderly wheeled Sam out from the glass plate doors of the hospital into the long awaited sunlight. Emily held his crutches while Jake held his hand. "I think we can get it from here," Maddie told the orderly, then thanked him.

"Home free," Sam mumbled with a sigh.

Being helped out of a wheel chair into a Jeep ahead of them, Sam called out, "Ramona? José?"

The man and woman turned. "Si?" Recognizing Sam and his family, Ramona and José flashed a smile. "My friends, you're all okay," Ramona said.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked, as Maddie wheeled closer to them.

Ramona reached for Sam's hand. "Thanks to you and your family, I'm back with my husband. This is, José."

"Yes, we've met," Sam said.

"Yeah, he's our hero," Maddie added, with a proud grin and a kiss to his cheek.

Ramona's eyes moistened. "God will always protect you. Just remember that."

José then added, "So you're the ones she described. I wasn't sure, but I figured it might be you. Thank you for saving my Ramona. I knew she didn't run off with another." He started to choke on his words. "You have filled my years of empty heart with happiness, and I'm indebted to you forever. May God bless you, my friends."

"Just look after each other. We don't usually get a second chance in this life," Sam said.

Ramona unhooked a cross from around her neck and reached for Sam's hand. She placed it in his palm, then closed his hand into a fist. "God is always near."

Sam's face twitched, holding back tears, as José started the engine. "We'll never forget you," he said. Then drove away from the curb.

"Who was that?" Emily asked.

"Just a dear friend we met along the way," Maddie answered.

A taxi that had been parked behind the Jeep idled up in front of them. The orderly rushed over and opened the doors. "I got it," Jake said. "Thanks."

The orderly shuffled back to the entrance of the hospital and waited near the door. Emily and Jake climb in the backseat, while Maddie strapped the seatbelt around Sam then gave him a kiss. "You really are our hero," she whispered in his ear. "I love you so much."

Maddie placed Sam's crutches in the trunk, but before she could slam it closed, a female voice asked, "Need some help with that?"

"No, we're all set," Maddie answered, then latched the trunk.

Maddie's attention was turned toward a flock of birds taking flight from a nearby tree. It gave her an eerie feeling. "Are you sure?" she heard, again.

Maddie turned away from the trunk and glanced up. Standing just feet away, was a woman with a cane and sunglasses reaching into her purse. She looked familiar, but when she brandished the pistol, Maddie knew for sure. "Hey, what's going on?" the orderly yelled from the hospital doors.

Andrea pointed the pistol at the orderly and fired. He grasped his shoulder and fell to the ground. "Mom!" Emily and Jake screamed.

Sam heard the gunshot, but unable to turn, yelled, "Maddie."

Maddie's instincts took over. The new beginning would have to wait. Andrea turned the pistol toward Maddie, but Maddie reacted with a slap to the barrel. The pistol flew from Andrea's hand and landed in the nearby grass. Andrea raised her cane to take a swipe at Maddie's head, but before she could swing, Maddie reached and filled her fists with Andrea's hair, spinning her to the grass. Maddie leaped on her, and rocked vicious blows to Andrea's face. They exchanged grips around each other's necks, when Andrea finally worked her way on top of Maddie. She pressed her thumbs into Maddie's throat, when Jake ran and clung to Andrea's back.

Maddie slapped and clawed Andrea's face, but Andrea held tight like a Pit Bull, ignoring Jake's grasp on her. Laboring for air, Maddie felt in her shirt pocket to retrieve the knife Jake had given her, but it was empty. She thought it may had slipped out during the struggle. All she could feel was the pen the officer gave her, still clasped in her shirt. "Get off her," Jake kept yelling.

Maddie remembered the news report in the marina restaurant how the old man was brutally murdered with a pen. She grasped it tight, then plunged it into Andrea's neck. "Back to hell, bitch."

Andrea released her grip cursing in Spanish. Maddie plunged the pen a second time into her neck. Andrea cupped her neck around the pen. Blood flowed between her fingers, as she fell back off Maddie. Maddie sprung to her feet, and clutched Jake. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Jake brushed himself off. "Yeah, never better," he answered, then rubbed his face.

Maddie glanced at the orderly being carried through the doors by doctors. "Let's go home," she said. "I don't want to stay another minute here."

"Good idea," Jake replied.

Still suspicious, Maddie scanned the parking lot, as she followed Jake into the backseat of the cab.

Emily couldn't hold back, "You're a total badass, Mom."

