The Stone Monkey

Sen’s face. Chang motioned for him to try to climb out but the captain disappeared into the blackness of the hold. A few seconds later, though, the bald man swam back to the doorway and shoved something up through the fountain of seawater toward Chang.
    What was it?
    Gripping a pipe to keep from sliding away, Chang reached into the frothy water to take what the captain offered. He closed his muscular hand around cloth and pulled hard. It was a young child, the daughter of the scarred woman. She rose from the doorway through the stalks of lifeless arms. The toddler was choking but conscious. Chang held her to his chest firmly then let go of the pipe. He slid through the water to the wall then swam to the stairwell, where he climbed through the icy cascade to the deck above.
    He gasped at what he saw—the stern of the ship was barely above water, and gray, turbulent waves were already covering half the deck. Wu Qichen and Chang’s father and sons were struggling to untie a large orange inflatable launch on the stern of the boat. It was already floating but would soon be underwater. Chang stumbled forward, handed the baby to his wife and began to help the others undo the rope. But soon the knot securing the raft was beneath the waves. Chang dove under the surface and tugged futilely on the hemp knot, his muscles quivering from theeffort. Then a hand appeared near his. His son William was holding a long, sharp knife that he must’ve found on the deck. Chang took it and sawed on the rope until it gave way.
    Chang and his son surfaced and, gasping, helped his family, the Wus, John Sung and the other couple into the raft, which was quickly drawn away from the ship by the massive waves.
    He turned to the outboard motor. He pulled the cord to start the engine but it wouldn’t engage. They needed to get it going immediately; without the control of a motor, they’d be overturned by the sea in seconds. He began yanking furiously and finally the motor buzzed to life.
    Chang braced himself in the back of the raft and quickly turned their small craft into the waves. It bucked furiously but didn’t capsize. He accelerated and then steered carefully in a circle, heading back through the fog and rain toward the dying ship.
    “Where are you going?” Wu asked.
    “The others,” Chang shouted. “We have to find the others. Some might have—”
    That was when the bullet snapped through the air no more than a meter from them.
    •   •   •
    The Ghost was furious.
    He stood at the bow of the sinking Fuzhou Dragon, his hand on the lanyard of the forward life raft, and looked back fifty meters to sea where he’d just spotted some of the fucking piglets who’d escaped.
    He fired his pistol once more. Another miss. The pitching seas made accurate shooting from this distance impossible. He scowled in fury as his targets maneuvered behind the Dragon, out of his sight. The Ghost surveyed the distanceto the bridge deck, on which his cabin was located, where he had his machine gun and his money: more than a hundred thousand in one-color cash. He wondered momentarily if he could make it back to the cabin in time.
    As if in answer, a huge spume of venting air broke through the hull of the Dragon and she began to sink even more quickly, rolling farther on her side.
    Well, the loss hurt but it wasn’t worth his life. The Ghost climbed into the raft and pushed away from the ship with an oar. He scanned the nearby water, struggling to see through the fog and rain. Two heads bobbed up and down, their arms waving frantically, fingers splayed in panic.
    “Here, here!” the Ghost shouted. “I’ll save you!” The men turned to him, kicking hard to rise from the water so he could see them better. They were two of the crew members, the ones who’d been on the bridge. He lifted his Chinese military Model 51 automatic pistol again. He killed the two crewmen with one shot each.
    Then the Ghost got the outboard motor going and, riding the waves, looked once more for his bangshou. But there was no sign of him. The assistant was a ruthless killer and fearless in shoot-outs but he was a fool when he was out of his element. He’d probably fallen into the water and drowned because he wouldn’t throw away his heavy gun and ammunition. Well, the Ghost had other matters to attend to. He turned the raft toward where he’d last seen the piglets and twisted the outboard’s throttle up high.
    •   •   •
    There’d been no time to