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It grew darker and darker as they made their way down the Brickhill River.  And it grew more isolated.  Nick realized that he hadn’t seen a house or a dock or even a settled shoreline in over an hour.

Suddenly, the radio squawked.  “Drop anchor.”

Nick moved his boat toward the shore.  Pete yelled at him to stay in the middle of the river so Nick moved back.  He glanced down at the screen on his cell phone.  He’d tried a couple of times to get a good connection on his cell, but once they’d moved out of the Cumberland River, he’d had no success.  And now the Battery Low light was on.  He’d tried using Mickey’s once, but it was long dead.

Nick turned off the engine and went down to the back deck as Pete had instructed.  He stood with his hands raised.  Pete had set his spotlight on the Sunset Voyager to focus on the back deck of the Lenore,and he told Nick to stand in its light.   As much as Nick tried to squint, he could see nothing that was happening beyond the railing.

Suddenly, he heard Pete call out.  He was much nearer than the Sunset Voyager.  He must be in the dinghy.

“Show me the cell phone.”

Nick pulled it out and held it up. 

Pete laughed.  “You’re so cute, Nicky.  Mickey loved putting her lips next to yours.”

Nick didn’t react.

“Smash it,” called out Pete.

“What?”

“You heard me.  Smash it.  Break it.  Show me the pieces.”

Nick looked around him.  Smash it with what?  His eye caught the boat hook, sitting in its bracket on the wall by the cabin door.  He pulled it out of the bracket and held it up for Pete to see.  Then he set the phone on the deck. 

“Not ‘til I see Jo,” he said.

“I’m here,” shouted Jo.  “We’re in the dinghy.  Run, Nick.  Get away.  Don’t…”

Nick didn’t hear any more for a second.  Then he heard a click and a whimper.

“Destroy it now,” called Pete.

Nick lifted the boat hook and smashed the rounded handle end down onto the phone.  The phone skittered out from underneath the pole and slid across the deck.  Nick quickly retrieved it and tried again.  It took three good hits before it broke apart.  The fourth one obliterated it.

Nick picked up the pieces and held them up for Pete to see.

“Throw them in the river,” said Pete.  His voice sounded very close.

Nick looked down at the pieces of the phone.  He hoped he’d made the right decision.  Mickey’s dead cell phone was in Nick’s pocket.  He had smashed his own phone, hoping to keep the evidence against Pete.  Nick hoped he hadn’t just broken his only life line.

Nick dropped the pieces one by one into the water.  He did it slowly, playing for time.  He wasn’t sure what he would use the time for because he didn’t have the first idea what he was supposed to do to get out of this situation.  He wished he were Kevin.  Train would know what to do.

“Now back up to the other side of the deck.  I’m coming on board.  Jo is coming after me.  And in case you have any funny ideas, I have a rope around her neck.  It’s attached to me.  If you knock me into the water, she goes too.  Got it?”

“Yeah,” said Nick, “I got it.”  He backed up to the far railing.

A moment later, he saw Pete climb onto the Lenore.  There was indeed a rope tied to his ankle.  Soon, Jo followed him up on deck.  She had a rope around her neck and bungee cords tying her hands together.  She had a frightened look in her eyes.

“You okay?” asked Nick softly, ignoring Pete.

“Yeah.  You?”

Nick nodded.

“Okay,” said Pete, heartily.  “Let’s move this party down below, into the lap of luxury.”

Pete loosened the rope and lifted it off Jo’s neck.  He told her to go downstairs and sit at the dining nook.  Nick was to follow and sit on the sofa in the living room.  Pete used the rope to tie Nick’s hands together.

“Now, why don’t you two sit here and have a cozy conversation…I’ve got some work to do,” said Pete.

He disappeared up the stairs. 

“What’s he doing?” asked Nick, in a whisper.

“I don’t know,” said Jo, “but he brought a can of gas with him.” 

Nick’s eyes widened in fear.

“I’m so sorry, Nick.  I’m so, so sorry.”  All the tears Jo had been holding in began trickling down her cheeks.

“It’s not your fault,” said Nick.  “It’s his fault.  Uuuhhhnn!”

While he was speaking, Nick had been trying to loosen the ropes that bound him.  The ropes bit sharply into his wrists as he twisted his hands.

“Come over here,” whispered Jo, anxiously.  “Maybe I can help.”

