The PQ Escapes... Almost

So, there I was, stuck in the hold.

As quietly as possibly I suited up, wrapping the rope loosely in a chord over one shoulder after tying the grapnel hook to one end. I stuffed the multi-tool back in my boot, shoved The Catcher in the Rye into my back pocket, rolled up the Playboy into as tight a tube as I could (hey, stop your snickering, n00b), and tossed back a shot of rum by sticking my head under a spigot in the end of one of the casks.

I then took a deep breath and attempted to climb the ladder quietly. It was of stout construction, so this gave me little difficulty. The problem came when I reached the summit of my climb… How was I to open the door without calling attention to myself?

I settled down to wait for the coming darkness.

It felt like I was stuck to that ladder like a fly in amber… and the Jurassic Period was in no hurry to end.
Still, as I have found out for myself in life, if you wait long enough, eventually something good will happen (usually completely by “accident”).

Unfortunately... the "something good" generally happens after you have been buried under a mountain of shit for a few years.

But ANYWAYS...

Darkness dropped over the deck like a squirrel shot from a tree branch (which is to say, rather quickly and with a lot of squeaking). The squeaking was the result of various and sundry implements being worked on as crew members finished their assignments for the day and proceeded to the galley in order to obtain their daily ration of both vittles and pirate grog (AKA rum). Tense and with every muscle in my body clenched like a closed fist, I slowly began to raise the door open enough for the tiniest sliver of the deck to be visible. I saw a few last crew members disappearing from deck, and things seemed quiet enough. I very nearly flung the trap door open right then. (A.D.D. Strikes Again!!) But something I couldn't quite explain led me to be cautious for a few minutes longer.

I was hampered by being able to see only to one side of the trap door. For all I knew there was an enormous quartermaster standing directly behind the door, watching it move and waiting to reorganize my face into new and exciting shapes that would forever make me an outcast in polite society… Um, wait. Correction. It would make me MORE of an outcast in polite society than I had been hitherto.

Continuing very slowly, I raised the trap and ascended another step of the ladder. As of yet, there had been no cries of “Escaped Prisoner!!” or, “Look out below!!” So I was cautiously optimistic.

Naturally, at that very moment, disaster befell me.

Quite suddenly, I began to encounter resistance from the trap. Thinking that there must be something leaning on it from the other side, I pushed a bit harder… The force working against me was equal, and the trap again moved just a bit and then stopped.

I felt a single rivulet of flop sweat trickle down my spine.

The hand that clasped the rolled up magazine with all the naked ladies in it grew damp.

‘Oh great,’ I groaned internally, ‘I’m going to have a stamp of the Playboy bunny on my palm… You are one CLASS ACT, Your majesty.’

I’ll admit it… I broke.

I ended all attempts at subtlety and shoved with all my power against the force holding me down. This unexpectedly worked for a few moments, and the trap rose up and to the side. I then lleaped, as well as I could onto the deck of the ship, dragging the grapnel hook out of the hold as well. I hit the deck with a thump and a muttered curse, and I tried to roll swiftly to my feet without gouging myself on the hook’s several barbs.

As I rose, the trap slammed to the deck, and there was a low sound of laughter from a few feet away.

“Oh Holy Mother of Carlos,” I swore. I recognized that laughter... And I also recognized the faint aroma.

It was him… the very same scoundrel I’d doused earlier. All I could think was that he must’ve been set to guard me. And then it occurred to me that he must’ve been behind the trap the entire time… watching… toying with me… waiting to spring at me like some stupid Jack-in-the-Box. I shuddered inside... What kind of voyeuristic psycho was this guy?

As a wise man once said, "We be f**ked!"

I grew… Perturbed.

And by "perturbed" I mean that I fought off an enormous urge to leave a puddle on the deck of the ship. Psychos, I can handle. Murderous pirate thugs? No problemo. Serial killers? Pu-lease.

But having someone watch me, give me just a tiny ray of hope, and then spring to attack?

