An hour later, all the water containers had been filled, with several of them stashed aboard, and the four Explorers were truly clean for the first time in over two weeks.
“Man, I forgot what it was like to wash with soap and water,” Meri commented. Fortunately, nobody had developed any saltwater boils, bedsores, crotch rot, scurvy, or any of the sundry other problems that could have developed from a long ocean voyage on short water rations. The worst that they had suffered was some sunburn and loss of muscle mass due to the lack of activity in the cramped quarters of the canoe.
“I almost forgot how nice you smelled clean,” Bill said.
Meri gave him a dirty look. “What, you don’t like my natural scent?”
Bill stammered a reply that it didn’t bother him, but wasn’t it great to be clean?
The others got a chuckle out of Bill’s discomfort.
The talk turned to plans for their stay on the island.
“If this is like just about every other timeline we’ve been on, there shouldn’t be any real predators to worry about here,” Karen said, referring to the island’s ability to prevent migration of large animals. “Regardless, we set up as usual: fire and trip wires. Each night two of us’ll spend the night on the Guppy, trading off.” This caught Bill’s attention, and he looked over at Meri who was looking back at him with a grin.
“It ain’t for your personal honeymoon,” Karen told the two. “It’s so we don’t lose the boat. But Ben and I’ll stay ashore tonight,” she added with a knowing grin. “Anyhow, we’ll spend a couple of days here enjoying the fresh water and getting back into shape with some hunting, walks on the beach, and a bit of swimming in the bay. After that, we head north to Ti’icham.”
She directed Bill to determine their latitude. They would determine their longitude the next day using local noon as a reference.
“Depending on which island we’re on, Cuba or Hispaniola, determines where and how we sail next.”
Karen had the crew set up camp and then she and Ben went on a foraging expedition to find fresh greens. Before leaving she told the newlyweds to try and catch a fish or two for supper.
Within an hour the two foragers returned with plenty. Meri had been successful fishing while Bill stood watch, managing to bring in a couple of red snappers.
Bill then took a break from watching for threats, dug out the sextant, and shot the sun. After more than two weeks at sea taking constant shots, he had become quick at it and soon determined their latitude.
Pulling out one of the tablets from its waterproof home, he activated it and pulled up a map of the Caribbean. Comparing his calculations with the map, he estimated they were on the island of Hispaniola, near what was the town of Puerto Plata on Earth.
“I’ll have a more accurate assessment tomorrow after noon,” he told the crew. “If we can maintain our regular speed, we’re only about three days from our destination.”
Later that afternoon the fish was grilled over an open fire, the smoke adding a flavor that had been lacking while cooking with the solar oven. The greens were a welcome addition after so many days without. Bill could feel the saliva pooling in his mouth as the food was served.
The tropical night came early, heralded by a flame-red sunset that lit up the sky. The clouds abutting the mountains gave a surreal look to the last of the day, and twilight, then dark, rapidly descended.
In an effort to give the two a small bit of privacy, Karen told Ben that they would take the first two watches, with Bill and Meri taking the last two. The newlyweds were quite happy to retire to the canoe early and tried hard not to make any noise.
Ben awoke Bill near midnight, told him all was quiet, and then retired to his hammock, strung at the edge of the beach. Bill, rifle in hand, added some driftwood to the fire and briefly watched it as the flames caught hold of the wood. Turning away from the growing fire to preserve his night vision, Bill scanned the surrounding forest. It wasn’t hard to stay awake as the mosquitoes seemed to find him quite tasty. Occasionally he would glance up at the sky and observe the stars. While not as clear as seen from the middle of the ocean, they were still quite bright, lighting up the moonless night. Bill had to make sure he looked around rather than fixate on the stars, otherwise he might be in for a surprise.
The hours passed slowly, and then it was his turn to wake Meri and get some more shut-eye before the dawn. Crawling into the canoe and draping his summer sleeping bag over himself to prevent the mosquitoes from continuing their feeding frenzy, he thought, I can’t wait to get a full night’s sleep as he drifted off.
