John Gone by Michael Kayatta

peered over its surface and watched as the two
men systematically checked the passenger’s wrists.
    “They must be looking for the watch,” John
said quietly.
    “Who are they?” Mouse asked at a low volume
from his bag.
    “I don’t know.”
    “What are we going to do?”
    “I don’t know that either. I’m still new at
this, remember? All I know is that we need to get out of here.”
    “Lifeboats,” Mouse suggested. “I saw some on
the side rail by the bench.”
    “Oh, I saw those,” John said. “Good idea.
Five points.” Points were something John and Ronika arbitrarily
assigned one another when they did something well that the other
noticed. The points never added up to anything and weren’t recorded
anywhere, but both John and Ronika were convinced of their lead
over the other.
    John hunched down and slowly steeped forward.
Before he could move, one of Rodney’s large callused hands reached
out from underneath the table and latched onto his ankle.
    “You ain’t leaving me here to die!” Her
whisper was so loud that John thought she may as well have just
spoken in regular tone. He shook off her grip and stumbled toward
the corner of the cabin.
    John found the pulley for the lifeboat tied
off on the railing and slowly undid its knot without taking his
eyes off the two men on the back deck. The gunmen still hadn’t
noticed him, but from the look of things, were almost done with
their check of the deck crowd.
    The knot came loose suddenly in John’s hands,
and the weight of the lifeboat pulled the rope supporting it
rapidly through the metal hub of the pulley. He grasped at the rope
to stop it, but the speed of its movement burned his hands.
Suddenly, a large hand appeared above his, and quickly squeezed the
rope to a halt. John immediately recognized the goliath hand as
Rodney’s.
    “Boy, you sure don’t know nothin’ about
nothin’. We need to get in the boat first. How were you planning on
getting down there? Jump yonder on your little chicken legs, I
suppose.” She easily raised the boat back up to the railing’s
edge.
    “Thanks,” John responded begrudgingly,
knowing she was right.
    “Get in,” she said.
    John slowly climbed over the rail and moved
into the boat. “Don’t drop me,” he said.
    Rodney shook her head in frustration. “Hold
this rope with me now.” She handed him the end of the rope while
maintaining her own grip a few inches above his and awkwardly
entered the small lifeboat. It tipped heavily to the side she sat
on.
    Her large hands began to move quickly, one
over the other, lowering the boat to the water below. John watched
the movements and tried to get the timing of his hands to match
hers. Soon, they touched down quietly on the water’s surface.
    John felt something wet splash against the
top of his head. He looked up and another drop broke against his
nose. It was starting to rain.
     
     
     
     

Chapter 6
     
    “Thanks for your help, Rodney. I thought they
were going to kill me,” John said as he removed the stolen white
jacket from his shoulders. He grabbed the oars resting inside the
boat and lowered them into the water at his sides. He heaved the
handles back against ocean’s body and began his row away from the
hijacked yacht.
    “Kill you? Why would they want to kill some
kid?” Rodney asked, looking back toward the yacht.
    “Oh, I don’t know. You know, they looked like
they were going to kill everyone, right?” he answered
dismissively.
    She gasped dramatically. “It’s you, isn’t it!
I thought you looked weird, stuffing your bag with food and wearing
blue jeans,” she said. “Stop rowing, we’re heading back.” She
leaned forward and grabbed the end of one of John’s oars. He
refused to let go, and the two began to pull back and forth against
one another.
    “Why do you want to go back there?” John
exclaimed.
    “Cause I’m giving you up!” she answered,
pulling back hard on the oar.
    “Why?”
    “I ain’t dying for some dumbass