SALT: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller Read online

  “I owe you no explanation.” Susan crossed her arms. “I explain my actions to no man. Especially not the likes of you.”

  “Well, explanations or not, Faust, you’ve earned yourself a berth in the brig.”

  Duncan grabbed the woman, spinning her around, and brought her arms behind her back. He reached into his coat and pulled out a set of plastic ties and bound her wrists.

  “Get your filthy hands off me,” she cried.

  “If you start talking,” Jim said.

  She spat at his face, but the wind whipped it away. Her face twisted into a grimace. How a woman filled with such hate could lead a growing congregation of converts, Jim just couldn’t understand. “No? Fine, let’s take her back to the Bravo, Dunc. We’ll catch up with Eva later toward the end of her shift.”

  “Righto,” Duncan said, pushing Susan Faust ahead of him.

  As they made their way back to the Bravo, forcing Faust up the ladder to the ship’s bow, Jim heard a scream from the stern of the ship.

  Beyond the stern of the Bravo was one of the main fishing trawlers used by the community to bring in the nets from the edge of the flotilla, but there shouldn’t be anyone on the trawler tonight; they weren’t due for netting for another two days.

  “Did you hear that?” Jim said as Duncan continued to push Faust ahead.

  “What’s that?”

  The sounds of rain and the grumble of thunder made it difficult to speak, so Jim had to shout. As he did, another scream came on the air, and all three of them stopped and looked in the same direction. A few seconds later Jim saw a dark shape running towards the trawler across the various boats lashed together off the Bravo’s starboard side. A flashlight’s beam bounced ahead of the runner.

  “It’s Eva,” Jim shouted. “You take Faust to the brig. I’ll see what the matter is.”

  Before Duncan could speak, Jim set off, running towards the trawler, trying to catch up with Eva. She seemed to move like a stop-frame motion picture, her image jumping forward with each flash of lightning.

  Eventually he caught up with her. She was leaning over the side of the trawler, her hands covered in blood. She looked out to the roiling sea and screamed, “Jean!”

  Chapter 5

  Eva leaned over the trawler’s railing, shining her flashlight into the water. The waves crashed against the boat, covering her face in salt water. She blinked away the spray and continued to train the beam of light on the water’s surface. “Jean,” she screamed. “Jean, are you there?”

  A dark spot appeared beneath her light, disappeared, and then appeared again. A weak yell came to her on the wind. Jean was there. Then Eva saw two arms shoot out from the water. Jean stretched her head back and screamed before she went under the water again.

  Blood shone like oil around her as the water thrashed. Then Eva realised why Jean was screaming. It was the thing she feared most. Shark.

  Eva turned away from the edge and sprinted across the trawler’s wooden deck, grabbing onto fishing crates and netting to stop herself from falling over. Her heart pounded, and her chest tightened against her straining lungs as she smashed open the cabin door and crashed in. She found the harpoon gun and made sure it was cocked and ready for use.

  Back at the rail, she held the flashlight in her mouth.

  She saw the blood and thrashing in the water and sighted down the harpoon’s length, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t accidentally hit Jean.

  The thick, ancient form of a great white slipped out of the water as it circled Jean’s position. Her body was limp on the surface now, but if there was a chance…

  The shark straightened. With a flick of its tail fin, it brought its nose up out of the water. Its mouth opened; its teeth gleamed beneath Eva’s light. Its dark eye seemed to blink.

  Holding her breath, Eva pulled the trigger.

  The harpoon fired out of the gun and struck the shark just behind its mouth, slicing through its gills. It turned away with the hit.

  The rope, coiled behind her, burned her arm as it ran out. She dropped the gun, gripped the rope, and tied it to a bollard on the trawler’s deck.

  Once the slack had run out, the boat jerked with each pull as the shark tried to get free, but the barb was hooked too deep. It wouldn’t get free now.

  “Jesus, Eva, what’s going on?”

