Chapter 13: Face to Face

The harbor was a dark, foreboding place. Ships bobbed along the wharf like ghosts of rusty iron. Stef slowed the Mustang to a crawl.

"Now what?"

"I guess we wait," said Mikey.

He climbed out of the car and looked from one end of the harbor to the next. Mouth followed him.

"We don't even know what this Garofalo guy looks like," he said. "How are we gonna find him?"

Mikey took a deep breath. "I have a feeling he'll find us."

Mikey looked towards the town, and saw the Goon Docks in the distance. He saw the lights of his own house burning up on the hill. He thought of his parents, and how they must have been in there right now, worried to death about him and his brother. He was so close. He could have tossed the crown into the river that very moment and ran straight home where it was safe.

He looked at King Alfred's crown still clutched in his hand.

"I shouldn't just be carrying this out in the open. They could just shoot us on the spot and take it."

"Here, Mikey, give it to me," said Data.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'll just hide it in here."

Data unzipped his yellow backpack and stuffed the crown inside.

"For all they know we could have stashed it somewhere. Somewhere they'll never find without our help," said Data with a smile.

Mikey smiled back. "Hey, good thinking."

"You guys, someone's coming," said Jackie with a quiver in her voice.

They looked down the wharf, and sure enough, a tall, lanky figure was approaching them from the shadows. They huddled together, fists clenched. Jackie reached out and squeezed Mikey's arm.

Out of the darkness came a slim youth in a mud stained leather jacket and a black patch over his right eye. He now had a large purple bruise on the left side of his face. He looked at each of them with his one eye, and gave them an evil grin.

Mikey gave him a harsh glare, but behind him, he heard Mouth snicker.

"Hey, Cyclops. How's the bike?"

The young man approached Mouth, the smirk never leaving his face. Chunk and Data backed away, their eyes bulging, but Mouth stood his ground.

The one-eyed man looked Mouth up and down, and drove a tight fist into his stomach. Mouth collapsed to his knees, gasping for air.

"Hey!" roared Stef. She darted towards the youth, her fists ready to wail on him, when suddenly she found a gun barrel pointed right between her eyes. The youth's grin widened. He pulled back the hammer.

"That's enough, Wesley!" came a squeaky voice behind them.

A short, balding man with a crooked nose came towards them from the shadows.

"Good evening," he said with a wry smirk. "Name's Jack Torbett. You must be the famous Goonies I've heard so much about."

Stef and Chunk helped Mouth to his feet, his breathing heavier than ever. The others just stared at Torbett in utter silence. Torbett's lip tightened with impatience.

"I believe we're here to make an exchange."

"Where are Brand and Andy?" said Mikey.

Torbett gave him a hard stare, and then smirked.

"You must be Walsh. Well, if you'll just follow me."

Wesley stepped around behind them and prodded them forward with his gun. Torbett led them down the wharf to a rusty tub of a motor boat.

"Get in," he said.

Mikey stepped towards the boat when Jackie grabbed him by the arm.

"Mikey," she whispered. "We can't go with them. This won't be good."

Mikey looked up to see the rest of his friends staring at him, their eyes welling with fear.

"Well?" said Torbett.

Mikey turned to his friends. "What choice do we have?"

Mikey stepped into the boat, and Torbett's face swelled with pleasure. The others followed with heavy steps.

Torbett drove them out the mouth of the river and into the ocean. Mikey's heart was racing with fear. I should have come alone, he thought. Why didn't he come alone? He should have forced his friends to stay behind. There was no reason to put them in danger.

He watched as the shore receded into the darkness. The horrible feeling that he would never see it again stabbed at his chest.

A light in the distance caught his eye then. He looked up to see the moon rising above the sea, and a wispy patch of dark cloud pass in front of it. For just a moment, the cloud seemed to take the shape of a pirate ship.

Mikey smiled. Perhaps old One Eyed Willy was still out there somewhere, and perhaps he had just stopped by to wish him luck.

"Get ready," came Torbett's voice.

Mikey looked up to see the rusted behemoth Goliath rising before them, and a shiver went down his spine. Torbett sidled the boat up next to a ladder and motioned with his hand.

"After you, Mr. Walsh."

Mikey glared at him, and began to make his way up. Mouth turned to Stef, who was blinking back tears. He took her hand and squeezed it tight.

"It'll be all right."

Stef began to smile just as Wesley stabbed Mouth in the back with his gun.

"We're going, One-eye, take it easy," said Mouth, grabbing hold of the ladder.

Mikey neared the top. Just before he could reach the last rung, he looked up to see a big beefy face staring back at him. A meaty, powerful hand grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him up onto the deck.

A hideous roar of laughter erupted from the ship's crew that had gathered around like rats to a rotting meal. Their laughter reminded Mikey of the chittering of the spider hoard.

Mouth and Stef appeared on deck, followed by Jackie, Data, and Chunk at the point of Torbett's gun. Wesley soared over the railing as if he were in a swashbuckler movie. He eyed Jackie up and down with a smirk on his face, spinning his gun on his finger.

"Thank you, Richter," came a deep, cold voice from among the throng of smugglers.

The beefy giant released Mikey from his suffocating grip as a tall, scarred man in a long gray coat approached him.

"Michael Walsh," he said with a grin. "At last we meet. I am Edward Garofalo."

Mikey's eyes filled with rage. He felt if maybe he stared hard enough, he could stab the man with them.

Garofalo swaggered right up to him and wrenched the golden cutlass from his belt. Mikey tried to grab for it, but immediately felt several guns pointed in his direction.

