Freedom Earned Page 14

  I accepted, not wanting to take her food but knowing that being at our best meant better chances of survival. Crouching next to the sacks, I took a bite. The peanut butter flavor was nothing special, but when compared to my diet since going on the run, it was heavenly. Each bite was an escape to heaven, but I saved half of it, knowing we might need to pace ourselves.

  Prenie was awkwardly holding up a hand between us and blushing.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Just… know that when you aren’t wearing underwear and you sit like that…”

  A glance down showed what she meant. The black shorts were loose, and I hadn’t considered what that might expose. I quickly adjusted and switched to a kneeling position with a sheepish grin. “They stole my clothes.”

  She lowered her hand. “No judging. It’s kinda like telling someone they have something in their teeth, right? ‘Hey, your junk is showing,’ is a little awkward to say.”

  “But better than not saying anything,” I admitted. At least my embarrassment was distracting me from my worries about being killed.

  “Hey, they teach ladies how to sit. What do men get?”

  “There was that Friends episode about keeping the mouse in the house,” I admitted. “If that’s not training, I don’t know what is.”

  “One of the few episodes I saw. That, and the one with all the clothes.”

  “Where Joey puts on all of Chandler’s clothes to make a point?” I laughed, nearly forgetting where I was. At least the heavy rain was likely to drown out the noise. “Two extremes, huh?”

  She smiled, but the sorrow returned. “These people that are after you, how many are there?”

  “I’m not sure.” Running through it in my head, I offered, “Maybe three or four left? But honestly, it’s all sort of a blur right now.”

  “You’re a Marine, right? You should be able to handle three or four.”

  “Sure, in theory. And with your help. Problem is, they’re all armed like this.” I held up the rifle. “My guess is, they aren’t amateurs, either. Not all of them. We might stand a good chance, but… I’d prefer not to take risks.”

  She nodded and then lowered her head, closing her eyes.

  “Tired?” I asked.

  With a finger raised, she continued like that. After a few more seconds, she lifted her head and opened her eyes. “Saying a quick prayer. For Alex, and for us.”

  “Oh.” I let a moment of silence follow, out of respect for the dead again, but also wondering if I should say a prayer. God had always been part of my life although I wouldn’t say I was religious. Church was a fun idea, but the way some pastors preached like they were God’s voice? It didn’t sit right with me. Not when considering what went on with many of them behind closed doors. Figuring it could only help, I muttered a quick prayer under my breath, then turned back to Prenie.

  Her eyes met mine, and she scratched her chin. “I know it wasn’t your fault. Alex, I mean.”

  “Thank you.” As much as she was trying to comfort me, there was no denying that Alex would be alive if not for me.

  “No, really,” she added, apparently seeing the regret in my eyes. “I mean, you’re trying to survive. That makes sense.”

  I nodded, then repeated, “Thank you.”

  “Where’re you from?”

  “Before Okinawa?” I grinned. “Puget Sound, up in Washington State. Good part about that being, I don’t have to pay state taxes on my military income although most Marines do.”

  “It works like that?”

  I nodded. “Weird, right? We’re all serving our country, going where they tell us we have to, but still have to pay state taxes based on where we joined up.”

  “Weird, stupid, whatever you want to call it,” she laughed.

  “Hey, when I was in California, I certainly appreciated it.”

  “I bet you did.” She scrunched up her nose. “You mentioned an ex? What happened there?”

  “Life in the military, I guess.”

  “A real woman would make it work.”

  “That so?” I eyed her, wondering what dating a real woman would be like. Not to bash my exes, but to say they had been prone to fits of rage and insanity was an understatement. Maybe it was something about me that brought out the worst in them, but I wondered if there was a type of woman who was better suited for a relationship with me. “Honestly, I’ve been a little skittery around women for a while now. Not something I’m sure I should get into right here. I mean, we just met and all.”

  “Ah…” Another beat of silence. “Is skittery a word?”

