Under a Tell-Tale Sky: Disruption - Book 1 (6 page)

And those old trees still produced a bountiful crop each year, a small side business to Laura’s large animal veterinary practice. All the proceeds of bulk pecan sales went into the girls’ college funds, and the ten-acre pecan grove in most years provided sufficient surplus for a seemingly never-ending supply of pecans for home consumption and gifts to family and friends. Laura’s honey-glazed roasted pecans were a coveted Christmas gift.

No, they weren’t likely to starve, regardless of the length of the power outage, and her only real concern was Jordan. Was he safe, and when would he get home?

Chapter Six

Cape Fear River

North of Wilmington, NC

Day 7, 2:00 a.m.

The best-laid plans, thought Levi, as he watched the river in front of the boat, the landscape a dull green in the NV goggles. Dull green but clear as day, thanks to a full moon. He’d counted on moonlight, and though a trial night river run had been on his ‘preparation to-do list,’ like many things, it had remained undone. He hadn’t really appreciated just how much visibility the moonlight reflecting off the water would provide. It made things much easier—and much riskier. The moon was so bright, the NV goggles made the trip like navigating in broad daylight, and they’d made much better time than he’d planned. They quickly reached the point where the Black River became the Cape Fear, and the Peter Point highway bridge loomed across the river in the distance ahead. Levi cut the outboard and the muted muttering died, leaving only the sounds of the river around them.

“Let’s switch to the trolling motor,” Levi said softly. Sounds carried a long way over the water.

“Isn’t it a little early,” Anthony whispered back. “We’re still a half mile from the first bridge.”

“With this moon, anyone looking can see us, and I don’t want to take a chance the noise will get them looking,” Levi said.

Anthony bobbed his head and lowered the trolling motor.

They moved more slowly on the electric trolling motor, but still at a respectable clip with the current behind them. Soon they glided silently under the first bridge and a few minutes later saw the old battleship
USS North Carolina
on their right in her permanent berth. On the east bank, scattered fires burned in the distance in Wilmington proper, and much closer, Levi detected movement in the upscale shopping district lining the river’s edge.

Well, so much for everyone sleeping. Evidently looters didn’t keep regular hours. Ahead of him at the trolling motor controls, Anthony cast nervous glances to his left—he’d seen the movement too. Levi looked astern. They moved silently at three or four knots, leaving a wake visible in the moonlight, pointing at them like a telltale arrow. He glanced at the eastern shore again and then ahead to the Cape Fear Memorial Bridge towering above the river’s surface. Downstream of the bridge, the restaurants and trendy businesses of the Wilmington riverfront gave way to industrial areas, and Eagle Island on the west bank held nothing but a dredge spoils area where the US Army Corp of Engineers dumped years’ worth of muck dredged from the river bottom. If they could make it past Memorial Bridge unseen, they’d have smooth sailing to the
Pecos Trader
.

It seemed to take forever to reach the bridge. Just as they started under the span, a large heavy object fell from the sky, striking the water with a tremendous splash, narrowly missing the boat and soaking both men.

“What the hell—” Anthony gasped as he flinched away from the impact by reflex, inadvertently pulling the trolling motor tiller hard over and radically altering the boat’s course—a chance event that saved them. The boat exited the shadow of the bridge several feet off her original course, and the assailant waiting on the downstream side was unable to adjust in time. The heavy steel pipe he released speared the water just aft of the boat, soaking Levi a second time as he cranked the outboard.

“Pull up the trolling motor, Anthony,” Levi yelled. “They know we’re here.”

Above him he heard shouted curses and loud arguing as the assailants blamed each other for the failed attack. The little outboard coughed to life, and Levi ran it up to full speed, such as it was, and immediately started zigzagging downstream as he heard semiautomatic gunfire above and behind him. Fortunately, their attackers’ marksmanship was no more accurate than their makeshift bombardment, and the thunderous assault resulted in multiple splashes around them, but none seemed to hit the boat. It was over in seconds, and Levi swallowed his heart.

“You … you okay, Anthony?” he called when they were out of range.

“I might have to clean out my pants, but other than that, yeah, I’m okay,” the older man replied. “You?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just … damn!”

“You hit?” Anthony called, concern in his voice.

“Not me. But there’s water in the boat. They hit us somewhere.”

