She was a giant magnet. One that pulled him to that ship, closer to Cheng.
But also closer to her, to the edge of the pier, where they'd meet.
Step after step, he went forward, just slow enough that they'd reach the mid-point at the same time.
It broke his heart to see that she also walked that slowly, but because of not being able to walk any faster. Part of him desperately wanted to know what they had done to her, part of him was afraid to hear the truth.
Ten yards to the gangway. Twenty still between them.
Cheng's men had surely instructed her the same way as the negotiator had told him. She didn't dare speaking. She didn't dare looking around or back. Her whole body was trembling awaiting to be shot at, from any side.
She had recognized him, the very first moment in which she had stepped out onto the gangway. He looked like hell – rests of smeared blood on his chin, his cheek black and swollen like he'd just gotten out of a bar fight. His wore a long sleeved shirt that probably covered all the rest… she only saw his hands and wrists, that he held slightly away from his body, to show that he was unarmed. One hand was bandaged, the other one in a splint.
She starred into his eyes but didn't dare say anything. The guards had made that very clear. Every other noise that she heard, guessing it would come from somewhere behind her back, made her jump.
Five yards until reaching the pier. Ten still separating them.
Jack wished that he had thought of what to say to her. She was afraid of talking, he saw that, and they had told him, too, that he must not talk to her. But couldn't just walk by and say nothing. That was not an option to him.
He saw how afraid she was. After all, she probably didn't even know what was going on here, she'd just been brought out of her cell and suddenly there he was, and she was facing a pier and row of containers where she clearly saw that there were guns everywhere, pointing in her direction.
He stayed at his side of the way. Touching her was off limits.
Two more steps and she'd be able to hear whatever he'd whisper to her.
One.
Two.
"You're home, Audrey.", he whispered, just so loud that she'd hear it. He desperately wanted her to know that the men, waiting for her on the other side of the pier were not the enemy, no matter how dangerous they looked like. He had to let her know that she was on US soil again, if she made just one more step, off the gangway. "You are home", he told her, once more, as he set foot on the gangway. She was just two yards away, he could see her cried out eyes now clearly, her bare feet, slowly making the way, step after step.
And then she was already past him. He went on, one or two steps faster because for a moment he was afraid that she'd turn around or do anything else that would be stupid, if he stayed in her proximity.
Turning his head around was off limits, so he had to look forward again.
The cargo hatch was a mighty black hole, looking at him as if wanted to swallow him up. Cheng's men made use of the sunlight and the shadows. He couldn't see anyone of them until he went another five yards towards the ship.
He reminded himself to walk slowly, not to reach the ship before Audrey would have reached the other side of the pier. She couldn't walk as fast as he could.
The rails to his left and right were pretty low…. He could jump over, into the water. It would be only one or two steps, to save his life.
He threw the thought away just as quickly as it had come. That would just make the sniper up on the deck shoot her. He was not allowed to flee, not even try, until she'd be safe.
Slowly he went on. Deathwards.
When he was only two yards away from the hatch any more he could see men on both sides, waiting in the shadow, pointing their guns at him.
One more step, and he knew they'd grab him and tear him into the ship.
This was his last chance to dare to look back.
He had to know if Audrey was safe. He simply had to.
He stopped walking and held eye contact with the Chinese men with guns. Slowly, he turned around to look back, striding backwards, further towards the ship.
It didn't take them more than a second or two, until they stormed forward, grabbed his arms and something dashed down on his head, knocking him out.
She had reached the containers. She was safe.
That was the only light, when the world around him went dark.
As Audrey reached the gap between these two containers, she saw a man, waiting for her. He wore a black suit and a dark sunglasses, like one from the secret service.
Two soldiers with bulletproof shields came closer to her, ready to guard her, as soon as she'd pass an invisible, unmarked line which had been drawn. They were waiting for something. A signal? A shot? Jack to enter the ship, fall into their hands?
She knew that she'd never see him again, once he stepped over the end of that gangway.
She was so afraid of turning back.
But she simply had to have a last look at him.
When she stopped walking, the man in the suit got worried, gesturing her to come over to him, to keep going. He even took off his sunglasses, she could see his worried look. Was he fearing that she'd might run back?
Never.
She just wanted to have a last look…. The soldiers with the bulletproof shields started rushing towards her, as she turned around.
She only got a glimpse of him, before the bulletproof panels blocked her view, of how they knocked him down. How he fell backwards, over the rim of the cargo hatch. Into the shade.
As Jack awoke, he found himself lying on the cold and wet ground of a room in the bowel of the ship. Judging from the noise, it was somewhere close to the engine room. How long had been out? Was it already too late, were they already miles away from the coast?
No, couldn't be. The engines of the ship were also running when it was in the harbor, to keep the electric power up and to heat the fuel. Their noise was way less than he was used to.
His hands were cuffed behind his back. They had taken his shoes and socks away, and his shirt. Lying there, half naked, he felt how cold the metal floor was.
He moved his hands a little. The split was still around his arm, but they had removed the bandages around his right arm and the ones around his stomach, exposing the sutures on his belly. Were they afraid he'd hang himself? Well, the thought was not even that far-fetched.
He felt blood running over his face. Where the hell did it come from?
As he lay there and thought back, he remembered how they had hit him on his head with something, once he had reached the hatch. He had collapsed, but not for long. Then they already cuffed his hands and gave him hell.
Five men against a one whose hands were cuffed behind his back. What a fair fight.
He tried to move his limbs. It still worked, though it hurt.
Fresh blood was still running over his cheeks. Probably from a laceration on his head.
Lying in the darkness, he wiped it away from his cheek, into his shoulder and waited for more blood to come. It did.
That meant that the beating hadn't been that long ago. He knew when wounds would stop bleeding. No wound had ever bled for more than two hours. Plus an hour for the beating meant that the ship was probably still at the pier.
He needed to get his arms to the front… it cost him some effort to do that. The chain between the cuffs was long enough, it left enough space to get his legs through.
Breathing heavily, he rolled over, pulling himself to his knees. God, everything hurt. His arms, his legs, his back and his head.
He dared to touch the still bleeding laceration, feeling that half of his hair was wet with blood.
Resting his weight on his arms and his knees, he halted to catch his breath. The place he'd been lying was all smeared in red. It was a miracle that he was awake, after all this. The once white splint around his left forearm was also smudged with blood, and dirt. Jack lay down again, onto the cold floor, this time facing the door to the room. There was a little window in the door, covered by a grating, through which they could look in.
He told himself to lie still, act like he was still unconscious and find out in what intervals the guards would check on him, and while he was watching the door, he already started picking at the splint, trying to get to his knife. The plaster had broken in numerous place during the beating, making it easier to break it. It wasn't even that hard to chip it away, piece by piece.
In the end, he didn't know how long he had been lying there until the guard passed the window for the first time, looking in through the grating, leaving again after a few moments.
He started to count the seconds, then the minutes.
After twenty minutes, the sound of the engine changed.
What had first been a shallow growl became a louder noise. The guard passed again. Twenty minutes later, the sound of the engine became a loud roar, when the towboat of Seattle released the freighter Shuan Xi into the high seas.
.
.