Hell to Pay by Dick Wybrow

Author:Dick Wybrow [Wybrow, Dick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dee Dub Publishing
Published: 2020-04-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

"What are they saying?" The Actor stood to peek over the nose of their go-fast boat then ducked back down.

The voice crackling over the radio and the one coming over the loudspeakers ahead of them were both repeating the same phrases over and over again. However, as their boat came within about five hundred yards—and was closing fast—their demands were coming in shorter, louder bursts.

"They want us to stop and drop anchor," Anza said, scanning the waters ahead. She had an unnatural calmness, as if she'd bled her anxiety onto the floor.

The Actor had, in turn, soaked it up.

She continued to search the horizon. She'd seen it again, but something about the way…

Again, their hull was peppered. Pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft!

"So, why aren't you, you know—" the Actor said, trying to grip the floor with his fingers and toes, facing toward the front of the boat. "Stopping and dropping?"

There!

Once again, she saw the drone, but it was hovering off the side of the Mexican coast guard's big, gleaming craft, three times the size of theirs.

Anza looked at the green screen next to the throttle then put a nail between her teeth. "If we stop," she said, "we cannot save Uncle Jerry inside a prison cell!"

"We can't save him if we're dead either!"

She glanced back over her shoulder. "Yes, also a good point."

The Actor scooted onto his hands and knees and scuttled across the cabin's floor. When he returned next to Anza, he had a beer in both hands.

"How is that helping?"

The Actor's head bobbed as he took huge swigs from the one in his right hand. "I'm going to throw the bottles at them. Buy us some time."

"Half-empty beer bottles do not buy time!"

"At least," he said, swigging from the left one, "if I'm going to some Mexican jail, I'll be half-drunk."

Anza shook her head and muttered low. She again looked at the screen then back at the huge boat getting bigger in their windscreen, close enough to see their expressions.

Several seamen were racing around the bow of the coast guard ship. Arms waving, shouting something Anza couldn't hear, all but the man on the big gun at the front were running to the rear of the boat.

Then, a few seconds later, the man on the gun crossed himself, jumped away, and followed his comrades.

The Actor arched up and looked through the window. He slid back down quickly and took slugs from both beers.

They were within two hundred yards.

"Anza," he said, his voice softer. "We can't ram them. I want to save Uncle Jerry as much as you, but this…" He choked on a sob. "I'm under contract, hell-affiliated, so I'll survive that. It'll hurt like hell, but—"

"We have to save Uncle Jerry!"

He reached out and gently put a hand on her shoe. "You won't survive a crash."

She pushed the throttle.

"You still have Dan," the Actor said. "I saw him. He's wrecked that you're not home." The Actor looked at the battle of emotions on Anza's face. Tears lined her cheeks.

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