Written by: Jen Smithers
Date: December 3, 1998
Trent and Carlos get a taste of the supernatural after
hearing the tale of a pirate whose ship was lost at sea.
He will return to claim what’s his and get revenge on those
who did him wrong...
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story,
nor do I own any rights to the television shows "Sons of
Thunder" or "Walker Texas Ranger." They were created by
Chuck and Aaron Norris and belong to them, CBS, TopKick
Productions, and Norris Productions.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Chapter One~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Kee-yah!!"
Jen blocked out the noise of the karate class below as
she answered the telephone.
"Trent Malloy, Personal Protection," she said. "How may
I help you?" When the person answered, Jen jotted down some
notes for Trent. "I’ll make sure he gets this after his class
ends. Goodbye!" As she hung up the phone, Jen shook her head.
It was another crazy story, but she knew that more often than
not, there was usually some truth to the story, no matter how
crazy it seemed.
Trent bounded up the stairs. "Did I hear the Protection
Agency line ring?"
"Yes," Jen answered, handing him the note. Glancing towards
the class, she spotted Tommy directing the students.
Trent read the note. "A curse?"
"That’s what the man told me," Jen answered, shrugging.
"Do you want to come with me?" Trent asked.
Jen grinned but shook her head. "Thanks, but I’ve had my
fill of the supernatural. Try Carlos - I think he has the day
off."
"Okay, thanks!" Trent answered, bounding back downstairs.
Jen, watching him, shook her head. She was sure he was
going to have quite a tale to tell her.
* * *
The docks were nearly rotted away from the shores, Trent
observed as he studied the terrain at Hutton’s Bay.
"I don’t know how I let you talk me into this," Carlos
muttered as Trent parked his ‘Vette next to an old, abandoned-
looking bait shop.
Trent doublechecked the address. "This is the place.
Hutton’s Bay and Marina."
"I doubt there’s been any business around here in a long
time, Carlos noted. "It doesn’t look like anyone’s even here."
"Mr. Halloran said he was calling from here, so he must
be around here somewhere," Trent assured his friend.
"He was probably taken by that curse he mentioned,"
Carlos surmised, wiping clean a window to peek into the bait
shop.
"Not yet," an old voice answered behind Trent and Carlos.
They turned, and Trent studied the weathered man standing
before them. He looked old - really old, Trent amended, and
he had a scraggly gray beard that was in need of a good
trimming. He was dressed for cold weather in an old down
jacket, trousers, and boots.
"Are you Mr. Halloran?" Trent asked, stepping forward.
The man nodded, and Trent extended his hand. "Trent Malloy,
and this is my friend, Carlos Sandoval."
"I been waitun fer ya," Halloran greeted. "‘e’s a’comin’
tuh get me soon."
"Who’s coming to get you?" Trent asked, puzzled.
"Ole’ Red Ren," Halloran answered.
"Who is Red Ren?" Carlos asked, exchanging a curious
glance with Trent.
"Duke Renford," Halloran responded. "De pirate."
Carlos shook his head as Trent tried to clarify Halloran’s
statement.
"A pirate?" he asked, more confused than ever. "Can you
start at the beginning?"
Halloran glared unhappily at Trent, but started his tale.
"It all started sixtuh years ago, when I wuz but a youn’
man," Halloran began. "I work’t fer Ole’ Man ‘utton, as one
of ‘is youn’ sailors. I wuz gung-‘o ‘bout sailing, it wuz all
I ever done, an’ all I ever want’t to do. Dere wuz six of us,
all youn’ kids. ‘utton ‘ad us apprentice’t tuh another sailor,
Duke Renford."
"The pirate," Carlos interjected.
"Yes," Halloran agreed. "But we didn’ know ‘e wuz a pirate
when we firs’ start’t sailin’ wid ‘im. ‘e took shipments, an’
we transport’t dem by boat tuh wherever ‘e want’t dem tuh go.
‘e -- we -- wuz smugglin’, takin’ thin’s tuh all sortsa coves
‘round de area an’ sellin’ dem tuh other sailors fer mucho
dinero."
"What kinds of things?" Trent asked.
"Ceramics an’ ‘istorical items, mostly," Halloran
explained. "Thin’s we wuzn’ suppose’t tuh ‘ave. A buncha
stuff dat Red stole’t from area art museums. Security wuzn’
so tight back den."
Trent was interested in the history, but he was feeling
a little impatient. "You mentioned a curse?"
"De cops wuz closin’ in on Red, an’ all of us," Halloran
continued. "We wuz jus’ kids, we didn’ know any better. Red
promise’t tuh take care of us all, but we wuz gettin’ scare’t.
We didn’ wan’ tuh go tuh jail, an’ we wuz pretty dern sure de
cops wuz gonna get us if we didn’ do somethin’."
"So what happened?" Carlos asked, wrapped up in the story.
"We went tuh the coppers, offer’t to turn ourselfs in
befur’ dey catch’t us. ‘Turn state’s witness,’ you’d call it
now," Halloran detailed. "But we-all felt guilty, so we’z
gone’t tuh see Red tuh tell ‘im de cops wuz comin.’"
"And he was mad," Trent tossed in.
"‘e wuz furious. ‘e abandon’t a buncha thin’s ‘e ‘ad
planne’t tuh take wid ‘im, an’ ‘e set out fer sea in de middle
of a ragin’ sterm."
"Never to be seen again," Carlos intoned.
"‘is ship wen’ down, an’ de cops wuz able tuh salvage it,
but Red wuz nowhere’t tuh be foun’t. Befur’ ‘e left, ‘owever,
‘e tole’ us dat ‘e could ne’er fergive us, an’ ‘e warn’t us
dat ‘e would come back fer us."
"So what’s the problem?" Carlos asked. "There’s no way
anyone could have survived in that storm, is there?"
"Porter die’t thirty years ago of mysterious causes,"
Halloran answered. "Bagwell committ’t suicide a year later.
Walden died of mysterious causes six months ago."
"I don’t see the connection," Trent interrupted.
Halloran glared up at Trent. "Der wives all sai’t der
last words wuz ‘bout Red."
"So?" Carlos asked.
"Jameson died of mysterious causes a month after Walden,"
Halloran continued. "An’ Sanchez wuz foun’ six weeks ago,
dea’t an’ clutchin’ de han’kerchief Red ‘ad wid ‘im when he
die’t."
Trent and Carlos exchanged another look.
"It couldn’t have been a handkerchief identical to the
one Renford had?" Trent asked, trying to rationalize what he
was hearing. Ghosts? Ridiculous!
"It wuz Red’s!" Halloran insisted. "It wuz a monogramme’t
han’kerchief wid a pitch’er of Red embroider’t in de corner!"
"And since everyone else is dead, you’re the only one
left, right?" Carlos inquired.
"‘e’s comin’ fer me, I know it!"
"How about you come back to Thunder Karate with us?" Trent
suggested, suddenly feeling a little spooked as the wind started
howling. "We can talk things over there."
Halloran shook his head. "No, ‘e’ll fin’ me no matter
where I go."
Trent and Carlos jumped as something crashed behind them.
Turning, they saw nothing.
Carlos laughed as they turned back to Halloran. "For a
minute there, I thought that was Red coming to get us."
He started in surprise, as did Trent.
Halloran was gone!
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