Paradise Falls (61 page)

9.

Al Naab came for her. Jennifer ducked as he swung the knife in his fist, as Katie hurled herself to the floor and screamed, as Jacob rocketed to his feet. She ignored all that, watching the knife move. It was so sharp, the edge blurred. Al Naab climbed over the couch and came at her, his lips peeled back in a snarl, lunging at her with the sharp inward curve of the knife. Somehow, she had his wrist, and pushed. It was clumsy, awkward, and she felt the hot drawing of a blade over her shoulder but didn’t cry out, just wrenched of the way. His momentum did the work and pulled him down to the floor with her. He still had the knife and she still had his wrist.

He balled his other hand into a fist and punched her in the face. His knuckles hit just above her eye, and pain exploded in a white flash through her skull again. Jennifer kicked his shin and drove her heel into his knee and did not let go of his wrist. He yelped and she felt something pop when the ball of her foot jabbed into his knee, and his hand came open. The knife fell, slid across his chest, the flat against him, and fell on the floor. He rolled, and used her own force against her. She was trying to push his wrist, so he pulled, drew her forward and when she lost control he drove his elbow into her stomach, right up under her ribs, and stars danced in her vision as all the breath collapsed out of her lungs.

There was a gunshot, hot and loud, stabbing into her ears. Jennifer clawed at Al Naab’s face with her nails, hooked her finger under the strap of his eyepatch and it came away. His hand clamped down around her throat and he shoved her back, rising up. Once he was on top of her, she knew, it was over. He outweighed her. He was reaching for his knife. Jennifer’s hands were clamped around his arm as he crushed her throat, but her legs were free. She brought her leg up and snapped with all the muscles in her body and drove her knee into his chin. He jerked back and let go of her throat, but spat blood on the floor. Around her was madness, Katie screaming. She didn’t know what was going on, only that Al Naab had the knife and threw himself at her.

His elbow hit her stomach, and then his knee, and then he rolled her over and knotted his fist in her hair. He got up and pulled her up, first on his knees, and then rising to his feet. He held the razor sharp inner edge to her throat.

Elliot was on the ground. One of the guards was clearly dead, his belly ripped open by the shattered liquor bottle. Elliot clutched his stomach but he didn’t look hurt. The gunshot didn’t hit Elliot or Jacob or Katie, it killed one of the guards. Jacob had the rifle.

The third guard was sprawled out on the carpet. Jennifer blinked, weirdly calm as she realized the man’s head had been completely twisted around to face the wrong direction as he lay on the floor.

Jacob had the rifle.

“My men will come,” said Al Naab. “There are ten more on this ship. You are severely outnumbered. This is what is going to happen. You will put that rifle down. When my men arrive they will take you captive. I will cut this bitch’s throat and the other one will be shot and we will throw them in the river. If you do not you will die anyway, and I will keep this one alive for a year. I will make you watch, and I will not end her suffering until
you
beg me for it
.
”

“No,” said Jennifer.

She grabbed the knife blade. With her bare hand. When she wrapped her fingers around it the edge cut to the bone and she screamed, loud and hoarse, and with her other hand she grabbed his pinky and ring finger. It was cutting her fucking fingers off, but she didn’t care. She bucked up on her legs, dropped and pulled.

Jacob showed her this one.

When Al Naab went off balance and tried to force her back down, she turned and he came forward. Just like Jacob said, the human body follows those two fingers. Ring finger and pinky. Al Naab twisted around, and didn’t let go. He did let go of the knife, though, when Jennifer felt those two fingers pop apart under her grip.

Just like he said. Like cleaning a chicken.

Jacob surged forward, bellowing. He clamped down on Al Naab’s arm and pulled him around, wound up and Jennifer thought he would punch him in the face, but didn’t. He rammed his elbow into Al Naab’s nose, and then flicked his arm, throwing a backhanded fist into his broken nose. Al Naab swung at him. Jacob caught his arm, squeezed, and twisted. Jennifer heard the sound of his joint tearing, like breaking a thick handful of celery, as Jacob twisted Al Naab’s forearm around the wrong way. Jacob’s face was pure rage, almost inhuman. He forced Al Naab down, choking him with both hands, and then he saw the knife. He grabbed it.

He held it high.

“For your cowardice,” Jacob snarled, “It will be you who is cut.
Motherfucker
.”

