by S. E. Smith
Last night, or he should say early this morning, he had uploaded the pictures he had taken into his phone. When he realized that he had a cell phone signal, he had done two things: texted his grandmother to let her know what he was doing and started working the project Mrs. Moore had assigned them.
His first idea had been to just post pictures of the voyage onto the various Social Media sites, but that idea grew the more he thought about it. He could do live video sections, tweets, reflective posts, and more about their journey. To him, talking to Makayla last night had been just as interesting as reading the articles in the magazines he had. She was doing something extraordinary whether she realized it or not and he could capture the moment on film and post it in real time. It would be almost like a real photographer.
“What are you doing?” She asked in annoyance when he moved in front of her and took more pictures.
“I’m taking pictures,” he grinned. “I was reading up on the camera and wanted to see what all it can do.”
Makayla crossed her eyes, then grimaced when he took another picture of her doing it. She grinned down at him and shook her head. He was way crazier than she was.
“How about you take a picture of some food?” She asked. “I’m starving.”
Tyrell nodded, holding onto the side of the hatch as he straightened. “What do you want?” He asked.
“I’ll take a peanut butter sandwich,” she replied. “I may need your help putting up the Dodger later if it gets choppy out and the waves start to break over the front.”
“Okay,” Tyrell said, having no idea what she was talking about. “Do you want any jelly or honey on your sandwich?”
Makayla shook her head. “No, too messy,” she replied.
*.*.*
Tyrell rummaged around in the cabinet and the storage locker until he found the peanut butter and bread. He laid a paper towel down on the counter with the bread on top to hold it down. It didn’t take long for him to make several sandwiches. While he was doing it, he thought more about the project he had impulsively started last night.
He had uploaded to almost a dozen sites last night and posted almost as many tweets, hash-tagging them and linking them together. A grin curved his face when he thought about it. It would definitely be considered unique.
#VoD trapped! No way out!
#VoD captive. Can’t swim.
#VoD lost at sea. Hoping to see land.
#VoD no help! Signal iffy at best. Wish me luck!
#VoD discovering more. Not as scared. Heading south along coast.
#VoD night sky is beautiful. Never imagined it like this.
#VoD Wonder what tomorrow will bring? Scared, but won’t give up.
Picking up the sandwiches, he climbed back up the short steps and set two of them down in front of Makayla and two down on the seat behind her. He quickly returned for a couple bags of chips and two more bottles of water.
“Here you go,” he said, setting the bottled water in the cup holder and the bag of chips next to her sandwich. “Do you want to eat first? I can drive, I mean steer, this thing.”
Makayla nodded. “That would be great,” she said in surprise. She picked up her sandwiches, chips, and drink and moved to sit on the side cushion.
Tyrell glanced over at Makayla and shook his head. She was strange, but in a good way. She didn’t yap like a lot of girls. He picked up his phone and turned on the video app that he had downloaded. He braced the phone up against the front windshield.
“So, this is day two of Makayla’s voyage of defiance,” Tyrell said, glancing at the phone. “She still refuses to take me back or drop me off and informed me that I was going to Tampa whether I wanted to or not.”
Makayla paused, her mouth full of peanut butter and glared at him. “I offered to push you overboard,” she reminded him.
Tyrell grinned and shook his head. “I told her I didn’t know how to swim,” he commented.
Makayla rolled her eyes. “Stowaways aren’t allowed to complain,” she mocked, raising an eyebrow at him. “As the captain of the Defiance, it is my right to toss anyone who threatens mutiny overboard.”
“Yeah, you can see from her face, that’s what happened to the last pirates who dared to defy her,” Tyrell joked. “By the way, nice shiner.”
Makayla lowered her water bottle far enough to stick her tongue out at him. “The other girls that jumped me are in worse shape,” she reminded him, before sobering. “That’s just wrong for three to jump one.”
Tyrell shook his head. “No, what was wrong was for the rest of us to just stand there and do nothing,” he said, looking at her with regret. “Is that why you’re doing this?” He asked in a quiet voice.
