Dawn Chan was hiding. It was a small ship, and she knew she couldn't stay hidden for long, but the situation was desperate: another five minutes around that jerk from the software company and she'd be out of a job. Pitching a passenger overboard was almost certainly grounds for termination.
Security officer on a cruise ship. Talk about a waste. Not even one of those big floating hotels, but a small charter for overpaid corporate types. Major in Phys Ed, minor in Police Science: not a combination she'd recommend to her kid sister. True, she was seeing a lot of the world, but the crew and passengers tended to be older men who just tried to hit on her, if they noticed her at all. This bunch was a little different, she had to admit: there were actually a few women; but the men, though younger than usual, seemed even duller.
Dawn liked the computer room. It was usually quiet, and the lighting was dim and relaxing. She leaned the chair back, and closed her eyes. She might even have begun to snore, she wasn't sure, when the voice came from behind her.
"Wake up, sleeping beauty." Startled, she slammed her chair to its upright position. Reflected in the monitor in front of her were two figures: one was a man with a gun.
Alyson Willow studied the bottom of her glass. Candlelight from the table flickered in the shining liquid, and her pale face, framed by thick red hair falling to her shoulders, stared glumly back at her. Derek was still talking. He'd been talking for what seemed like hours, and since they all saw each other five and six days a week at the office, it seemed even more pointless than usual.
"I told that geek engineer that our customers expect the program to set up and open easily. Once they get that far, they're happy, and no one returns it. Who cares what it does after that-- does anyone really expect software to do what it says it will?"
"Yes, Derek," came a long-suffering sigh, "they do." Brenda King's generous nature kept the contempt she felt for him out of her voice. Derek was always selling people what they didn't need, or too much of what they did. On the other hand, Brenda's knowledge of the company's products, and her genuine interest in customer's needs, meant she also had the lowest return percentage of anyone at Tek Star. Her deep, caring eyes, full lips, and smooth café au lait complexion didn't hurt her selling technique, either, of course. Derek, though, had told more than one person that the company was being "too PC": that she'd never have won Sales Person of the Year if she'd been white.
"Oh, Derek, you're so right. I mean, when those Japanese execs came to visit, you and Jennifer really made an impression on them." Chase Carpenter was gushing again. Big brown eyes lingered on the loudmouthed salesman; it seemed to Brenda that they were mostly taking in his expensive suit and Rolex watch, but even a perceptive man would be hard pressed to ignore attention from a stunning young brunette like Chase. And Derek wasn't exactly perceptive.
Actually, Brenda's memory of the visit from the Japanese was that the Tek Star Branch Manager, Jennifer Templeton, had done her best to play the cliché'd American businesswoman: aggressive to the point of being pushy, flaunting her blond good looks and expensive clothes and jewelry, everything guaranteed to confirm the Japanese' worst fears about Western women. Even in view of the branch's sales performance, Brenda had been frankly surprised when they'd been awarded the cruise, after that. And, so far as Brenda could see, Jennifer didn't even seem to be enjoying it much. Maybe she'd been expecting a bigger group, with some unattached men. Whatever, she just sat at one end of the table, her eyes glazing over as Derek prattled on.
"Derek, you're so full of crap." Alyson's voice slurred. The others looked up, startled; Brenda figured Alyson wasn't used to drinking. "You're not half the salesman that Brenda is...and, I, I mean she's a woman, not a man...and... well, anyway, you---"
"Hey, Red," Derek sneered. "You're not even supposed to be here, so just button it." Alyson may have been tipsy, but she wasn't drunk, and that stung. The invitation had been extended to just Jennifer and the sales people; it was only at Brenda's insistence that their redheaded assistant had been included. Alyson wasn't even on the passenger manifest: Brenda had agreed to share a room with her.
"Al, wait..." Brenda tried to be reassuring, but the redhead had already bolted up from the table. Alyson was certainly grateful for Brenda's support, but the humiliation coloring her cheeks needed some time alone. In a moment, she had disappeared down the corridor.
"Derek," Brenda began, "you are the biggest..."
