Imagine You’re a Privateer. What’s It Like? That’s the premise of Paranormal Privateers. Through a series of events (In My Undead Mother-in-law) an ordinary, middle-aged couple becomes the leaders of a ship of privateers. Well, they’re ordinary, middle-aged zombies. My zombies regenerate, they don’t rot. They get stronger and faster, sort of like superheroes.
But what are privateers? They’re hired by the government for military duties, usually by ship. We got close to hiring airship companies to patrol the coasts in World War II. We hired ships in the War of 1812. The President still has that power.
But let’s start at the beginning: Their first assignment is to get the ringleader of band of Somalia pirates.
By the way, I show you how to get this book at over 80% off, later on.
Imagine You’re a Privateer – The Opening
Chapter 1 – Somalia
I sighed with relief when the US flag came down and the surrender flag went up on the mast of the enormous luxury yacht. I didn’t mind firing rounds from my AK-47 over their heads, but I hated killing people. They’re only infidels, but they’re still people.
Inhaling the salted breeze I grinned back at Muhammed, who was cheering and laughing from his seat behind the M2 machine gun in the bow of our boat we used to patrol the coasts and fishing waters of Somalia.
The sun gleamed off his white teeth, set in his brown face. “Look! They’re stopping” he cried.
True enough. The bow wave ceased as I watched. A pod of dolphins ended their sporting on the wake and submerged. The gleaming white yacht was truly enormous. What were they doing in the fishing waters of Somalia? I couldn’t imagine the wealth onboard. Enough for our whole village to eat well for a year!
Imagine You’re A Privateer – Part 2
Our Supreme Leader, Omar Ogala, had organized the fishermen and former coast guard sailors to patrol our fishing waters. He ordered us to capture any fishing or cargo vessels we found. He told us the Americans and Europeans no longer cared about Somalia with the other crisis around the world and we could defend our fishermen from foreign competition—and dumpers. Many foreign nations, knowing Somalia’s weakness, would send cargo ships full of pollutants and dump them in our waters.
I never expected to see a luxury ship here. It was as big as a cruise liner, but it was apparently a private yacht. I’d seen one once before, when an Arab sheik visited Mogadishu. This one was three times the size! The owner would pay big to get it back. Maybe even a billion dollars? I couldn’t imagine that much money, and I was good with numbers. Let’s see: fourteen million people lived in Somalia. Divide a billion dollars among them would give each about $70. Unbelievable. A family of five could live comfortably for year on that!
Imagine You’re a Privateer – Part 3
I came along as a navigator, fighter, and boarder, guiding our boat along the shore of Somalia and into the Arabian Gulf for several days, before leading us back. Besides Muhammed and me, there was Zahi, another fighter and boarder, and Ali, our captain.
“Diric,” Ali said to me, “You and Zahi board this ship and take the helm. You will follow us back to Hobyo. Muhammud and I will stay on the boat and keep the machine gun on them.”
“Yes sir,” I said.
Ali took the megaphone we carried for ship to ship communication. “Let us board! Let us board! Or we will gun your ship!” I didn’t understand English, of course, but I knew what he was saying. Ali was the only one who knew any English.
Imagine You’re A Privateer – Part 4
“Don’t shoot! Give us time! We have to get our ladder!” Surprisingly, the person spoke in Arabic. It was good Arabic too, but with a strange Saudi and European accent. More surprisingly, it was a woman, a blonde, from what I could see of the figure leaning over the railing far above us.
We kept our boat about fifty meters away from the ship and watched the crew scurry about the decks.
There were many; I counted five including the main deck and there were at least three more decks below the main one.
Finally, rope ladder unrolled from the main deck, perhaps ten meters above us. We came close to the ship. I saw the pod of dolphins flash under our boat. Then they leapt out of the water and into it.
Only they weren’t the dolphins I had seen earlier. Four people in black wetsuits landed with heavy thumps in our boat. They had no breathing equipment, not even snorkles. They took off their goggles and their eyes shone bright red in the sun.
Imagine You’re a Privateer – Part 5
“Zombies!” cried Ali. “Shoot them!”
Automaticly I sprayed the nearest with my AK-47. I heard the others fire too. Muhammed shot the biggest one with the machine gun. That could cut a man in two.
Dozens of red craters appeared in the black wet suit of the one I shot. But she—it was a white, brown-haired woman—didn’t go down. Her brows furrowed in anger and shouting in English, she ripped the gun from my hand and threw it into the ocean.
The other zombies did the same, except the big one. He grabbed the barrel of the machine gun in both hands and wrenched it from Muhammud. I could hear his flesh sizzle on the hot barrel. Then he bent the barrel into a right angle. Rubbing his hands together afterward, the burnt skin fell on the deck of our boat. Pink skin showed on his palms.
He was enormous, bigger than two of us put together. He red eyes looked out of his calm, square face.
The bullets from the machine gun had sliced the wet suit open across his chest, and more pink skin showed in the gap. As I watched, brown hair grew from it.
We were all struck dumb with shock and terror. Then the woman I shot called up to the main deck. The one on deck yelled down in Arabic, “All of you, lie down on the deck, and you will live.” We quickly did.
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Kathi Clements
