"On the floor, next to him!" he shouts at Fiona.
Fiona looks down at me. A hand goes to her mouth.
"Omigod!"
She reaches for a towel, kneels beside me, and applies pressure to the wound. It's on the outside of my thigh, about halfway between my knee and hipbone. A small hole in the front, a bigger hole in the back. And a lot of ripped flesh in between. I don't think it got the bone. But blood, lots of blood. And now the hurt sets in.
Frazer looks down at us, smirks.
"It's not going to make any difference," he says. "A few minutes and you'll both be dead."
Fiona looks at me.
"He killed Ned?"
I nod.
She doesn't react. She ties off the towel around my thigh. Then finds another towel, hands it to me.
"Keep applying pressure," she says.
I take the towel from her, and as I do, she lunges for Frazer, going in low toward his knees. He steps back, kicks, and catches her in the jaw. She falls back, beside me.
Frazer waves the gun at Fiona.
"I want you to reach up under the console, get the roll of duct tape," he says.
Fiona doesn't move.
"Do it, bitch!"
Fiona moves to the console, finds the duct tape. Frazer waves the gun at me.
"Now help him get up on his feet," he says.
Fiona gets an arm around me, helps me stand. And now the pain in my thigh really sets in, throbbing, throbbing.
Frazer steps to the console, turns the key. The engines rumble and catch. He lets it run in neutral.
"Now get on the other boat," Frazer says.
"What for?"
"Just do it," he says.
He moves close to us now, prods the pistol into my back as Fiona helps me hobble toward the gunwales where the boats are lashed together. She steps onto Miss Peg first, then helps me aboard.
Frazer steps on behind us.
"Now sit him down in the captain's chair," Frazer says. "Lash the tape around him. Make it tight. Put it over his mouth, too."
Fiona does as she's told. As she does, I look in the cabin. No sign of Boggy.
When Fiona's done, Frazer checks the tape, makes sure it's tight, says: "OK, now you get in the other chair."
Fiona sits down. Frazer peels off some tape with his teeth. He slaps it onto her mouth and begins wrapping it around her with one hand, keeping the other on the gun.
When he's finished lashing her to the chair, Frazer looks at what's left of the duct tape. Not much. He tosses it into the cabin and backs toward the transom.
And as he does, the roll of duct tape sails out of the cabin, hits the floor, and skids to a stop at Frazer's feet.
Frazer looks at it in disbelief. He looks at the cabin.
"Who's in there?"
No answer.
"Come out. Now!"
No answer. No movement in the cabin.
Frazer takes a step toward the cabin. Then another, holding the gun with both hands in front of him.
As he nears the cabin-a gusher of white foam shoots out, spraying Frazer across the face. He lurches back and out comes Boggy, ramming forward with the fire extinguisher, knocking Frazer back.
I strain to see what's going on, but can't turn in the chair. Neither can Fiona.
They struggle at the aft of the boat, body crashing against body.
Then a shot. And another.
A splash-the sound of someone going into water.
Then three more shots.
A long moment.
Then Frazer's voice: "I got the son of a bitch."
83.
Frazer moves within my line of vision. He stands by the gunwale, pistol aimed at the water. Then he moves aft again, to a point where I can't see him.
I look ahead. No other boats on the horizon.
We are pointing west. The sun is low now. No more than an hour until dark.
Three or four minutes go by. I hear Frazer pacing around the boat, presume he is looking for Boggy.
And then he says: "Well, I guess that's that, eh?"
I hear him rustling around in the transom. And then I smell the gas.
I don't have to see him to know what he's doing: The auxiliary motor's gas can. He's emptying it onto the boat.
Frazer steps forward. He looks at Fiona and me.
"Don't want it to go up in flames all at once," he says. "I need a few minutes running room."
He steps back aboard his boat, unlashes the lines. He reaches under the console, pulls out an emergency kit. He steps to the side of his boat, a flare gun in hand.
"At least you'll go out with a bang," he says.
Frazer aims the flare gun, fires. A small thud as the ball of sparks hits Miss Peg's transom. And then a frightening whoosh as the gas ignites.
I feel the heat. The fire sizzles and feeds off itself. This is not going to take nearly as long as Frazer thought.
And sensing the same thing, Frazer guns the engines, throwing up a rooster-tail of water as his boat speeds away.
I turn, look at Fiona. I see terror in her eyes, the same terror I'm sure she sees in mine.
The heat grows more intense and I can see flames reflected by the windshield in front of me, a deadly orange dance that seems to have already consumed Miss Peg's rear quarter. The air is heavy with the sickening smell of molten fiberglass.
I struggle against the duct tape and can see that Fiona is doing the same thing. But every move unleashes a new wave of pain from my thigh. I think: Maybe as the flames move closer they will catch the duct tape around my feet on fire and I can kick free ...
Then I think: You'll be a crispy critter by the time that happens.
I look at Fiona. She struggles against her bindings, in full panic mode now. And just as I am ready to yield myself to the inevitable, the boat lists to port and I see Boggy pulling himself aboard near the bow.
He runs our way, one arm limp at his side, a bloody wound in the shoulder. And then he's beside us, yanking out drawers, finding a knife.
He cuts Fiona free first, shouts: "Grab the bench cushions. Jump!"
She leaps up and darts away.
As Boggy moves toward me, there's a new blast of heat from the rear of the boat. Above me, the cockpit roof begins to smolder. Along the gunwales, the stanchion lines are aflame.
The knife is dull. It catches and snags. Boggy throws it aside, ripping at the tape around my legs, pulling me free of the chair. My torso is still wrapped in tape as he lifts me onto his good shoulder and stumbles to the side of the boat.
The flames are everywhere, the heat so intense that it burns my eyes. We fall overboard. Boggy kicks us away from the boat, speaks to me: "It's OK, Zachary. Hold on. It's OK."
I begin to lose consciousness. Just as I give in to the blackness, there comes a final violent roar, and Miss Peg is no more.
84.
Voices draw me out of the deep. Fiona: "It's bleeding again. I can't seem to stop it."
Boggy:"Zachary is strong. He has much blood in him."
Fiona:"What about you?"
Boggy:"I am OK."
Fiona:"Here, let me see your shoulder."
Boggy:"It is OK, I am telling you."
Fiona:"Let me see."
I open my eyes. I am lying on a boat cushion atop a piece of Mis. transom. I can see the lettering under my arm. Boggy and Fiona the water, holding on.
I try to sit up.
"Easy," Fiona says. "Lie back down."
I lie down.
I say, "How long?"
"How long were you out?"
I nod.
"I don't know. Fifteen minutes maybe. Not long."
I turn my head. The sea is swallowing the last sliver of sun. The tinged with streaks of red and purple.
"Oh, boy," I say. "Maybe we'll see the flash of green."
"No such thing," Fiona says.
"Like hell there's not," I say. "I've seen it twice. Once in Grenada, once in Boca Grande. You were there both times, Boggy. You saw it. Tell her."