  I laughed. “Hell if I know.” Wanting to divert the conversation away from me and my love life, I asked, “Where you from?”

  “My hometown?” She grinned, fully aware of my move to transition away from the topic of my ex. “Austin, Texas. Best barbecue in the world, right there. Well, outside of this place I used to know down in Levelland, but that was a long time ago.”

  “You’d put that barbecue above Kansas City?” I asked, feeling my mouth water at the thought.

  “Dude. Mr. Marine guy…” She shook her head. “You need to realize one thing right now. Texas barbecue is the only barbecue.”

  I chuckled, nodding since I understood. To me, it was all good. For someone proud of their state, though, it was a different matter.

  We sat there for a while, my mind wandering back to various barbecue joints and wondering if I would ever get to try them again. She looked lost in thought, likely grieving the loss of her friend, so I left her to it. The rain was still falling hard, but now more of a pitter-patter than a roar. Going to the opening, I looked at the hill below, the sloping rainforest and water visible beyond.

  My body went rigid—there among the trees was a white mast, gently bobbing back and forth. One of the yachts was right there. Which meant, either we would have company soon or already did.

  I turned back to Prenie and held a finger to my lips. Her eyes went wide. She crawled over to my side, following where I pointed. As strong as she was, her hand started to shake.

  “They might already be above us,” I whispered, close so that she could hear me.

  She nodded, drew a deep breath, and held up her pistol. “Do we check?” she whispered back. “Wait them out?”

  The idea of us being able to trap them was ludicrous, so I wasn’t sure how to answer that. I snuck along our little area, eyes moving along the floorboards above. The rain felt like a distraction as I listened for any sign of my pursuers. A faint change in light over Prenie’s head gave them away. It was so faint that I wouldn’t have noticed if not for the way the light in her eyes changed. She was looking up, too, and put a hand to her mouth, confirming that she had seen it.

  Paying closer attention, I saw another sliver of light go black. Someone was up there, moving silently. We could try to wait it out, but if these people knew what they were doing, they would notice the shift in dust on the floorboards.

  If it were me in there, I would have someone going around the outside of the house while I checked inside. Considering our options, my attention went to the outside first. Anyone trying to move down the hill in this rain would have to move slow or risk falling.

  A thought hit me. If they came straight here, they knew about this place. It also likely meant there weren’t many more like it on the island. Did they know about this storage area? I went to the lookout point, rifle up and me aiming through the sights to check the side of the hill visible to us. I was careful to keep the muzzle back—anything protruding could be a giveaway. Nothing visible yet. They might be approaching from the other side, while our viewpoint here only gave us the one direction. If not for the light changing above, I would have still had doubts. It could be some sort of animal, but with the view of the ship out there, that wasn’t likely.

  “I can sail,” Prenie said.

  My eyes darted to her. “What?”

  She nodded to the water. “The ship. If we can get to it, I can get us out of here.” />
  Operation Home Alone was apparently a no-go, then. As sad as that was for the kid in me who had thoroughly enjoyed every moment of sitting and eating popcorn and having root beer floats with my dad while watching that movie, I had to say I was relieved. Still, looking over the farming equipment and burlap sacks, I had to wonder.

  Moving quietly, I took out a hoe and shovel and set them aside, then grabbed a small bucket of nails. The nails were the easy part—setting a few of them through a burlap sack and then placing that on the ground, pointy ends up right below the loose floorboards. The others I slid into my shorts, pointy ends out, and nodded.

  She gave me an amused look, then followed me to our exit. Stooping for the hoe and shovel, I handed her the shovel. As a young Marine, handing a woman a hoe felt wrong, as stupid and likely politically incorrect as that may have been. At least I was being considerate.

  “What…” she started, but there was noise above, then voices. At least two of them.

  I pointed up at the noise, then down the hill, mouthing, “Balance.”

  She nodded and gestured for me to hurry. Rifle slung over my shoulder and held in my right hand, hoe in my left, I worked my way out and then stood to check our surroundings as she emerged. So far, clear.

