Arena Two by Morgan Rice Read Free Book Online

shattering wood. Rose and Bree scream out.
    “ Get down!” I scream.
    I lunge to Bree and Rose, grab them and throw them down to the ground. Logan, to his credit, doesn’t flinch, and continues to drive the boat. He swerves a little but doesn’t lose control. He crouches down low as he steers, trying to avoid bullets as he also tries to avoid the large chunks of ice beginning to form.
    I take a knee in the back of the boat, raising my head only as high as I need to, and take aim, military style, with my handgun. I aim for the driver, and fire several shots.
    They all miss, but I do manage to get their boat to swerve.
    “ Take the wheel!” Logan yells to Ben.
    Ben, to his credit, doesn’t hesitate. He hurries forward and takes the wheel; the boat swerves as he does.
    Logan then hurries to my side, taking a knee beside me.
    He fires and his bullets just miss, grazing off their boat. They return fire, and a bullet misses my head by inches. They’re closing in fast.
    Another bullet shatters a large chunk of wood off the back of our boat.
    “ They’re going for our gas tank!” Logan screams out. “Go for theirs!”
    “ Where is it?” I scream out over the roar of the engine and flying bullets.
    “ In the back of their boat, on the left side!” he yells.
    “ I can’t get a clean shot at it,” I say. “Not while they’re facing us.”
    Suddenly, I have an idea.
    “ Ben!” I scream out. “You need to make them turn. We need a clean shot at the gas tank!”
    Ben doesn’t hesitate; I’ve barely finished speaking the words when he turns hard on the wheel, the force of it throwing me sideways in the boat.
    The slaverunners turn, too, trying to follow us. And that exposes the side of their boat.
    I take a knee, as does Logan, and we fire several times.
    At first, our barrage of fire misses.
    Come on. Come on!
    I think of my dad. I steady my wrist, breathe deep, and take one more shot.
    To my surprise, I land a direct hit.
    The slaverunners’ boat suddenly explodes. The half dozen slaverunners on it burst into flames, shrieking as the boat speeds out of control. Seconds later, it smashes head on into the shoreline.
    Another huge explosion. Their boat sinks quickly, and if anyone survived, they are surely drowning in the Hudson.
    Ben turns us back upriver, keeping us going straight; slowly, I rise and take a deep breath. I can hardly believe it. We killed them.
    “ Nice shot,” Logan says.
    But it’s not time to rest on our laurels. On the horizon, closing in, is another boat. I doubt we’ll be so lucky a second time.
    “ I’m out of ammo,” I say.
    “ I’m almost out, too,” Logan says.
    “ We can’t confront the next boat,” I say. “And we’re not fast enough to outrun them.”
    “ What do you suggest?” he asks.
    “ We have to hide.”
    I turn to Ben.
    “ Find us shelter. Do it now. We have to hide this boat. NOW!”
    Ben guns it and I run up to the front, standing beside him, scanning the river for any possible hiding spot. Maybe, if we’re lucky, they’ll zoom right past us.
    Then again, maybe not.

 
F O U R
     
     
    We all scan the horizon desperately, and finally, on the right, we spot a narrow inlet. It leads into the rusted shell of an old boat terminal.
    “ There, on the right!” I say to Ben.
    “ What if they see us?” he asks. “There’s no way out. We’ll be stuck. They’ll kill us.”
    “ That’s a chance we have to take,” I say.
    Ben picks up speed, making a sharp turn into the narrow inlet. We race past the rusted gates, the narrow entryway of an old, rusted warehouse. As we pass through he cuts the engine, then turns to the left, hiding us behind the shoreline, as we bob in the water. I watch the wake we left in the moonlight, and pray it calms enough for the slaverunners to miss our trail.
    We all sit anxiously in the silence, bobbing in the water, watching, waiting. The roar of the slaverunners’ engine grows louder, and I hold my breath.
    Please, God. Let