Makayla lowered the bottle in her hand and looked out at the ocean behind the boat. There was an intense, sad look on her face. For a moment, Tyrell was tempted to turn off the video and tell her not to worry about it, but something deep inside stopped him from turning off the camera.
“You said I was the craziest white girl you’ve ever met,” she replied in a quiet, distant voice. “Maybe I am. Is it crazy to want a normal home life? Is it wrong to want to hang with my friends and just be a kid for one more year before I have to grow up? If it is, then yeah, I’m crazy.” She turned and looked back at him. Tears glittered in her eyes, but didn’t fall. “You asked me why I’m doing this. I don’t feel like I fit in anywhere anymore. My mom doesn’t want me, my friends have their own crazy, messed up life, my grandfather…,” she paused and looked back out to sea again, with a small, sad smile on her face. “He’s different. He’s pretty cool for an old man.”
“Then, why did you leave? I mean, I thought you had the perfect life; a big house to live in on the water, a boat like this,” Tyrell said, waving his hand out.
Makayla shrugged and looked down at the bottle in her hands. “Looks can be deceiving, Tyrell,” she said quietly. “You asked me why I left. I’ll tell you why. I left so that I could find myself before it was too late… before I ended up like my mom.”
Chapter 22
Tyrell leaned back in the shade of the Dodger. He had his back against the cushioned seat and his feet propped up on the other end of the circular seating around the cockpit. Makayla was piloting while he checked through the pictures he had just uploaded. They were easier to see now that the sun wasn’t glaring on the screen.
Earlier, he helped Makayla snap on the cover over the cockpit to give them some protection from the sun. It was another beautiful day. He looked up, staring out at the coastline again. How she did it, he didn’t know, but they had zigzagged until it came back into view. She had made a comment a few minutes ago that the wind was shifting around again.
He glanced back down at his phone, sliding the earbuds he’d had in his pocket into his ears. He was editing the video that he had taken earlier in the movie app, adding some more pictures, music, and splitting the video clip into smaller clips between them. When he had a signal again, he would upload them.
“Defiance. Defiance. This is the SeaTide II come in, over,” a voice echoed over the radio.
Tyrell watched as Makayla’s hand wavered over the radio before she reluctantly picked it up. “This is the Defiance, over,” she replied in a husky tone.
“How are you doing, girl?” A man’s voice asked. “You do okay last night? Over.”
“Yeah, over,” she replied.
“What is your location? Over,” the man asked.
“Why, Henry? I’m not coming back,” Makayla said.
“Makayla, this is Jason,” another man said. “Listen, turn on the weather alert. There’s a low pressure system building just east of the Bahamas. It popped up rather unexpectedly. We just want to make sure you are aware of it. It might not affect you, but you should pay attention to the forecast, just in case. Over.”
“What storm? Is it a hurricane?” Tyrell asked, sitting up and looking at her in concern just as she pressed the switch to tell Jason that she would turn on the weather radio.
“Who’s that?” Henry demanded when he heard Tyrell’s voice in the background. “Over.”
Makayla bit her lip and put her finger against them. “A boy from school. I didn’t know that Tyrell had stowed away on the Defiance. He’s making the trip with me,” she finally said in a reluctant voice. “Oh, over.”
“Tyrell? Who the hell is Tyrell?” Henry demanded. “I don’t give a damn if I’m not supposed to cuss on the air.” She could hear Jason’s muted voice in the background. “I want to know who is on that boat with my granddaughter.”
Makayla rolled her eyes at Henry’s fierce declaration. She turned and glared at Tyrell. She really should have pushed him overboard. She could have given him a life vest first so he didn’t drown.
“Keep quiet,” she ordered before she pressed the switch on the side. “I told you, he’s a boy from school. He brought me a book that I dropped during the fight yesterday. Somehow, he fell asleep on the boat and I didn’t know about it until I was already out of the inlet. He… He’s going with me to Tampa. I’ll buy him a bus ticket home. Over.”
“Does his family know that he is with you? Do I need to contact them and let them know what is going on? Over.” Henry asked in concern.
Makayla glanced at Tyrell, who held up his phone and shook his head. “No, he already called them,” she responded. “Over.”
