Ethereal

Chapter 24: Hazardous Places

"Scream, and I'll slice ya throat."

A grimy hand covered my mouth and nose, forcing me upright from my spot on the ground. The smell of sweat and cigarettes hung off their wiry frame as they pressed themselves up behind me, making my skin crawl with unease. The cave was back to being pitch black, making it hard for me to make out Stew and Carlo's forms in the dark. I let out a small whimper despite the stranger's warning, and the cool edge of a blade pressed up against my throat and made my mouth turn dry.

"That's right," he said, tightening his hold on the knife. "now stand up, real slow."

I did as he told me, begging my legs not to give out from under me as they began to tremble. My heart was beating wildly inside my chest as fear wrapped itself inside of me. He pushed me forward, steering me around unseen obstacles on the ground that must have been the other sleeping crewmates. Whoever was behind me must have been waiting in the dark for everyone to fall asleep before he made his move. But what did he want?

The possibilities of what he could do to me were seemingly endless. All I knew was that if he managed to get me outside without waking anybody up, then there was little chance of me ever making it back onto Jax's ship.

Jax. Where was he? Was he still asleep? I needed to figure out a way to find him, but with the adrenaline making my vision fuzzy and the darkness only making everything worse, there was a miniscule chance of that happening.

As we pressed forward, my feet made sweeping motions from below me, trying to feel out a crewmate's hand or foot that I could purposefully step on to get someone's attention. The knife pressed deeper into my neck, and I could feel a thick stream of blood dripping from its mark.

"No more of that, Mousey." Said the voice, seeing what my feet were doing through the dark. He was observant as he was quiet, none of this boding well for me.

His voice sounded familiar to me, but I couldn't quite place who it belonged to. I had spoken to some of the crew in passing, usually when I was standing in the way or wasn't serving them their meal portions fast enough. Whoever had decided to kidnap me could be any one of the crew.

We neared the mouth of the cave, the sea breeze floating through the vines and brushing against my sweat-covered forehead. He was taking me back to the boats – but to what end? He might be able to get us past the reef and through the riptides, but where would he take us then? Back to the ship? We couldn't man a ship that large just between the two of us. Would he take us back to land?

The question made my stomach twist.

I pushed away the last strands of ivy and stepped down into the beach, sand filling my shoes. My kidnapper followed close behind me, shoving me forward so we were several yards away from the cave before he turned me around, knife still trained on my neck. I bit my tongue to keep a yelp of surprise from slipping past my lips.

It was scar-face, the same man that nearly kicked me overboard when I first boarded Jax's ship.

The scars that lined the length of his face gave off an early glow in the dim gray of the early morning mist, his mouth twisting in disgust as he pushed me backwards and into the sand. I fell hard, biting my tongue as I did so. As a warm pool of blood gathered in the back of my throat, I tried my best to focus my attention on scar-face and not the sharp throbbing of my tongue.

He loomed over me, his clothes shredded and dirtied from working long shifts topside on the ship. Greasy tendrils of hair framed his boney face, his purplish-yellow teeth grinning down at me.

"A little birdy told me that a certain Mousey knows where the captain keeps a spare boat." He said.

I stared at him, waiting for him to continue. Yeah, I know about the raft. And what? He wants me to take him there? Scar-face didn't have to drag me out of the cave at knife point to convince me to show him where it was. Even if I did, something told me that scar-face wasn't going to let me return to the cave once he made his get-away, and I don't think he wants me hitching a ride with him either. The wicked gleam in his eyes was lined with an intense desperation – he was willing to do anything to escape. Either I showed him where the raft was or I don't – but I knew that scar-face was going to kill me regardless.