The End of the Hunt

Abigail's ship sunk at a pier in Belize. Nice oil slick... courtesy of two hand held rocket shots. We found one survivor on board.


We sail northeast toward Belize, the wind at our backs. Loco has cold beer in our hands before we collapse against the gunwales. The beer is the best I have ever had, cold and refreshing. I can't imagine a beer tasting better even if I had just scaled Everest. The only thing better would be... ahhh and there it is, a Walker. Hand rolled by our hosts. From Lou's stash I would imagine.

"It is good that Blanco finds you, eh?" Loco says as he smiles and nods. He lights and then takes a long draw off of the Walker. He passes it to Lou.
"He look for you for hours. I help him." Loco tips his beer toward the radio... "Then we hear you radio call."
Lou lets out a long stream of smoke and passes the walker to Jerry, who takes a long draw.
"Man, Whitey, am I glad you were out there." He talks while he holds in his hit... at true professional. He gets a toothy grin out of Blanco.
"How did you find us." I take the Walker and hit it.
"eSmoke." Blanco wiggles his finger at the horizon. "Black esmoke I see."
Lou nods and smiles, taking a pull of his beer. "Yeah, Jake here lit that ship up with a couple of rockets Bear had on his big boat." He holds his beer with two hands and looks off over the water. "It was a helluva fight."

We are heading up the coast to the jungles of Belize in the direction that Blanco had seen our foe travelling. As we approach landfall, we can see Abigail's crippled ship sinking in the shallows. When we finally came up on it we realize that it had made it to a make-shift dock before it went down on its starboard side.
We drop the sails and coast in. Blanco brings us up on her stern so we can edge into the dock they landed on.
Lou is on the bow with the field glasses as we approach.
"Oh shit, Jake, you nailed her good. I wonder how the hell it made it this far?"
He sweeps the ship with the glasses, "No one on deck." He turns to us, "Guess we don't have to worry about that fucking gun any more."

We land the Morgan to the east side of the dock and tie off.
"Whitey, you got any weapons on board?"
Blanco nods, "Pistola."
He pulls the pistol from a cubby under his seat.
"Great, a shotgun and a pistol." Lou motions to Blanco, "Hand me that revolver, Whitey."
"Don't forget about this." Jerry holds up the speargun with two more shots.

The five of us step off the boat. Lou pulls the cylinder on the pistol and checks the rounds, then pops it back into place. "Jerry, give Whitey that speargun."
Jerry hands the weapon over and Blanco loads it with a quick hand.
Lou tucks the pistol in his belt.
"Me and Whitey will take the jungle. If they made it off the boat I can probably track them. You three see if there is anyone left on board."

With that he and Blanco skulk off toward the bush and we head toward the boat. It is hard to negotiate with the deck tipped sideways, but we manage to make it to the pilothouse on the port side. The hatch is hanging open, so we step carefully inside, Loco first with his gun at the ready. He motions for us to follow. The pilothouse is peppered with holes from Lou's rifle and the armor penetrating rounds. The rest is a series of dimples from the rounds of other weapons unable to penetrate the bulkheads.
The deck is awash with blood. There are two bodies in here, floating down by the sunken starboard side in mix of seawater and blood. We slip and slide, trying to make our way along the deck to the ladder that leads below deck.

"The crews quarters are down this ladder." Jerry whispers.
The old ships creaks and groans as the old metal deals with the varied support of the sea floor. We lean heavily on the stair rail as we creep down the steps and onto the lower deck. We are walking on the bulkheads, and as we come to a doorway, I step over and then open it. Blanco stays on the other side of the opening and then tips in with the shotgun.
We go on this way for the three compartments on this side of the ship... seeing nothing. At the end of the three rooms is a passageway that leads to the starboard side of the ship. It is a good ten foot drop and then water. I can see something floating in the blackness.
"I think I see another body."

We all look at each other, knowing that none of us want to go any further in this investigation. If there are any pirates still alive... who cares. They tried to kill us. Let them go on their way. Without a word being spoken, we all seem to agree that we will turn back and get off this ship.
"Let's get out of here."
Jerry, who is trailing the group, turns to lead us out. Just then I hear something.
"Wait... Jerry, hold on."
We all stop and are silent. There is a noise, tapping or knocking.
"There... did you hear that?"
"It is just ratas o el agua."
Jerry looks at me, "Just rats or the water."
"I actually got that, but thanks."
In the split second of silence as we turned to depart, a voice undeniably American, called out.
"Help me... please."
We have stopped now and listen intently. Seconds pass.
"Hello... are you still there. HELP ME."