What she would have said next was interrupted by a gunshot.
The question was, how fast should she turn? Too quickly, and she might startle him into letting off a shot. Too slowly, and she might provoke him to do the same thing out of anger. Dawn sized up the reflection in the computer screen, and tried to turn her chair around in as casual, unthreatening a manner as she could. She made her eyes go wide at the sight of the gun. Looking up to its owner, she saw a large man, with sandy hair straggling to his shoulders from a badly receding forehead, and eyes that spoke of a cruel stupidity. She had expected something like that; what she hadn't expected was the figure standing beside him. Now that she got a good look, it seemed that her ship was being hijacked by a gun-wielding thug and a cheerleader in warpaint. The man's partner was a blond young woman in her early 20's, with the perky smile of a TV talk-show host, and magenta eyeliner that swept back below her eyebrows like a pair of wings. After noting her two-piece black spandex outfit, Dawn decided that she must be an aerobic instructor moonlighting as a pirate.
"Hi. My name's Mandy," the girl grinned. "We're takin' over your ship. We need you out of the way, though, so be a good girl and let Mr. Bolton, here, tie you up." She grinned as though this were no more extraordinary than planning a dinner party. Dawn leaned forward in the chair, the balls of her feet resting lightly on the floor. She let her mouth gape open, trying to keep the look of shock on her face just long enough to keep them off their guard.
"Please," she said. "Please don't hurt me." The man's flat features broke into a grin at this, and Dawn easily made him for a bully; so long as he had the upper hand, he'd enjoy inflicting pain and humiliation. She did her best to look shaky as she moved to her feet. Tensing her legs, she suddenly leaped forward, ducking under the man's gun hand, and driving her shoulder into his stomach. Dawn hugged him around the waist, and tried to stay inside his reach, but he reached down and grabbed a fistful of her hair to pull her upright. Dawn let go of him, and stamped down hard on his instep. He yelped in pain, releasing her hair. That gave her enough room to take a step back, and aim a waist-high kick at his gun hand. Her shoe made contact with his fingers with a satisfying "crack", and the gun flew across the floor. He squealed again, and Dawn made a dive, sliding on her stomach across the floor of the small room. She stretched her right hand out and got hold of the gun, getting to one knee to rise, when from the corner of her eye, she saw the blonde standing behind her, raising a gun of her own. Before Dawn could react, the girl had brought it crashing down on the back of her head. Dazed, Dawn slumped face-first to the floor.
"Ah....God! Did you see what she did to my hand?" Through a haze of pain, Dawn could hear the man called Bolton whimpering. Some part of her was still conscious enough to take satisfaction as she tried desperately to come back to her senses.
"So who knew she was a kung fu girl? Bolton, you're such a wimp! Quit bellyaching and get her tied up." Dawn tried desperately to rise, but the floor kept spinning before her, and she was having trouble telling up from down. She heard the sound of cables being torn and unplugged from the communications computers. She pushed her face off the floor with her hands, but from behind, she felt the man's powerful hands grab each of her wrists, and pull them behind her. Unsupported, Dawn crashed back to the floor. The man called Bolton yanked hard on her arms, and crossed her wrists over each other. She could feel thin rubber-covered wire being tied around her wrists.
