Landfall: Islands in the Aftermath (The Pulse Series Book 4) (5 page)

“So you didn’t even know that you weren’t in the Exumas when you anchored here with those folks? How is that possible?”

“They were doing the navigating. The GPS wasn’t working, of course, but they had charts and a compass and they said they wanted to stop on the way to Staniel Cay and do some fishing at an island some other Canadians had told them about. I thought it would be a good idea to stock up on food too, and since they said the island was part of the Exumas, I figured it couldn’t be much out of the way. And I figured it they made it all the way to Nassau from Lake Ontario, they probably knew what they were doing, so I just let them do their thing while I took my turns at the helm and on watch. Navigation is not my strong point, but I know boats from stem to stern, especially anything to do with maintenance and repair.
 

But look man. I’m hungry! I’ve been living off whelks and conch and a fish here and there, whatever I could find on the reef. I’ve been about to starve, and I was sick for the last two days. Today was my first time out since I got ill. I’d appreciate it if you could give me something… anything at all… some pasta or a little rice… anything you can spare man! I’ll work for it. I’ll help you get your boat back to deep water. I could tell it was aground. Is there much damage to the hulls?”

The men were looking at each other and back at him as Russell stood there awaiting their answer.

“Go back and ask Casey to put some water on the stove for oatmeal. We all need to eat some breakfast anyway,” the man with the shotgun told the younger one. Then he turned back to Russell. “What’s your name? I’m Larry Drager. This is my brother Artie, and that’s my friend, Grant.”

“Russell. My name’s Russell. I’m so glad to meet you Larry. All of you. I thought I was going to die here.”

“What have you been doing for water? Did you find an old cistern or a well on the island?”

“Yes! There’s a big cistern near the middle of the island. The water’s dirty and full of bugs, but at least it’s fresh. There must have been a farm here a long time ago. There are goats on the island too, but I haven’t been able to catch one.”

“Yeah, I know about the goats. I’ve seen them before.”

“You’ve been here before? What is the name of this island then?”

“Green Cay. It’s about 40 miles west of the Exumas. Either your Canadian friends sucked at navigation or they flat out lied to you.”

“I don’t know. I thought they were pretty cool, but I guess I was wrong about them.”

“It sounds like they didn’t care if you lived or died, dropping you off here. I’m not surprised you haven’t seen any other boats. Not many stopped here even in normal times. It’s not on the way to any of the popular cruising grounds and the anchorage is no good in bad weather. Besides, it’s too shallow for most of the big boats cruising the islands these days.”

“Well, today is my lucky day then! I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you guys! Man, I appreciate the grub and I’d love to catch a ride off this rock. I can work for it! I’ll help you get your boat off the reef. I can help you fix anything that’s broken. Whatever you need man! I’ve been working on boats most of my life. I’m good with tools and I’ll do anything I can to help. I just want out of here!”

Six

T
HE
NEWS
THAT
THE
Dry Tortugas were sealed off by the U.S. Navy changed everything for Scully. If no boats were allowed there, then Larry wouldn’t be there as they’d planned when they had all set sail to cross the Gulf. And his hopes of catching up with Artie, Grant and Jessica aboard the
Casey Nicole
there were doomed as well. All he could do now was to try and find his friends in the Bahamas, assuming they made it to the remote chain of cays where Larry wanted to layover for a while. And if they
were
there, Scully could only hope they would hang around long enough for him to get there, and not give up on him.
 