  She spun at the voice, raising her flashlight ready to strike someone down. A hand gripped her wrist.

  “It’s me, Jim.”

  “Shit, Jim, Jean’s gone over. Please help me.”

  Jim looked down at the rope and the emptied harpoon gun. A confused expression came over his tired face, but his bright blue eyes sharpened as he realised. “A shark?”

  “Quick, help me get her in.”

  With Jim’s help, Eva grabbed a weighted net and managed to throw it over Jean’s body and drag her in. They used a couple of long boat hooks to hook Jean under the arms and lift her up.

  For a moment she moved as if she might still be alive.

  “Jean, it’s okay. We’ve got you,” Eva said.

  But as they lifted her clear of the water, Eva had to hold back the impulse to throw up. Jean’s legs were in tatters; blood dripped from her wounds. Still, they brought her remains into the boat. Jim covered her ravaged body with a tarp.

  The rope went limp.

  Eva cast her flashlight across the waters and saw a dozen fins piercing the surface, lured by Jean’s blood. The bastards would have no easy meal tonight. She cut away the rope, letting it fall from the side of the boat, hoping the one she shot was dead.

  She turned to Jean’s body.

  Jim was standing over her, checking her neck and wrist for a pulse. Her eyes were shut, and her mouth hung open. Jim shook his head before pulling the tarp over her face.

  “I’m sorry. She’s gone,” he said, his voice barely audible over the storm and the pounding of blood rushing through Eva’s head.

  The shock hit her hard; she lost her balance and fell backwards.

  Jim grabbed her, steadying her before leading her into the trawler’s cabin.

  “You need to tell me what happened,” Jim said as he sat opposite Eva, a small table between them. The rattle of rigging and a ship’s bell acted like a hypnotic song, helping to slow her heartbeat down.

  “Why would Jean go over?” Jim asked. “Grief for Mike?”

  Eva closed her eyes, concentrating on the events before the sharks… “No. This was not suicide. Someone did this. Someone killed her by throwing her over. This is murder, Jim. Cold-blooded murder.”

  ***

  “No, Jim. You’re wrong.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time the spouse of a volunteer has gone over with grief. We have to see that as a possibility.”

  “You’re not listening to me. I saw someone on my patrol. I was on my way to speak with Graves—” Eva stopped, not wanting to go into detail about what she’d done to Shaley and Tyson. “About some trivial thing. Anyways, he wasn’t there, so I headed back to start my route properly when I saw a light here on the trawler. When I got closer, I must have spooked them.”

  “Did you get a look at them?” Jim handed her a cup of tea and sat down again.

  “No. I just saw Jean hit the water, but heard someone running off across the boards. What is it with you Brits and tea?”

  “Calms the nerves, helps you think clearly.”

  “It tastes like shit, and I don’t need calm nerves. I know what I damn well saw. Hell, you can even see the footprint in the blood on the deck. And half of Jean’s coat is torn on the railing that’s nearly coming away. That’s what we call a sign of struggle.”

  “Okay, I get it. I’m sorry. Let’s just think things through. Who would want her dead? You mentioned something about Graves. Do you
think he’s involved?”

  Eva tipped the tea out of an open porthole, unable to stand its awful stench a moment longer. “I doubt it. There was… an altercation earlier when Shaley and Tyson turned up to claim Mike’s possessions. I persuaded them that wasn’t such a good idea, but it was nothing that would make him kill Jean for. Graves is many things, but he’s not so stupid to kill someone like this.”

  “I don’t know what you thought of coincidences when you were in the force,” Jim said, “but I’ve got Frank in the brig. That puts Marcus Graves at the centre of two incidents in the same day.”

  “What did Frank have to say about his pathetic attempt?”

  Jim sat back, scrutinising her.

  “You don’t think you can trust me?” Eva said. “Is it something to do with Jean?”

  “No, quite the opposite, but listen. I was out tonight because I wanted to find you. And after this, I think it’s even more important.”