Nick slid off the sofa and walked on his knees to the dining nook.  Jo tried to use her fingers and her teeth to undo the knot in the rope. 

“It’s not working,” she said in frustration.

“Here, let me see if I can undo yours,” said Nick.

“No,” insisted Jo.  “It has to be you.  You’re stronger and faster.  And besides, you don’t deserve to die.”

“You don’t deserve to die either, Jo,” said Nick.

Jo bent her head over his hands again and pulled at the knot with her teeth.

“There!” she said, raising her head.  “I think that’s loosened it a bit.”

It was awkward trying to use her fingers when her wrists were bound together but Jo persevered and soon, Nick’s hands could move freely in the ropes.

“Now what?” asked Jo.

“Now we wait,” said Nick.  “We wait for him to come back down, and then I’ll jump him.  I’ll try and get the gun.”

“No,” said Jo, “just try and get away.  Try and go for help.  Get in the dinghy.  It has oars, but there’s a small outboard motor on it too.”

“I can’t leave you behind,” insisted Nick.

“Please, Nick.  One of us has to survive this.  For Mickey.  One of us has to be able to tell what happened.  Pete says he’s going to say that I killed her.”

“What?”  Nick couldn’t believe this.

“And you know what, Nick?  He’ll make them believe it.  I know he will.  He can make people believe anything.”

“I guess I’m living proof of that,” said Nick, ruefully.

“Well, I want you to stay living proof,” whispered Jo.  “Now that we’ve lost the cell phone, we only have ourselves for proof.”

“We haven’t lost the phone,” said Nick, softly.  “It’s in my pocket.  I smashed my own phone.”

Jo smiled.  “You tricky devil.  Good for…sssh.”  Jo stopped smiling and put her hands in her lap.

“There we go,” said Pete in a hearty voice.  “I’ve given your decks a nice bath.”

“You don’t have to do this, Pete,” said Nick.

“Ah, but I do,” replied the older man.  “You are what they call ‘excess baggage’ at this point.  In fact, you are a downright hindrance.  Now be a good boy and shut up!”

Nick couldn’t believe his eyes or his ears.  This was not the real Pete.  Nick didn’t know this angry, evil man.  Nick reconsidered and guessed that maybe this was the real Pete.  The other one was made up...the smooth-talking, caring, friendly man…he was the myth.  Nick remembered earlier in the day wishing that Pete would act like a murderer so Nick would know for sure.  Well, he knew now!

Pete went up the hallway to the bedroom.  Jo and Nick could hear splashing sounds, and the aroma of gasoline drifted out to their noses. 

Terror threatened to overwhelm them both. 

“Go!” whispered Jo.

Nick pulled the ropes from his hands and raced to the stairs.

A gunshot behind her made Jo jump.  She heard Nick scream and then a heavy thud up on the deck.  Then nothing.

Pete stepped into the living area.  “Well, wasn’t that brave of Nicky?  And stupid!”  Pete looked up the stairs.  He could see Nick’s foot.  It wasn’t moving.  A small trickle of blood began dripping down the top step.

Jo rose up off the bench.  “You murderer!  You…you…!”

“Sit down!” snarled Pete, turning and placing the gun in the middle of Jo’s forehead.

The metal was hot, and she flinched back from it.

“Okay,” said Pete, “here’s what’s going to happen.”  He walked over to the stove and turned all the dials.  The smell of propane filled the air.

“You, my dear Jordana, are going to go and lie down on the bed.”  Pete laughed.  “You think you had a hot time in there last night!  Tonight will be even hotter.”

Jo’s eyes were wide with fear.  “Don’t, Pete,” she begged. 

She skittered around the dining bench to the back.  Pete reached in and grabbed her arm, but Jo wrapped her legs around the metal post of the table and held on.  She wriggled out of his grasp and hit at him with her bound hands.

“Suit yourself, you bitch,” snarled Pete.  “I don’t have time for this.”

He disappeared up the hallway.  Jo slid back along the bench prepared to flee.  She heard a whump, and then she could smell smoke.  Oh, no!  She had to get out before the fire got to the propane.  She stood up and took a step.

“Nice try,” said Pete, grabbing her by the braid and throwing her onto the sofa in the living room.  “Now stay there!”

