Unlucky 13

Chapter 76

Yuki folded herself under Brady’s arm, her nightgown cold and wet with sweat in the aftermath of the killing moments ago.

The woman’s name had been Kara. She had thick red hair and taught special education in Ann Arbor. She was young, in her twenties. Kara’s parents had given her this cruise as a gift. Kara had been standing right next to her only a few days ago when the whales had dazzled and amazed the passengers by swimming so close to the ship.

That girl. The one who had jumped up and down on her toes, and hugged Yuki squealing, “This is one of the best things, isn’t it?” She had been sitting in the thick of the crowd when she was plucked like a kitten by the scruff of her robe and dragged through the scattering passengers across the width of the Pool Deck to the rail.

Yuki heard her plead, “No, no, nooooo. Not meee. I didn’t do anything. I was good.Please, don’t. Let me talk.”

The terrorist said, “Nice knowing ya. Good-bye.”

And that’s when Yuki had screamed wordlessly, high and long, her voice sharp with terror, cut off by the crack of gunfire.

Instantly, she dropped flat to the deck, horrified at what she had done. She had been forgotten by those killers, and now she had called attention to herself—and to Brady—and for what? She was beyond stupid. She was crazy, delirious, insane.

Over by the railing, another pirate joined the first and they picked up Kara by her arms and legs.

“And a one, and a two, and a three.”

They swung her overboard and walked away before her body hit the cold water.

How could they have done this?

These were Americans.

Moans and long keening cries seeped from other passengers. Yuki knew they were all thinking, “Am I next?” Praying to God, “Please, not me, not my wife, not us.”

Why didn’t Finlandia pay? Why didn’t they pay?

Yuki bit the back of her hand and tried to fight her nausea.

Only last night she had gone to bed feeling so lucky. She was married to Brady. A good, funny, sexy man she loved so much. They were on their honeymoon, the opening act to their beautiful wide open future.

And now this sick unrelenting dread and terror.

Yuki said to Brady, “That scream. I’m sorry—”

“Shhh, sweetie. You couldn’t help it. Stay right here. I’ll be just there.”

Brady got onto his stomach and wriggled ten feet over to Lazaroff. They talked quietly for less than a minute, then Brady slid back to her side.

She wanted to ask what they were discussing, when she heard the clank of combat boots on metal. Jackhammer came down the stairs from the track deck above and stalked to the long side of the pool, directly opposite where Yuki and Brady sat together.

Yuki was shaking again.

The sight of the man, the way he walked, his hardy-har attitude, and the random murders were so crazy-making, she felt this close to going bug-fuck. Like the man who’d thrown the chair, she was seized with a need to pick up something, or throw something, or find an insult so humiliating…but she couldn’t think of anything that would achieve anything but her own certain death.

Brady shifted his position so that Yuki was hidden behind him. She heard him say, “Okay, honey, shhhhh.”

She’d been whispering. Or maybe whimpering.

Jackhammer struck a pose, legs apart, hands on his hips, mocking them all.

He said, “I have good news.”