  “What is?”

  “Mike, he came to me specifically to request volunteer status, and when the weather broke, it was him that wanted to get away. Said it was safer for everyone concerned.”

  Eva thought about that. She had spoken with Mike that very morning, and he hadn’t mentioned any of this. Could Jim be lying? If so, what would his motivation be? To take the responsibility off his shoulders perhaps? But then surely, he’d make sure the whole community knew it wasn’t his decision. It wasn’t like he needed the extra hassle. He was already on shaky ground.

  “Mike did some work for Graves recently,” Eva said. “And I noticed Ade going to Graves’ place this morning. Do you know anything about that?”

  “I don’t, but Mike was really eager to leave when I spoke with him. I thought that perhaps he’d upset Marcus over something.”

  “None of this makes any sense,” Eva said. She leant back against the cabin wall, feeling its smoothed wooden surface against her skull. She wondered how many fishermen or women had sat against this very spot, rubbing it smooth, thinking over their problems, their grief.

  “You said you were looking for me. What is it you wanted?”

  “Someone put Frank up to my assassination. Took his wife as a bargaining chip.”

  “And what? You want me to find her? After all this?”

  “Frank mentioned the guy had a US pistol. I’ll get you all the details, but kidnapping, assassination, and murder in the same day… if that’s not a coincidence worth investigating, I don’t know what is. Will you take this on, like you would a case? I’ll give you everything I can to help you. Find the killer.”

  “Only if I can start with paying a visit to Marcus Graves. He’s been an itch I’ve wanted to scratch for some time.”

  Jim shrugged. “Do what you want; it’s your investigation.”

  “On one condition,” Eva said, leaning forward over the table.

  “Name it.”

  “You make sure Danny has a safe place. Before I came out, Jean asked me to look out for him if anything happened to her. It seems she knew something was up after all. I betrayed her friendship with Mike; I’m not going to betray my promise to her now.”

  “We’ll bring him into the Bravo right away. I’ll send Duncan and some of the crew. In the meantime, you can set up in the ops room; use that as a base of operations. It’s secure.”

  He handed her a key. She pocketed it.

  “So, you in?” He held out his hand.

  She shook it, gripping hard. “I’m in. But I will be judge, jury and executioner on this one.”

  “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

  Eva let go of Jim’s hand, stood, and walked out of the cabin. She stopped at the tarp, pulled it back, and looked down at Jean’s face one last time.

  Pain was etched into every salted skin cell.

  “I’ll get him, Jean, I promise you that.” I owe you at least that much.

  She accompanied Jim back to the Bravo.

  Duncan and two crewmen were already setting out to retrieve Danny. That poor kid. Losing two parents in the same day. Too fucking cruel. But then she thought back to her family, her child, the one she left at home while she agreed to take a boat trip on some smuggling operation.

  It was days like these that made her wish she’d stayed behind with her daughter. Together in death was better than separated in life.

  Chapter 6

  With the dawn breaking over the horizon and amber light shining into Danny’s cabin, Jim handed him one of his books. “Here you go, son, that’ll keep you busy for a while.”

  The boy wiped his face. It was clear he’d been crying.

  Duncan sat down on the bunk next to him. “You’ll be safe here, mate. You’ll have me and the crew in the next cabins. Anything you want, just ask. And if you want, we’ll let you tag along with some of the engineers. How’d you like to learn metalworking?”

  Danny shrugged, holding the book in his hands. “I suppose that would be fun.”

  “No rush, son, you just get yourself settled. We’ll bring you some breakfast in a bit.”

  “Thanks,” Danny said. He sat back on his bunk, just staring at the book. Poor kid looked shell-shocked. At least Eva had managed to calm him down. It would take a while for him to come to terms with things, but he was young and resilient. The crew would make sure he stayed occupied. And Lord of The Rings would take him a while to work his way through.

