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This is a critical point in the plan: if they get suspicious, either because I make a noise or just because the bag is so heavy, they might inspect it more carefully. I’ll have to fight my way out. Even if I succeed, my cover will be blown: Anton will know I escaped.
When they put us down, the rumble of a powerful boat motor vibrates through the bag. After a couple minutes, I hear a thump — most likely Victor.
“Hey, what the fuck?”
“What is it?”
The zipper to my bag jerks upward, sealing the bag completely.
“It wasn’t all the way closed,” says the nasally guard.
My heart thunders. For fuck’s sake, that was close. I keep my hand over my nose, breathing shallowly. I try not to think about being on top of Madeleine’s corpse.
After a few minutes, the boat gets underway. They only drive it a few miles — that’s far enough to ensure the bags will sink so deep they’ll never be found. Before long, the guards shut the engine.
Here goes nothing.
With any luck, they’ll toss Madeleine and me last.
“One… two… three!”
I hear a splash.
“One… two… three!”
Another bag plunges into the water.
“One… two… three!”
That’s half of them…
But my luck runs out there: they lift our bag next.
“One… two… three!”
They toss us overboard. The impact jolts my leg, but that’s the least of my problems. I take a deep breath as water starts filling the body bag. We sink fast.
Thrusting the knife as hard as I can in the confined space, I jam it through the bag. I don’t need much space to saw the knife, but the material is thick and doesn’t cut easily.
A single mistake now and I’m dead. If I drop the knife, I’m dead. If I don’t cut fast enough, I’m dead. If I escape too fast, and I have to surface before the boat leaves, I’m dead.
Lungs burning, I cut through enough to slither out.
Thank you, Madeleine. Even in death, you saved my life.
I already promised to avenge her death — to make Anton suffer for murdering her. Now my debt to her is doubled.
Above me, the boat still lingers. There’s one bag above me, sinking slowly as streams of air bubbles escape it. I start rising in the saltwater, too fast. Thinking quickly, I grab the other body bag and let it carry me back down. Still, I can’t let it drag me too deep — I’m out of air. I’m out of time.
Then the last bag breaks through the surface. Looking up, thinking of Kate, I let go and start swimming. As I do, the boat’s propeller turns on, and the craft pushes away. I could almost cry. I swim out of its wake and surface, gasping and choking.
Keep it together, Ingram!
Once I finish coughing, I lie back in the brine. With my muscle mass, I can’t float — I have to tread water. When I settle down and can breathe normally, I drink my bottled water — there’s no sense in holding onto it. My fate is now out of my hands. Either my plan works, or it doesn’t.
Third: tomorrow morning, make an excuse to search my residence, I told Jamison. Say out loud that my body still hasn’t been found.
Every part of me hurts. I thirst for more water than I could have carried with me. I haven’t eaten. My gunshot wound aches horrifically — I think the bandages may have come loose. If there are sharks in the area, all I’ll have to defend myself with is a knife.