 
Scully hadn’t intended to get involved in the problems of others, and could have just as well continued on his way without interfering when he came upon the scene of the attack on Thomas and Mindy. But the advantage had been so clearly in his favor that he saw little reason to paddle by such a tragedy without doing something. He knew as soon as he saw what was going on that the young couple would be dead without his help, and Scully had seen enough such evil since the blackout that he hated to see those two thugs get away with such a crime unpunished. Killing them had been easy, and now he was glad he’d chosen the path he did. Not only had he saved their lives, but he’d saved himself many days of what would have been a futile effort to paddle to the Dry Tortugas only to be turned away when he arrived. Scully had no reason to doubt the story Thomas and Mindy told him of the navy blockade. The incident at Cape Sable made more sense now because of what he’d just learned about what was going on out there. But more importantly than the time he’d saved, he now had a sailboat under him again—a reliable means to reach the Bahamas—even the far outer reaches of the archipelago where his friends planned to go. Sure, it was a little boat; far smaller than what most would consider adequate to sail any distance, much less the hundreds of miles of open water that lay between him and the Jumentos Cays, but Scully knew a good boat when he saw one. Thomas had told him the design was famous for many long voyages undertaken in
Intrepida’s
sister ships, but even if he hadn’t, Scully could see that the lines of the hull were right, and the construction and rigging solid.

The chubby little 17-footer would be far slower at sea than the sleek
Casey Nicole
or even Tara’s
Sarah J.
, and it would be quite crowded with three on board for that length of time, but it would get them there. If not for meeting this young couple, Scully knew he would have attempted the crossing to the Bahamas in the kayak, because what other choice did he have? That would have been possible too, but a lot more could go wrong on such an expedition. With no sails or other back up to the paddle, if he became incapacitated for some reason, he could be swept away from the islands by the Gulf Stream before he was across its strong currents. The sailboat, small though it was, had every advantage in this case, and seeing how it was rigged, Scully knew it could sail to weather too.
 

When he’d proposed to help Thomas and Mindy cross over to the islands in their little boat, he’d half expected them to say no, even though they said they really wanted to go there. After all, the boat was too small for three adults, and they were an intimate couple that would have to share their living space with a stranger for an indefinite time. If not for what he’d done for them, Scully knew his appearance alone might have kept them at a distance. Despite his friendly grin, many of the white tourists he’d met in the islands shied away from approaching too closely. Then, as now, his wild dreadlocks, unshaven face and lack of shoes or even clothes save for his cut-off camo army pants, kept most at bay. And if appearance alone were not enough, there was the fact that he was a black islander who spoke English with an accent barely recognizable as the same language spoken in America. But Thomas and Mindy didn’t let any of that bother them after learning of his predicament. They had reason enough to trust him after he saved them from death when he could have just turned the other way.
 

To Scully it was a wonder these two had survived this long, and he knew the only reason was because they had the boat. With no weapons or even knowledge of how to use firearms, they were victims in the making, living on luck until killers like the two he’d dispatched found them. Even when he’d shot the man pointing the pistol at Thomas, the clueless young man hadn’t thought to pick up the fallen weapon to defend himself. It was as if he was afraid of it, even though it was inert and useless without a hand to pull the trigger. But Scully had met people like them before, all of the tourists on holiday in the islands. It was no wonder so many people in America had already died just because the lights went out. To Scully, it was a shame, but that was the price they paid for the Babylon they’d created.
 

Scully understood that by joining these two aboard their little boat he would essentially be taking responsibility for them. They knew how to sail and navigate among the closely spaced islands of the Florida Keys, and had even made it to the Dry Tortugas and back, but from hearing Thomas talk, Scully gathered they were both afraid of the sea. He didn’t know how they would react in a serious storm or serious boat crisis, but he had to assume it would be about the same as the way they’d responded to the men who’d attacked them—with helpless resignation.

What they would do after the three of them got where they were going was another question all together, but Scully wasn’t going to let that be his problem. They couldn’t stay with him and his friends, because their little boat could never keep up and besides, the last thing they needed was two more adults with little in the way of skills to look after. Larry would never tolerate it. There was only one reason he’d taken on Tara and Rebecca, and all of them knew what it was. Scully figured Thomas and Mindy would last a while, but not indefinitely. The odds were simply stacked too high against them, but their time might be stretched a bit longer in the Bahamas than if they remained here. At least while he was with them, their odds of dying were greatly reduced. Scully didn’t know for sure, but from what he’d seen so far, he doubted things were going to be much different in the islands, other than the simple fact that Larry’s choice was so remote the bad people might not have arrived yet.
 

