Landfall: Islands in the Aftermath (The Pulse Series Book 4) (9 page)

“Look, man. We’ve seen a lot more places since the power went out than you have. Trust me. This wasn’t some conspiracy! No government or any other human entity could have caused a disaster of the proportions we’ve seen.”
 

Russell tried to argue his point further, but Grant got to his feet and started back to the fire, ignoring him and asking Casey and Jessica to come with him. He knew Russell had been drinking, and he wished that Larry had not given in to his constant requests for rum or whiskey. Alcohol wasn’t going to improve his personality, and Grant didn’t want to spend any more time around him tonight. He stormed on ahead, expecting the girls to be right behind him, but then he heard Jessica cry out:

“Get your hands off me, you creep!”

Grant wheeled and saw Jessica backing away from Russell in the other direction.
 

“I was just trying to tell you something!” Russell was saying.”

But even as he tried to explain himself, he continued his advance and reached for her hand again, completely oblivious to her warning or Grant’s watchful eyes. Grant had seen enough and he was through. He closed the gap in three long strides and shoved Russell back with the heel of his palm against his chest, focusing his energy into more of a strike than a simple push. Russell stumbled backward and tripped over a rock, landing hard on his back in sand.
 

“You heard what she said! Don’t let me see you put your hands on her again!”

Eleven

“W
HAT
THE
HELL
,
DUDE
? I wasn’t doing anything, I was just trying to talk to her!” Russell couldn’t believe that Grant had pushed him like that. If he hadn’t already hated the guy because it was obvious Jessica liked him, he surely hated him now. What Russell wanted to do was get up and beat the living crap out of him. But despite his pretty college-boy face, Grant was no scrawny-looking bookworm. He had a solid muscularity about him and after feeling the force in that simple push, Russell doubted he could take him in a fair fight, especially as weak as he still felt after being sick for two days. And even if he could, he would still have to deal with the know-it-all captain and his brother, both of them even bigger than Grant. So instead of tempting his luck he just got to his feet and backed farther away.
 

“Why are you people so freakin’ uptight? Shit man, just relax, you’re in the islands! You’ve got a couple of boats and everything you need. I was just hoping you would make room for me and let me go along for the ride. Geez! It wasn’t like I wasn’t willing to do my share of the work too!”

“Look, Russell. This isn’t about that! You haven’t taken your eyes off Jessica since you crawled out of whatever hole you’ve been living in. She’s not interested, and she made that clear already, but you didn’t seem to get the message.”

“Okay, okay! I’ve got that she’s your girlfriend, dude. But I was just talking to her. No harm in that!”

“She’s
not
my girlfriend,” Grant said, “but she’s not going to be yours either! Look, Larry offered you a ride. I’d say you ought to be grateful and take him up on it.”
 

Russell noticed that Jessica seemed to wilt at Grant’s words. Was it true that she wasn’t his girlfriend? She seemed upset by what he said and quickly walked away, heading back to the fire where the others were, while the other girl, Casey, stayed put. Why would Grant pick her over a smoking-hot fox like Jessica? Russell didn’t know, but he did know Grant was a prick and an idiot. He had no doubt that if the two of them were around each other long enough, a fight would be inevitable whether he wanted it or not. But he wasn’t going to push it tonight. He was tired from helping them with the boat, and the two shots of rum he’d had made him feel like what he really needed was sleep.
 

He ignored Grant and turned around to walk back to his camp on the other end of the island. Maybe they would change their minds and maybe they wouldn’t, but there was nothing else to do tonight. Grant didn’t want him around because he was competition for the attention of the girls. Even if the punk wasn’t into Jessica as much as Casey, he still didn’t want another guy hanging out with her. Probably because he wanted her for himself whenever Casey got tired of him.
Fucking prick!

Russell awoke the next morning with a headache he couldn’t shake. It had to be the rum, and he figured it was only because he’d been so long without a drink until last night. He felt like he could use another one right then to treat that awful hangover feeling, and he was hungry as well. He didn’t want to see Grant, but he needed to talk to Larry again and maybe his brother, Artie, who might be more reasonable than the others. So he made his way back to where the catamaran was beached and found Larry and Artie standing there beside it. The tide was up so they couldn’t do anything below the waterline at that hour.

