Apocalypse Drift (36 page)

While Sage was inspecting the huddled boats, she didn’t notice a new blue dot appear on the radar screen. This dot wasn’t close to the fleet, but hugging the shoreline a mile away. Boxer’s radar detected the new presence for a moment, and then it was gone. A few minutes later, it found it again, but then it disappeared.
No matter
, decided the radar logic circuits,
the new contact wasn’t headed directly in, nor was it going fast enough to worry about.

Buck was beginning to think his idea wasn’t so hot, but his ego wasn’t about to allow any public admission of flawed planning.
Robbie and he had pushed their little 16-foot aluminum skiff into the bay an hour ago. The flat-bottomed Johnboat wasn’t designed for the oceangoing experience, but rather for calmer lakes and rivers where waves and currents weren’t such a factor. Their boat didn’t like even the light chop on the bay and made them pay for the trip with a rough, jolting ride.

To make matters worse, the small outboard motor had been left ashore. The last of the gas had been used a few days ago trying to get to more productive fishing grounds. Tonight, it was human oar power propelling them across the water, and that was a poor substitute.

Buck sat in the front of the rowboat all smug and satisfied because he had outmaneuvered his cousin with regards to who was going to man the oars. Robbie had fallen for the same old trick of “You go first, and I’ll take over in a bit.” There was no way the two men could switch positions without tipping over the small boat. Buck looked forward to the time when Robbie finally realized he had been had. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be rowing back.

As they tentatively navigated from the shoreline, Buck realized it was going to take longer to reach the anchored boats than he had thought. The wind kept blowing them off course, and
Robbie wasn’t exactly an Olympic class sculler.

Buck grunted and half-turned to
Robbie, “Those dumbasses, they all have on their anchor lights like is required by the law. Haven’t they noticed there ain’t no other boats around? What are they worried about – the coast guard?”

Robbie
peered around his passenger, nodding at the white twinkling lights in front of them. “They look like Christmas lights, cuz…. I sure do hope they know it’s better to give than receive.”

After what seemed like half the night, the interlopers were finally close enough to make out individual boats. Buck signaled that
Robbie should take a break, and then leaned back and whispered, “We need to pick one out - one of the big ones on this side.”

“I don’t care which one you pick,
cuz. Just make sure it’s one that’s close, cause my arms are about to fall off.”

Buck nodded and swiveled on the bench to gain a better perspective of the fleet. He wanted to choose the largest possible boat because it would have the most supplies onboard, and probably the biggest fuel tanks. He wished there was a way to tell which ones were diesel and which were powered by gasoline, but that was just a chance he would have to take.

Finally, he spotted one on their side of the formation. He pointed it out to Robbie and whispered, “Let’s get this over with, cuz.”

Robbie
began rowing a little faster than before, adrenaline kicking in over the anticipated heist. Buck reached for his shotgun.

Movement caught Sage’s eye as the small craft steered from behind the big catamaran anchored a few boats over. Her first thought was the small launch was from one of the other members of the fleet, but the rowboat was too big for any of them to carry as a dinghy. She picked up the night vision, studying the two men as their paddling brought them closer to Boxer. She could make out enough detail to realize they were strangers.
What the heck were they doing out in the middle of the bay at 3 in the morning?
 

Her next line of reasoning concluded they were fishermen. She had watched her dad and brother leave at all kinds of crazy hours in order to catch fish. These two were just a couple of fishermen from the shore who were out for a day’s catch. Satisfied she had figured it out, she leaned back in the captain’s chair as the men rowed closer and closer to the anchored flotilla. When the guy in front reached around and pulled up a big gun, Sage doubted her original hypothesis. When the small boat clearly made a turn for Boxer, she became frightened.

Sage’s mind raced with all kinds of options. They were tired and just wanted to tie off on Boxer, perhaps needing to rest for a bit. They were having an emergency…maybe their boat was leaking or something. Maybe they were from one of the other boats, and she just didn’t recognize them. While she tried to justify whom and what they were, the small rowboat made directly for Boxer’s stern.

By the time she snapped out of it, the approaching vessel was too close for her to slide down the ladder and reach the cabin. She was hiding behind the captain’s chair, peering over the
top, sure the two men had not seen her yet. She thought about yelling out and stomping on the floor to wake everyone up, but the man in the front of the boat was now pointing the shotgun toward Boxer, and she froze, certain the guy was going to shoot her.

Panic tore through Sage’s chest when the boat stopped right behind Boxer’s swim platform, one of the men grabbing onto the deck to stabilize their tiny craft. The man in front looped a line around one of Boxer’s cleats, while the other set down his oar and picked up his own huge gun. Sage ducked even lower behind the chair and for some reason began rummaging around for something to throw at the men…maybe she could scare them off.

She opened a small storage hatch beside the helm and found one of Boxer’s emergency kits. Inside the clear plastic box was something that caught her eye – a flare gun. Her dad had taught her how to use the bright orange pistol a long time ago. It was fairly simple, and she quickly pulled off the safety pin and rose up to get a clear view of the strangers below.

