Flotilla (35 page)

Before this year, I thought it was hilarious, the idea of pirates out here. Pirates were guys who stole software or took over cargo ships in Africa. Who ever heard of pirates off the coast of LA? All of Dad's talk about 'colony folks being good at taking care of themselves' echoed in my head but none of it mattered now. Now he was gone along with half of the Colony and we were laying here in the dark like two scared puppies.

I heard the staccato rip of gunfire - a machine gun and then the louder crack of something else...Maybe a shotgun. "Is that Dad? Is that Dad?" Madison wanted to know. It might have sounded like a dumb question but she had a point, kind of. Who doesn't want their dad to be nearby when there are scary things around?

We could hear another motor launch near the back deck. Several voices were shouting in Spanish and I could hear the boat scrape the sides of the
Horner
as they squeezed in between us and the next ship. The pirates grabbed handholds and pulled themselves over the railing - glass was breaking and sudden shouts as they entered the boat next door.

Terror ... abject fear. I thought I knew what it was to be scared, but I didn't have a clue. Madison and me huddled tightly together and listened. I could hear them crashing around kicking in doors and breaking glass. No screams from the residents. They must have been there to smash and grab, not hurt anyone. I started to breathe a sigh of relief ...
maybe it wouldn't be that bad
. But then there was another sound.

My heart kicked up another hundred beats when I heard a soft footstep on the back deck of the
Horner
. No way was it Dad or Riley ... I knew what their footsteps sounded like. The back door quietly clicked open - it was rarely locked - and then he was inside.

The footsteps were evil - soft and light - someone didn't want to be heard even as his amigos were busting things up next door. I heard the hissing sound of someone lightly dragging their fingertip along the bulkhead. We both started breathing shallowly as the step stopped at the door of the Junk Room. The creaking doorknob turned slowly and the door opened.

"I know you are here, little ones," a Spanish-accented voice said lightly. "I ca' smell joo." He spoke into the silence of the room and his feet weren't eighteen inches from my head. I closed my eyes - if we made a sound, any sound, the game was up.

I don't know why I knew this guy was bad news. I just
knew
it, right? Like when you're watching a horror movie and there's that innocent-looking white guy. You
just know
he will be hacking people up later. I had no idea who this dude was but if he found us ... there was no telling what he would do.

Wait a minute...this was so weird. How did we know this guy was bad news, worse than the pirates outside? Maybe it was Riley pulling a prank - ready to pull the box back and film our reaction with his camera phone. He was clearly not above it. I really wanted this to be one of his pranks but I knew in my heart that it just wasn't. This was bad, the real deal ... trouble with a capital T. I would never question that instinct again.

The three of us were like that in the junk room for what seemed like an eternity. Madison's breathing was sharp but mercifully silent. I held my hand clamped down brutally over her mouth, to keep her from making a sound. Afterward, neither of us could say how long we lay there like that. It was only a matter of time until we made a noise and then this scumbag would be on us. I prayed ... Dear God I prayed like I never had in my life before. I didn't pray for my Dad to come home or my Mom to be okay - I just prayed for this guy to leave.

I don't think God uses an A4 carbine, though. Fortunately, Miguel's wife does. Apparently, she had woken from her buzz to hear the sirens and, taking up her little piece o' nasty, started looking for someone to shoot.

The burst of machine gun fire made us jump. Loud, almost like it was inside the
Horner
. I heard a burst of lurid swearing in Spanish and the guy's footfalls as he made for the back porch. "I got you, wetback!" she screamed through the cheap paneling. The guy was screaming as he dove for the boat and I heard her run through the boat toward the back deck. More shots as the boat grumbled away staying close to the other boats for cover.

The whole thing happened so quickly that I didn't know what was going on until she was saying "Jim? Jim!" in the darkness. In hindsight it made perfect sense: she was protecting us. At the same time, like everyone else in the Colony, she was looking for someone to take her fear and anger out on. "Well, thank God she's on our side," I heard one of the Security guys say later.

Speaking of which, the Security team finally started doing their job instead of harassing us. I could hear them as they shouted threats in Spanish and tried to run the pirates off. Later on, I would hear that they fired into the air to make noise, not wanting to shoot into a boat and risk hitting a civilian. Someone onboard the
Phoenix
decided to give them a display of firepower and we heard that CIWS gun go off. The sound was between a fog horn and a massive fan ... the heavy, groaning sound of the space invaders when they arrive to destroy the humans ...
zzzzzhhhhBbrrrraaaaAAAPP
!

Well, that did it ... they didn't wait to hear anything else. The pirates broke and made for their boats. In seconds I heard the various groans and buzzes from broken-down outboard motors. They were out of earshot in a minute or less. I'm surprised that the
Phoenix
didn't wait until they were away from the rings and then turn them to chum but I guess they didn't want to worry about reprisals. The Colony Patrol, such as it was, had some fun taking pot shots at the retreating boats and I found myself hoping at least some of those shots landed.

I've never been in the position of deliberately wanting to see someone die. I guess the terror I felt from a few minutes before made it inevitable. I didn't want to think about what might have happened if Miguel's wife hadn't shown up when she did. I had nightmares of her going the other way and this guy grinning as he slapped the boxes away from our hiding place to find us.

