Chapter 8 - The Ferry and the Flare Gun
The horn of the Miller’s Point auto-ferry blared a deep, mournful warning through the fog as my mother slammed the brakes at the terminal gate.
“The boarding ramp is lifting!” Daniel shouted, throwing his door open before the truck had even fully stopped.
We sprinted across the wet asphalt of the loading zone. The massive steel ramp was slowly grinding upward, the dark churning water of the harbor widening between the dock and the ship.
Daniel didn't hesitate. He leapt across the three-foot gap, landing hard on the grated steel of the rising ramp.
I threw myself after him, my boots slipping on the wet metal. Daniel caught my arm, hauling me up just as the ramp locked into place. We had made it aboard.
The lower car deck was packed with vehicles, smelling of diesel exhaust and sea salt.
“Check the VIP cabins on the upper deck,” I told Daniel, catching my breath. “It’s the only place she could hide without a vehicle.”
We pounded up the narrow metal staircases, bursting through the doors into the carpeted passenger lounge. It was nearly empty, mostly occupied by sleeping truck drivers waiting out the storm.
We moved down the hallway of the private cabins, checking the small brass numbers on the doors.
When we reached Cabin 4, I heard a sound that made my heart stop.
A child, crying softly.
Daniel threw his shoulder against the door. The cheap lock splintered instantly, the door crashing open.
Inside the small, dimly lit cabin stood Natalie. She had stripped off her raincoat and was frantically stuffing bundles of cash from the duffel bag into a smaller, waterproof backpack.
Huddled on the narrow bunk bed behind her, clutching his knees to his chest, was a little boy with bright green eyes.
“Leo!” Daniel cried.
“Daddy!” the little boy screamed, scrambling off the bed and running straight into Daniel’s arms. Daniel collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his son’s neck, sobbing with a relief so profound it felt like a physical weight leaving the room.
Natalie whipped around, her eyes wild and feral. In her hand, she held a second flare gun—she had grabbed a spare from the emergency locker on the car deck.
“Get away from him!” Natalie shrieked, aiming the bright orange plastic gun directly at me.
“It’s over, Natalie,” I said, standing between her and the door. “You can't go anywhere. The coast guard is already responding to the explosion at the dock. They’ll intercept this ferry before it reaches the mainland.”
“I’ll burn the cash!” she threatened hysterically, waving the flare gun toward the open duffel bag on the bed. “I’ll burn the whole cabin! I won't go back to being nothing!”
“You were never nothing,” Daniel said quietly, standing up and pulling Leo safely behind his leg. “We had a good life, Natalie. We had a home. You threw it away for diamonds that turned out to be glass.”
Natalie’s face twisted in agony. The realization of her own catastrophic greed was finally crashing down on her.
She raised the flare gun, pointing it squarely at Daniel’s chest. Her finger tightened on the trigger.
Suddenly, little Leo stepped out from behind his father’s leg. He stood bravely in front of Daniel, looking up at his mother with tears streaming down his face.
“Don't hurt the nice lady, Mommy,” Leo sniffled, pointing a small finger at me.
Natalie froze.
“She gave me a sweet roll when I was hiding in the big kitchen,” Leo said, wiping his nose. “She promised she wouldn't tell the mean men where I was.”
I stared at the little boy in shock. Yesterday, I had found a frightened child hiding in the pantry. He wouldn't speak, so I had given him a pastry and promised to keep his secret, assuming he belonged to one of the catering staff. I had no idea I was looking at the heir to this entire nightmare.
Natalie looked at her son, then at me. The flare gun in her hand began to tremble violently.
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The cold, calculating mastermind finally broke.
With a ragged, gut-wrenching sob, Natalie dropped the flare gun to the floor. She sank to her knees, burying her face in her hands, weeping as the sirens of the coast guard cutters finally pierced the fog outside the cabin window.
