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

“Now, mon. We sailin’ now. Nevah know how many friend de dead mon dem got. Mehbe on de way already, comin’ in de night outta de bush like dey friend. I seh we go tonight, leavin’ dis place far behind. An’ if de sea, she at peace, we be sailin’ to de island come mornin’.”

It took Thomas a minute to grasp the enormity of this. After all this time of dreaming and procrastinating, they were about to sail to the Bahamas, and they were leaving right away! It made him a bit nervous, but looking at the other body half-afloat at the tideline, Thomas knew the island man was right. They needed to get out of here and they needed to do it now. It would be foolhardy to remain here all night after their new friend had just killed two men. Thomas was almost certain someone else would come before morning, and Mindy nodded in agreement when he told Scully they could do it. The only thing she suggested was that since Thomas already had a fire going, they should cook the snapper they had caught earlier and eat before they left. Scully didn’t argue with that. It only took an extra twenty minutes and then Thomas kicked sand onto the fire to put it out and they waded out to their boat. Scully pulled his kayak into the water as well and waded around to the stern of the sailboat, where he tied his bow painter to a cleat to serve as a towline.
 

Thomas wondered how they were going to manage, with the three of them living aboard the 17-foot micro-cruiser for several days or longer. There were only two bunks down below, but Scully assured him he wouldn’t need one. He said he preferred to sleep on deck and stretching out in one of the cockpit seats to check it out, pronounced it plenty long enough for the purpose.
 

“All we need doin’ is haul in de anchor mon.”

“Are we going straight to the Bahamas tonight?” Mindy asked, still unsure of the plan.
 

Thomas wasn’t clear on it either. Everything was happening so fast. And now he’d turned over the decision making to their new captain.

“We wait an’ see in de mornin’” Scully said. “Sail outta dis place an’ keep away from de land where people livin’. If de wind, she good, we goin’ when de sun rise. But first we need to make de pass to south of dem Keys, under de bridge. You got de charts, to find de channel, mon?”

“Yes, we have all the charts for the Keys. There are several passes with enough bridge clearance for our mast. We’ve just been staying on the Gulf side because the chart showed a lot more mangrove islands and places to hide here.” From what he could tell looking at the charts, the Atlantic side of the Keys looked a lot more open, with many of the inhabited islands built up on that side an few places to duck out of sight between them and the reefs farther offshore. It might have proven fatal tonight if not for Scully’s arrival, but until then the strategy had worked. But now it was time to go to a better place.
 

With the anchor up and the rode stowed in its locker, Mindy and Thomas got the sails up without Scully’s help and
Intrepida
began moving in the light nighttime breeze. The Montgomery did surprisingly well in light air and was reasonably close-winded. Thomas and Mindy had been sailing her long enough to know how to handle her well, it was just that they had not sailed offshore enough to build the confidence for longer crossings. But with a real offshore sailor on board, Thomas felt they absolutely could now.

Scully had little in the way of possessions other than the long, two-man kayak that he said belonged to his best friend, Larry, and his weapons. In addition to the military-style rifle he carried, he had a long, razor-sharp machete and the pistol and rifle taken from the two attackers he killed. Thomas found a safe place in a locker down below for the dangerous blade and the recovered firearms but Scully insisted on keeping his personal rifle close at hand as long as they were in sight of land. As they were tacking away from the anchorage at the mangrove island, Scully answered more of their questions about where he had been and what he had seen since the pulse.

“Lights out everywhere, mon. Dem out in St. Thomas, Puerto Rico, New Orlean. All de place I an’ I see. Mehbe all de world, got de lights out. Only Jah knowin’ mon.”

