The Devil's Waters

CHAPTER 35





The Somali’s bullets blew Wally backward and down.

Before the pirate could shoot again, LB swung the Zastava off his back. Without time to aim, he loosed the big gun, nailing the pirate against the rail. The Somali shook like a doll on the end of LB’s burst, then stilled.

The explosions of the Kalashnikov and the big Serb gun echoed across the freighter, driven toward the stern on the head-wind. LB yanked his knife out of the dead pirate and leaped to Wally.

He dragged Wally out of the open, behind cover of the great windlass. Wally kicked to help, a good sign. A ragged tear in the left biceps and a neat hole in the center of his Rhodesian vest were the marks of the AK. Jamie skidded to his knees beside them into the shadows, just in time to duck a blast from a pirate rounding the corner of the starboard companionway. Bullets pinged against the iron anchor chain, chewing off sparks.

Jamie answered fire. The Somali retreated.

With his M4 up and waiting for the pirate to stick out his head again, Jamie muttered, “There’s your fourth pirate. Off taking a piss or something.”

On his back, Wally sputtered, catching his breath. He panted through blown-out cheeks. His legs scrabbled as if on fire.

“Shit…the guy was supposed to be dead.”

LB’s bloodied knife cut into the sleeve of Wally’s camo tunic.

“Sit still.”

He tore the opening wide enough to probe the channel in Wally’s biceps, pushing Wally to a sitting position to get a better look at the entire wound. The Kalashnikov’s round had grooved the inside of the muscle, missing bone and major vessels. It surely stung like hell.

Sucking in his lips, proving LB right, Wally dug a finger into the tear in his web vest, over his sternum. The 7.62 round had pounded a Kevlar armor plate, knocked Wally over, then bounced away. This one should have killed him.

Wally blinked, restoring himself.

“You’re not bleeding too bad. We’ll get that wrapped later. You good?”

Wally worked his left hand. He gritted his teeth and shifted to his knees. The M4 returned to his grasp.

Wally swung his vision around the bow, as if taking in the situation for the first time. He’d been out of it for the last fifteen seconds. “What have we got?”

“Three of the four targets on the bow are down. The fourth one was in the passageway. He got a look at us. Probably heard the AK. He definitely heard me.”

“Yeah. LB, thanks.”

“No fun being rescued, is it?”

“No fun.”

Over the stock of his carbine, Jamie spoke. “I think he went to get his buddies.”

“Ten down,” Wally said. “That leaves six more on the deck. Plus the five inside the bridge.”

LB pivoted the Zastava to the starboard rail, should the pirates try to bracket them.

“What do you want to do?”

Wally checked his watch. “Thirty minutes. Halfway.”

Jamie hoisted his rifle barrel. “Lemme shoot out that damn light.”

LB thought this a good idea. Darkness would restore some of their advantage with the night-vision goggles. Wally pulled down Jamie’s aim.

“Don’t. They can see that light from the bridge.” Wally thumbed his talk button. “Doc. Juggler.”

“Juggler, go.”

“We’ve been spotted.”

“We heard the shots. What happened?”

“I screwed up. Any change inside the bridge?”

“Negative. They didn’t hear it, I reckon. Everybody okay?”

“All good. Listen. Six targets left. They might come your way.”

“That’ll suck. What’s your move?”

“We’re gonna chase them, make our way to you. We’ll keep them off your back, if we can.”

“Roger.”

“If we get stuck, you take the bridge without us.”

“Roger. Don’t get stuck.”

“I hear you. Hold.”

“Holding.”

LB swiped the knife and his palm across his bent thigh, adding more smears to his uniform. He slipped the blade into its sheath around his calf. Wally checked his watch again, calculating. A red glisten seeped onto his wrist, under the watchband, into his glove.

The stench of rust off the anchor chain blended with the tang of so much loose blood. The combination was heady for LB, tempting his nausea. He was relieved when Wally led him and Jamie away from cover under the white light, into the open wind.

They approached the port corridor the same way they’d shot their way to the bow along the starboard rail: Jamie on point, LB in the middle, Wally covering their six.