Pete moved quickly to the stairs.  He looked up, and the back of his brain told him something wasn’t right.  He looked back at Jo and laughed and then turned to the stairs…just as his brain figured out what was wrong.  Nick’s foot had disappeared.

Pete backed up a step and raised the gun.  Smoke was billowing up the hallway and making his eyes water.  The flames would reach the living room soon.  He had to get out.  Pete knelt down, peering up the stairs through the smoke.

Suddenly, Jo leapt up from the sofa.  She grabbed the ugly sailboat picture from the wall.  She took two steps, raising the picture as high as she could with her bound hands.  Then she smashed it over Pete’s head as hard as she could.

The glass shattered.  Pete gave a groan and crumpled to the ground.  Jo leapt over his body and ran up the stairs.  Standing on the deck in front of her was Nick, with the boat hook raised like a javelin ready to stab her in the chest.

“It’s me, Nick!” she cried.

Nick lowered the pole.  “C’mon!” he cried.  “We’ve got to get out of here.”

He turned and limped to the side of the boat, using the boat hook for support.  Jo could see blood soaking his pants below the right knee.

Jo took a step and then screamed.  A hand had wrapped around her ankle.  She turned to see Pete on the stairs.  Blood ran down the side of his face.  Jo tried to pull her foot free.  She watched as Pete raised the other hand.  It had the gun in it.  Pete braced the gun on the deck to steady it.

“Nick!” cried Jo.

Nick turned and took in the scene.  He scrambled back across the deck.  He kicked out with his uninjured leg, aiming for the gun.  The gun swung away from Jo but still remained in Pete's hand.  Nick kicked out again, and the gun skittered across the deck.  Pete reached for it.  Nick raised the boat hook high in the air and brought it down on Pete’s hand, pinning it to the deck.  Pete screamed in agony.  He let go of Jo and tried to pull the hook out of his hand.

“Come on, Jo!” yelled Nick. 

Jo ran to the railing and climbed over.  She dropped down into the dinghy and then grabbed the ladder, trying to steady it.  She could see smoke rising through the front hatchway.

“Hurry, Nick!” she called out.

Nick climbed awkwardly over the railing.  He was having trouble making his right leg work.  Finally, he made it.  He grabbed the oars and stared rowing.  Jo pulled on the rope on the outboard motor.  It coughed and chugged but didn’t start.

“Omigod,” said Nick.

Jo looked around.  Flames were now visible in the living area of the Lenore.  They were also licking their way across the upper deck.  It would not be long before the boat exploded.  Nick put more effort into the rowing.

Jo pulled hard on the rope.  Once, twice…nothing.  The third time, she pulled so hard the rope pulled right off the motor.  But there was a chug and then a whine and then a purr.

“Got it!” said Jo. 

She grabbed the throttle and turned the motor, moving the dinghy away from the Lenore.  Nick stopped rowing and sank back into the rubber sides, exhausted and bleeding.

Suddenly, he sat up. 

“Jo, get down!” he cried, reaching for her.

Jo looked over her shoulder.  Silhouetted on the deck of the burning Lenore was Pete, his gun held in his two hands, aimed right at them.

Jo turned the throttle and made the dinghy swerve.  A bullet ripped through the air.  It missed Jo and Nick, but it caught the side of the dinghy.  The air pocket started to deflate.

Nick gauged the distance between the dinghy and the Lenore.  They were almost out of range of Pete’s gun.  The dinghy was made of separate air compartments.  Deflating one wouldn’t sink the boat.  More than one…Nick wasn’t sure about that. 

Another bullet whistled through the air.  This one pinged off the motor and ricocheted through another section of the dinghy.  The boat began to fill with water.

Jo turned the handle, revving the motor to full speed.  The motor whined and then coughed and then died.

“Noooo,” cried Jo, in frustration.  They were almost there.  They had almost reached the Sunset Voyager.

“Get down!” cried Nick.

Jo turned to see Pete with his gun raised, ready to fire again.  Suddenly, the man became a silhouette as the cabin of the Lenore exploded behind him.  The force of the explosion blew Pete across the boat and over the back.  He landed on the dinghy on the back of the boat.  He lay there lifeless, one arm hanging off the back.

Jo and Nick turned their attention to their own survival.  Nick pulled hard on the oars while Jo tried to disconnect the motor and drop it overboard so it wouldn’t weigh down the sinking boat. 

