Page 2 of Easy

The captain nodded his grisly head. Easy’s first stop was to clear the helipad. He holstered his sidearm and pulled his automatic around to his shoulder. Starting forward, he headed to the stern where the helipad was located. Two more guards were positioned there. One tried to get inside the bridge, but the captain had locked everyone out.

Easy ghosted one, and the other guy ducked and ran for the stairs, scrambling away and out of sight. He had a hand radio.

“LT,” Easy said through his comm. “The helipad is clear.”

Suddenly, from somewhere below, a woman screamed at the top of her lungs. Easy looked out to the bow, searching for the pirate’s boat. They were moving rapidly around to the starboard side. Someone shifted and Easy saw him raise an RPG to his shoulder. He dove for cover as it launched.

A deafening roar split the air and Easy covered his head as debris rained down, teak decking, bits and pieces of deck chairs, and fiberglass.

“Easy!”

“I’m okay, LT.” There was a cacophony of sound from the lower decks, people yelling and shouting in sheer terror as the yacht listed. The pirate boat sped off and rounded the bow, going out of Easy’s line of sight. When he rose and ran to the edge of the deck, he saw pirates boarding. As soon as they were picked up, the fast boat driver gunned the engine and headed out to sea.

“Fuckers,” he swore. “LT, I have a situation here.” Easy started for the stairs. “The passengers are still below decks. The pirates bugged out. I’m going down there.”

“Copy that. We’re coming in. Hang tough.”

Easy, having been on boats since he learned to walk, used the railings to slide down to the next deck. The screaming continued and now he could hear the pounding. The bastards had locked them in to keep the SEALs busy with rescue instead of pursuit.

He heard, over his comms, Bondo giving Tex the information so he could make decisions. “The Fourth Fleet is too far away, but HQ has contacted the Jamaican Defense Force Coast Guard, their version of a Navy, and they are sending a ship to assist. ETA fifteen minutes.”

When he reached the third deck, he could hear the whooshing roar of the Black Hawk as it hovered above him. Easy reached for his comms, and shouted, “Tex! Tell the captain to set the anchor, so we don’t keep drifting.” He leaned over the starboard railing of the yacht and saw a gaping hole in the side. The hull was breached, and the ship was taking on water. “Tell him to blow the port ballast!”

Easy continued sliding down to the decks using the handrails. The boat righted itself. The ballast release would help, but this ship was going down. She still had a drunken tilt to her yet was holding above the waves. He had to get those people out.

He ran into the main salon and found the entrance down to the staterooms. Rushing down the winding stairs, he hit some water when he reached the bottom. He rushed to the first stateroom, using the butt of his rifle to break the lock. Three people pushed their way out, their faces twisted with panic and terror. “Get to the upper deck, grab life jackets, and wait for instructions,” he shouted over the noise they were making.

The last person out, a woman, took one look at his gun and lost her shit. She stood in the middle of the hallway and screamed and screamed, her eyes dilated in full panic mode. He reached out and shook her, shouting into her face. “US military. US military. I’m here to help you.”

One of the guys grabbed her arm and said, “I’ve got her. You save the rest of them.”

Easy turned away and went to the next door where he heard more pounding. There was more water here, up to his ankles. After releasing the door, it swung open to reveal the main stateroom and the married couple. He repeated his instructions and thanked God these people were much calmer.

“Secret Service?” he asked. She closed her eyes and pointed inside. On the floor, both agents were face down.

“They killed them,” the bride said, her voice hoarse and strained. She wiped at her tears. “They were the best guys,” she sobbed softly. Her husband slipped his arm around her.

“Crew?”

“Down below.”

“Get to the top deck,” he ordered. After one last look at the agents, they started moving. Easy turned away from the bodies. There wasn’t anything he could do for them now. He was here to save the living. He raced to the door leading down to the galley, crew quarters, and the engine room. The water down here was up to his calves. He was running out of time.

He sloshed through the liquid, opening all the doors to the staterooms, but they were all empty.

The galley.

He brought up his rifle and started toward it. As he approached, a burst of automatic weapons fire shattered the etched frosted-glass windows. He dove for cover, beneath the sturdy wall, plowing into the warm sea water. He crawled to the doorway, peeking in.

One tango. He must have gotten left behind.

Easy pulled his sidearm, shot at the guy's shins. He cried out and fell. When he hit the deck, Easy shot him in the head. No mercy here when lives were at stake, and his purpose was always to protect those who were unable to protect themselves. Easy quite simply removed the barrier.

Coming to his knees, he could see the five crew members huddled in the corner. “Get out,” he yelled, and they rose, struggling through the water as fast as they could, making a beeline for the doorway. Then he saw a guy slumped against the wall. He sloshed over to him. Checked his pulse. The guy was hanging on, and it looked like a bullet ricochet.

He straightened and lifted the man. As he turned to the others, a big, strapping kid stepped forward and took him over his shoulder. “I’ll get him out,” he promised.

At that moment the vessel shuddered violently. The engines blew, bearings rebounding inside the hull like a pinball machine. Exploding parts hit the floor under his feet. He turned to sprint away, but the large hulk of the refrigerator came tumbling from its mounts.

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