“What are we going to do?” Anthony asked.

“Haul ass and pray. We’re only a couple of miles from the ship. You take the flashlight and see if you can find the leak and plug it with something. If we start taking on water too badly, I’ll run the boat to the bank and we’ll continue on foot if we have to.”

“This is a fine how do you do,” Anthony said. “If the boat sinks, how the hell are we going to get home?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Levi said.

“Huh,” Anthony muttered. “If you don’t mind, I’d just as soon steer clear of bridges from now on.”

M/V
Pecos Trader

Buckeye Marine Terminal

Wilmington, North Carolina

Day 7, 3:05 a.m.

“There it is,” the sailor said, pointing.

His watch partner followed his pointing finger.

“That’s the signal all right. Flash him back, then help me get the pilot ladder out,” the second man said, as his shipmate moved to comply.

Minutes later, an aluminum boat with two men aboard pulled into the beams of their flashlights and moved sluggishly to press its length against the ship’s hull, just below the dangling ladder. The men in the boat were standing ankle deep in water.

“Damn, Levi,” one of the sailors said, “you’re damn near sunk.”

“Obviously,” Levi said, “get us lines down here so we can tie her off bow and stern to the ship’s rail. We can save her if she doesn’t sink!”

The sailors ran to grab rope from the nearby deck locker and, minutes later, had the boat safe from immediate danger. They threw down additional lines to allow Levi to tie off gear in the boat to be hoisted aboard. When satisfied they’d done all they could, Levi took a last look around and nodded, and both newcomers climbed the swaying rope ladder to the main deck. They reached the deck just as the chief mate arrived, summoned by radio.

“Good to see you, Levi,” Georgia Howell said, offering her hand. “Who’s your friend?”

“Thanks, ma’am,” Levi said, returning her handshake. “This is my father-in-law, Anthony McCoy. Anthony, this is Georgia Howell, the chief mate.” Levi grinned and nodded at the two sailors. “And these two deck apes are Charlie Lynch and Pete Sonnier.”

Anthony shook hands all around as Levi turned back to the chief mate.

“Ma’am, someone upstream shot some holes in us,” Levi said. “I’d like to hoist her aboard with the deck crane as soon as possible. She’s our ride home.”

“Okay,” Howell said, “but we’d have to put on the deck light, and the skipper doesn’t want us showing any more lights than necessary. It’ll have to wait until daylight, but we’ll make sure she’s not going anywhere.”

She turned to the two sailors. “Pete, Charlie, get some extra lines on that boat and make sure they’re snugged up good and tight. And check the other lines while you’re at it. You know these engine-room pukes couldn’t tie a knot to save their own ass.”

Levi smiled to himself at the familiar banter as the two sailors laughed.

“Yes, ma’am,” said the two sailors in unison as they set off to get more rope, and Howell turned back to Levi and Anthony.

“Let’s head up to the Old Man’s office. He told me to wake him as soon as you arrived.”

M/V
Pecos Trader

Buckeye Marine Terminal

Wilmington, North Carolina

Day 7, 3:30 a.m.

“They fired on you for no reason?” Hughes asked.

Anthony answered before Levi got a chance. “I expect it was because they missed with the stuff they tried to drop on our heads.”

Hughes chuckled in spite of the situation, taking an instant liking to Levi’s father-in-law.

Levi gave Anthony a ‘shut up’ glare and reasserted control of their side of the conversation.

“No reason I can think of, Captain,” he said, “but it pretty much squares with what I’ve been hearing on the radio. Most of the cities are becoming war zones, and Wilmington’s no different. The gangs are out of control and the police and National Guard are overwhelmed, along with everyone else. I mean, let’s face it, the cops were hard-pressed to control certain sections of the city even when everything was working, so they got no chance now. Nobody really knows what’s happening for sure, but it’s nothing good, I know that, and I don’t see it getting better.”

Hughes nodded. “I’d already come to the same conclusion. That’s why I’ve decided to sail back to Texas.”

Levi nodded. “I figured you might. That’s really why we’re here.”

Hughes raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question, and listened as Levi explained the reason for the visit.

M/V
Pecos Trader

Crew Mess Room

Day 7, 10:30 a.m.