Well, that's just downright MEAN.

Clearly... He had to be punished. I graciously took this duty upon myself.

There was more deep laughter, I could actually feel it rumbling in my sternum like the base when you stand close to a speaker at a concert. It was disconcerting as hell.

And so was this guy...Seriously. I mean, I know you're expecting some kind of cross between Al Pacino and an enormous Pro-wrestler a la Triple H or The Rock... But that wasn't him at all. I think the scariest thing was that he looked so... Normal. To be honest, that freaked me out more than anything. He probably stood about 5'8", he had shortish brown hair and an (almost) neatly trimmed goatee. His face was somewhat angular, and he was dressed (again, almost) respectably... (For a pirate anyway).

He was... like... I don't know... Someone I might invite to join my own crew of scurvy knaves if he proved himself to be trustworthy.

And then I realized why I instinctively feared this guy...

1. He appeared normal, even, dare I say... Presentable. (Hell, if I were a normal woman instead of a raging Pirate Queen with a myriad of loyal subjects to protect and an even more vast array of enemies to fight, I might even take him bowling or something... I mean, I'm still a girl after all).
2. He clearly had a gift for intimidation and psychic terror.
3. He was getting a thrill out of besting me.
4. He thought that I was amusing.

DAMMIT! THAT BASTARD!

He was using my own SHTICK against... ME!!

I'M THE ONE PEOPLE ARE SUPPOSED TO UNDERESTIMATE!!

I had only a few good choices here... I had to either: kill him, run like hell, or talk him into joining my side in whatever the coming fight was going to be.

And then he took a swaggering step over the trapdoor and toward me. That decided the matter.

To hell with this pansy-ass whining, Verge.

I'm the freaking QUEEN!

So I charged him, lowering my head and aiming for the middle of his body. I was hoping that I’d manage to knock the wind out of him and leave him gasping on the deck.

The result was both good and bad… I heard the abrupt sound of wind leaving his lungs as my head made contact, and that was good. However, I hadn’t made my move quite quickly enough, and I’d managed to give him just a split second during which I had telegraphed my intention with very easily recognizable body language. In that instant he managed to tighten his stomach muscles just enough to avoid being totally disabled by my move.

Just hoping for a quick escape, I pushed him with both hands and let the momentum carry us both to the deck.

Now that did the trick. I hit him like an amadillo hits the grill of a semi… and I was NOT careful about where my knee happened to end up.

Sadly, he appeared to know how to take a hit. Oh well, you win some… you don’t… win some…

Still, before he could collect himself fully and attempt to slow my escape, I leaped up and ran for the ship’s railing… I intended to be over the side and away with no other crew members the wiser before he, or anyone else could stop me. I could hear him behind me, cursing and rolling to his feet.

With absolutely no thought whatsoever, I turned back, and pegged him with the Playboy just as hard as I could… It was a thick issue, and it hit him right in the face. I sure hoped he enjoyed the full-frontal of Miss June that hit him square in nose.

He wasn’t laughing anymore.

To be honest, the sound that emerged from his (now bruised, I hoped) mouth was more like a howl.

Oh shit.

I focused all my efforts on reaching the ship's rail, put my hand down on it, and threw myself over the side of the tub and into the rolling sea very far below.

As I sank into the briny depths I hoped for either a swift demise, or a kind soul to assist me in my escape. And I swam like a dolphin.

When I broke the surface just moments later, I heard the sound of yelling behind and above me, and I heard the clank and clatter of a small boat being lowered down the side of the ship.

And a splash, as someone landed in the water behind me.

The next words I heard would have chilled me to the bone if I hadn't already been as cold as a glacier in Antarctica...

The voice carried across the water with no hint of fear, surprise, or even malice.

He said,

"Don't make me come after you."

I actually considered just... sinking into the depths.

But then the moon emerged from behind a cloud... and I struck out for shore as silently as I could manage...

And I prayed for a shark to eat my pursuer.