Jacob’s fist rose and fell, the blade punching to The Fang’s gut as Jacob rammed it home, over and over again. He drew a slash across the Fang’s chest. He reared up.

His hand moved so fast it blurred. The knife bit through Al Naab’s neck, down to a white flash of bone, and the blood was everywhere. Jacob rose, clenching his teeth, lifted Al Naab bodily from the floor and threw what was left of him bodily out of the way, over the back of the couch, like a sack of flour.

Jacob was on Jennifer, fast. Cradling her head, touching her hand. God, her hand, she couldn’t look at it. Wasn’t it supposed to hurt?

“Elliot,” Jacob snarled. “Get over here. Now, God damn you.”

Elliot came stumbling over and Jacob rose to his feet, took Elliot by the collar and… ripped off his shirt. He split the t-shirt down the middle in a single motion, tore it into a strip, and began binding Jennifer’s hand. He made her make a fist around a strip of cloth and wound it around and around, and then more. It felt like he used the whole shirt, making a ball of fabric around her hand that was already pink from the blood soaking into it. He pressed her hand to her chest.

“Elliot,” Jacob said again. “You’re responsible for her.”

“What?”

“If anything happens to this woman I’ll fucking kill you, do you understand me? Get behind the bar.
Now.
Get Katie and get down. They’re coming.”

Jennifer got up and, for some reason, leaned on Elliot. She got Katie up and they crawled behind the wet bar. Jennifer thought Jacob would keep the rifle. He didn’t, he gave it to her, instead.

“
Cover me,” he said. “If I go down, shoot until you run out of ammo.”

She took it, propped the forend over her arm and held the pistol grip tight.

He was stepping away before she could ask what he meant. He dipped and came back from Al Naab’s case with two more knives like the one that cut her hand, one in either fist, and the door banged open.

Jennifer had seen Jacob fight before. More often than she’d liked. Terror gripped her for a moment, as she realized he was battered, bleeding, tired, but when the door open and one of the Fangs stepped through Jacob moved so fast Jennifer couldn’t believe it was possible. She’d seen him fight, but never completely
cut loose
before.

A swing of the knife in his left fist sent a crescent of blood flying through the air, the other bit into and through the man’s side, right at the kidney, and he tumbled forward in a heap. The one behind him started to back away, but Jacob seized him- by hooking the blade through his stomach and then behind his belt, cutting him open. A twist of his hand to press the flat of the blade against the belt from the inside yanked him forward, and Jacob rammed the other knife into his chest and ripped them both free in a single motion, dropping the man on the floor.

Then he bent, took both rifles, pulled them into his hands, and braced the stocks into his arms. With a scream of fury he swung around, aimed both through the door, and squeezed the triggers. The sound pounded Jennifer’s ears, and Jacob fell back inside. For a moment she thought he was wounded again but the blood covering him wasn’t his. He dropped one of the guns, grabbed a magazine from the belt of a dead man, and limped back over to the bar.

“Holy fuck,” said Elliot.

“Shut up,” Jacob snapped. “Can you walk?” she said to Jennifer.

Why wouldn’t she be able to walk? It was her hand that was cut. She was bleeding from her shoulder a little, but it wasn’t bad. Her hand was wrapped up.

It was starting to hurt. Really bad. She clutched her hand to her chest and Katie had to help pull her up. Jennifer felt a little dizzy.

“Now what?” Elliot slurred.

“We get up to the bridge and call mayday,” said Jacob. “We have to stop this thing and we have to do something about…” he took a deep breath. “Goddamn it, shut up and let’s go.”

“Mayday is a real thing?” said Elliot. “I thought that was just made up in movies.”

“Elliot,” Jacob hissed, “If you talk again I’m going to break your legs.”

Elliot’s mouth snapped closed. Leaning on Katie, Jennifer lurched forward, carrying the rifle by the pistol grip. There was something slick on it and she didn’t want to know what. Jacob went in front of her, pushing open the door. He looked out and motioned forward, and Jennifer lurched behind him, Elliot stumbling behind. Jacob took her arm and almost lifted her up the stairs. Open stairs, exposed. She saw movement on the deck below. She pulled her arm loose, pulled her hand away from her chest. It was an excruciating mass of pain, but she ignored that, propped the rifle on her forearm, aimed down the sights and fired.

