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then takes up the lead. He stops at a door, opens it up, and says, “This is your cabin.”
I suck in a deep breath and hold it for a moment, then let it out and say, “Am I supposed to stay in
there?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sure Johnny will be along soon.”
Feeling cornered, and with no other apparent options, I enter the room. Then regret that decision
and turn to ask him if I can wait topside instead, but he’s already closing the door.
I reach for the handle to open it back up, but the tell-tale sound of a lock engaging from the other
side makes me stop mid-reach.
“Hey?” I yell. “Hey! Did you just lock me in here?”
I grab the handle, try to turn it, and… that’s right. It’s locked.
“What the fuck?” I call.
But I can already tell by the sound of heavy retreating footfalls … there’s no one on the other side
of my cabin door.
So I turn and take in my new cell.
It’s a suite. Large by boat standards. Maybe not super large, like this yacht. But certainly better
accommodations than the crew probably has one deck below.
There’s an en suite bathroom with a shower, toilet, sink and vanity, and even an oval tub. Not a big
tub. Not what I would call luxurious, but still. It’s a tub on a ship.
The room has one king-sized bed, a few dressers built into the side of the bulkheads, a closet, and
a large TV mounted on the wall.
With no other apparent choices, I sit on the bed and wait.
It does not take Johnny a minute to come find me. In fact, the clock on the bedside table that’s
built into the bulkhead tells me it’s been exactly thirty-seven minutes before he arrives.
By the time he walks through the door we’ve been on the move for thirty of those minutes. Going
pretty fast from what I can tell.
“It’s about fucking time!” I yell at him. “They locked me in here! Did you tell them to do that?”
“Yes,” he says, closing the door behind him.
And again, there is the tell-tale sound of the lock from the other side.
“What the fuck is going on, Johnny?”
“We’re just…” He stops to study me, frowning. “We’re being cautious.”