"We all are," Maddie replied, still out of breath.

"To the airport," Sam told the driver.

The driver mumbled words in Spanish then drove out onto the highway.

Silence had taken over the car while Maddie peered up at the blue sky through the rear window. The thunderous sound of a plane overhead, cast its shadow on them. "Now we can start our new beginning," Maddie said.

Still parked amongst other cars in the parking lot, a billow of smoke rose through the window from inside a car. A man wearing sunglasses and smoking a cigar watched Andrea being carried away into the hospital. He took a sip from a bottle of tequila, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then rolled the window up and drove away.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Seated in bleachers, cheering fans with shorts and sandals rooted for their favorite team. In the first row, Maddie and Emily waited with anticipation as Jake concluded his practice swings from the on-deck circle. "Come on, Jakester, you can do it," Emily shouted, not embarrassed that his uniform looked three sizes larger than him. If it weren't for the leather dress belt Maddie made him wear, he'd be dragging his pants around his ankles.

Sam clapped, leaning against the pole of the fence near the dugout. "Come on, buddy, just like we practiced," he shouted, chewing a wad of Big League Chew Bubble Gum.

Jake listened to his coach's last words. "Remember, keep your head down and follow the ball to the bat, then run like hell."

Jake began his stroll toward the plate. His bobbing helmet made him look like one of those bobble-head dolls found on dashboards of cars. The fan's cheered and applauded, "Come on Jake, bring 'em in. You can do it."

He tilted his head over his shoulder and flashed a wink, then spit. All eyes were on him, just like the big leagues in a sold-out stadium. Before stepping into the batter's box, he scanned the field looking for a hole to hit the ball. The coach from the other dugout waved to his outfielders to move in. Jake took a few more practice swings, while staring death looks into the eyes of the pitcher. He spit again, keeping his eyes on the pitcher.

It was the bottom of the seventh inning with two outs. The winning run was on second base. The game was in his hands. Cheers from both bleachers echoed shouts of, "Come on," and "Easy out."

After tapping the sides of his shoes with the bat, he adjusted his helmet, then surveyed the field again. "Let's go, Jakester. Just like we practiced. What do ya say?" His father's voice was an inspiration.

Jake stepped into the batters box, lifting the bat high above his shoulder. The pitcher stood frozen in his stance, ready to receive his signals from the catcher. The players in the field joined in a chorus of, "Hey batta, batta, batta. Hey batta."

The pitcher shook off several signs, then nodded with approval. Just as the pitcher began his stretch, Jake raised his hand, and stepped from the box. "Time out!" the umpire shouted, holding up his hands. "Everything okay, kid?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Take your time," the umpire said, then rushed to the fence and grabbed his water bottle.

"Dude, what are you doing?" The pitcher yelled. "Are you gonna bat, or what?"

"He's chicken," the players taunted.

The catcher rose from his crouched position from behind the plate, and whipped off his mask. "Hey pussy boy, hurry up, you're gonna make the last out anyway," Thad Jr. said, making sure everyone heard him.

"You tell him, Brewster," the other players yelled.

"What did you call me?" Jake asked, in a serious tone.

"I called you a pussy boy, just like your old man."

Maddie and Emily flew to their feet and rushed to the fence near Sam. "Let him go," he said, unfolding his arms and blocking the gate.

The bleachers drew silent, all eyes still on Jake.

Jake remembered Andrea's words, holding a gun to his head in the boat. He remembered his father's words on managing fear, when they were in the dinghy.

"You know?" Jake said. "I've had just about enough of you."

"Yeah, what are you gonna do about it... pussy boy?"

Jake reared the bat back with both hands and shoved it into Thad's chest protector. Thad took a step toward Jake, "Nice try. Now you're dead meat."

All the fielders and players in the dugout yelled, "Get 'em Thad. Punch his lights out."

Visions of being in the warehouse raced through him. "If you can stand, you can fight," his father had told him. He swung the bat back and slammed it against the side of Thad's leg. As Thad buckled, Jake landed a cross punch to the side of his face, knocking him to the ground. Standing over Thad, Jake heaved the bat down, stopping just inches from his face. "Who's the pussy boy now?"

Thad winced, as Thad Brewster stormed from the dugout, and yanked Jake back by his arm. Maddie squirmed to get around Sam. "I got this," Sam said, then trotted toward Brewster.

"You little punk," Brewster said. "I ought to give you a good beating," then lifted his hand back to slap him.