When he awoke later in the morning, he was bathed in sweat. The sun had risen higher into the sky and beat down on his covered body. He pushed aside his sleeping bag cover, feeling the air immediately begin to cool his skin. Not quite like Yakama, is it? he thought as the sweat refused to immediately dissipate as it would have in the drier climate at Sacagawea Base.
Climbing out of the canoe, he found the others already partaking of breakfast.
“Oooh, yummy. Fish for breakfast,” he said, rolling his eyes.
Meri grinned and handed him her canteen cup, which emanated heat from the liquid inside. He took a sip, then grimaced. “What the hell is that?”
“Hemlock,” Meri replied with a straight face. “Don’t you like it?”
Bill immediately spat out whatever moisture remained in his mouth.
“Ha, ha, ha. Seriously, though, what was that?”
“Periwinkle tea,” Meri said. “It’s supposed to be a bit bitter, but so is regular coffee if you don’t add sugar,” she completed.
One of Meri’s many skills that Bill was awed by was her vast knowledge of edible and poisonous plants. It was apparently required training for those earning a degree in Exploration Science from one of Hayek’s homegrown universities. Meri had taken more than the required number of classes just because she was interested in the subject, so she had a greater knowledge than the other three combined.
“We figured since we ran out of coffee, we’d try a substitute. What do you think?” Karen asked him.
“Tastes terrible. Think I’ll just continue going sans stimulants,” Bill replied.
“Your loss,” Meri said, taking the cup back from Bill and taking a sip, grimacing as well.
While Bill grabbed a piece of fish off the grill, Karen began planning the day’s activities. This involved a bit more hunting and gathering, and most importantly having Bill determine their longitude so they could determine the best route for the next leg of their journey.
“We’ll take the rest of the day to walk, swim, and get ready, but I’d like to be out of here tomorrow, so keep that in mind,” Karen told the group.
She volunteered to determine local noon so Bill and Meri could do the morning foraging. Bill elected to carry his PDW while Meri brought her rifle. Each had the remainder of their primary survival kits with them along with one of the handmade foraging baskets used on Gibraltar. They were hoping to find some plantains or similar fruit. Karen told them to stay close to the beach, with minimal forays into the brush.
“And watch out for snakes or other critters,” she warned them as they headed out.
The two made their way down the beach, following in the tracks Karen and Ben had made the previous day. When they saw footprints going into and coming out of the jungle, they continued on for another klick, then stepped into the jungle and began their search for food in earnest. Bill, walking in front, kept his head constantly moving, looking up, down, left, right, and occasionally turning to look behind Meri. One of the many things he remembered from survival training was that predators would strike from any direction, and one way to get their prey was to stalk them, just like Bill had done on numerous occasions.
While watching for threats, the two kept an eye out for edible plants, eventually finding some. Cassava appeared to be relatively plentiful in the sandy soil near the beach. The tubers could be turned into flour for bread or baked like a potato. They also foun
d a soursop tree that was fruiting and plucked a number of the spiny green fruits.
It was early afternoon as the two made their way back to camp. Both were hot, sweaty, and covered with jungle detritus and bug bites. They couldn’t wait to divest themselves of their gear and gathered food.
A half hour later they were in camp, backpacks dumped and food baskets set near the fire. Karen was keeping watch while Ben was swimming in the small bay.
“You might as well join him. You two look like you need it,” Karen called to them.
They didn’t need any further encouragement. Stripping out of their survival gear, they set their weapons down on top of the pile, peeled off their sweaty clothes, and waded into the water. They were barely knee deep into the water when Meri abruptly fell face first into the water. Bill’s first thought was that she had stepped in a hole, but then she raised her face, shook her head, and exclaimed, “I needed that!”
Bill decided to do the same, but rather than just fall face first he did a shallow dive into the water.
The water was cooler here, due to the fresh water flowing in from the river. Bill felt immediate relief from the heat. He raised his head above the water he turned over onto his back and scrubbing to remove the detritus from his arms and chest.
