“Don’t be stupid. She won’t get a chance to tell anybody.” Helen shouts now and her voice has this vicious, evil quality to it, which causes goosebumps to erupt on my arm. “You have enough to worry about getting in time to our rendezvous spot with the seaplane.”
I had hoped to find a way to escape, but I’ve heard enough to really get frightened now. We all are. A conversation starts in my head with Sky pleading for calm, Lilly suggests several options to get away, and Amadeus wants to punch someone’s lights out. Aren’t we a mottled crew? If it weren’t so serious, it would be funny. But nobody laughs.
The skipper turns on the engines and shouts out commands. Soon the soft swaying of the boat tells me that we are on our way. I look through the porthole back to the pier. A man stands there, holding binoculars to his eyes. Scott? Scott Thompson, the traitor is making sure we are gone for good.
I wish I could hate him enough to curse him, but I can’t. All I feel is deep sadness at his betrayal.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lilly: 5 December, Early Afternoon, The Maritime Police Vessel
Everyone knows a sea cruise is supposed to be fun and all the rest. Let me be very clear. I didn’t get that memo. I haven’t boarded this vessel of my free will. I know there are people who pay heaps of good money to go out on a boat and do whatever boaties do.
Not me. Never have, never will.
If I wanted to be sick, I could jump off a waterfall, or bungee jump off a bridge, or abseil off a high cliff. Not my thing. None of it.
That I’m on this boat captured by Helen and against my will is not helping me change my opinion. My Tribe children fill my head with so much crying and sobbing, it’s difficult to function. It’s my job to get us out of this mess, but besides my little handcuff problem, I’m at a loss to figure out how. On top of it all, both my head and my stomach are on strike.
I’ve already been up on deck five times vomiting my little heart out. After five times I expected there would be nothing left in my stomach, but it’s true; miracles exist. Some food I don’t even remember having eaten is coming up with explosive speed. Again. I bang against the locked door and, small mercies, don’t have to wait long. Minutes later I’m back locked in the cabin.
The kids look at me with pity in their eyes. If only I could sink into some blissful oblivion, but the up and down of the boat as it climbs the waves and slumps down into the troughs, doesn’t give me any hope of relief.
I’ve learned already that you must make sure the wind comes from behind or vomit will stick to you like plaster. That was lesson number one. Lesson two was a good one. Captain Haddock must have had an amorous moment grabbing my bottom and trying to pull me onto the Bridge. I vomited all over his dark blue, double-breasted blazer. It was a view to behold and the only moment when I thought of seasickness as a blessing. His expression swung the whole range from tenderly smitten to violently disgusted. So far, it’s the highlight of this lousy trip.
The other three lessons were along the line of Never ever again go on a boat!
I sink back onto the bench feeling the lousiest I’ve ever felt if I’m honest. If I ever get out of here, I’m donating my stomach either to a needy accident survivor or to a university for research. I will tolerate nothing in my body that brings up so much nasty stuff in such violent way.
I’m begging for some kind, blissful, semi-consciousness when a loud, screeching foghorn sound tears me out of my half slumber. Then I hear something that makes my heart sing even though my stomach feels like it’s being scraped out with sandpaper.
“This is the New Zealand Police. Stop your vessel. We are coming alongside.”
They had to call out three times before Captain Haddock finally stalled the engines. I wish I could see what’s going on, but the portholes only look out over the water. There is so much shouting and running on deck that I can’t make out what’s happening in among the pandemonium.
The kids whimper and huddle up to me. I could have sworn I haven’t a single motherly gene in me, but their frightened faces bring up a protective streak I otherwise only show the little ones of our Tribe.
“Don’t be afraid. It’s the police. We’ll be okay. You’ll be soon with your parents.”
Someone on deck is firing a gun. The six children push even closer to me, their eyes large with fear in their pale faces. Boots are trampling up and down the deck followed by an instant silence and the whimpering of a person. Someone got shot. I rattle and bang at the cabin door in the hope the good guys are in control.
“Help. We are here. There are kids here!” Steps are coming closer and someone is wrenching open the cabin door. At first, I only see a huge shadow standing in the doorway.
“Are you okay, madam?”
I nod and let out a deep sigh when the person steps into the cabin. It’s none of the crew. That’s a relief. I recognize the police uniform and am torn between relief and suspicion. How am I to know this police officer is not on the payroll of the Gateways people?
“Are you Mrs. Reid?” He reaches for my hands and opens the cuffs. “Who are the children?”
I will not launch into long explanations why I’m not Mrs. Reid or explaining my theory of whatever sinister plans Helen has in store for the children and me. Who knows who I’m dealing with? I nod again, take a deep breath,