Sam grabbed Brewster's wrist from behind as it lowered toward Jake's face. "I don't think you wanna do that," Sam warned.

"Yeah? What do you gonna do to stop it?" Brewster challenged, with his chest out and looking down at Sam.

Sam gave him a cold stare, then whispered in his best Clint Eastwood voice, "Next time you, or that fat piece of bacon you call a son, even think of touching anyone in my family again, I swear I'll snap your neck so fast, you won't have a chance to hear the bones crack."

Thad Brewster chuckled. It wasn't funny, but it saved face. "Where'd you come from? You really think you can take me?"

Sam stepped forward, nose to nose. "You should know that I've just been to hell and back. Trust me, you don't to tempt fate. I'll bury you in the most pain you ever thought imaginable. If you don't think I can do it, just make your next move."

Thad Brewster couldn't believe the words coming from Sam. He remained silent, thinking of the time he sent Sam to the hospital with a broken centerpiece, but they were kids then. He could see the terror in Sam's eyes, ready to attack at his slightest movement. Thad Brewster scanned the bleachers, all eyes on him, waiting for his response. It was the showdown at the O.K. Corral. It was Sampson and Goliath. His next move could risk his reputation of being the tough guy. Brewster's expression was confused fear. "I don't know what you're thinking right now, but you should follow your instincts and walk away. You don't want to embarrass yourself in front of all these people."

Looking dumbfounded, Brewster reached down and helped the bacon up. "Put your mask on and play the game."

"But, Dad..." Thad Jr. said.

"I said, put your mask on and play the game," he barked, again.

Sam strolled back with a large sigh of relief toward Maddie and Emily. Fans from both sides of the bleachers rose for a standing ovation.

"Our hero," Maddie and Emily echoed.

"We're badasses now," Emily added.

The umpire stepped back into position, "Play ball!" he shouted.

Jake took his place in the batter's box, once again staring down the pitcher. The pitcher received his sign, and nodded. Jake stood ready to swing as the pitcher went through his windup. The ball barreled toward the plate at knee height. Jake gritted his teeth and swung. The crack of the ball coming off the bat drowned the sounds of the roaring crowd. Fans stood, watching the ball soar through the air. The infielders followed the ball over their heads, as the left fielder sprinted toward the fence looking up. Jake trotted down first baseline, staring at the ball until it went out of sight behind the advertising billboards. The crowd went wild. Jake stumbled his way around the bases while maintaining a stoic expression like it was a routine hit.

When he rounded third, his teammates gathered at home plate. He stopped just short of the plate, and jumped in the air with both feet landing on the plate. His teammates perched him on their shoulders and marched him around the field like he was a prized trophy.

When Jake landed back down to earth, Sam, Maddie, and Emily were there to engulf him with hugs and embarrassing kisses. "Our other hero," they said.

Thad Brewster, Jr., approached Jake to shake his hand. "Congratulations, nice hit."

Jake grinned, "Thanks."

A voice came over the microphone.

"And now everyone, it's time for our season opener

drawing. We're happy to announce that the prize has

been upgraded to a fun-filled three day charter trip

for four in the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico..."

Sam threw Jake up on his shoulders and headed through the gates past the dugout. "How's pizza sound?" he asked.

"What about the drawing?" Jake answered.

Maddie and Emily followed behind. "Do you really want another boating trip out there?" Emily asked.

"Yeah, you're right. Let's get pizza instead."

Emily slid the mini-van's doors closed, as the voice came over the speakers, again.

"Before we introduce the winner, we'd first like to

thank the sponsors of this trip, Golden Gulf Marina,

and Captain Peter..."

The mini-van coasted out of the parking lot when the announcer said:

"And the winner is... Sam Peterson and family."

###

Seagulls squawked, as boats sailed through a perfect breeze along the coast of Florida. Lines slapped masts, as joggers trotted along the sides of slips, greeting each other as they passed in opposite directions. A handsome dark-haired man with a mustache accompanied a young couple in their twenties, through the gates under a sign that read, Golden Gulf Marina. After a short walk down the dock, the man pointed up to a sailboat and announced with a British accent, "Here she is. What do you think, mate?"

The young couple smiled, "It's perfect," the girl said.

After introducing them to their new boat, the man strolled back through the gate and leaned against a golf cart with the words written along the side, Captain Peter, your trusted boat broker. He flipped his phone open and dialed a number.

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