“Morning, guys! What’s the plan today?” They both turned his way but Russell could tell Larry wasn’t particularly thrilled to see him. “I’m here to help. Whatever you need….”

“We could use an extra hand,” Artie said. “Larry has decided that while we have the boat on the beach, we might as well unstep both masts and finish up some rigging jobs we didn’t have time for when we rushed the launch in Puerto Rico.”
 

Russell looked up at the twin masts. They were tall and massive and looked heavy. He didn’t see how they were going to get them down and back up again without a crane.

“I don’t understand the thinking on building a catamaran with two masts. Why not just have one taller one, like most catamarans?”

“The schooner rig has its advantages,” Larry said.

“They look heavy as hell to me. I don’t see how we’re going to get them down.”

“Looks can be deceiving. They’re made of wood, but they’re hollow on the inside. And it’s lightweight Doug fir. We’ll get them down the same way we got them up.”
 

“I wouldn’t have used wood. I know a lot people are into that retro old-school stuff right now, but dude; carbon fiber is where it’s at! That’s what
I
would have used if it was
my
boat.”

“Yeah? Well it isn’t, so you can just keep dreaming about that boat of yours, Russell. Or you can help us get the
Casey Nicole
seaworthy again so we can sail her to Florida, if you really want to get off this rock. Your choice.”

“Not much of a choice—stay here and eventually starve to death or sail to Florida to end up dead or in prison….”
 

“It is what it is. You’ll just have to decide.”

What an asshole,
Russell thought. Larry was as much a prick as Grant, but worse because he was a know-it-all boat captain who thought he was the shit. Russell was silent as he stood their staring up at the two wooden masts. Yeah, he would help them take them down, because as he stood there looking, a new idea dawned on him, a brilliant idea really, and one that he was surprised took so long to come to him. He smiled as he turned his gaze back to Larry and Artie.
 

“Okay, captain. When you put it like that, I see your point. I’m all in! So, where do we start? How do we get these two beauties down without dropping them on our heads?”

Russell worked without complaint and when Grant the two girls and Tara and her daughter joined them, he made it a point to stay as far away from Grant as possible and avoided even looking at Jessica. Now that he had a plan, it wouldn’t do to arouse any more mistrust or hard feelings. The important thing was that they get those masts down. Once that was done, and once the tide went out again late that afternoon, it would be hours at the bare minimum before the catamaran could get underway again, and that was exactly how Russell wanted it.
 

Once he saw Larry’s methods, Russell had to admit the man knew what he was doing. Using just the central cockpit winch and the four-part mainsheet tackle, Larry set up a leverage system that allowed them to unstep both masts, working each in turn by degrees until finally both were lying horizontal, supported on the main crossbeams. Like Larry said, they weren’t overly heavy for their size, but they were long and awkward to handle at over 40 feet each. As soon as they were down, Larry set to work with his rigging bag to improve and finish the hastily done splices at the upper ends of the stays and shrouds. It was work he planned to complete over the coming days in between low tide cycles while they had drying time on the epoxy and fiberglass work.
 

Russell hung around until mid-afternoon, when the tide had fallen enough to begin work on the hulls again, then he excused himself, saying he was feeling weak again from being sick and that he needed to go back to his camp and sleep for a while. Larry thanked him for his help before he left, and invited him to come back that evening to join them for dinner if he felt like it. Russell said he would, but he had no intention of doing so.
 

It was clear to him by now that these people were not going to change their minds and decide to take him with them deeper into the islands. He knew now that Larry meant what he said when he told him it was Florida or nothing. But that was fine. Russell didn’t need their help, now that he knew what he had to do. He started back to his camp and continued along his usual path to the other end of the island until he was out of sight among the trees and scrub, then he stopped and doubled back to watch.
 

Everyone from the two boats was there working on the catamaran except for Tara’s daughter, Rebecca. Like a typical teenager, her enthusiasm for the work had waned even sooner than Russell’s and she’d asked to go back to the other boat, the one that belonged to her mom. Tara had rowed her out there in their dinghy and returned to where the others were working, and now Russell wondered how long it would be before Rebecca was off the boat again. He hoped it was soon, because the afternoon breeze had filled in nicely from the east and was perfect for what he had in mind.