"Beautiful," said Garofalo, his eyes moving up and down the blade. "The sword of Acland himself. Well done, Michael. This will make a fine trophy."

With a firm grip on the hilt, Garofalo caressed the blade with his hooked hand.

Mikey's face burned. "Where's Brand and Andy?"

Garofalo looked back at him, the smile never leaving his face.

"Tell me, Michael, how has this adventure compared to your first? Was it as exciting? As dangerous? As thrilling? Was it everything you wanted it to be?"

Mikey furrowed his brow. "What?"

Garofalo eyes were locked tight onto his. "Because if it was, I believe thanks are in order."

Behind him, Mikey could hear the disgusting laughter of Torbett, Richter, and Wesley.

"Though I suppose I should thank you as well," said Garofalo. "You've no doubt brought me what I asked for."

"Show me Brand and Andy," said Mikey, barely able to contain his hatred.

Garofalo nodded. "I suppose that's fair."

He turned towards a door in the superstructure and shouted "Gowan, Rolfe!"

The door flew open, and a blonde haired punk with a lip ring leapt out on deck. In his hands was a machine gun, and slung over his shoulder was a belt of grenades.

"Them little shits finally got here," he said. "Let me waste em now, boss."

"Gowan!" barked Garofalo.

"Yeah, right," said Gowan. He reached inside the door and pulled out Andy by the arm.

"Andy!" Stef cried out.

A look of utter relief fell across Andy's face as her eyes watered.

Brand appeared behind her, his hands bound, with a bearded ruffian shoving him forward.

"Brand!" Mikey shouted.

"Mikey!" said Brand.

The two of them tried to run to each other, but the cocking of several guns made them stop.

"No no, lover boy, you ain't home free yet," said Gowan, poking him with his machine gun.

Mikey eyes went from Brand to Andy like tennis balls. They were dirty and disheveled, and Brand had a half healed cut on his neck, but they looked ok.

"Mikey, you shouldn't be here," said Brand with a scowl as the two thugs marched them towards Garofalo.

"I had to come, Brand."

Wesley eyed Andy as she neared. He took a step towards her and put his fingers in her hair. Andy drew back as if his hand were covered in maggots.

"Leave her alone, you son of a bitch!" said Brand.

Without even looking at him, Wesley threw his fist into Brand's jaw.

"Hey!" said Mikey.

"Enough!" said Garofalo. "You've seen them, Michael. Now where is the crown?"

Mikey looked at Brand and Andy, and then looked at each of his companions.

"It's hidden," he said.

Garofalo shut his eyes. "I hope, for your sake, nearby."

"Let them go, let all of them go, and I'll take you to it."

"Mikey, no!" said Mouth.

"No!" said Jackie.

The others all began to protest before a shot in the air from Wesley brought the entire night into a deathly silence.

Garofalo looked at Mikey. He was no longer smiling.

"I will not ask again, Michael. Where is it?"

Mikey stared back, his jaw set. "Let them go, and I'll tell you."

Garofalo stood there, still as a statue, and finally nodded. He slid the cutlass into his belt as he took a step towards Mikey's friends, surveying each of them one at a time. At last, his eye fell on Jackie.

Garofalo hooked her around the neck and jerked her towards him.

"No!" Mikey tried to race forward, but felt Wesley grab him by the jacket and shove his gun barrel into his back.

The others tried to rush Garofalo, but Torbett and Richter barred their way. Garofalo held Jackie tight as she struggled to breathe. From his pocket he pulled a Magnum revolver and pointed it towards her temple.

"Wait," said Mikey, his brain drowning in panic.

"One," said Garofalo.

"Don't!" said Mikey.

"Two."

"I have it!"

Garofalo looked at him.

"I have it, it's here." Mikey looked at his friends. "Data."

Data loosed a deep sigh, and unzipped his backpack. The crew of the Goliath began to close in like hungry dogs about to be fed.

Data reached into his bag and produced the golden crown of Alfred the Great. Torbett shot forward, trying to grab it, but Garofalo beat him to it, dropping Jackie to the deck.

Mikey rushed to her side, wrapping his arms around her quaking shoulders.

Garofalo lifted the crown in his hooked hand, his eyes burning with triumph.

"Alright, you got what you wanted," said Stef. "We're leaving."

Brand and Andy darted towards their friends. Mikey shot to his feet and wrapped his arms around his brother while Andy and Stef fell into a deep embrace.

Andy was on the verge of tears. "Let's go home."

Mikey helped Jackie to her feet as they all began to creep towards the ladder.

"I think not," Garofalo called after them, and once again, Mikey felt a million guns pointed in his direction. His eyes clamped shut. He knew, in the back of mind he knew, it wouldn't be that easy.

"This is the greatest moment of my life," said Garofalo. "I can't have you lot spoiling it for me, now can I?"

Richter grinded a clenched fist into his palm.

"Let's kill them now, boss."

Garofalo thought for a moment. "No, their bodies washing up on shore will cause a scene. We'll wait until we're in open sea, and then we'll kill them. Take them below."

A cackling Gowan pressed them forward with his machine gun.

"You bastard!" Mikey shouted.

Garofalo handed Acland's cutlass to Gowan. "Take that to my quarters. Once again, Michael, well done."

Gowan, Rolfe, and a handful of other thugs grabbed the Goonies and dragged them towards the door below. They kicked and screamed and scratched, but their struggles were in vain.

Mikey looked up at the moon as the bearded Rolfe shoved him forward. Before it had just been a feeling, but now he knew he would never see home again.