Wanted (Amanda Lance) - By Amanda Lance Page 0,23

I still liked the sound and hated myself instantly. “You would be dead if it wasn’t for me.”

“I wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for you.”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

I shuddered. “You’re disgusting.”

Charlie glared at me, but said nothing and only broke his stare when he saw me stand up.

I immediately went for the door. I was surprised to find it unlocked, but outside it only led to a narrow hallway with metal white pipes and linoleum floors. I considered that may have been some sort of elaborate prison constructed for their victims, but then shook my head. I needed to find an exit. I looked left and right, but neither direction offered anything different.

Taking a guess, I ran to the right and kept right on running. I passed a series of simple doors that were unlabeled, but I threw my fists on them anyway, hoping someone would come out and help. Below me the floor shifted and swelled, knocking me over.

“Guess you ain’t got your sea legs yet, huh?” Charlie was standing above me then. I guess I hadn’t gotten as far as I had hoped. My breath heaved with anger and my head pulsed with pain.

“Take. Me. Home,” I demanded.

“I. Can’t.” He seemed amused and held out a hand to help me up. Only this time I didn’t accept it and picked myself back up. I glared at him with all of the mental daggers I could throw and continued walking down the hall. He followed at a distance he deemed safe.

“Fine, but you or one of your thieving friends will have to shoot me if you expect me to cooperate. I’ll find my own way out of here.”

He laughed. “What part of ‘in the middle of the Atlantic’ don’t you understand?”

“I don’t believe you.” That wasn’t entirely true. It was more like I didn’t want to believe him, but as my senses tuned in to the sounds of calamity above us and the floor continued to sway ever so slightly, I was beginning to fear it was true.

He stopped laughing and became serious again. “Wait here a second.” He then ran back in the direction we had come from. Or at least I think it was the same direction. I reached up and grabbed a long strip of piping that had some kind of meshing attached around it. When I let go, my fingers were covered with grease and smelled of gasoline.

“Don’t touch nothin’.”

I gasped and felt my hand at my chest. “Don’t creep up on me!”

He smiled. “I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did!”

He laughed and handed me the denim jacket I recognized from the night before. “What’s this for?”

“Technically, you’re a stowaway. You should try not to get caught.” He handed me a red ball cap and watched intently as I put it on. Like the jacket, it was much too big, but I bundled up my hair and tucked as much of it as I could in the cap.

“What happens if someone finds me here?”

“They won’t.”

“What if they do?”

“They won’t, Addie. I won’t let ‘em.”

I tried to laugh, but it didn’t come out right. “Yeah, right.”

I followed him down a short set of halls and then up a bunch of painted stairs and more hallways. Although it felt good to move after so long, my body didn’t appreciate the long walk. The muscles in my shoulders and legs ached, but I was slightly amazed that thin bandages had been wrapped around my ankles where the skin had begun to blister. There was also a band-aid on my foot. When I was putting on the jacket I could smell a sort of ointment against the abrasions that circled my wrists. I felt instant hope at this realization. This meant there had to be a doctor on board. Someone had taken care of me, someone knew I was there. Maybe the Coast Guard was coming for me at this very moment.

Once we reached the deck, I was grateful for both the hat and the jacket. The wind was downright ferocious, and when it bounced from the sea, the temperature dropped dramatically. I turned my head away as it made me shiver. Men, all wearing safety helmets and life vests, were scattered around, some busying themselves with tools, others doing things with cables and wires that I didn’t understand. I wanted to pretend they were all props in some great lie, that they were part of this practical joke being pulled on me, that maybe I was hallucinating, or

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