We stayed in that little hiding place for another hour after the sirens stopped. Miguel's wife came stumbling through there again, calling for me. Still drunk, she was bouncing off of the walls like she was avoiding incoming artillery and while holding onto that gun. I could hear the metal clank against the walls, door knobs and anything else in her way.

"Jim! Jiiiim!" No way was I coming out, now. If I popped my head up she might blow a hole in it thinking I was a Mexican pirate. Laying there, I thought about how this place has taught me to always assume the worst case or the weirdest-case scenario. 'Crazy begets crazy,' is a saying among the Colony folks. I smiled slightly ... it was something I was going to have to explain to Madison in the morning.

We lay there for so long that Madison's breathing became deep and regular - she fell asleep among the moldy boxes and mildewed trash, the poor kid. She was sleepy and a bit grouchy when I got her out of there and I think she was sleep-walking when I led her way back to the stateroom. It took a long time for me to fall asleep.

Our current position is: 35deg25'48.39"N 120deg57'0.54"W

Dawn broke gray on a heaving sea. It was quiet after the attack and still we were still asleep at 10 in the morning. A knock on the back door woke me up. Not an old crazy coot who was looking for the
Dixie Star
or a sketch-head looking for Dad ... It was Ralph, the security goon. Last time we saw him; he was snooping around and looking for people to draft. Why was he here now?

Ralph carried an old M-16 slung over his shoulder. After last night, everyone was in an 'enhanced security posture.' Well, good for them, I guess. "What's up," I asked.

"We need you to come up to the
Phoenix
," he said. "We need to talk about last night."

I was suspicious. "And then what?"

"We'll see," he said. "Don't worry - nobody's drafting you." He waited while I got cleaned up and dressed. Madison insisted on going even though I wanted her to stay with Stacy.

"Don't worry, they're up on the boat with us now," Ralph said.

So that's where they ended up
. We were silent on our journey to the ship, passing boats with kicked-in windows and trash all over the place. I saw clothes and paper floating in the water inside a pen and it made me sad about our own fish. Nobody had been taking care of them and I was starting to see a few Tilapias floating to the top. Would we ever get back to them?

Onboard the
Phoenix
, Ralph steered us toward the administration offices. We passed groups of families huddled together in random places on the deck. Riley was morosely working the counter of the Grill, turning out sandwiches and hamburgers and apparently not taking a dime for any of them. If Jeb saw this, he'd hit the roof... if he was still alive to care, that is.

As we passed the families, we saw people stopping whatever it was they were doing to look at us. I thought they were staring because they were concerned but there was more to it. The one crazy lady slobbering about Branson I met yesterday, she was glaring at me with eyes like needles. I kept hearing a muttered comment, over and over, as we passed. "Rick's kids."

Yeah, we were 'Rick's kids'...so what? Did that matter, all of a sudden? Aren't we survivors like everyone else? Trash Man's visit yesterday confirmed that Dad was into some bad stuff. How was that our fault?

I didn't like that Dad was involved but seriously ... drugs were
everywhere
in the Colony. The kids of Burning Man started tweaking at earlier and earlier ages. You'd see the men of different boats smoking pot on their back decks - it was the worst-kept secret here. Random kids getting high and too many infirmary visits listed as 'allergic reactions to cold medication'. None of this was a surprise ... drugs were just part of the life here.

There was no better anti-drug commercial than seeing people slowly turning into human garbage. You could watch it happening to them from one summer to the next. The light in their eyes died. Everything about them seemed to fall apart. I'm not trying to sound like a DARE program or something ... they became a
mess
. I knew that I didn't want to go down that road. But why would Dad?

See...this is why we need to talk!
I mentally screamed in his general direction. After all of his lectures about booze and drugs - Dad was part of a drug ring right here on the Colony. Everything he said to me was so much crap. I just ... I don't even know what to say.

Everything about Dad was a waste. He couldn't be content to just build his catch and make it work. He had to scam somebody ... He was always trying to cut corners. He had more energy to make excuses than to
just do the job right
. Did he understand what it was like to want to look up to someone and realize you couldn't? What are you supposed to do with that?

I guess I wasn't the only person who was disappointed in Rick Westfield. Ralph steered us around makeshift areas of people living on blankets and ratty-looking lawn chairs. People continued to look up as we passed. The whisper grew in volume and bitterness as we drew closer to the ship's office.
Rick's kids ... those are the ones ... right there.

We were almost there when a raucous shout came from behind us. An old Chinese lady was standing in the aisles of families and pointing us accusingly. "You no good! You Daddy bad man!" she shrieked. "Go 'way ... you no stay here!" We were stunned by her outburst but what followed was worse. The old lady was standing there, still pointing when the people on both sides of the aisles came to their feet cheering. They were leaning against bulkheads or lying on the deck but they all got up together to give her an old-fashioned standing ovation ... it was quite impressive.

It was not impressive to Madison, she burst into tears. It was too loud for me to hear it but I could still feel her shaking with sobs next to me. Ralph tightened his grip on our shoulders and used his big, fat body as kind of a shield to get us away from there and out of sight. He sat us down in at a desk in the Admin Center and then disappeared.

The Admin Center was next door to the Colony Operations office I was trying to make a phone call from. It had the same old blue carpet, smelled of burnt coffee and the decor was straight out of Old Gross Office Monthly. No one went to any trouble to make it look nice, just more cheap wood paneling. Where was everybody? Normally this place was jammed with office people but for right now it was deserted. The door opened and Trash Man walked in.