  “It’s going to be slick,” I whispered. “Stay close. If either of us falls, the other can help.”

  “As if you could catch me,” she scoffed, but went along with the plan. I wondered if she was playing with me, or really thought of herself as that big. While she had meat on her bones, she certainly had it going on. A little pudge, but not what I would consider obese.

  We worked our way down the hill and away from the house. Each step taken was fraught with worry, considering the slippery ground and continued rain. I cautiously looked up to ensure we were staying out of view of the windows. So far, so good. Except, the third time I looked, a loud clang sounded, and I turned back to see Prenie pulling her shovel back from a man’s face. He had apparently been moving along the side of the hill and I hadn’t even noticed!

  He staggered back, started to fall, and shouted before either of us could strike again. At that moment, wood crashing sounded from the house, followed by loud shouting that could only be cursing. It seemed they had found my nails.

  “Go!” I shouted to Prenie, and leveled the rifle at the man, ending him with three shots tearing through his chest. Not many rounds left, I imagined, but now wasn’t the time to check.

  I slung the rifle back over my shoulder while moving fast through the mud and streams of water racing us down the hill. Shots went off from above, but as far as I could tell, they were wild. There had been a third, but he was likely trying to help the friend who had either fallen on or stepped on the nails. If anything, he was out of the room now and on the hill, shooting, but wouldn’t likely be able to pursue easily without losing his footing.

  All of that added up to a rare resource for me lately—hope.

  22

  “That was some hit!” I said, nearly out of breath as we neared the base of the hill, the white sandy beach beyond it and the yacht not far out.

  No high five or “Yeah it was” in response—instead, she threw her arms around me, muttered something I didn’t catch, and pulled me to the ground. Wetness engulfed us, our rear ends going into the mud, and she was pressed tight.

  For a moment, I stared at her in confusion, then processed her saying, “Stay down.”

  “What?” I hissed, annoyed that I was even wetter and dirtier, my rifle jabbing into my right thigh with a heavy dose of pain.

  “On the ship, there.” She pointed, moving so that I could see.

  Sure enough, two figures with rifles were on the bow, scouting the hillside. They had no doubt heard the gunshots but opted for keeping the ship secure. Smart, but unfortunate for us.

  “Could we take ‘em?” she asked.

  I glanced down, realizing she was still pressed against me. Not that I was complaining. She saw me looking but didn’t bother to move.

  “Maybe,” I replied. “I could possibly shoot them both from here. But this is already more of them than I thought were left.”

  “Meaning?”

  “There might be more below deck.”

  She cursed, ran her tongue along her top teeth in thought, then looked at me with curiosity. “You’re that much of a badass, huh? You could take them out?”

  “Honestly?” My heart thudded in response to her close proximity and the way she was looking at me. But, it was all in my head. It had to be, considering our predicament. “I have no clue. All Marines can shoot, but… it’s different when the target’s a person. And when that first shot goes off, the second person will duck for cover.”

  She nodded, her hand reaching over me to get leverage to push herself up and over me, moving to the cover of some nearby trees. “Well, we’ll probably have one or two coming down on us from above. With two or more on the ship, what’re our options?”

  “Stick to the original plan.” I hated that we couldn’t steal the yacht, but I knew the risk was too high. It wouldn’t have been an issue for me, but there was no way I was going to let her get shot in the process.

  Her eyes showed the same sense of regret I felt but she was already moving on. No complaining, simply ready to get the job done.

  “We go now, while they’re searching that area,” she said. “Yeah?”

  My gut was clenching, heartbeat still going a million miles a second, but she was right. I nodded, moved to her side, and we sprinted parallel to the beach until we could see the island. Soon, we had to ditch the gardening equipment, but our weapons weren’t going anywhere.

  “Remind me,” she said between breaths as she ran, “to make you… buy me… a beer… when we get out of… this.”

