I looked around for something to cut the rope. They usually kept an axe in one of the storage containers. I crawled over and looked inside the rusty metal box on the starboard side. All that I found was a solar net pack. I pulled it out and threw it overboard so I could look for the axe. The box was empty. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something behind us in the water. I turned to look. It was just the solar pack automatically deploying. Thousands of miniature water activated servos stretched the net to its full one hundred foot diameter.
I could hear rifle shots above the roar of the wind now. They were almost on us. I laid flat on the floor and crawled over to the box on the port side. The floor was covered in an inch of bloody water that sloshed around. I reached the box and opened the lid. I peered inside. It was filled with life preservers. I started pulling them out and throwing behind me. Then I spotted it. The axe was attached to a metal clasp on the inside of the box. I freed it and crawled back to the hook. Raising the axe above my head, I brought it down on the rope. The rail bent, but the rope held. Two more shots whizzed by me and I ducked. Peeking up over the rail I saw them. They were less than fifty feet behind us. We were out of time.
Suddenly I heard their engines strain and then cut out completely. I peeked up expecting to see the bastards boarding our ship. Instead, I watched as they ran to the back of their boat. I suddenly realized what had happened. The solar net had tangled in their propellers. Taking advantage of the diversion, I brought up the axe again and swung down hard. This time the axe cut clean through the rope. We lurched forward and I fell back. Lanka and Senil’s lifeless bodies slid across the bloody swill and joined me.
After a few seconds, I peeked over the railing and watched as the pirate boat shrunk into the distance. We were finally out of range.
I got up and walked slowly toward the cabin. I looked down. My clothes were covered in blood. When I reached the bridge, I looked over at Kamish. Tears streamed down his cheeks, his face tight with hatred.
I turned away and stared at the light shining out from the lighthouse at the Port of Male. Tears streamed down my face and I pictured Senil as a boy, shimmying up the palm tree to get me a coconut.
Chapter 4
A fried fish stared up at me from my plate with an accusing eye. I looked away and filled my empty glass from the bottle that Mohamed had given me. Half of the bottle was already gone and I still felt like shit. No medicine was strong enough to help me forget what had happened out there on the boat.
I took a sip anyway, winced, and set the glass down. Then I pushed the plate away. There was no way I could eat tonight and tomorrow wasn’t looking good either.
I looked around the hotel’s grand dining room and saw about a dozen people finishing their meals. It was late and the dinner rush was over. Most of them were Europeans who, like me, were stranded here while on vacation. This hotel was their home now. A few looked like locals, Maldivians, although I guess technically we were all locals now.
I listened to the conversion of the couple at the table next to me. They spoke English, but based on the guy’s accent I guessed that he was either German or Austrian. He was telling the middle-aged redhead about his day. He described a fight that took place at the loading docks in the morning.
Macho bullshit. Probably trying to get laid.
Then he complained about how few cargo loads there were lately. He had only unloaded five boats today. It was what he didn’t mention that I found interesting. He didn’t say a word about the attack on our boat. I wondered if the news hadn’t gotten out yet or if he didn’t want to scare the woman.
I drained my glass and refilled it. Some of it spilled on my data mat, which sat unfolded and untouched on the table. I’d been avoiding it all night.
“Fuck it,” I said under my breath.
Using the side of my hand, I wiped the moonshine from the data mat and then tapped the screen to open the Council database. I navigated to the Evacuation Eligibility spreadsheet and opened it. I scrolled down until I found what I was looking for: Lanka and Senil’s names. Their entire lives summed up on two rows of the spreadsheet. I highlighted their information and let my finger hover above the CHANGE STATUS button. I grabbed my glass with my other hand, drank a silent toast to them, and then selected one of the options from the drop down list. Their status changed from ELIGIBLE to DECEASED. I hit the CONFIRM button and polished off what was left in my glass. A second later, my data mat chirped as an automated message popped open.
SUBJECT: CHANGE NOTIFICATION
THIS AUTOMATED NOTIFICATION WAS SENT TO INFORM YOU OF A CHANGE TO THE LIST. THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION WAS CHANGED:
LANKA CHANDRA LOHIFUSHI STATUS-DECEASED
SENIL CHANDRA LOHIFUSHI STATUS-DECEASED
Every member of the Council should’ve gotten the same message. I sat back and sighed because I knew what they were all doing. They were scrambling to submit their next top two candidates to fill those empty slots. Sure enough, a few seconds later I began receiving candidate submission emails.
“Bastards!”
I must have said it louder than I had intended because the room went silent. There was no point looking up. I knew that everyone was staring at me. To hell with them!
After a minute, people started talking again. I heard someone say hello, and from the sound of the voice I knew who said it. I looked up and saw a short, bald Maldivian strolling through the room like he owned the place. He did.
Before the storm, Ahmed Walheed was a successful business man. After the storm, he became the Prime Minister of the Maldives. He still held the title, but it didn’t mean much anymore. His new title, President of the Council of Thirteen, was what he preferred. The president wielded more power.
Shit! He saw me and was headed this way. An unconvincing sympathetic look was plastered on his face. His eyes were sad above his ever-present smile. It was the kind of smile that would look at home on an undertaker who sold used cars on the side.
Ahmed stopped in front of my table and pulled out a handkerchief. As he wiped the sweat off his forehead, I couldn’t help but notice the massive sweat stains that stretched from his armpit to the hip pockets of his seersucker coat. Hell, I could be standing on the other side of the island and I’d be able to see those stains.
When he finished mopping his brow, he shoved the handkerchief into his pocket and said, “Aron, I am so sorry about the unfortunate incident today. It was disturbing to hear that pirates are operating so close to Male.”
Getting a flat tire was an unfortunate incident. Losing your fucking wallet was an unfortunate incident. But the brutal slaying of two young men… two good young men, was a goddammed tragedy and it took all the will I could muster to keep from burying my fist in his face to convey that message.
“I’m not in the mood, Ahmed.”
“I understand. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. We all heard about the attack and everyone was asking about you.”
I’m sure they did. They probably wanted to know if another slot on the list would open up. “Well, as you can see for yourself…. I’m fine.” I held my arms out. “No bullet holes. No giant gashes through my body. So just tell everyone that I’ll see them tomorrow at the Council meeting.” I grabbed my glass to take a drink and realized it was empty. I set it back down. “And if you don’t mind, I’m tired and I’m going to bed.”
Ahmed looked at the water bottle and then at me. I’m sure he knew that it wasn’t water.
Come on, bastard. Say something. Give me an excuse to slug you.
But he was too smart for that. He let it go and said, “Yes, yes, of course. Go and get some rest. We have a long week ahead of us.”