One asset that Thomas and Mindy possessed in addition to their boat was a decent selection of fishing equipment. As they sailed away from the scene of the shooting, Scully felt confident that they could catch enough food to keep them going, especially once they crossed to the islands where the reefs were rich in marine life. All he had in the way of tools and gear aside from the kayak was his machete and the AK-47. And the only food he carried was the stash of green coconuts he’d gathered from the palms at Cape Sable just before he’d gotten separated from the
Casey Nicole
.
 

Scully didn’t know how many more of those patrol boats might be out there, cruising the coast with their machine guns, but Thomas and Mindy had not had any encounters since they’d left the Dry Tortugas. This gave him hope they could get out of these waters and out to the high seas without incident. The only issue was that they were north of the island chain and would have to pass under at least one bridge to reach the Atlantic and freedom. Scully was leery of sailing under those bridges since that first time he’d done it with Larry and Artie on the way to New Orleans. Someone on the roadway high above had tried to hit them with large rocks dropped over the rail, to what end none of them new. They were lucky to slip under without getting hit, but now Scully feared if anyone saw them they would be using bullets instead of rocks. It made him uneasy to think about it, but if they could get out of these waters before daylight, he figured their chances of avoiding trouble would be better. They would be setting out to cross the Gulf Stream without a weather forecast, but once he could see the sea state and read the sky in the morning light, Scully could assess the situation then and decide if it was a go or no-go day. If not, they would have to find another place to hole up until the conditions improved.
 

The little boat responded well to the light, nighttime breezes and the long two-seater kayak riding on the tow line astern created little fuss in the wake and no significant drag to slow them down. Scully estimated they were making four and half to five knots on a reach, and Thomas assured him the boat could average at least that on a long crossing. It was slow compared to what Scully was used to, but still better than paddling at three knots, and working constantly to maintain even that. At least on the sailboat they could rotate watches and everyone could get a bit of sleep.

But that would be later, when they embarked upon the actual crossing. Right now Scully’s greatest worry was getting as far away from the scene of the shooting as possible, while it was still dark. While he had voiced some concern that the dead attackers might have friends, he was more worried about any unwanted attention the sound of gunfire might attract. There could be other bandits unrelated to those two, or there could be another patrol boat like the one that had driven away the
Casey Nicole
from Cape Sable. Scully didn’t know what to expect in these waters, but he knew that a sailboat with its rig up would be much more visible from a distance than his stealthy kayak. At least
Intrepida
had the tanbark-colored sails that were popular on such traditional cruisers. In low light the dark red color would be less visible than white Dacron, and leaving unseen was their best chance of survival. There weren’t many boats they could outrun in a heavy-displacement 17-footer, no matter how well she sailed.
 

Thomas and Mindy were still shaken up from their close brush with death and were huddled together in the cockpit while Scully steered. Thomas had his chart book for the Florida Keys open beside him, and he confirmed that the elevated section of the bridge they could see on the dark horizon ahead was indeed one of the channels to the Atlantic side of the Keys.
 

“Not to worry mon. Soon we sailin’ in de open ocean. Leavin’ dis Babylon an’ de evil killers in dat place in de wake. Your boat she a good one, mon. She gonna take us to de island, no problem.”

“No problem thanks to you, Scully. I know she’s a good boat, but it’s been hard to work up the courage to go that far.”
 

“Dem seh bettah you wait on de land an’ wish you sailin’ on de sea, den be out in de storm wishin’ you on dry land, mon.”

“Yeah, better safe than sorry, I guess.”

“Except now,” Mindy said. “Now we know it’s not safe to be on land around here or even anchored anywhere near it. I’d rather go out there and drown than have to face men like that again.”