  I grunted in what was meant to be a laugh. “Three beers, minimum.”

  “You… trying to get… me drunk?”

  Another grunt, then we came out on a beach, another island not so far away. Still, I was out of breath and not a great swimmer to begin with. Without my life jacket, I wasn’t sure I could make it. But she kept on right into the water, securing her pistol in her fanny bag as she kicked up spray, and then I was there with her, diving in with my rifle slung over my back. It hit me in the head as I splashed into the water, and we were swimming.

  Seaweed out here made the swim more annoying than what I had dealt with before. The sun was peeking out of the clouds to glint across the surface, nearly blinding me each time I brought my head above water for a breath.

  We were closing on the island. Head down to swim, back up to take a breath. Two-thirds of the way there—we had to be! As far as I knew, no sign of the yacht, yet. Almost there… my arms stopped responding and my chest seized up, breaths not coming.

  I reached, panic filling my eyes, but she was there. She’d seen this before it took hold of me. She grabbed me and pulled me along, telling me that we were going to make it, that everything would be okay.

  Every ounce of my being wanted to believe her, but as she turned me to get us that last bit of the way, I saw the damn mast coming, heard the motor of the yacht.

  “No, no, no,” she muttered, feet on the sand now, pulling me with her. “On your feet, Marine.”

  She didn’t have to tell me twice. Although I wanted to lie there and stare up at the rainbowed sky, my instincts took over and I rolled to my feet, gripping my rifle in one hand and her hand in the other. Then, we ran.

  A gunshot pelted the sand, causing a puff of it to rise on my right. More gunshots sounded as we raced for the berm ahead. I pulled her along as my training kicked in. Panic filled us both, and we dove over the berm. She lay there gasping for air while I spun, shouldered my rifle, and raised it to return fire.

  No way was I going to get shot at and not get at least one of those bastards. The ship was still some distance away, so it wasn’t a surprise they had missed. I, however, had always been a good marksman on the range. Finally remembering to switch to single s
hot, I steadied myself and closed my eyes for a quick prayer. When I opened them again, I was ready. Despite my heavy breathing, I targeted one of the guys pointing and shouting, timed it right, and squeezed the trigger.

  The shot sent him spinning, a hand up to the side of his head.

  “How many… you got… left?” Prenie asked, turning to draw her pistol.

  “Bullets?” I shook my head. “Enough.” Hopefully, that would prove true.

  The man was back, though, still holding the side of his head, and another one was there with a rifle. I aimed and shot again. Mr. Rifle took the bullet in his hand, rifle dropping and blood spraying. If there was a little guy in my chest, he would be fist-pumping right now. Again I aimed, timing it with my breathing, but the first guy had ducked out of sight.

  “The bastards are hiding,” I said. “Waiting until they get closer.”

  “You scared ‘em.” She probably would have grinned if she hadn’t been so terrified but still trying to look calm. The result was more of a grimace, unfortunately. A scary expression, really, to the point that it made me look her over for wounds.

  “Did they get you?”

  “I’m good.”

  “Right.” I checked again, trying to see if I could get a hit on the yacht’s helmsman. “When I say go, we need to be up and running. Got it?”

  “Up and running.”

  “Three, two…” I squeezed. Glass shattered, and we were up and moving. I guided her to the left and through the trees and bushes there, only about fifty yards, and then we stopped to get a more hidden viewpoint.

  At that exact moment, one guy was at the top at the wheelhouse with his rifle and shouting curses, seemingly nobody steering the yacht, and the other man was nowhere to be seen. The boat turned and presumably hit sand under the water, because it tilted and threw the guy overboard! Next thing I knew, the other one appeared and threw a life preserver over, but the one who fell spluttered up and started swimming toward the shore, unarmed.

  “You see this?” I asked.

  Prenie was at my side, clutching my arm. We were soaked, and despite the warmth and humidity, being wet was making me cold. Her closeness felt nice.