"O.K., honey, let's see just how tough you are." He pulled up so that her arms were nearly perpendicular to the floor, and knelt heavily on the small of her back. Too dazed to scream with the pain, Dawn moaned, and the man grunted with satisfaction. He looped the computer cable around her wrists several times, and tied it off. Meanwhile, her ankles had been crossed over each other, and the girl was binding them with more of the cable. When Bolton had finished tying her wrists, he leaned forward, digging his knee farther into her back. She felt his hand in her hair again, and her head was yanked back and up off the floor. He leaned backwards to reach for something off the desk, and her body strained painfully, pulled back by the fist in her hair. Leaning forward again, Bolton yanked down on her hair, turning her face upwards. With his other hand, he began forcing something into her mouth. Dawn tried to flail her head, but the hand in her hair held her fast. The taste was horrible as his stubby fingers jammed themselves into her mouth. The material was heavy, slick, and foul-tasting. When he had finished wedging it between her teeth, Bolton kept his grip on her hair, using his other hand to wind another thin, rubbery cable between her teeth and around her head, to hold the gag in place. Finally, he released her hair, but the wire he was tying in her mouth kept her head up, biting into the corners of her mouth. Bolton finished wrapping the cable around the packing, and as he knotted it, Dawn felt something banging against the side of her neck: a computer mouse. And now she knew what the horrible taste in her mouth was: he'd gagged her with a mouse pad! It was wide enough that it was in no danger of sliding down her throat, but the taste was so vile that she began to choke. This elicited a guttural laugh from the man, and he gave the knot an extra pull, then gave her head a savage push down to the floor. Hands behind her, Dawn couldn't break her fall, and she hit the floor hard. Bolton took a step toward her, and aimed a vicious kick at her ribs. Dawn moaned into her gag. As Bolton prepared to deliver another kick to the helpless girl, a gunshot sounded from the other side of the ship.
"Aw, geez," she heard Mandy say. "They started without us. Will you quit messing around? Let's go!" Dawn felt the man sweep her up into his arms, and she was tossed over his shoulder. Her head hung down behind his back, the mouse banging the side of her face, as they ran.
The sound of the gunshot might easily have been mistaken for something else: a champagne cork popping, for example. There was no mistake about the thudding sound as the man hit the floor.
Jennifer Templeton was the first to see the form of the ship's captain, toppling from the stage at the front of the dining room. She shot out of her chair at the sight of the man falling, and froze in place at the sight of the blood oozing from his head. The other passengers barely had time to absorb what had happened when the door into the room was filled by a hard-looking group of men. They were a wild ethnic mix, but similar in their tough appearance and heavy armament. More than a dozen hijackers faced the passengers, who stood frozen with fear. Half of the men fanned out, taking positions near each of the guest tables; the others remained to block the only door out. In a moment, their ranks parted briefly, and a man made his way from the back of the group, and mounted the stage.
The man who took the stage was small and slender; shoulder-length dark hair framed a thin, pale face, with a sharp nose over a thick, drooping moustache, and deceptively mild brown eyes. His voice was low and smooth.
"Gentlemen, and... ladies." The last word was given just the slightest additional emphasis. "My name is Janos. I am sorry to bring your lovely vacation to such an abrupt conclusion, but I am afraid that I have business which involves all of you. Most particularly, ladies, it will involve you." He gestured to the thugs who blocked the doorway. "I am like your General Colin Powell: I believe that the use of overwhelming force will, in the end, make things easier and more peaceful. I have more than one dozen armed men on your little boat, and have secured the only member of your crew with access to any weapons. Please understand that resistance will only lead to bloodshed that we would all wish to avoid." He paused at a slight commotion in the doorway. "Ah," he added. "Now that we are all here, let us proceed."
All eyes followed his to the door. A smiling blond girl in skin-tight black spandex was accompanied by a hulking man with thinning sandy hair; over his shoulder, he carried a girl that Brenda recognized as the ship's security officer: she had been bound and gagged, and her dark hair was tangled in the cable which held the gag in her mouth.
The girl joined the man called Janos on the stage. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and asked, "Honey, did we miss anything?" Janos regarded her with an amused affection.
"No, my dear. I had just begun explaining to these people what the future holds for them." He addressed the passengers again. "Now that the lovely Amanda has joined us, I must attend to business on my own ship. She will guide you from this point on. Please co-operate with her, so that she has no need to ask these other gentlemen to reinforce her directions physically." With that, he stepped down from the stage, and left the way he had come.
Mandy smiled at the passengers. "O. K., folks. Time to separate the men from the--- gals, I guess we should say." She nodded, and a number of the armed thugs holstered their weapons and made their way to the guest tables. Without ceremony, they seized the passengers, and dragged the men to one side of the room. Jennifer Templeton and her fellow employees were each taken by the arms and pulled to their feet, arms held behind them, each firmly in the grip of one of the pirates. Brenda winced at the pain, and saw that, on the other side of the room, the men were being held in the same way. The remaining pirates still had weapons pointed at the passengers. Mandy stepped down from the stage, and walked between the two groups of captives.
