Page 8 of Finding Elodie
She wasn’t sure where she was going or what she was doing, but just knowing that someone was going to be coming to help them made her feel a little braver. She crept into the galley and saw one of the packages of water bottles she’d put on the counter was now gone, as was some of the food. Good. Her plan had worked…for now.
For a second, Elodie thought about doing what Steven Seagal had done in the movie Under Siege, making a microwave bomb, but she immediately dismissed the idea. First of all, there was no way to time it correctly to go off just when one of the pirates was in the vicinity. She never understood how that had worked in the movie. But second of all, and more importantly…she had no idea how to make a microwave bomb.
She wondered if Scott would know.
“He might, but he’s not here,” Elodie said softly.
She was walking through the galley when something caught her eye. The block of knives she used while cooking.
No one onboard was allowed to have a gun. She’d been relieved when she’d read that in the rules and regulations she’d received from the shipping company. Now she realized that it put them at a decided disadvantage against the pirates. But just because they didn’t have guns didn’t mean they couldn’t still arm themselves.
Her knives were sharp. Very sharp. She made sure to keep them in top condition. The thought of actually using one against someone made her physically ill. But if it was stab someone or be raped and tortured, she’d choose to protect herself every time.
Briefly, Paul Columbus flashed through her mind. The man was seriously unbalanced. It made no sense whatsoever that he’d decided she had to die simply because she’d refused to do as he asked. Who does that? But if it came down to staying alive, or being at the mercy of Paul, any of his henchmen, or the pirates, she’d choose life. And if that meant using one of her cooking knives to buy her some time, so be it.
Elodie didn’t have a good way of transporting the knife, no holster of any kind, but she quickly realized if she chose one of the more slender blades, it would fit through the belt loop of her pants and the hilt would keep it from falling to the ground. It wasn’t ideal; if she fell, she could seriously hurt herself. But she definitely didn’t want to be unarmed.
Walking slowly, Elodie went to the crew pantry and saw that it had been ransacked. Food had been pulled out of the cabinets and was spilled all over the floor and counter. She had no idea if the pirates had been looking for valuables or for something to eat. It was ridiculous, the idea that there’d be anything worth a substantial amount of money in the pantries. This was a kitchen, not a secret hiding place for a safe or something.
Feeling disgusted at their stupidity, Elodie went through the crew mess to the door at the end of the room and opened it an inch. After hearing nothing out of the ordinary, she peered out into the hallway. She had no idea what she was looking for. Pirates? Some of the other guys who worked on the ship? The captain?
Suddenly, she felt completely alone. It was silly, as she knew there were many other people onboard. She’d never really liked the game hide-and-go-seek, always afraid the “seeker” would get bored with the game and quit. Leaving her in her hiding spot, waiting in vain to be found. For a moment, she thought about going down to the engine room and finding some of the other guys. Maybe Ari or Troy. They’d help keep her hidden. The thought was tempting.
Curiosity got the better of her, and Elodie pulled the radio out of her pocket. She hadn’t heard from Scott or anyone else from the US ship since they’d answered her desperate distress call. Making sure the volume was turned down extremely low, she changed the channel to ten and put the radio up to her ear.
She needed to know what was happening on the bridge. Maybe Walter and the other officers had managed to subdue the pirates and she was slinking around for no reason.
But instead, what she heard made her blood run cold.
“You’re going to run us aground,” Walter said, the agitation easy to hear in his tone, even through the radio. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”
“I a fisherman. I know boats,” one of the pirates claimed.
“Yeah, but a ship this size is very different from the skiffs you’ve operated.”
“I in charge!” the man yelled, scaring the shit out of Elodie.
There was the sound of scuffling—and then the unmistakable sound of a semi-automatic rifle being fired.
Men shouted, someone screamed, more gunfire.
Elodie stood stock still and prayed for the officers on the bridge.
Then the pirates began yelling in their own language. It sounded as if they were arguing with each other.
Suddenly, the lights blinked out without warning.
Elodie was plunged into pitch darkness. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. The only light in the room was coming from the blinking red dot on the radio in her hand.
There was more swearing from the men on the bridge.
“What happen to lights?” one of the pirates asked.
“I’m not sure.” Elodie heard Bo, one of the officers, say in a shaky voice.
“You fix!” he ordered.
“I can’t!” Bo exclaimed. “First, you just killed Danny, he was the expert on the gauges and shit up here. He knew what every single one meant and when something was wrong with them. Second, everything is controlled from the engine room!”
