THE KILLER ANGEL : Book Three "Journey" (THE KILLER ANGEL TRILOGY 3) (17 page)

As soon as I exited the channel, the completely unexpected sound of a compressed air-horn sounded, shocking both Ben and me from our contemplative reverie.
What the hell?!!

During our entire time on the water, we had not encountered one other occupied craft,
not one!
And now, halfway to our journey’s end, we were being hailed by another, much larger sailboat, anchored in such a way that no one could pass unnoticed.

Someone, a man, on the deck was waving. Only one person was visible, but the circumstances demanded caution for many obvious reasons. I had lowered my sail earlier, so only the current carried me closer to the stationary vessel. We both stood, each observing the other.

Silence.

Then, the man shouted out, “Nicki?”

Oh my god
.... “Gus?” I could not believe what I was seeing. “Gus! Gus! Am I dreaming?”

As my sailer drew closer, Gus threw a rope to me and drew our boats hull to hull with a clunk. I leaped on to the larger craft and grabbed my old friend in a huge bear hug.

“I thought I would never see you again, Gus!” My dear, old seafaring Oregon captain here on the Mississippi? “How is this possible? I must be dreaming!”

“Heh heh, no dream Nicki! I am here and so thrilled to find you! I feared constantly of missing you on the water at night, or having you bi-pass me altogether on land, given how you and Brick go wherever you please, neither demons nor saints to bar the way!”

“Ben!” Gus yelled out. Ben had been beside himself with excitement, hopping about, tail wagging, wuffing and whistling in joy and anticipation. “Ben, you old war dog; I would never forget you my friend.”

“Hugs and happiness,” Gus laughed, “now coffee and snacks.” With that, Gus brought out a delicious range of cheese and canned foods, along with some fresh ground and brewed coffee. Propane stoves still worked beautifully, unlike so many reminders of our lost civilization.

“My own hand-powered coffee grinder, how ‘bout that?” Gus winked and smiled his knowing smile, as he passed powdered cream and sugar to me. He knew how much I enjoyed and longed for a fresh brew.

“Brick would love this coffee; you make a fine barista!” I meant it, too; the coffee was delicious. “When I open
‘Nicki’s Place’
, you’re hired, no questions asked. And bonus, you can keep the whiskers.”

“The day Nicki Redstone opens a coffee shop is the day I work there.” Gus retorted, “So I guess I won’t be working there...ever.”

I could not stop grinning, “Gus, you look great...younger, very robust, and no gray hair; and no
limp, I noticed.”

“Ah, yes; compliments of the virus, I guess,” Gus replied. “Still missing the tooth, though.” I had noticed the gap when he laughed through his ever present whiskers.

“You look great, too, Nicki; deadly as ever, no doubt, although I can tell you have seen some hard times. You’ve lost some weight and have picked up a few new scars, some of the damage very fresh, I see. Hmmm... some worry lines, too.” Through his tender smile, I could tell Gus was concerned about me, but he didn’t allow the moment to linger. “It’s good thing that Uncle Gus is here to fatten you up!”

Ahh Gus
... Following a deadly incident with a malignant group calling themselves the ‘Fifth Militia’, Brick and I had met Sam Gustafson in a small port on the Pacific coast where, in his old life, he had been the night caretaker. An experienced seaman, Gus took Brick, Ben and me north in his newly acquired sailing yacht, and during the trip had taught us as much as he could about sails and the sea.

We munched on the many snacks that Gus had laid out. Over refills of steaming, wonderful coffee, I demanded his story. “Gus, what are you doing here? There is no way you could sail through the Panama Canal. Also, I’m very impressed that
you found me
on the river, which had to be a long-shot guess. Right?”

“Yep, yep, all true Nicki,” Gus grinned, lingering
on a long sip of his hot brew for dramatic effect. His story was coming out slowly, which was fine, since I had, until that moment, only myself and Ben as company for the last month. I had to smile; I had missed Gus. Having Brick there would have made the reunion all the more perfect.

“Of course, I pretty much knew your plans, and was able to follow some of your journey whenever there was news of you on the radio.” Gus paused for a munch. “I almost had a heart attack, I mean up and died, when I heard that you had been killed at Fort Hope. It was so final; so definite; so awful.” Gus waved his hand across his face as if to ward off something evil. “But it came out later that you were okay. The gods of war were with you that day, I know, Nicki.”

“And Brick...and Ben,” I added.

“Yes.” Gus continued, “So I wandered around the Oregon coast, mostly bored. I was halfway down to California when word came out that you and Brick were on your way. I knew that you would be headed to South Dakota to his home, then to Florida on your own. I was sure you would jump on the Missouri, then the Mississippi, given that you were an expertly trained and supremely capable sailor.” Gus was proud of my skill, which made me laugh.

“I figured you could use Gus’s boat taxiola, so I thought, ‘what the heck?’ I needed an adventure, so I sailed to the Panama Canal, which I had traversed a few times before. The locks would not be operational, of
course, but it’s less that 50 miles wide and I knew that some of it would be sailable - which it was.

“Runner traffic was light, which I tended to avoid as much as possible, since I didn’t have a ‘Nicki Redstone’ with me. I’m not terribly spry, but I ducked and dodged a bit, then I made it to the Gulf side, then ‘pow’ found this slick transport, and headed for the Mississippi.” Gus shifted in his chair as he moved his hands, boxer-like. He was quite a character, and always kept me laughing with his antics. That grin with one tooth missing only added to the comedy.