"Now, boys and girls, this is all very simple. Each of you belongs to Janos, now. Guys, I'm afraid you're going to spend the rest of your lives working for what your government might call 'unfriendly powers.' I hope that your computer skills are up to it-I don't think they are very generous to guys that can't cut it. As for you ladies, well... you're going to be performing a different kind of 'work'. You may even come to enjoy it. For your sakes, I hope you do. Now, time to get going." She signalled to one of the pirates holding the men. Astonishingly, Derek seemed not to have realized the gravity of the situation. As the man holding him pulled at his arms, he planted his feet, and addressed Mandy.
"Look, you stupid bitch. You can call this crap off right now, or you're gonna find yourself--" Just what the girl might find herself was lost, as one of the pirates stepped forward, and a fist the size of a ham crashed into Derek's face, shattering his nose. Blood poured down his face, and, with Derek unable to raise his hands to his face, quickly began coating the front of his shirt. The man who had hit him just stared impassively, but the girl walked over to where he was being held.
"Now, you see how much trouble you got in by not being co-operative? Oh, and look: you're bleeding. Here, let me see..." She reached up, and took the dazed man's face in her hands. She pulled him close, and pressed her lips to his. She pulled hard on his head, forcing their mouths together, and suddenly, Derek was trying to scream. With her mouth over his, it came out as a horrid, bubbling shriek. As the girl pulled her face away from his, the onlookers could see that she still firmly held his lower lip in her teeth. Now, a spurt of blood from Derek's lip joined that from his nose as the girl pulled herself free from him with a last savage yank with her teeth. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he slumped to the floor so heavily that the man holding his arms simply dropped him, and Derek fell in a heap at the feet of the blond girl. She spat a gout of bloody saliva onto his head, and stepped past him without another glance.
"Alright, boys," the girl addressed her associates. "Take 'em away. There's 'girl talk' goin' on in here." Derek was hauled to his feet, and dragged by the collar. Unarmed and outnumbered, the others allowed themselves to be led out without incident.
The blonde then surveyed her captives: three beautiful, elegantly-dressed women were held in the iron grips of the thugs, arms twisted painfully behind them.
"Now, ladies, you've met my boyfriend, Janos. He's in charge now, and I really hope none of you are dumb enough to try and make trouble for him. Like he said, my name's Amanda, but my friends call me Mandy, but you don't have to worry about that, 'cause from now on, you're only going to speak when you're spoken to."
"You're going to be sorry-- all of you!" Jennifer blurted out.
"I'm sorry," Mandy said blandly. "Did you need a kiss, too?" Jennifer subsided at that, remembering the sight of Derek's bloody face, but the girl's gaze was fixed on her. After a moment, Mandy signaled to the man holding Chase Carpenter to release her. Mandy put an arm around the trembling girl's shoulders.
"She your boss?" She nodded in Jennifer's direction. Terrified, Chase just nodded.
"I think she talks too much. What do you think?" It was obvious that Chase was too frightened to answer, and Mandy went on, "There's nothing I hate more than people who think that, 'cause they're the boss, it means they always have to be yammering on at you about something. Ain't that so?" Chase simply cast her eyes to the floor. Mandy then took her arms from the girl's shoulders. Chase stood frozen in fear, as Mandy approached Jennifer. "There's a real good solution for bosses like her that talk too much." Mandy reached down and pulled up Jennifer's skirt. She produced a knife in her other hand, and Jennifer's eyes grew wide with horror. A moment later, her worst fears went unrealized, but she felt humiliated as Mandy deftly sliced her silk panties, and, with a yank, ripped them from her. Jennifer could only stare, in shock, as Mandy turned to Chase.
"C'mere. Where y'all're going, she ain't gonna be anybody's boss, and I think she should start learning that right now. You agree?" Not waiting for Chase to respond, she handed her the torn panties.
