Chapter 64: The Devil's Sea

 

The Atlantic Ocean. Off the Coast of West Africa. Day 3 of the Escape.

The storm hit at midnight. The cargo ship The Rusty Bucket groaned as thirty-foot waves crashed against its hull. Inside the cargo hold, crates were sliding and smashing into the walls.

Sebastian was unconscious. His fever was burning him from the inside out. He was thrashing, mumbling about "Julian" and "The Key." Harper had tied him to a heavy pipe with a rope so he wouldn't be thrown around by the ship's violent pitching.

"Hold on, Sebastian," Harper shouted over the thunder, wiping his forehead with a wet rag. "Just a little longer."

Suddenly, a different sound cut through the roar of the storm. RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT. Machine gun fire.

The ship's alarm blared. "PIRATES! PIRATES BOARDING! ALL HANDS TO DECK!"

Harper’s blood ran cold. Pirates. In the middle of a hurricane. These weren't desperate fishermen. These were professionals.

She looked at Sebastian. He was defenseless. If they found him—a man in a ruined expensive suit—they would know he was worth money. They would ransom him. And the moment they publicized his face, the Syndicate would find them.

"We have to hide," Harper whispered. But there was nowhere to go. The door to the cargo hold burst open.

---

[The Boarding]

Four men in rain-slickers stormed in, AK-47s raised. Flashlights cut through the dark. They didn't look like movie pirates. They looked like soldiers. Efficient. Brutal.

"Hands up!" the leader shouted in broken English. "Anyone hiding?"

They swept their lights across the room. The beam landed on Harper. And then on Sebastian, tied to the pipe, convulsing.

"Well, well," the leader grinned, revealing gold teeth. "What do we have here? Stowaways?" He walked closer, eyeing Sebastian’s torn suit jacket. "Nice fabric. Silk? This one looks rich."

He reached out to grab Sebastian.

"DON'T TOUCH HIM!" Harper screamed. She didn't back away. She threw herself in front of Sebastian, spreading her arms. Her eyes were wild, terrified, but fierce.

"He is sick!" Harper yelled. "Highly contagious!"

The pirate paused. "Sick? Sick with what? Seasickness?" The other pirates laughed.

"The Red Fever," Harper lied. She remembered reading about a rare hemorrhagic virus in one of Sebastian’s medical journals. "Look at him! The seizures! The sweat! If you touch him, you bleed out in 24 hours!"

Just then, Sebastian let out a guttural groan and arched his back in a violent spasm. Foam gathered at the corner of his mouth. He looked terrifying. He looked like a zombie.

The pirates took a step back. Superstition was powerful at sea.

"He is Patient Zero," Harper lowered her voice, trembling (half-acting, half-real). "We are escaping a quarantine zone in America. That's why we are hiding." "If you want to live... stay back."

The leader narrowed his eyes. He shone his light on Harper. "And you? Why aren't you sick?"

"I'm immune," Harper said. "I'm his nurse. I'm taking him to a specialist in Morocco."

The leader looked at Sebastian, then at his men. They looked uneasy. No amount of ransom was worth a deadly virus. But the leader wasn't stupid. He raised his gun and pointed it at Sebastian’s head.

"If he is a plague," the pirate cocked the weapon. "Then we should throw him overboard. Save the crew."

---

[The Deal]

"NO!" Harper stepped forward, pressing her chest against the barrel of the gun. "You kill him, you lose the money."

The pirate stopped. "Money?"

"He is a billionaire," Harper said clearly. "His family will pay anything for his body. But only if he is alive." "Take us to Morocco. I will give you a number to call. They will transfer one million dollars to your account."

The pirate leader studied her face. He saw fear. But he also saw steel. A million dollars. It was more than the cargo of the entire ship.

He lowered the gun. "One million," he hissed. "If the money isn't there when we dock... I will cut his throat and let him bleed on you."

He turned to his men. "Lock them in the quarantine cage. Don't touch them." "And get the ship moving! We have a payday to catch."

---

[The Quarantine]

An hour later. They were thrown into a small, rusted cage at the bottom of the hold. It was usually used for transporting livestock. It smelled of rust and despair.

Harper untied Sebastian and laid his head on her lap. The bluff had worked. They were alive. But they were prisoners again.

"Harper..." Sebastian whispered. His eyes fluttered open. The spasm had passed, leaving him weak as a kitten. "What... happened?"

"We made some new friends," Harper smoothed his hair back. "They're giving us a ride to Morocco."

"Did you... fight them?" Sebastian tried to sit up but failed.

"I lied to them," Harper smiled sadly. "I told them you were a walking bio-hazard worth a million bucks."

Sebastian let out a weak, raspy chuckle. "A million? I'm insulted. I'm worth at least ten."

"Inflation is tough," Harper teased back, fighting back tears.

Sebastian reached up and took her hand. His grip was feeble, but his eyes were lucid for the first time in days. "You saved me again."

"That's my job," Harper squeezed his hand.

"Harper," Sebastian’s face grew serious. "When we land... there is no money. There is no one to call." "They will kill us."

"I know," Harper looked at the rusty lock on the cage door. She reached into her boot. She pulled out a small, thin piece of wire she had stolen from the pirate's belt when he pushed her.

"We have two days until we reach Morocco," Harper whispered. "That's forty-eight hours to pick this lock, steal a lifeboat, and disappear."

She looked at Sebastian. "Can you walk by then?"

Sebastian looked at his legs. Then at the fierce woman holding the wire. He gritted his teeth. "For you... I'll run."