I had had many nightmares about dying in an accident – a plane crash, a car crash, a subway crash, and even a spacecraft crash.
But never before had I experienced this.
Gravity pulled the ferry downwards, as if it were a monster of the deep, fishing, slowly reeling us in, while the panic of getting killed ate up our insides. George Knossos's poem rang in my ears –
'...The old boat is going down as it has had its day
and all that we know and love is passing away.
It seems strange and sad how this has come about
but the evidence is clear without a shadow of doubt...'
The couple's screaming jolted me back into the present.
"Mr. and Mrs. DeVere?" I asked.
They hesitatingly nodded. I took of the sacks on their heads. Mrs. DeVere was, like her daughter, an auburn haired woman, and Mr. DeVere had long black hair that ended in a ponytail. Both their eyes were full of fear that they would drown, but relief that it wasn't some goon who was trying to kill them.
I looked around everywhere in the tiny toilet, but there was nothing sharp enough to cut through the cords, and there wasn't enough time to go back to the storage room and look for a knife.
Mr. DeVere yelled through the gag in his mouth. He jerked his head downwards, and shook himself, his jacket opening.
"In the jacket?" I asked. He nodded, and shook his head vigorously to the left. The left pocket.
I searched through his jacket, finding his wallet, his breath mints, his reading glasses and –
"A Swiss knife." I said. The man nodded energetically.
The knife was barely bigger than my thumb, but at that moment I had nothing else to work with. I started on the man's mouth gag. The ferry was sinking fast. I really hoped Michael had been able to catch the three unreliable crew members and gotten the onboard passengers to safety.
As soon as I got the gag off, Mr. DeVere exclaimed, "Is Sofia alright? Is she safe?" The woman nodded to show that her concern was the same.
"I – I don't know," I said, feeling very stupid. "The last I saw of her was yesterday. I haven't kept in touch with her since."
His face fell. But I couldn't focus too much on that, because the water had started accumulating around my feet. I had to hurry.
In the next five minutes, I cut through Mr. and Mrs. DeVere's hands and leg cords. They stood up with difficulty, since the water was now to our stomachs.
"Get out of here!" I screamed at them. They didn't hesitate. They waded through the water, pushed the door open and left. I stopped to put my gun safely in its case under my clothes, hoping it wouldn't get too wet. I went to the door and pulled.
It didn't open.
I pulled harder. It still didn't.
It had been locked from the outside.
In a rush, I was reminded of my worst nightmares, all of them coming – my family standing far away, watching me being tortured to death, my mouth and nose being clamped down by someone, not allowing me to breathe, me being put into a small wooden box, which gets smaller and smaller by the moment, nobody nearby to hear me scream on top of my lungs...
That's how I felt when the water reached up to my chin. The door wasn't opening. Maybe the man outside had slid a long bar through the handle, so I couldn't open it.
Water went up my nose to my eyes.
So this was it then, I thought. This was how I was going to die. I would never see my Gran, or my college, or my best friend...
The room was now full of water. My lungs were bursting with pain as I held all the air I had. But what was the point? No miracle was going to happen – all the people would be gone by now. So, I didn't hold my breath any longer. I stopped trying to open the door. I gave up.
I give up.
A sudden calm washed over me as I thought those words. I was dying. So what? I was going to the promised land – to my parents. They would be waiting for me with open arms. There would be no sorrow there, only happiness. No corruption, only honesty and truthfulness. It would be paradise.
Somewhere in my peaceful state, I heard a dim banging. It was near me and very annoying, yet it wasn't loud. I tried not to pay too much attention to it. But the noise somehow kept me clinging to reality. And, in reality, I was still in pain. I opened my eyes. The small room around me was so dull and blue. And, even though I was losing my senses completely, I could still see the door being pushed. It was useless, I knew it. I had no strength left in me. I was going to die.
The last thing I saw before I did was a pair of the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen looking down at me.
"Eve?" A voice echoed in my brain.
"Mama?" I replied.
A woman, not older than twenty-five, dressed in a beautiful sundress crouched near me, her hair tied up in a bun, her bright blue eyes looking at me, filled with love.