"Put these in her mouth." If Chase had seemed unwilling to move a moment ago, she was now completely paralyzed. She stared dumbly at the grinning blonde. Jennifer pulled at the arms holding her, but the man barely even reacted. Mandy smiled at Chase. "C'mon, now. This'll be fun. A lot more fun than me having one of the guys cut out her tongue." At the horrified cries this produced, Mandy laughed. "Oh, I was just kidding." Her face darkened. "But I'm not kidding about this. Do as I told you." Her gaze on Chase was hard, and the girl finally took the panties. She approached Jennifer, trembling. Jennifer opened her mouth, intending to freeze Chase with a threat, but got no farther than a gasp as the man holding her fast gave a sharp pull up on her arms.
"That's good," said Mandy. Her voice grew hard again. "Stay just...like...that." The threat was clear enough; Jennifer kept her lips parted. "Go ahead, honey," Mandy urged Chase, "she won't bite-if she knows what's good for her." Cringing, Chase used the tips of her fingers to insert the tattered silk into her boss' mouth. When it was just far enough in not to fall out, she let go, and Jennifer stood before her, the pink silk hanging from her mouth. "No, no, that's not going to work," Mandy admonished. "That has to go in much farther." She took Chase's hand and forced her fingers into Jennifer's mouth. Now, two sets of fingers were stuffing the panties farther into Jennifer's mouth, and her attempts to retain her dignity faltered as she tried desperately to keep from choking. She tried to look at Chase, to make some mute appeal for mercy, but the girl was too frightened to meet her eyes. Mandy then undid the silk scarf which Jennifer wore tied about her throat. She held it out to Chase.
"Use this to keep those panties in place." Chase took the scarf, and pressed it loosely over Jennifer's lips. Finally accepting the futility of resistance, Jennifer bent her head to allow Chase to tie the scarf in place. Mandy rolled her eyes as Chase reached behind Jennifer's head and tried to tie a knot; the scarf slid down over the smooth blond hair, and as Jennifer raised her head, it fell away from her lips. The man holding Jennifer laughed at Mandy's reaction. "Oh, for God's sake." She swatted Chase aside, and undid the scarf which now drooped around Jennifer's neck. Mandy rolled the scarf into a tight band, and forced it between Jennifer's teeth. She pushed it as far back into the woman's mouth as it would go; now, Jennifer began to gag on the panties as they went deeper into her mouth. Mandy ignored her discomfort, and forced Jennifer to lower her head. This time, the scarf was drawn under the mass of blond hair, and Mandy pulled it as tightly as she could. The pain produced a startled shriek from Jennifer, but all that emerged from her stuffed mouth was a sort of muffled grunt. She could feel Mandy's fingers knotting the scarf behind her head: once, twice, three times. Each yank at the silk cut painfully into the corners of her mouth, and Mandy made no effort to keep Jennifer's hair from catching in the knots.
Mandy stepped back, scrutinizing her handiwork. Evidently satisfied that Jennifer Templeton was both sufficiently quiet and sufficiently uncomfortable, she gave a nod to one of the men with her, a large black African. At the girl's signal, he produced a leather case. Opening it, he drew out what appeared to be strips of rawhide. Mandy nodded in the direction of Jennifer Templeton, and addressed Bolton. "Mr. Bolton, will you do the honors?" The balding sadist grinned in the face of the gagged blonde, and took the case from the black man. The man holding Jennifer released her; she staggered forward, and Bolton caught her up in his arms. She cringed, but he simply spun her around, pulled her arms back behind her again, and easily captured both her wrists in one of his hands. The fingers of his other hand worked deftly, looping the scratchy rawhide around Jennifer's wrists and yanking it snug. More muffled shrieks and whimpers fought to get past her gag as Bolton made certain that each new turn of the leather cut into some exposed portion of her skin. When he had secured her wrists with a half-dozen turns, he turned his attention to her arms. Taking her upper arms into his hands, he moved them closer together, almost experimentally. After a moment, he gave a sharp tug, and pulled her elbows together until they nearly touched. Now, the muffled sound that burst through her gag dwarfed what had come before. Bolton tied her upper arms together as tightly as he could, her shoulders straining. Tears coursed down Jennifer's face as Bolton came round in front of her to survey his work. Brenda noticed that, while the other men were admiring the way Jennifer's breasts were now thrust prominently forward, Bolton was looking directly into her eyes, savoring the pain and helplessness.
