Seeking Safe Harbor: Suddenly Everything Changed (The Seeking Series) (27 page)

Treading water, Stacey considered that. Relenting a little, she said, “Very well, the boat and Glen can go. There is plenty of fuel, so he can motor to Catalina with Millie’s help. It will be faster than sailing, especially if the roller furling is out of action. I, however, am staying.”

“Mrs. Arthur, please be reasonable. I cannot let you go ashore.”

“What I do is none of your business. Please get your skiff out of my way.”

“Okay, okay, you win,” he said, the exasperation clear in his voice. “But I still can’t let you go ashore. You can stay aboard the cutter until we come back here tomorrow for our alternative pickup appointment. Maybe they’ll be here then.”

“Th… they will be,” she assured him, her voice shuddering as she swam over to the skiff. The water, flowing down from Alaska, was icy cold.

I really doubt it
, he thought,
but my life will sure be simpler if they are.

A
S sun rose, Mae prepared breakfast – cold sandwiches, which at that point tasted as good as the famed Eggs Benedict at Brennan’s in New Orleans.

“The ice in the cooler has about melted,” she told the others. “I figure the mustard and mayonnaise will be a little less tasty by this afternoon.”

“Maybe by then we can barbeque steaks on the beach instead of eating sandwiches,” George joked.

“Wouldn’t taste any better than this,” was Denise’s opinion.

“And,” Glen Arthur sighed, “we may have a difficult time getting to the beach by then. Those cars would have passed by that street over there if they left, and not a one did. If they keep blocking the streets all day, we’re either going to have to stay here, or fight our way through.”

“I have no respect for those people,” said Zach, “but I don’t want to kill anyone I don’t have to.”

“Maybe we can try Santa Maria and Highway 101 again,” Ron suggested. “It’s been thirteen or fourteen hours since we left our motorcycle friends. Those kinds of dudes aren’t exactly known for their patience, so they may be long gone by now.”

“It’s a possibility,” Zach agreed, “but there are two problems with it. First, we add distance by going back, and there may not be enough diesel in the Mercedes to reach Gaviota if we go that way. Second, the motorcycle guys have us outnumbered ten to one. We could beat these locals if it came to a fight, but ten to one odds are too heavy to overcome.”

“Your last shot at being picked up is at midnight, right?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Then we have time. If those guys give up the roadblock sometime during the day, we just head south as planned and we’ll be in Gaviota hours ahead of time. If not, at mid-afternoon we decide whether we knock off a couple of guys on one of the roads south, or we take a chance the motorcycles are gone and double back to Santa Maria. If you run out of fuel, you can hop into the SUV and we’ll haul you the rest of the way.”

“Dad, the SUV is full.”

“There’s room for one in the front seat, and one can squeeze in between the supplies. I’ve got luggage racks on the roof, so two of you – you and Ron would be my suggestion – can ride up there.” He laughed. “I know it’s against the law, but these are extenuating circumstances, and at the moment you don’t have to worry about the highway patrol nailing you.”

“You have supplies up there, too.”

“It’s a darn good thing you both have watched your weight. You can squeeze in nicely.”

That settled, they filled the SUV with gas in anticipation of their next attempt to get to Gaviota. Then, they all took advantage of the down time to clean their weapons. Each had a road to watch, looking to see if the cars were leaving the roadblocks, or if any others were out searching for them. It was boring, but boredom was suddenly a welcome relief.

* * * * *

The skiff took Stacey back to the
La Sirena
so she could change into dry clothes and pick up a few things to take with her on the cutter.

When told he was going to be responsible for sailing the boat to Catalina, Glen said, “Mom, what about Dad and Denise? The boat will have to be here for them.”

Stacey explained the timing problem the container ship had created. She added, “Don’t worry; the cutter will be here to take us to Catalina when we pick the others up tonight.”

“What if they’re not there again?”

“In the first place, they will be. In the second place, I do not intend to leave until we have them on board. Settle in at The Isthmus and wait for us. We’ll be there a couple of days after you, at most.”

“I’m having word relayed via our antiquated, but right now very useful, communications system for those at The Isthmus to be expecting you,” said Captain Kotchel. “Go around to the second harbor, the one on the southwest side. There’s good anchorage there and, unlike the one on the northeast side, it is well protected from the weather – and is hidden from view.”

Stacey and the captain got back on the skiff, and Glen and Millie started out for Catalina, using only the diesel engine for power.

“I didn’t say anything at the time,” the Coast Guard captain said to Stacey as they motored toward the cutter, “but you weren’t entirely honest with your son.”

“In what way?”