We all look at each other. Yes, we all heard that. I turn and look down at the water that leads to the starboard side of the ship.
"HEY, WHERE ARE YOU?"
There is silence, and then we hear the voice choking, "I... I don't know."
Crap. I turn and now start to shimmy down the vertical passageway to the sunken starboard side of the ship. I stop.
"Jerry, there was a flashlight in a holder just inside the pilothouse. Go and grab it, okay?"
I hear him step out quickly.
"Senior Jake, is there anything I can do to help you?"
"Yeah, when Jerry gets back with the flashlight, you can bring it on down. Jerry is all shot up and doesn't need to be climbing down here."

Moments pass. I make my way down into the murky water and find my footing on the starboard compartment bulkhead. I can hear the voice down a passageway that is half underwater.
"Hey... can you make your way toward me?"
There is the sound of coughing... choking.
"I'm afraid... I'm afraid not. I am tied up down here."
As he speaks, Loco makes his way down next to me, flashlight in one hand, shotgun in the other. Both are being held over his head. I take the flashlight from Loco and shine it down the short passage. There is a bulkhead at the end, and a door hanging down and open.

"Everything okay down there?" Jerry's voice echoes down the passage now behind us.
"Yeah, we need to make it into a compartment ahead." I shine the light ahead of me, "You still there, pal?"
"Hurry."
I make it to the door, chest deep in water, with Loco in tow. Shining the light up into the compartment, I can see that it goes up and then in. I hand Loco the light and heave myself out of the water and up into the doorway. Once I get a purchase, I reach for the light and make room for Loco.

We both look into the compartment, playing the shaft of light off the bulkheads and support beams. There is no one here, just water and cabinets and a few work tables bolted to the floor.
"Hello?" The sound echoes in the waterfilled room.
The voice startles us. I shine the light to where I think it came from.
"Where are you? I can't see you."
"There isn't much to see, I'm afraid. I am bound to this beam, and my face us just above the water."
I hand the flashlight to Loco and then slip into the water. My feet find a submerged work table the must be bolted to the deck. I keep one hand on the floor, now verticle, and walk to the edge.

Ahead of me, in the shadows of the flashlight beam, is a support beam that is partially submerged. Where it meets the water it is wrapped with duct tape. I manage to make it to the beam, waist deep in water, and I see a face.
"Do yo think you might be able to unwrap me from this beam. The water seems to be rising and I don't think I can hold my breath until the tide goes back out."
In front of me is a face straining to stay out of the water. He is bound with duct tape to the beam, and is craning his neck to keep his face is the air.
"Can you take my glasses. I don't want to lose them in here."

It takes a good ten minutes to get him loose. I am thankful it is just duct tape and not handcuffs or zip ties. We don't have tools down here and certainly don't feel like searching this shithole looking for a way to free him.
He is stiff and moving is not easy.
"How long have you been tied up down here?"
"A couple of days. I was taken prisoner off of the coast of Guatamala. I was on a working holiday and pirates took our boat. They took me and tied me up down here, asking a lot of questions of things I don't know about."

We all manage to make it up and off the boat. Our rescued captive seems relieved. He is not dressed for the Caribbean, more for a mid-west college campus. Button up shirt and slacks. He is even wearing dress shoes.
I am about to question him in depth about him being here when we hear gunshots, three of them somewhere in the triple terrace jungle away from the beach.
"The PIRATES." Our friend hits the deck, then scrambles for the safety of the Morgan. "Those men killed Arthur. They will kill all of us."
"Hey, relax buddy, that is my friend Lou just taking care of business most likely."

We retreat to the Morgan, where our little friend uses the head and partakes in our catered food and beer. He is standing in the cabin door when Lou and Blanco return.
"Hey, who's the nerd?" Lou uses his pistol to point out our guest.
"I'm not a NERD, thank you very much." The guys says through a mouthful of sandwich. He eats like he was starving. It turns out that he hadn't been fed since his capture.
"What were you shooting at out there?" I ask as Lou steps onto the Morgan.
"I was putting one of those pricks out of his misery. Bugs were getting to him already and he wasn't quite dead yet. His buddy was done, though... shot right through the chest. I don't know how he made it that far. The other guy must have carried him, shot up leg slowed him down."
"So... you killed him?" Our guest stops eating his sandwich, aghast at the murder that has surrounded him these past days.
"Yep. Its one of those "Him or Me" situations you hear all about."
"So he tried to kill you first?"
Lou looks at me, then Jerry and Loco. "Who the fuck is this guy? YEAH I killed him. You're next, you little fucker, if you don't shut the hell up."
With a raised brow, the little guy sets down what is left of his sandwich and wipes his hand on his wet slacks.
"I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot."
"No shit."
"Yes, well, I appreciate your timely rescue. I heard a tremendous battle going on around me earlier in the day. Just be glad those gentlemen aren't around to cause anymore trouble."
Lou once again looks at all of us, and we all trade glances ourselves."At any rate... " the little guy continues, "I am in your debt."
He holds out his hand, "Let me introduce myself... Justin Zildgen at your service."