Seeking Safe Harbor: Suddenly Everything Changed (The Seeking Series) (11 page)

T
HERE wasn’t enough time to get out of throwing distance, but Zach knew he had to try. He pushed the throttle full ahead and cranked the wheel hard to port, away from the powerboat. “Grab handholds, everyone,” he yelled. He had no time to determine if anyone aboard heard him.

The boat didn’t react as fast as he liked – it seemed like minutes to him – but it was actually a quick movement in the water and that created a three-foot wave at the starboard stern. The wave moved toward the front of the boat, where another wave approached from the opposite direction. The two crashed into one another between the two boats, creating a huge comber that shot upward.

It raised the
La Sirena
’s stern ten feet in the air and almost capsized the powerboat. The powerboat rode it out, but the port side rose so high that the round stick of dynamite started rolling around the deck at a rapid pace. It rolled right under the grasping hand of the diving helmsman and off the higher level into the cockpit. It continued rolling until it hit the foot of the group’s leader, who was trying to keep upright by holding onto a fishing chair attached to the deck toward the back of the cockpit. He was occupied with trying to stay on his feet and neither saw the dynamite, nor felt it hit his foot.

The helmsman turned frantically and saw the dynamite was more than fifteen feet away. Its blazing fuse was burning with unrelenting progress toward the packed explosive. He didn’t know much about sticks of dynamite but knew enough to realize that that this one was about to blow. He also didn’t know what the fates might hold for him in the roiling waters below, but it couldn’t be worse than what awaited him if he stayed where he was for another second. He dove into the churning sea between the boats and disappeared under the swirling waters.

There were two explosions. Not one second after the helmsman hit the water, the fuse burned to the end and the dynamite went off. That first explosion blasted the powerboat’s aft section apart. That sent the fishing chair, the helmsman’s chair, all the equipment that had been there, and the two gunmen high into the air. It also ripped open the top of the fuel tanks.

Sparks hit the highly flammable fuel, and since it was an older, gasoline-powered boat, they ignited a second explosion. That one was massive. It lifted the broken, shredded boat skyward and shot pieces of it in all directions. The two men who had been shooting from the front of the boat were killed instantly as shrapnel ripped through their bodies.

The eruption caused a voluminous hole where the powerboat had been, the escaping water rolling out in giant waves in a full three-hundred-and-sixty degree circle. It hit the
La Sirena
almost instantly.

The sailboat’s stern had returned to the ocean’s general level moments before, but it was lifted again, this time more than twenty feet. That caused the bow to plunge downward. Everyone had heard Zach’s warning and grabbed handholds, so no one was thrown overboard. Everyone was holding onto rails, wheels, or lockers. Their hands stayed where they had handholds, but when the bow began to nose-dive, their bodies swung downward.

Instead of moving through the wave, the sailboat, its prop now out of the water and screeching in the open air, was carried on top of the huge swell for a few moments before moving with the water downward. The crew could do nothing but hang on, their feet dangling toward the bow, which was pointed toward the bottom of the sea.

Everyone except Denise had secured their weapons by slipping their arms through the straps. Denise had still been rushing backward toward the port side of the boat to be next to Millie when she heard her father yell out. She used the extra second to get to where she was heading instead of slinging her rifle before she grabbed onto the handrail on top of the cabin. To secure the weapon, she rolled on top of it. When the sudden movement caused her body to fall away from the deck, it freed the weapon from under her weight. The boat was still in the pull of the swell, but the wave began to flatten out a little. The angle of the deck went from forty-five degrees to less than thirty degrees.

At that angle, the gun didn’t rush away from her, but instead slid at a tantalizing speed toward the bow – and the ocean below it. She was holding on to a handrail on top of the cabin with both hands, but removed one so she could grab for the weapon. In the last half hour, she grew attached to it – it saved her life, after all – and she didn’t want to lose it. It slipped under her hand and continued on its way toward the bow. She let go with her other hand and again grabbed for the rifle. It was still out of reach.

A wave hit the port side of the boat, which was still riding the swell, and shoved the bow several feet to starboard. The rifle changed directions, and began to slide toward the side of the boat. Denise went after it. She slid on the wet deck, heading for the teak rail on that side of the boat. It was a sturdy, solid teak rail, but there was ample room between the stanchions for a rifle – or a scrambling, sliding girl – to fall right through.

T
HERE was just enough light for Millie to see Denise let go with her first hand. She began scooting after the girl, moving her hands along the handrail she was holding onto instead of removing them as they moved.

When Denise let go with her other hand, Millie quit scooting and rushed to catch up. When Denise lost control and began to slide toward the ocean, Millie was close enough to shoot out a hand to grab the teenager’s wrist.

Denise looked gratefully at the old woman, but pleaded, “My rifle. I’ve got to get my rifle.”

Millie spoke with compassion, but firmly. “Honey, you’re worth a heck of a lot more than a rifle. Let it go. I’ll pull you up.”

The sailboat was carried by the wave for several seconds, the stern high, the bow down and moving to starboard. Then the wave that hit the boat from the side dissipated and the swell that had been carrying the sailboat finally passed through. The water was leveling off, the hole left by the explosion quickly filling again with water. The
La Sirena
rocked as the water sloshed around it, but it began to settle as the ocean resumed a gentle roll in the aftermath of the disturbance.

“Well,” Millie said as she helped Denise scramble back to where she was previously, “it looks like we made it through that all right.” She let go of the girl’s wrist.

“Yes, thank you! You saved my life!”

“That’s a nice thought” the old woman said, “but I think providence had more to do with it. The boat straightened up at the right moment.”