  “Okay, son, you stay there. One of the crew will be along shortly. Dunc, if you wouldn’t mind.” Jim nodded to the open door.

  Duncan patted Danny on the shoulder.

  It was the most affection Jim had seen Duncan ever give a child; it didn’t come naturally to him. Probably explained why he and his wife never had kids, and why he spent so much time on the boats. Duncan was a true man of the sea. He coped better out here than anyone Jim had known.

  They closed the door to Danny’s cabin and moved down the narrow, grey-walled corridor towards the destroyer’s brig section, ducking under the small hatches as they went.

  They arrived at the small makeshift brig in what used to be senior rates cabins; just six cells, three a side, metal bars welded in place of the wooden doors.

  Frank faced Faust through the bars of their doors.

  Jim thought he saw something between them, some acknowledgement or understanding.

  When Jim and Duncan came into view, Frank pressed his face against the bars and eagerly said, “Any news of my wife? Did you find the guy?”

  “We’re working on it,” Jim said. “We’ve allocated resources, and we’re investigating a few leads.”

  “Is that it? What the fuck, man? She could have been butchered by now.”

  Duncan moved directly in front of Frank. “Have some damn respect. You’re lucky I’ve not thrown you to the sharks for attempted murder.”

  “Tell me, Frank,” Jim said, “why’d you tip us off about the stocks going missing?”

  “What?” Frank said. “I never said anything about—”

  Jim caught Susan’s face suddenly sharpen as she stared at Frank. Jim turned his attention to her. “Oh, that makes sense now.”

  “What does?” she said.

  “You’re both in on it. You seem a little pissed at dear Frank here for dropping you in it, Miss Faust. That not part of the plan, eh?”

  “I never said anything about that,” Frank protested.

  Susan sneered at him, turning her attentions to Jim. “I’ve nothing to do with Frank. Stupid. That’s not it at all.”

  “Oh? Tell me, then, what did you want the stockpiles for, then? Planning a little party for you and your flock?”

  Her silence was damning. Jim turned to Frank.

  “Right, you two, I’ve run out of patience. This place is on the verge of self-destruction,
so your two lives mean nothing to me. Honestly, you’re a hassle I could do without. And if you both happened to go missing, you’d make my job here a hell of a lot easier. So here’s the deal: you start talking, telling me what the hell is going on, or I’ll leave Dunc here to do as he wishes.”

  Frank laughed, but as he looked at Duncan’s fierce gaze, the sound died in his throat.

  Susan remained silent, clearly working out her next move.

  Jim gave them a minute before turning his back and heading for the door. “They’re all yours, Dunc. If you want to feed them to the sharks, go for it. I’m sick of this bullshit. Or perhaps you could just let Frank out, give his American friend a chance to catch up with him.”

  He got two steps down the corridor when Frank yelled, “Okay, okay, wait, we can work something out.”

  Jim smiled to himself. There were some benefits of having an ex-rugby-playing son who looked like Thor and the threat of death. “You ready to talk, then, Frank? Because if not…”

  “Yes, yes, come on, let’s work this out. I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

  All the time he was jabbering on, Jim noticed Susan trying to hide in the shadows of the cell. Although Jim wasn’t an expert on such matters, he could tell she was as guilty as sin. The holiest often were, he thought. He stood with his back to her, blocking her view of Frank, but he still wanted her to hear everything.

  “First of all, Frank, tell me, who is responsible for the theft of the resources and the sabotage of the hydro and wind turbines. Is it Marcus?”

  “No. Marcus ain’t into all that. You don’t shit on your own doorstep, you know?”

  “Don’t give me all that gang member loyalty crap. Marcus is scum.”

  “Hey, that’s my family. Tone it down a bit.”

  “I’m getting real tired here, Frank, spill.”

  “Fine, fuck’s sake, it was her.” He pointed across the cell to Faust. “The whole thing, the theft and the sabotage. Marcus caught her at it last week.”