She’d just shot a man.

Jacob pulled her inside, along with Katie. Elliot piled in behind and pulled the door shut just as Jacob yanked them all to the floor and glass shattered around them. Jacob was up on one knee, and shooting. The rifle popped in Jennifer’s ears, and then she was up right next to him, rifle propped on the windowsill.

“Katie,” Jacob barked. “Grab that radio mike,” he pointed to a dangling microphone on the instrument panel, “push the button three times, and then hold it down and start yelling ‘mayday’ until I tell you to stop.”

Katie nodded, crawled over and crawled under the instrument panel itself. She pushed the button and then held it and began screaming Mayday at the top of her lungs.

Jennifer saw movement below, fired. She missed the first time. When she fired the second burst, she watched a man go sprawling on the deck and go still.

She shot him. Jennifer shot him. She slumped, her eyes burning and blurring with tears.

Jacob grabbed her arm.

“Later,” he barked.

Jennifer shook her head. Not to defy him, to clear it.

She aimed again, and fired. Jacob missed more times than she did. She really
was
good.

She wanted to throw up. Her head hurt.

Katie was still yelling.

“Enough, Katie,” Jacob shouted. “When they ask where you are, tell them on the river. The ship is named Casual Fridays.”

Jennifer swept the rifle back and forth, looking for movement.

“I think we’re good,” Jacob panted. “I have to go.” He grabbed the throttle on the instrument panel and yanked it all the way back, and the steady churning of the engines died down.

“What?”

“Back to the boat,” said Jacob. “The launch. We have to get back.”

He rose, and looked out over the deck.

“I’m going with you,” said Jennifer.

“No,” said Jacob. “You stay here and-“

Jennifer dropped the rifle and grabbed him by the belt and threw herself at him. She didn’t mean to, exactly, but she ended up kissing him.

“I thought you were dead,” she sobbed, pulling herself away. “I thought they were going to kill you. I’m never going to let you out of my sight again.”

Jacob wrapped his arms around her. He stank, and he was covered in blood, but she didn’t care.

“Let’s get my gear and go,” he said.

“What about me?” said Elliot.

“You stay here,” said Jacob. “You’re going to talk to the authorities. Katie, you’re coming with us.”

Katie stood up. “Back down the ladder?”

“Yes. I’ll go first. You won’t fall.”

Jacob went first. Jennifer followed, pulling Katie along by the hand. Jacob’s gear lay on the deck, near the ladder. He shrugged into his vest and Jennifer closed it up for him, wincing at the obvious pain twisting his features at tightened over his body. Jennifer took some of it and strapped it on to lighten his load, fumbling with her hand. Jacob looked at it but she looked back, grimly. He went first and as he promised, Katie followed.

Jennifer climbed down the ladder, grunting with effort, using her left elbow to support her body instead of her ruined hand. When she neared the bottom Jacob lifted her bodily into the boat and cut the line loose, and lifted himself to the top of the boat to start up the engine and swing it around.

Sitting at the bottom, Jennifer didn’t look at the smear of dried blood. Katie couldn’t stop staring at it.

It was a long ride back. The ship moved away in the dark.

“Jacob,” Jennifer said, rising. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to leave Elliot behind?”

“Fuck if I’m taking him with me,” said Jacob.

Jennifer couldn’t help it. She laughed.

“Oh my God,” she said, shaking. She sagged against the… dashboard? Control panel. Whatever.

“The school,” she said. “He meant they were going to attack our school, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” said Jacob.

“If we stopped the bombs, doesn’t that mean they’ll call it off, or…”

“No. The terrorist cells that are going to attack the mall, theater, and school don’t know they’re supposed to be nuked. Al Naab gave them orders to kill the hostages after a length of time.”

Jennifer blinked. “How do you know?”

“That’s what I’d do,” he said, grimly. “Contingency plan in case something went wrong.”

He squeezed the wheel until his knuckles turned white.

Jennifer touched his shoulder. He was burning hot, like he had a fever. He turned, and she threw herself at him again. He pulled her into his arms and she pressed against him, shaking.

“We’re gonna go back to the dock,” he said, “get in the Martyr, and go stop them.”

Jennifer nodded.

“You’re not allowed to die,” she said, touching his good arm with both hands, though her left was a useless lump of cloth.