The boat was now moving smoothly, powered by its small diesel engine, the propeller back underwater. They no longer needed to hold onto the rails, but most did, anyway. Denise let go with one hand and rubbed the wrist of the other. “Say, you’re strong.”

Millie laughed. “I wouldn’t say strong, but I’m not weak.” She saw the blood on Denise’s arm and lowered her head to look at it. “What is that? Did you scratch yourself when you started sliding?”

“I’m not sure what it is. It happened around the time I was shooting at the light.”

Millie took Denise’s arm and lifted it so she could get a closer look at the wound. “It’s too dark to see much, but I swear it has signs of a burn. I think a bullet zipped right through there.”

“I was thinking the same thing, but I really don’t know. I didn’t feel it when it happened.”

“Things ought to get a lot calmer now,” Millie surmised. “We should be able to get some lights on so I can take a better look at it. I’m sure you people already had medicine and bandages, but we brought some, too, and they’re in the main salon. I imagine they’re strewn all over the place after what we went through, but they should be easy to find. I’ll collect them up and have that little bullet wound taken care of in a jiffy.”

They started back toward the cockpit, but before they were halfway there, their mission was interrupted.

* * * * *

When the giant swell hit the boat, Zach jumped up to resume his place at the wheel. He knew he would be powerless to control their course… among other things, the rudder and propeller were out of the water… as long as the stern was sticking so far in the air, but he wanted to be ready when the time came.

As it was, the boat went straight ahead until a wave hit the bow on the port side, causing it to yaw to starboard. Immediately after, the boat settled in the water, and the rudder and prop moved back down below the water line. That put him in control of the boat’s movements, so he eased the throttle forward and turned the wheel slightly to port to get them back on course.

The prevailing winds from Hawaii to California blow directly into the face of a boat, so sailboats under sail have to tack most of the way. The
La Sirena
was temporarily powered by its engine, which allowed it to follow a direct course.

The ocean still hadn’t settled completely, but Zach decided the boat’s slight rocking wouldn’t stop them from doing some checking into their situation. Many bullets had hit the boat, and they’d been tossed around violently by the explosion-born waves. Things could be broken.

“Glen, go below and get the twelve-volt flashlight. I want to check our perimeter before I turn the lights on.”

“Dad, I’m wounded,” Glen said from behind.

Stunned, Zach turned to look at his son.

“What did you say?” cried Stacey from the side of the aft cabin.

“I was hit in the shoulder,” Glen replied. “That’s why I had to throw the dynamite early.”

Both parents were at his side in a second, and Denise, already halfway back, ran the last ten feet to get to him. Millie quietly headed down to the salon.

When he saw the blood, Zach tore off the youngster’s shirt so they could get a look at the wound. Both he and Stacey got close to inspect it, but it was hard to see in the dark just how much damage was done to the shoulder. “We need light, Denise,” he said.

“I’m on my way,” she replied as she hurried down the ladder into the salon.

A few seconds later, she returned with a large flashlight. Millie was right behind her with bandages, anti-bacterial medicine, a bottle of painkillers, and a bottle of water. George was on his way down the ladder into the salon.

Stacey took the light and backed up a little. The flashlight was almost as powerful as the one that had been shining on them, so she told Glen to close his eyes and look away before she shined it on his shoulder.

Zach looked at the wound. It was on the outside top of his right shoulder. Despite all that had happened, it had only been a minute or two since it happened and the blood was still flowing heavily. He saw that Millie had come up next to him with the medical supplies and water. “Great, Millie. Thanks!”

“I used to be a nurse,” she told him. “It was a long time ago, but I remember quite a bit.”

“Take a look,” he said, moving aside so she could get in close.

Millie poured water on a cotton swab and cleaned around the wound. She looked closely at it, and then told Glen to move his arm back and forth. He did, wincing as he did so.

“Okay,” she said, “now up and down.”

He again followed her orders, and again winced in pain

“Was the pain you felt in the muscle or the bone?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Kinda in my skin, it seemed like.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. It missed the bone, or you wouldn’t have been able to move your arm that way.”

“Mind if I take a look?” Zach asked. “I’m no doctor, but I had to do some first aid on a couple of wounded guys in the Middle East.”

It was Millie’s turn to move over so he could get a better look.

He wiped more blood from the wound and examined it. “I agree. No bone damage. Go ahead and treat the wound.”

“I will,” she said, preparing the bandages. “Then I’ll fix Denise’s wound.”

“Denise?” cried Stacey, almost dropping the light at the same time.

“It’s nothing,” Denise protested. “Not anything like Glen’s.”

Zach checked on Denise while Millie was treating Glen’s wound. She had to grab Stacey’s arm more than once to keep the light on it. Stacey kept looking over Zach’s shoulder to see her daughter’s wounded arm.

“It’s only this,” the girl said, showing them where the bullet creased her arm. “Like I said, it’s nothing like what happened to Glen.”

“It’s not so much what it is,” Stacey said, a note of forlornness in her voice that was not in keeping with her usual upbeat attitude. “It’s what it could have been.” Her children were injured. “What have we gotten ourselves into?”

Zach put his arm around his wife. “It’s not what we got ourselves into,” he reminded her. “It’s what has happened to the world. We had nothing to do with it, but I’m not sure there’s any way we can stay away from it. Once we’ve checked on my mother and father, though, we’re going to try.”

Millie finished dressing Glen’s wound and turned to work on Denise. “I’ve given your son the strongest anti-pain medicine I have – strong aspirin,” she told the Arthurs. “It’s not on par with what you get at a hospital, but it will help. I recommend he get some rest now.”

“He’s been sleeping on a berth we made out of the dining table area,” Stacey said. She quickly shunted her feelings of despair aside and was ready to get on with what needed to be done. “That’s not an issue, but we need to clean up down there first.’