Hughes held the meeting in the crew mess to accommodate the entire crew, with the exception of two sailors he instructed Georgia Howell to leave on security watch. He told her to make sure she chose people likely to have no problem with the trip south. He wanted anyone likely to have objections to have an opportunity to speak their piece in the open meeting.

With the crew assembled, he rose and briefly outlined the current situation, told them he intended to sail the ship to Texas and his reasoning for doing so, and opened the floor for comments. No one spoke for a moment, until Jerome Singletary, one of the new sailors in the deck department, raised his hand. Hughes nodded, and Singletary stood, his attitude hesitant at first.

“My people all live in Baltimore. What if I don’t want to go to Texas?”

“No one can force you to sail with us,” Hughes said. “You can sign off and I’ll give you as much cash advance as I can out of master’s cash. Your full pay will have to come from the company later, but to be honest, I can’t say for sure when that will be.” He refrained from adding, ‘if ever.’

Singletary processed that for a moment before responding, his initial hesitance rapidly disappearing. “Sign off to do what, exactly? Get capped by a bunch of gangbangers trying to get home? Seems to me like the company owes me transportation to my home of record. SAFE transportation, and that’s to Baltimore.”

Hughes hesitated a moment. “I can certainly include airfare in your payoff—”

“That’s bullshit, Captain, and you know it! Ain’t no planes flying. My contract says you owe me transportation home. If y’all are going to Texas, then you can just turn north first and take me up to Baltimore—”

“Not happening, Singletary. First of all,” Hughes said, his voice rising with his blood pressure, “by contract, you’re not owed transportation if you sign off of your own free will. Second, this isn’t a taxi cab, and even if I was willing, which I’m not, there’s no way I’m running a fully loaded forty-thousand-ton tanker up Chesapeake Bay without a pilot. Third, if Wilmington’s a war zone, I can’t imagine what Baltimore …”

Hughes reined himself in, but Singletary glared at him. “I’m sorry, Singletary, but no, we won’t be taking this ship to Baltimore. You’re welcome to come with us, and if you don’t want to do that, I’ll do everything I can to leave you here in good shape, but you’ll have to make your own way home, and I truly hope you make it there and find your family safe.”

“Ain’t right,” Singletary muttered, looking around the room in search of support. Finding none, he sat back down, defeated.

Hughes looked around the room, inviting more comments.

“I’ll be signing off, Captain,” said a petite brunette sitting at the table nearest Hughes. Shyla Texeira or ‘Tex’ as she was inevitably called, was small in stature but long on competence. She was a consummate mariner, as would be expected from someone descended from five generations of Portuguese seafarers. Her departure would leave a hole and Hughes was sorry to lose her. Nonetheless, he nodded.

“I figured,” he said. “We’ll miss you, Tex.”

“I’ll be signing off too,” said Bill Wiggins, the second engineer, looking at Dan Gowan. “I’m sorry, Chief. I don’t want to leave you shorthanded, but—”

Gowan held up his hand. “It’s okay, Bill. We hate to lose you, but I’d be doing the same thing in your position. I just hope you make it home safe to your family.”

Wiggins nodded and fell silent, looking down as if he were shamed by the thought of deserting his shipmates.

Hughes looked around the room. “Anyone else?”

No one spoke up, and just when Hughes was saying a silent ‘thank you’ they hadn’t lost anyone else, another voice broke the silence.

“I reckon I’ll get off,” said Jimmy Barrios, the pumpman.

Seeing his engine room gang being reduced by yet another experienced man, Gowan couldn’t restrain himself. “Why, Jimmy? I know you live in Virginia, but I thought you told me you didn’t have any family left there.”

“Just my ex-wife,” Jimmy said, “but I ain’t hanging around because of her, Chief. Matter of fact, if you looked up ‘bitch’ in the dictionary, there’s a picture of her.”

The room erupted in tension-easing laughter and Jimmy let it die before he continued. “No, and with all due respect to you folks from the Gulf Coast, if this is the Apocalypse, I’d just as soon not spend it in plus ninety percent humidity, and with skeeters that can stand flat-footed and rape turkeys. Every time I get bit by one of those damn Texas mosquitoes, I swell up like a balloon, and I got a feeling Deep Woods Off is gonna be in short supply pretty soon. I think I’ll try to find me some place to lay low here in North Carolina and ride it out.”