"Darling," she said, picking me up off the ground, raising me to the sun and twirling around, then her voice changed as she sang, "Eyes of diamonds, heart of gold, Let her praise in towns be told, Lips so lovely, laughs of bliss, There's no child as pure as this..."
The music of this Latin rhyme left ripples of memories as I heard another voice – a voice not too far away, a voice I knew.
My eyes opened in response to my grandmother, talking in her sleep, sitting on an old chair. I looked around. Even in the dim light I could see that the walls were too white for my liking. In front of me was a long line of beds, each occupied with a sick person, all asleep. Their families were sitting on stools or walking around harassed. Once or twice, I saw a white clothed person walk around, clipboard in hand.
In short, I was in a hospital.
I sat up slowly, trying not to trigger the dull pain in my chest any more. I looked at the faces of all the people in the beds. They were all there – the captain, her co-captain, the crew members who had asked me to go to the lobby, the girls who were giggling at Michael...
Michael. My eyes sought my savior. It was him. It had to be him. He was the best and the fastest swimmer I knew who could hold his breath longer than most people. I saw Mr. and Mrs. Earnest near the other end, sleeping on each other's shoulders. On the bed next to them was Michael, asleep. Looking at his peaceful face, I too felt like I could use a nap. I settled comfortably on the pillow, silently thanking him and the Lord for saving me. I lost consciousness in minutes.
I didn't see the face of the sun for a week. I had shut myself off from the world. The news of Michael saving me had been printed into every newspaper publication I knew. The two men and the three other crew members had also been arrested, but they still hadn't given any information. My grandmother made me tasty meals every day, maybe in an effort to improve my mood. But I never ate any more than three slices of bread and milk every time. The only outside contact I had was with Michael, and that too on the telephone. We talked for hours and hours, but always stayed wary of the real topic. We didn't talk about the accident, or the arrests, or whether Mr. I had figured out who the unknown villain was. Instead, we talked about old times. Childish incidents of school and our playdates. Birthday parties and stupid pranks. Years after our separation and our new hobbies. I told him about the dream I had about my mother. But he said that it must have been an old memory that had resurfaced.
It had been exactly ten days after the accident, when I received a call from Mr. I.
"Hello?" I said into the telephone.
"Ms. R," said his relieved voice. "Finally, after so long. How are you, child?"
"I'm better."
"Well then, I'm glad." He said. He waited for a while for me to say something, and when I didn't, he continued. "Do you remember the book you and Mr. E had found?"
"Yes."
"Well, we have rounded up the number of criminals with names starting with D to four – Ferdinand Douglas, Arthur Dunaway, Georg DeAbrio and Carl Dobbins. We have notified the police, who are now searching for them. They didn't trust us enough to tell us more about them - their history of crimes and such. Honestly, we don't trust them enough to not get bribed to silence by a third party. So, we have planned sent eight of our members to look for them. Well, we have sent six, but you –"
"You want Michael and me to go with the search party?"
He hesitated. "Well, I – if you – it would be best if... well..."
"Have you talked to Michael?"
"Yes, and he says that he's ready, and he's hoping you will join him."
"But why us? I mean..."
"By far, you two are the most intelligent members of our organization. You were able to figure out the mystery of the ferry all alone with mere letters and numbers. We wanted to send you to spy on one of the criminals – Arthur Dunaway. He is a mastermind at manipulating people to his side and also has chests full of money, so he had maximum security."
"How on earth do you expect us to spy on someone with maximum security?"
His voice softened ten decibels. "Lucky for us, we have a spy there, a security guard. According to him, the men who are in charge of the security come to duty in shifts. The first one leaves at three o'clock. Our spy can knock the second one out cold when he arrives by putting something in his drink. He will remain so for three hours. In these three hours, you must somehow find a way to get into his penthouse, and gather all the information about him that you can. Can I trust you on this one, Ms. R?"
For some reason, I didn't even hesitate. "Alright, then."
He sounded so happy. "Thank you, my dear. I shall soon contact you about our next meeting. Good day."
"Good day, sir."