Roger
My stomach churns as the cruise ship bucks and rolls, but I have bigger concerns. I lock eyes with a cult member charging at me, brandishing a knife like it"s Excalibur—clearly, he"s not one to appreciate the finer points of swordsmanship. Regardless, I don"t have time for an impromptu history lesson.
I barrel toward my attacker. He swings blindly, but I duck under his arm and grab it, wrenching the blade from his grip and kicking it away. He lunges for me again, arms swinging wildly. A swift knee to the gut stops him in his tracks and bends him double, gasping for breath.
I’m about to finish him when the elderly lady shouts, “Roger, on your left!”
I spin, narrowly avoiding another knife. The cultist is grinning like a madman, but I"m not about to let him enjoy this. I raise the