The first guy was now standing on Boxer’s transom, steadying the small boat so his partner could get out. Sage pointed the armed flare pistol at the two men and screamed, “Get off our boat!”

The sound of the screeching voice made Buck jump, and he lost his grip on the rowboat at just the wrong time. Robbie, wobbly and rocking, tried to shift his weight to get balance, but was instead thrown overboard into the chilly waters. Buck watched his cousin fall, but was more concerned about whoever was yelling from aboard his prize. He turned, raising the shotgun.

Sage pulled the trigger. The hammer fell on the 12-gauge emergency flare, striking the primer and igniting the propellant. The red-burning magnesium rocket was designed to shoot several hundred feet into the air as an emergency signal. It left the short barrel and flew directly at Buck, striking him square in the chest.

Buck was stunned by the impact, which reminded him of being hit by a well-thrown baseball. He dropped his shotgun, watching in horror as it bounced off the deck and rattled into the water. The loss of the weapon enraged him beyond control. The bright flare ricocheted off his body and slammed into Boxer’s deck, where it was pinned into a corner, fizzling and pulsating blinding light.

Sage immediately sprang for the ladder, desperately wanting off of the bridge and into the cabin. She slid down the steps and reached for the cabin door when a strong grip seized her from behind, tossing her to the deck like a rag doll.

Sage gazed into the meanest pair of eyes she had ever seen. The crimson glow from the burning flare caused the filthy, unshaven man hovering over her to look like a demon, staring down at her with the intent to consume her very soul. He raised his arm, and her heart stopped. He was grasping a long knife, its shiny steel blade reflecting like fire in the throbbing radiance from the flare. Every fiber of Sage’s being focused on that dagger. As if watching a movie in slow motion, she detected the man’s arm muscles tighten, and then the blade curved downward. Sage closed her eyes, waiting on the inevitable agony she knew was going to rack her body in less than a heartbeat.

The pain never arrived. Sage peeked up and noticed the knife almost exactly where it had been, but there was
something new. Another hand was part of the image, firmly clutching the wrist of the dagger- bearing demon. She detected a shifting shadow behind her attacker and then watched puzzled as his eyes changed from an expression of pure hatred to one of surprise - and then pain.

David clasped the man’s knife arm with both hands, squeezing with all his might on the wrist. He sidestepped and planted a vicious kick to the attacker’s weight
-bearing knee. The resulting sound was a grotesque chorus of breaking bone, popping ligaments and an animal-like howl escaping from the victim’s throat. David’s furry was unbridled, the desire to stop the man about to slaughter his sister becoming a bloodlust roaring through his veins. The tension in the arm holding the blade dissipated, allowing David to let go with one hand. Pulling the freed hand back, David’s fist shot out with all of his rage, striking the attacker in the Adam’s apple and throat. Again and again and again, David threw his considerable strength into the blows – rapid firing as fast as his arm could reset and strike.

Buck’s last effort was more instinct than conscious thought. His brain commanded his body to twist away from the source of the searing pain that was abusing millions of nerve endings. The movement was more convulsive than controlled, yet still so violent it pulled the two men off balance. Both combatants became entangled with Sage’s legs, the girl desperately trying to kick her away from the knife. David sensed he was falling and commanded his hand to keep its grip on the arm holding the blade.
Nothing else can hurt me
, he told himself as he plummeted toward the deck;
hold onto that knife no matter what
.

The two combatants landed with a thud on the fiberglass floor of the boat. David was on top, trying to regain his leverage and position for the next attack. He felt the man underneath him spasm once, twice
, and then go limp. It took a second, but he quickly deduced what had happened. Just in case the man was faking, he cautiously shifted his weight and rose. There was the hilt of the knife, the blade completely buried in the man’s sternum.

David couldn’t take his eyes off of the weapon. He didn’t notice Wyatt rushing out
of the cabin, shotgun in hand, rushing to kick the flare overboard. David never heard Morgan yell for his sister, nor did he see the two girls embrace in a desperate hug.

Wyatt stood above his son and the dead man, not sure what to do. “David…
It’s okay now, David…. come on, son…. It’s okay.”

In a trance, David regained his feet, his gaze never leaving the body lying on the deck. Wyatt wrapped his arm around his son, pulling him close. Wyatt noticed Morgan’s flashlight beam focusing on the knife. “Morgan!” He whispered with emphasis. When his wife looked up, he shook his head as a signal to shine the light elsewhere.

Morgan realized what her husband meant, and with a flush in her cheeks hastily turned off the torch. This seemed to snap Sage from her silence. “Where’s the other one?”

Wyatt’s head snapped up at the question. “What other one? What do you mean?”

“There were two of them in the boat…I know there were. Where’s the other man?”

Wyatt let loose of David and immediately headed to the back of the boat with the shotgun. Wyatt could
not see anything but a small johnboat. He turned and grabbed Morgan’s flashlight, using it to probe all around, but couldn’t see anyone.

Sage’s memory kicked in, replaying the horrible sequence of events. “I shot one of them with the flare gun. I think the flare hit the guy. There was a splash…a big one. I think the other man might have fallen out of the little boat.”