Scully’s report only confirmed what Thomas and Mindy suspected; the damage to the grid
was
widespread. Some of the other sailors they’d met at the Dry Tortugas said the same. Most of them had come from other parts of the Florida peninsula: Tampa, Ft. Myers, Miami, Ft. Lauderdale… Scully was the first person they’d talked to who could verify the same conditions as far away as New Orleans and St. Thomas. If the situation was truly global, then it was far worse than he’d imagined. The damage was the same anywhere they could conceivably go, so would things be any better in the Bahamas? When he asked Scully what he thought, their new captain replied with the story of the attack from another sailing vessel on the Cay Sal Bank. Even in such a remote place, they’d encountered violence, so maybe no place was truly safe, but Thomas already felt better with Scully in charge. And now there were three firearms aboard as well. Thomas would have never thought them necessary before the collapse, but after what just happened, he felt good knowing the guns were close at hand. And when they reached the Bahamas, he intended to ask Scully if they could keep one of them, maybe the pistol, and if he could teach them how to use it. Never again did he want to experience that helpless feeling of knowing he was about to be murdered, along with the woman he loved, and that there was not a thing he could do about it. From this point forward, Thomas realized they were going to have to adapt to a harsh new way of life. The rules were different now, and the only authorities they had encountered had simply ordered them to go away. Thomas wanted to survive this, and he knew Mindy did too. With Scully’s help, the prospects of doing just that suddenly looked a whole lot better.

Five

T
HE
LONGER
R
USSELL
WATCHED
, the better he felt about his new neighbors with which he now shared this tiny Bahamian cay he didn’t even know the name of. After seeing more of the crew from the two sailboats, he began to feel fairly certain that they were not cutthroat murderers out roaming the islands to take from the less fortunate. Instead, they appeared to be quite normal looking folks. That they were a mix of men and women, even
young, good-looking
women;
put Russell even more at ease in regards to their intentions.

The first of these women had appeared on deck of the classic-looking sailboat that was anchored on the calm side of the island. She looked to be perhaps in her mid to late thirties, like the man on the catamaran, and like him she seemed at ease aboard a boat. Her tan, athletic body added to her image as a competent sailor and she was quite attractive, with short, but sexy blonde hair that just touched her shoulders. The other two females that greeted the day a bit later were much younger, in their early twenties, Russell guessed. One had the outdoorsy, at home on the boat kind of look and the other looked like she could have been a fashion model in a previous life. It was this one that Russell zeroed in on, unable to take his eyes off her, as he watched her ever move in fascination. It had been too long since he’d seen other people at all, and
way
too long since he’d seen a girl that looked that good.

Her oversized T-shirt and baggy shorts couldn’t hide what he was sure was a perfect body, and her long brunette hair was pulled back in a ponytail, allowing him to see even at a distance that she had a face to match the rest. What were the odds of a girl like her ending up here? Russell didn’t know, but he was certainly not going to object. He noticed too that there was a young man about the age of the two younger women as well. This one was clean-cut, still making the effort to shave apparently; something few men bothered with these days. There was one more man who emerged soon as well, and Russell guessed he could be in his mid to late forties. The final crewmember he saw was a young girl in her early teens, bringing the grand total from the two boats to seven. Russell figured one of the older men was the girl’s father, and the blonde woman was no doubt her mother. Whatever the case, it didn’t really matter. He had seen enough that he was sure they were all sailing together. Why the other boat ended up on the safe side of the island, unlike the catamaran, Russell didn’t know, but he figured it was because the catamaran got their first. It make sense, because he knew catamarans were faster than boats like the other one.
 

Russell had been watching from behind a clump of bushes and cacti on a slight rise that overlooked the entire end of the island the boats and their crews occupied. As soon as all of them were out for the day, there was much walking back and forth across the island between the two vessels, and what appeared to be lots of discussion among their crews. Russell had no doubt it was in regards to getting out of their predicament. The next thing that happened was that they began offloading the gear and supplies aboard the stranded catamaran. Russell could easily guess what they were doing—trying to lighten the load. Maybe they were going to try and refloat the boat when the tide came in and sail it around to the other side where the other vessel was anchored. One thing he was sure of, they had
lots
of stuff. His mouth watered as he began to fantasize about foods he had not tasted in weeks. Surely they would share some with him when he explained his situation. Russell decided it was time to make an introduction. He would simply walk up to them and tell them the truth, that he was alone there, a castaway who had barely survived his ordeal, and if they were indeed ordinary, mostly good people as he was now confident they were, they would have pity on him and help him out. In exchange, he would help them with their boat problem. Maybe they would even give him a ride. That was what he
really
wanted, a ride and the opportunity to meet the beautiful girl with the long dark hair. Russell got to his feet and stepped out in the open, calling out to the strangers before approaching any closer.
 