“We are making a last run north now, and will return tonight to watch for your husband’s signal. After that, we have to go south to intercept that container ship. The way you expressed it to your son, we would wait for your husband and daughter no matter what. Obviously, that isn’t true. We can’t wait. If they aren’t there to signal us, we have to go.”

“They’ll be there. If not right at midnight, then within an hour or two, I’m sure.”

“If you’re so sure, then you’ll have no qualms about promising not to jump in the water again if they’re not.”

“I know Zach and his parents. They’ll show.”

“But, on the unlikely possibility that they are unable to…”

Stacey grimaced and hesitated. Whispering through gritted teeth in a throaty growl, “Okay, yes, I promise!”

“Good,” said the captain. “This time, I’ll give them a two hour leeway. Not a minute more. Those people on that container ship are ruthless, killing everyone and everything in their path. We have to stop them, no matter what the cost. We will leave at two a.m. whether your people are there or not.”

N
OTHING had changed in the area around Vandenberg by noon. Nor had it changed at one p.m., or two, or three. It seemed certain there would be no change the rest of the day, so the elder Glen Arthur conducted a quick poll of everyone.

They all felt they stood a better chance of avoiding bloodshed if they doubled back through Santa Maria. They decided to leave at five p.m., which would give them ample time, almost an extra five hours, to get to Gaviota. They could make it by midnight even if they ran into minor problems. They could not gauge how much time a major problem might cost them.

At five, they motored cautiously out from behind the missile silo. Nothing moved around them as they drove east toward Santa Maria. They were all thankful that, at least at that point, they were alone.

* * * * *

By the time the SUV and Mercedes approached Santa Maria, the Coast Guard cutter was turning back from their northern cruise. They were told that there was a vessel in distress in the waters off Pismo Beach, but after searching the ocean in that area for several hours, they didn’t see a single vessel… much less one in distress.

The contact on shore that relayed the distress message to the cutter at one in the morning, said he heard nothing further and had seen nothing in the water all day. They concluded that it had to be a nuisance call or the boat had sunk.

There was nothing to prevent the cutter from arriving at the pickup point on time.

* * * * *

The senior Arthur, still in the lead, made stops along a side street so they could check the 101 for motorcycles with their binoculars. After only two stops, they spotted several bikes on the highway. There were also bikers still blocking the side streets.

“There’s only two or three on each street, so we could easily bust through,” Zach reasoned. “The problem with that, of course, is that the others will hear and be on our tails in seconds. There will be less risk in going back to Vandenberg and blasting our way past the fewer locals.”

“There is one other alternative,” said his father. “I didn’t bring it up before because it’s long and risky.”

“What is it?” Zach asked. All the others looked at the older man expectantly.

“We could go east on the 166. It’s not too far from here.”

“The highway to Bakersfield?”

“It could take us there if we wanted, but I was thinking about the turnoffs. If we take the right one and make the right connections when doubling back this way, we will end back on the 101 north of Gaviota, but south of here.”

“That explains the ‘long.’ And the risk?”

“That I can remember which is the right turnoff and what are the right connections. And, of course, that the roads haven’t been destroyed.”

“What are the chances you’ll remember the roads?” asked George.

“I haven’t gotten us lost yet, have I?”

“If you find the right roads, and they're still there,” asked Zach, “how long will it take?”

“If all works perfectly, probably about five hours.”

Zach looked at his watch. “That would get us there a little before eleven. If we run into trouble, we will only have an hour to solve the problem.” He looked around.

“It beats having to kill some people,” George opined.

They all nodded, some reluctantly,

“It’s our best course of action,” Mae stated flatly. She looked directly at the two men. “If anyone questions whether or not my husband’s faculties have diminished,” she said pointedly, “I’ll match him against any of you in a memory contest.”

No one took her up on it. As they started toward their vehicles, they heard someone yelling off in the distance. Moments later they heard motorcycles engines starting up in the same area.

They had been spotted.

“The 166, Dad!” Zach called as they jumped into their vehicles. They turned the cars around and sped north toward the highway that led to the hills between the coast and California’s vast Central Valley.

Somewhere along that highway was a turnoff that would lead them back to Gaviota… if they could evade the motorcycle gang… and if Glen Arthur could remember the way.

The motorcycles congregated from all the side streets. There were men on over thirty bikes, and they had the SUV and Mercedes in their sights.

They were less than a mile behind and gaining fast.

B
Y THE time they reached the highway, the lead motorcycles were within five hundred yards of the vehicles. They could see there were not as many bikes as before, but thirty was more than enough to worry them. The gap got smaller and smaller as they sped toward the hills.

It had started to rain – unusual for that time of the year, but they assumed the global weather patterns had changed along with everything else. Neither those in the cars nor those on the motorcycles changed their actions because of the weather. The situation was too intense to let up in any way.