Recluse Protection

Chapter 36

Bait? My stomach churns violently as I take a moment to process his words. He said bait, this isn't filled with chum. I'm in... Oh, no, I'm going to get sick. "Chop him up, put him in the fish locker, we'll take care of it after he's melted some." The man cackles and my stomach churns violently as the smell teases my nostrils again, I recognize the smell. Decomposition. I didn't think about what I had hid in until now; the smell and feeling makes my skin crawl as I hear the latch on the fish locker, snick as it's pulled open.

The absolute darkness shifts slightly, the small amount of light from the night sky shines into the locker. I'm frozen, waiting for the moment I hear a shout or call, some kind of noise, calling for backup. Recognizing me, alerting someone of my presence. Time ticks by painfully slow, inching at a snail's pace. My grip on my knife tightens painfully, my muscles coil, ready to strike. I'm going to die fighting. My thoughts are halted as a large weight lands on me, making me flinch with holding a grunt.

"Just get the fucking shipment, I have to get back before too many questions are raised." The voice is once again muffled, this time clearer, I strain to put a name to that voice. My head aches at the strain. It's so familiar. What bothers me the most is its recognizable, but unplaceable. Maybe it's because I'm more concerned with the human remains that are currently hiding me. The thought makes me want to vomit as another weight is thrown down, more follow it, weighing heavily on my chest.

"Keep your panties out of a twist, you want your payment or not?" One man sneers before the fish locker is slammed, the latch snicking into place. The sound echoes eerily loud in the silence that surrounds me. Warmth coats my being as a shaky breath leaves my lips quietly. Great, now I'm an accomplice to murder. The urge to throw up hits me again as I pinch my eyes shut, the urge to jump from the fish locker vibrates through my being as I struggle to focus on the surrounding conversation.

"That's why I'm here! I just chopped up a man for you, I want extra this ti-" The familiar voice is cut off, I don't what did it. Laughter vibrates through one of the men painfully loud.

"You're trying to get a bigger cut? Marcy, you've fucked up buddy. You don't get to bargain for more. You're our bitch working for our dollar. Don't forget." The voice growls, the sound growing distant as I hear heavy weights loaded onto the boat. I'm going to guess that's not cement bags. The voices are too distant for me to hear and understand; the boat rocks violently, making my stomach churn worse. I'm going to be sick soon. No matter how strong a stomach is, anyone in my position would be sick.

"Stop bitching boys, we'll have another worker back with us soon enough." The taunt made my mind pause, analyzing the words carefully. We'll have another worker back with us soon? Am I the worker? What do they have planned? Nothing about what was said was comforting. Yes, because this entire night has been relaxing. The thought makes me want to roll my eyes and beat myself. Now isn't the time. The boat continues to rock painfully, the nauseating smell combined with the volatile motions aren't helping.

"Hopefully sooner rather than later, I have an itch the bitch needs to scratch." Laughter sounds off making me sneer in disgust. I think it's safe to say that they're talking about me. Their conversations drift away as they move around the boat, only coming and going in meaningless blips of words. Stand in one place! Preferable where I can hear you assholes! A horrible screeching vibrates through the hull of the boat, echoing into the fish locker. The metal box rattles painfully making my eyes water and cross.

As if the stench and sea sickness has helped any. Everything grows silent making me paus, straining to listen to something, anything at this point. "-ck answer me!" Cobra's voice growls into my ear, the sound breaking in and out.