"Alright, ladies, I trust the rest of you will be on your best behavior from now on." Chase Carpenter nodded, miserably; Brenda didn't respond; Jennifer couldn't. "Now, the men with me here are trained professionals," Mandy suppressed a giggle. "Do as they say, and there will be no need for any more unpleasantness."
Two of the hijackers reached into the case, and withdrew more of the leather strips. They approached Chase Carpenter, practically drooling. The brunette offered no resistance as one man drew her arms behind her, crossed her wrists, and began to tie them together; his partner grinned, as he produced a length of white cord. When Chase's wrists were secured, the second man said, "My turn," and passed the cord around her body. He ran the first loop just under her breasts, pulling tightly. Chase's arms were now pinned to her sides; more importantly, the cord was accenting her breasts just as prominently as Jennifer's had been. The man leered at Chase as he continued to pass more loops of the cord about her body, alternating each turn below her breasts with one above. When he reached the end of the cord, he knotted it. Both men, then, found some "adjustments" that needed to be made to the bindings around her chest, tugging and pinching.
Brenda's attention turned to the two men who were now preparing to bind her. Wanting to give them no excuse for abusing her, she quickly crossed her wrists over each other, behind her back. These two seemed more businesslike than the others had been, and when a particularly tight knot caused Brenda to cry out in pain, they didn't apologize, but neither did they laugh. Rather than using the binding as an excuse to humiliate her, they finished by tying a simple loop of cord around her waist and fastening her wrists to it at the back of her waist. Brenda was just as helpless as her office mates, but a good deal less uncomfortable, she reckoned.
Finally, the black man opened the case again, and took out what appeared to be pads of hospital gauze and some elastic bandages. He lay one giant hand on top of Chase Carpenter's head, and forced it backwards. With two fingers, he easily opened her mouth wide, and began filling it with pads of gauze. Chase closed her eyes, shaking with sobs, as the material forced her tongue down to the floor of her mouth, and the man stuffed her cheeks until they bulged. When her mouth seemed as full as it was possible for it to be, he took one of the elastic bandages. Still betraying not the slightest emotion, he firmly wedged it between her teeth, holding the packing securely. He then wound it around her head and back through her teeth. After three turns, it was impossible to see the packing anymore; he then continued until the bandage was used up, taping it in place. It covered Chase's lips, sealing her mouth thoroughly.
"Chase, stop crying." Brenda cringed, fearful of retaliation, but knowing the girl was near hysterics. "You'll suffocate yourself. It'll be all right." None of the men reacted; probably, Brenda thought, they don't want her choke herself any more than I do. The young woman looked at Brenda, who did her best to show a confidence she did not feel. Chase closed her eyes again, and began to get the racking sobs under control.
The large African who had gagged Chase now approached Brenda. He reached down into his bag for the gauze pads; as he regarded Brenda again, she looked into his eyes, and read there...what? Embarrassment? Shame? It was the tiniest flicker, and then it was gone. Brenda opened her mouth-- no sense in fighting it-- and as the man repeated the gagging process on her, she studied him. He was avoiding her eyes. I wonder, she thought: am I the first black woman he's done this to? Kidnapping a rich white yuppie like Chase hadn't given him a moment's pause, but Brenda could feel that it had been different with her. The idea of reducing a black woman to slavery might well be troubling to him. If it was, though, he gave no further sign. Brenda did her best to relax her tongue and accept the gauze packing, so as not to choke on it. Her mouth was filled just as effectively as Chase's had been, and the elastic bandage was applied to hold the packing in place. The man's large hands nearly enveloped her head as he smoothed the tape down, sealing the bandage in place. The pressure of the bandage was far from intolerable, but Brenda felt sure that leaving it on for very long would change that.