The man he’d seen first was passing things from the deck of the catamaran to the other two men in the water, who were in turn handing them to the three women and the girl. They had a system going to get everything to the beach as quickly as possible, and Russell figured he could join in and help them, if only they’d give him something to eat so he would have the strength to work. His shouts clearly startled them—all seven of the strangers immediately stopped what they were doing and turned his way to look. Their first reaction was anything but welcoming. The women moved closer to the boat and the guy on deck reached for something through the closest hatch and seconds later had a shotgun in his hands.
 

“It’s okay!” Russell shouted. “I don’t have a gun, only this!” He held the fiberglass pole spear out to one side so they could see it. It wasn’t much of a weapon against someone armed with a shotgun. “I’m not looking for trouble, I just need help! I’m hungry!” He hesitated before walking any closer.

“Where did you come from?” the man with the shotgun yelled back. “We didn’t see another boat on the island. Are you alone?”

“Yes I’m alone! I don’t have a boat! I’m stranded here and barely surviving!” Russell stood there waiting for a reaction while the surprised boat people talked amongst themselves, apparently trying to decide what to do about his unexpected appearance.
 

“Stay where you are!” the man with the gun yelled back. “We’ll come talk to you.”

Russell saw the man go below into the cabin again, and when he reappeared, he had two more long guns, both of which looked to be assault rifles. He passed one to each of the other two men and then walked to the bow of the catamaran and jumped off into the shallow water. Russell knew that if he’d misjudged these people, he was screwed. He was powerless to defend himself against them, and even if they didn’t have guns he couldn’t have done much against three men who all looked to be fit and healthy while he was underfed and weak. And so he stood there and waited, trying not to appear nervous. He resigned himself to the reality that if they killed him now it wouldn’t matter much anyway. He couldn’t go on like this forever and he knew that eventually something would happen to him here alone, and that would be it. Maybe he would step on a stingray or get bitten by a shark, or maybe the next time he got sick he wouldn’t recover his strength, and would spend his last days lying there in his miserable hut, unable to get up and forage for food, wasting away until he died of starvation. It wasn’t an attractive option, and even if he’d tried to hide, these people probably would have found him. If they decided to shoot him on the spot, then so be it. He would know soon enough if they were going to do so.

“I just saw your boats this morning,” he said, as the three men walked towards him, stopping when they were some twenty paces away. They were close enough to talk in a normal tone, but far enough that they knew he couldn’t try anything.

“How did you get here?” the one with the shotgun asked. “This island is a long way from anywhere.”

“I was on a sailboat with some people I met in Nassau. They agreed to give me a ride to Staniel Cay in the Exumas. I have an old friend that lives there. I thought we were in the Exumas, but now I’m not so sure. There’s nothing here and I have no idea which cay this is. We dropped the anchor nearby for what they said was a stop to do some spearfishing, but they left while I was off swimming, too far from the boat to catch up. They abandoned me here with nothing but this pole spear and my mask, and I haven’t seen another boat until you guys showed up.”

“You’re a long way from the Exumas,” the man with the shotgun said. “If they told you that’s where you were, they lied. So why would they do that? Did you give them a reason to want you off their boat?”

“No, of course not! I was doing my part, helping them with everything aboard. I didn’t really know them well. I’d just met them not long before the blackout. They were a Canadian couple, from Toronto, they said. They had an awesome boat, a Pacific Seacraft cutter. When the power went out they didn’t know where they were going to go. Nassau was getting dangerous. There were riots and people from ashore were stealing boats to get out of there. It was getting
bad
let me tell you. The food ran out in the stores. There was no fuel at the docks or in town. But there were a lot of people living on boats there at the time, like always. I had done a bottom cleaning for these folks about a week before it all happened, because that’s what I did for work. They asked me where I thought they should go, considering the situation, since it was their first time in the islands, and we talked about it several times before deciding to leave together for the Exumas. I didn’t know what I was going to do until then. At first I thought about trying to get back to Florida, but more and more boats kept coming through the harbor at Nassau and the stories we heard about Florida made it sound even worse than it was here in the islands. So I remembered this buddy of mine and thought I should try and get to his house on Staniel Cay. He had told me that it was completely off-grid, with generators and solar panels, so I figured it would be a good place to go.”