As Bill drifted on his back in the gentle swell, he was shocked by the sound and concussion of a rifle firing.
“Out of the water. Now!” Karen yelled, then shot out to sea. Meri bolted from the water toward shore. Bill scrambled to his feet and began running awkwardly through the water toward shore, as fast as he could.
Meri grabbed her rifle as Bill rushed to his PDW. They turned and faced the direction Karen was firing.
Ben was still frantically swimming toward shore. Bill saw the threat: a fin slicing through the water toward him. Bill and Meri joined Karen in firing at the shark. Waterspouts rose all around it as bullets peppered the water.
The distance between the two closed, and then the fin disappeared. Less than a second later Ben rose up out of the water as if pushed from below, then dropped back into the water with a shriek. A red stain blossomed in the water around him.
Ben waved his arms as he sank further into the water. Then he was jerked under, disappearing into the widening stain.
As the three watched helplessly, another fin, and then a third, approached the blood-stained waters. Soon, the water where Ben was last seen was frothing, but only for a minute. All knew that there was no hope that Ben survived the shark attack.
Karen dropped her weapon to her side as Bill realized the futility of shooting at the sharks. It was a waste of precious ammunition. They had reacted to the situation well, as they had been trained to do so, but it wasn’t enough. Now, one of their number was dead and gone. Further shooting wouldn’t bring him back.
Bill stood limply, gun by his side, looking out to sea. The red stain slowly fading away, turning the ocean back to a bright aquamarine. The fins disappeared. All evidence that his companion existed disappearing with them. He was numb. What the fuck? Seriously, what the fuck? This can’t be happening. The same thoughts kept repeating over and over, much like somebody trying to pray their way out of a bad situation, but can’t get past the “Hail Mary, full of grace” line of the prayer.
He felt the gut-dropping feeling of anxiety, like being kicked or falling rapidly from a great height. His fingertips tingled with hypersensitivity, then numbness. An overwhelming, crushing feeling overtook him. He couldn’t tell if it was shock, sadness, grief, the feeling of being lost, despair, or a combination of all of them. Tears slid down his cheeks. He was too numb and too much in shock to even wipe them off as they traced tracks down his face, through his beard stubble, to finally drip off his chin to the sand below.
The whole trip to this point had been an adventure. They were all going to make it. They had their shit together. But that wasn’t the reality. They could have their shit together, packaged in pretty paper and tied up with a bow, but the reality was that they were just four, now three, people stranded on a hostile planet thousands of kilometers from any help, with nobody and nothing on this planet giving a damned about them. All it took was a moment’s inattentiveness or just plain bad luck and they could become a meal.
A flashback of a propeller cutting through a cockpit, decapitating his instructor pilot, and covering him with the pilot’s blood appeared so vividly, so real, it caused him to gasp. A shudder ran down his spine, transforming into a whole-body shudder. Bill could feel the wet, viscous fluid covering his face.
He blinked, and he was back on the beach, staring at the calm waters of the ocean, still in a daze. The post-traumatic stress disorder that he had managed to keep at bay with counseling and being busy made a full-on return, leaving him paralyzed.
It wasn’t until he heard Karen cursing and sobbing that he came out of his daze. She held her rifle in front of her, swearing inarticulately. Tears streamed down Meri’s face as well, rifle forgotten in her hands as her arms hung down.
Bill walked over to Meri and gave her a one-armed hug. After a minute, Meri left Bill and went to Karen, giving her a hug. Nobody said anything. There really wasn’t anything to say.
Eventually, the trio got their emotions under control.
“We leave here tomorrow,” Karen said bitterly, turning away from the beach and the site of the death of one of those under her command. It was a heart-wrenching moment, one Bill wished he had never experienced.
Supper that evening was a desultory affair. The three almost forgot to keep watch, but Karen kept them on task. Meri made a stew with the fresh food she and Bill had brought in, but nobody really tasted it.