Finally, Mandy stepped up to Jennifer, holding what appeared to be a leather dog collar. She smiled at her captive. "You know, it's been a long time since I met a woman that I thought deserved one of these as much as you do." She giggled, and fastened the collar about Jennifer's throat. This appeared to be the final indignity, and Jennifer began sobbing into her gag, her spirit utterly broken. Mandy ignored her, and placed collars around Chase's and Brenda's necks, as well. She then took a length of thin chain, and used loops on the fronts of the collars to string the three captives together. Tugging on the end of the chain, Mandy then handed her prisoners over to one of the other hijackers, who began leading them toward the door. Brenda tried to look over her shoulder, to see if the black pirate was reacting to this latest twist on her enslavement; she couldn't see him. As they left the room, she snapped her head forward quickly, looking out of the corner of her eye to see if Mandy had noticed. Besides looking for the black man, something else had occurred to her, and she wanted to take no chances on the pirates noticing. The last thing she saw as she left was Bolton speaking to Mandy.
"What about her?" Bolton delivered a savage kick to the bound form of Dawn Chan, lying on the floor.
Mandy looked down at her. "Pick her up." Bolton bent down, and lifted the bound security officer to her feet, his powerful hands gripping her shoulders. Mandy pretended to study Dawn's face closely. Finally, she grinned. "No, she's a tough gal," punctuating the remark with a dig at her ribs. "I don't think our clients are looking to spend their money on tough gals. Besides," she snickered, "I think employees of the cruise line are expected to go down with the ship, aren't they?" This time, Dawn's shock was real. She squirmed uselessly in Bolton's grip. "Bring her along," Mandy said as she headed for the door. Once again, Dawn found herself thrown over the man's shoulder. Her head slammed into his back as they hurried from the room.
When she was finally upright again, Dawn was on the bridge of the ship. Bolton held her firmly against one of the supporting poles, and Mandy took a roll of heavy twine and began looping it around her body. First, Dawn's waist was secured. Next, Mandy wound the rope up and over her torso; Dawn's hands were crushed painfully between her back and the pole; she hoped this might give her some extra slack to work with for an escape attempt, assuming the chance ever came. Mandy was no amateur, though: she made certain that each passing of the cord around Dawn's body was cinched firmly, using the contours of her captive's body to anchor the bonds. When Dawn's legs had been similarly fastened, Mandy gave the helpless girl a taunting peck on the cheek, and with a cheerful "Bye-bye, now. See y'all around-NOT!", she and Bolton left the bridge. Dawn could hear their voices receding, arguing about whether it would have been better if Janos had decided to keep the ship instead of sinking it. Not that she'd had much doubt, but this spurred Dawn to try to free herself. The rubbery cables binding her wrists and ankles didn't give much, and the rope fastening her to the pole kept her from getting much leverage to work on them. From the back end of the ship, she heard a series of crashing noises, more conversation between Mandy and Bolton, and then silence. She couldn't see the ship they had come in, but she could hear it getting underway, nearly silent though it was. Dawn struggled on, knowing now that she was alone. Stretching our before her, she could see blue sea glittering in the sun; in the room around her were all the controls she would need to guide the ship to some safe refuge; even with her limited knowledge, she knew she could get to safety, if she could just get free of the damn ropes! She paused in her struggles, to catch her breath, and a new sound came to her ears: a sort of faint rushing or roaring, accompanied by a crackling. Before the sounds were loud enough to hear clearly, Dawn identified them by a smell: fire. Gasoline. Bolton and Mandy had set fire to the ship! They intended to make certain she went down with it! Now, her calm broke, and her efforts grew frantic, but she got no closer to freedom than ever. The tears she had refused to show Bolton now stung her eyes, and she was sure the smoke had overtaken her already. Her muscles ached from her futile efforts to get free, and she sobbed hopelessly into her vile gag. Dawn lowered her exhausted head, and prepared to face the end.