“We have to swim for it Jo,” said Nick.  “This is too tiring, and we’re not getting anywhere.”

“Can you swim?” asked Jo.  “Can you make it?”

Nick nodded.  “We’re close,” he said, and he rolled over the side of the rubber boat into the water. 

Jo followed, and they swam the few yards to the Sunset Voyager.  Nick motioned for Jo to go up the ladder first.  She made it easily and turned to help Nick.  He pulled himself up with his arms, but when he put his right leg on the bottom rung of the ladder, it collapsed, and he fell back into the water.

“Use your arms, Nick,” cried Jo, leaning over the side to try and help him.  “And hurry!”

Nick looked over his shoulder at the Lenore.  It was fully engulfed in flames.  It wouldn’t be long before the gas tanks exploded.  Nick knew they had to get the Sunset Voyager further away, or it would be set on fire too.  He pulled hard on the ladder with his arms, jerking himself up out of the water.  He got his left foot on the ladder and tried to push himself up with it.  From above, he felt Jo grab his shirt.

“Now!” she shouted.

Nick made a final attempt, pushing hard with his leg and pulling with his arms.  Between his effort and Jo’s, he got as high as the railing.  He then leaned his weight forward and rolled onto the deck.

“Start the boat, Jo,” he yelled.  “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“I don’t know how,” she yelled back.

“It’s not hard.  It’s like a car.  You have to do it.  I can’t get up the ladder.”

Jo looked at Nick and saw that he was right.  His right leg was soaked in blood.  She leapt to her feet and scrambled up the ladder.  She turned the key and pressed the button to start the boat.  Once she heard the engine turn over, Jo pushed the throttle forward.  She heard the engines whine, but the boat didn’t go anywhere.  She heard Nick yell something, and she looked over the back of the bridge to the deck below, where he lay sprawled on his back. 

“The anchor!” he yelled up at her.

“Right!”  Jo turned back to the control panel.  She found the button marked ‘Anchor’ and pushed it.  She felt a rumbling in her feet. 

Jo looked over at the Lenore.  A white light flashed.  The explosion wasn’t as loud as she thought it would be.  It wasn’t a big bang, more of a whoosh.  A ball of flame lifted the boat into the air and then dropped it.  Fiery bits of debris showered down all over the river.  On the shore, a tree caught fire and then another one.

Bits of molten material began to fall on the Sunset Voyager.  Jo stamped out one with her foot.  Then she looked down at Nick.  He had dragged himself to his feet and grabbed the fire extinguisher from the back.  He was shooting little bursts of foam at each piece of burning material that landed.

The anchor settled into its nest, and Jo pushed the throttle forward, trying to get the Sunset Voyager out of harm’s way.  She moved it upstream a hundred yards and then dropped the anchor again.  She ran to the front of the boat and kicked the pieces of burning debris off into the river.  Then she ran back to the bridge and tuned the radio to Channel 16.

“Mayday!  Mayday!” she cried.  “This is the Sunset Voyager.  We need your help.”

“Where are you, Sunset Voyager?” crackled the radio.

Jo leaned over to look at Nick.  “Where are we?” she called.

Nick called out the location as close as he could remember.  Jo passed on the information, as well as telling them that Nick had been shot and the Lenore had been destroyed.  The voice said they would be there as fast as they could.

Jo raced down the ladder to Nick, who lay on the deck, propped up against the back bench.  Jo pulled up his pant leg and looked at the wound.  It looked like the bullet had gone right through his calf.  It seemed to be bleeding a lot.

Jo rose to her feet and pulled her t-shirt off over her head.  Then she unfastened her bra, thankful that she was small-busted and was wearing a stretchy bra, not one of those wire and mesh things for fuller-figured women.  She knelt down and wound the bra three times around Nick’s leg just below the knee and then tied it off.

She looked up at his face.  “How’s that?” she asked.

“That’s just fine, Miss Jo,” said Nick, with a lopsided grin.  “But I’m not sure this is the time for…”  He raised his eyebrows twice.  “…you know.”

Jo crossed her arms over her chest self-consciously and then turned her back to Nick and put her t-shirt back on.  Then she sat down on the deck beside him and leaned into him.  Nick put his arm around her, and they sat together, saying nothing, exhilarating in each other’s heartbeat and waiting for the Coast Guard.