As they ate, Bill asked Karen if she had managed to determine local noon and mark the time. She dug out her notepad where she had marked the time according to her chronograph. She told Bill that she had checked it against where he thought they were and he was correct: they were on the beach he identified on the island of Hispaniola.
Bill dug one of the tablets from its waterproof case and turned it on. Within minutes he had a course plotted.
“As best as I can tell, our best course is to sail northwest, through the Bahamas, and then take the Gulf Stream up to Cape Hatteras. From there we go into Albemarle Sound and up the Roanoke River.”
“Okay. The faster we can get off this damned island, the happier I’ll be,” Karen said. “High tide should be around nine tomorrow, so let’s get the boat loaded, get up early, and get outta here.”
Ever practical, Meri asked, “What about Ben’s stuff?”
“We’ll bring it with us. We’re gonna be in boats most of the way, so if we don’t have to leave something behind, I don’t want to. Go through it tonight and see if there’s any personal stuff. If we make it, his parents might want it.” The sound of resignation in Karen’s voice did nothing to improve their situation.
After supper was complete Karen had them load up all necessary equipment, including the two strung hammocks.
“Sorry, guys, but I’ll be crashing in the Guppy with you tonight.”
Karen gathered up Ben’s uniform and primary survival gear, which was still on the beach where he had discarded them prior to swimming, and took them to the fire. First, she went through his uniform pockets, and then through his equipment. Anything of a personal nature was set aside and the rest repacked. There wasn’t much set aside. Flipping through his wallet, Karen found a laminated photograph of Ben wearing a cap and gown with an older man and woman on either side of them. There was a Saint Christopher’s medal in the wallet, which she showed to the others.
“I didn’t know he was Catholic,” Bill said, looking at the medal.
“What’s it mean?” Meri asked.
“Catholics have patron saints that they hope will protect people,” Bill said. “For example, Saint Michael, who was a warrior, is the patron saint of soldiers and police officers. Saint Christopher is one of the patron saints of travelers. I bet his folks gave it to him. It was probably the clos
est saint they could find for an Explorer.”
The only other thing Karen kept from Ben’s wallet was his Corps of Discovery identification card and a small gold coin. The ID card contained all of Ben’s personnel and medical information, along with his banking information. The rest of the wallet was just the usual stuff people carried. Ben’s contained a library card from his hometown on Earth, a student ID from his college, and a debit card for a bank on Earth. Karen threw those into the fire. The three watched another part of Ben disappear before their eyes.
“No sense carrying something that ain’t worth nothin’,” Karen said as the plastic melted.
The wallet she tossed into the jungle. The picture and Corps ID went into her wallet and the coin and medal into her pocket. She got out her notebook and pen and jotted a note.
“Just writing down what happened, along with the inventory and what was destroyed, and where,” she told them. “If I don’t make it, be sure this notebook does.”
Both nodded, saying nothing. Losing one of their number was hard enough; neither could bear the thought of losing another.
The night passed slowly. Without Ben, each Explorer was required to stand two watches. Unsurprisingly, when dawn finally arrived in a blaze of red, everyone felt tired.
Karen had the final watch and woke Bill and Meri just as the dawn was breaking. Bill climbed out of the canoe, strapped his rifle over his shoulder, and headed off to the other side of the beach to relieve himself. The sky was shot with red; Bill remembered an old sailor’s rhyme, Red sky at night, sailors delight. Red sky in morning, sailors take warning.
After washing his hands in the saltwater of the bay, he joined the women at the fire.
“I’m not too sure we should be sailing today,” he said, reciting the poem.
Karen considered it briefly, and then said they would be sailing anyway.
“Let’s face it, tropical sunrises are always vibrant and red,” she said. “Regardless, I want out of this area, so let’s finish up and get out of here.”
Karen made sure all the equipment was properly packed and lashed, and that the spare masts were still in place on the netting between the canoe and the outrigger. The only things kept unpacked were their life preservers and primary survival equipment, the latter of which would be packed and stored once they got underway.
The Corps of Discovery Trilogy Box Set: Books 1-3: A multiverse series of alternate history Page 37