He figured he had a little while to wait before someone went back to get the girl, so Russell continued on to his pathetic little hut and collected his mask and the pole spear. They were his only possessions on the island other than the bits of rope and other junk he’d found washed up by the tide. There was nothing to leave behind here but the memories of his misery. He kicked one of the support poles of the shelter so hard that the whole thing collapsed and turned to go back to a place where he could watch and wait.
 

When he got there, he saw that the dinghy had not been moved and that Tara was still busy at work with the others. Rebecca was nowhere in sight, so that meant she had to be still aboard the other boat. This wasn’t part of Russell’s plan, but as he contemplated the situation, he realized there was little choice. The girl might sleep the rest of the afternoon and still not come ashore for dinner. If he waited to see, it would be too late. By then the others would be done for the day and would be building a fire on the beach like they did last night. They would then be in full view of the anchored boat, and even in the dark they couldn’t help but notice if it began moving from that vantage point. Russell couldn’t risk that. He had to act now while all of them were busy with the catamaran and out of sight of the anchorage. The wind was perfect for a quick getaway, and the tide wouldn’t be back for several hours. But even if they could get the catamaran back in the water in a hurry, both masts were down and the rigging was in total disarray. Russell couldn’t help but smile at his good fortune. It would be even better if it were Jessica aboard the boat instead of the girl, but oh well; he would take what he could get.
Fuck you, Jessica! And fuck you too, Grant! It is what it is, right Captain Larry?
Russell circled around through the trees to the beach just east of the anchorage and waded into the water, pulling on the dive mask as he did. From there it was just a short swim to the boat.

Twelve

L
ARRY
WAS
PLEASED
AT
the way things were going as he mixed another batch of epoxy and added the thickening agents that turned it to the consistency of putty. Using a small handsaw and his razor-sharp chisels, he had neatly cut away two small sections of fractured plywood and made replacement parts that fit into adjacent surfaces with beveled scarf joints. The hulls would be good as new once the epoxy holding them in cured and a few layers of fiberglass were laminated over the wood for sheathing and reinforcement. That would come tomorrow, on the next low tide cycle. The important thing today was that the parts were in place and well saturated with clear epoxy that in the warm, tropical air, would be cured before high water returned after midnight. He would spend the morning reinforcing and tidying up the rigging, checking off a few items on his never-ending to-do list that had been bugging him since they’d first set sail from Culebra with Scully.
 

Every time he thought of his best friend his anxiety and impatience returned. He should be sailing Florida waters even now, cruising through the Keys and along the Everglades coast searching for any sign of the kayak. Scully could be in serious trouble, or something bad could have already happened to him. He didn’t discount completely Russell’s comments that his friend could already be dead or that he could be detained somewhere by the authorities, but Larry knew Scully was a savvy survivor. If anyone could evade the police or military and avoid detection while traveling a restricted coast, it was Scully. He had plenty of experience as a younger man back in the day, when smuggling ganja was an enterprise he’d tried for a few years until Larry came along and offered him more legitimate, if less lucrative work delivering yachts.
 

The problem was that it would be equally hard for Larry to find him as for those who might wish to do him harm. Scully would be laying low in the mangroves if he couldn’t travel, and if he could, Larry knew he might already be en route to the Bahamas himself. Larry didn’t discount the idea that Scully could cross the Straits in the kayak, and he knew that he certainly would if he had no other option. All of these factors were going to conspire to make finding his friend as much a matter of luck as anything else. But Larry had to try. The others would be relatively safe here while he was away, and he was taking the loud-mouthed bum they had the misfortune of sharing the island with along with him, so they wouldn’t have to worry about problems with him. Larry wasn’t looking forward to sharing his boat with the guy even for a short trip, but it
would
solve the problem of getting him away from the others—especially Jessica. She had told him about their altercation the evening before, and Larry knew it was just a matter of time before Russell would screw up again and someone would get hurt—probably him if he tangled with Grant.