“I constantly listened for updates about you, Nicki, trying to track your progress. I knew that at some point you would probably leave the river and head east, so I came as far north as I thought seemed correct, and -
voila -
here we are!”

I was impressed and deeply grateful, “Gus, it is so great to see you...you just don’t know. Thank you for being here. I really needed to see a friendly face, and yours is perfect. And that
‘voila’ ...Français?
Damn! I feel right at home!” I hugged him again and kissed his rough, whiskered cheek. Hard times can make bonds that reach the soul; I had that feeling about Gus, and nothing would ever change that.

“So, how was the ocean travel, especially in the Gulf of Mexico?” I queried. I had previously determined that my exit from the Mississippi would be in Baton Rouge, but I was still curious.

“Waaayle,” Gus began, “as you know, this is
hurricane season, so that concern made me very edgy and kept me close to shore. I did not want to be caught in the open sea, fearless though I am... Ahem! Plus, there is all kinds of debris out there, some of it huge... gigantic. Ship hulls, houses, docks and whatnot; flowing out of the rivers and ports I guess, with no one to remove or mark the stuff. It will take a long time for it all to clear away, I think. Dangerous. I had to keep a careful look out.” Gus paused, then lay back against the bulkhead, very relaxed.

“Most of the old permanent hazards are still marked by solar powered lights, but some of those are failing. Battery problems, maybe. Lousy repair service these days, you know? I might have to write a letter...”

I had to smile at Gus’s small joke. Humor is what kept me going through the worst of times, and both Gus and Brick were brilliant at slipping easy levity into a serious conversation.

“Interesting thing, too,” Gus continued, “I saw another of those cruise ships a few miles from New Orleans. A big-un, too.” I sadly recalled the dark specter of a listing cruise ship off of the Oregon coast, populated by runners.

“This one was in much better condition than that Oregon wreck. A theme park ship, I figured; named the
Lady Tintagel
, an odd name, don’t you think? It was properly anchored, too. Only a few lifeboats remained on board. No runners that I could see, so I guess maybe everyone abandoned the thing. I was tempted to check
it out, but I didn’t want to risk missing you. Maybe another day...”

My older sister had once enjoyed holiday cruises, but that was long ago, and we had been estranged for many years. I had no idea of her continued existence, nor that of my young niece. Those bonds of affection and love were firmly denied by the stern hand of Tara Redstone.

The reasons for any discord were now beyond pointless
...

Gus changed the subject. “So tell me the latest about Brick, and a little more about your journey since you left. I can tell it has been rough on you, Nicki, and word was passed over the airwaves that you took care of a bunch of thug slavers, a big dust up from what I can tell. Some mighty grateful folks there for sure. Nicki Redstone does it again! I was busting my buttons I was so proud...and so damn scared for you.”

“Yeah, I know, Gus, I know,” I gently replied and laid my back against a cushion next to Gus. “The stars are out now.” We both looked up as a chill breeze cooled the air around us. “So many!” Of course, there were no longer city lights and air pollution to dim their sparkle, one of the very few benefits of this new life.

With that, I began the process of bringing Gus up to speed on my adventures - Brick’s family situation; the horrible debacle at the federal bunker; the Beauchamp boys; Mannat and the slavers – all of it. We had all learned that the best way to deal with devastation and
sorrow was to talk frankly with those who were close and could understand. Gus was one of those people; he knew me well and he understood everything.

The next couple of weeks were spent comfortably in Gus’s company. An actual bed was a nice luxury, as was the small galley and shower. I was so accustomed to sleeping on the ground and bathing in rivers that I did not think of such indulgences when doing without; but when available, I appreciated those beautiful pieces of comfortable living all the more.

During his journey to find me, Gus had anchored for a day in Baton Rouge to resupply, and in the process had made the acquaintance of a lonely, young survivor who had his own radio operation near the wharf.

“His name is Steven James. You’re his hero, Nicki,” Gus remarked without expression, “as you are to many people. Of course you know that.”

“Yes, I know.” I said, smiling slightly as I watched Gus adjust the steering. The gentle wind that filled the sails was chilly, but if felt good, even as it blew strands of loose hair across my face.

“Steven had the idea that it would be good and helpful to a lot of folks if they could hear words of encouragement from you; maybe some tips on survival and so on. I think it’s a pretty good idea. Boost morale and educate.”

“Re-he-he-heeeely,” I said softly in my Ace Ventura voice. Gus was bringing back my sense of humor. They were right, of course; there were some things that I could pass on to other survivors that would surely be helpful, and maybe save lives. “Yeah, I agree, Gus, it makes sense. I look forward to meeting Mr. James. Maybe this will be fun...interesting, at least.”

Those two weeks spent in the uplifting companionship of Sam Gustafson were all that I needed to regain my vigor, both physical and mental. It was proving difficult to once again bid farewell to my dear friend following a one night sojourn with Steven James, the Baton Rouge radio operator whom Gus had described.

My airwaves presentation went well, as it was not an entirely new experience for me, given my background, and I was hopeful that it would deliver valuable tools to those in need. Additionally, it provided me an opportunity to update my loved ones in Oregon, and to offer a schedule of my travel to anyone who might be listening in Florida. Even if the original broadcast was too weak to reach everyone, I knew that it would be retransmitted many times. Eventually, all would hear.

But then it was time to “strap it on” and head east. I thanked Steven for his effort, and then embraced Gus
like a father, with a firm promise that I would see him again as soon as possible.