“Well, keep an eye on the storm,” Henry said in a gruff voice after a long silence. “We’re tracking the route you should be taking. We’ll follow you down to Key West and turn back around when you head up the other side. If you need anything, reach out. You’re not alone, Makayla. I want you to know that, over.”
Makayla’s voice trembled when she spoke again. “Thanks, old man. I’ll let you know if I need help and will keep an eye on the weather. Over and out,” she whispered.
Tyrell watched as she slowly set the radio back down. She didn’t turn to look at him. He could see the stiffness in her shoulders. Unable to resist, he lifted the Canon and focused. His finger wavered over the button, snapping the picture, before he slowly lowered the camera back to his lap.
Standing, he set the camera on the cushion and walked over to her. Unsure if she would accept his support, he rested his hand on her shoulder. She remained stiff for a moment before she relaxed back against him.
He stood beside her, resting his hand lightly on her shoulder. Neither one of them said anything, each lost in their own thoughts. In the camera’s lens, he witnessed the single tear that ran down her cheek as he snapped the shot. The camera had captured the look of sadness that was etched into the taut lines of her face.
But, there had also been more. There had been a powerful statement in the way she gripped the large silver wheel tightly in her hands. It froze in time the way she proudly stood at the helm, the wind blowing her dark hair back as she stood silhouetted against the bright sky, dark water, and white background of the boat.
The image also caught the stark contrast of the girl that wasn’t quite a woman. It showed the strength inside Makayla, yet also captured her vulnerability. It reflected the fierce determination in her stance that she would prevail against any storm that she encountered. For a moment, he thought that she was eerily similar to the ocean, personifying it, while also living up to the name of the sailboat in her fierce desire to fight back against the uncontrollable forces around her.
Her softly spoken words from earlier swept through his mind, and for the first time, he understood that this was more than just rebellion, this was a desperate act of survival.
I left so that I could find myself before it was too late… before I ended up like my mom.
Those haunting words were what had driven him to stand next to her and offer the slender thread of comfort. It finally dawned on him that this wasn’t a pampered princess running away from a fairytale home, but someone who knew the rougher side of life, just like he did.
*.*.*
It was late afternoon and Makayla was gazing uneasily out to the port side. Throughout the day, the winds had increased and so had the waves. Seas that had started out as one to two foot swells were now approaching four to six feet easily.
In the background, the National Weather Service was broadcasting a small boat advisory. Late summer storms were not unusual along the coast, she knew, and should be taken seriously. She glanced up at the mainsail, wondering if she should store it and the jib or not. Biting her lip, her gaze flickered to the dark skies moving rapidly toward them.
“I don’t like this,” Tyrell complained, coming out of the companionway where he had been securing anything that was loose. He grabbed the handrail when the sailboat tilted before rising upward on a wave. “Is this the storm that guy was talking about earlier?”
Makayla shook her head. “No, that one is still out in the Atlantic,” she said.
Tyrell scowled at her and grabbed the console so he wouldn’t fall. “I hate to point this out, Captain, but this is the Atlantic,” he said in a slightly sarcastic voice.
She rolled her eyes at him. “I know that,” she snapped. “I meant further out in the Atlantic than we are. This is just an afternoon squall.”
She saw Tyrell’s eyes widen as he looked at the growing darkness. “You call that an afternoon squall? I’d hate to see what a real storm was like!” He muttered. “Should we go closer to the beach?”
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “The waves are worse as they break over the reefs that run along the coast and we would take a chance of getting grounded. I don’t want to risk capsizing.”
She winced when a wave broke over the bow, sending a sheet of water down over the Dodger. She was thankful that they had installed it earlier, otherwise they both would have been soaked. The ocean was definitely getting rougher.
“Defiance, Defiance, this is the SeaTide II, come in. Over,” Henry’s voice sounded over the radio.
Makayla glanced at Tyrell. She needed both hands on the helm. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was taking all her strength to keep the wheel from being jerked out of her hands.
“Can you get that?” She asked, nodding to the radio.
Tyrell nodded. “What do I do?” He asked in a nervous voice, picking up the radio.
“Tell Henry this is the Defiance and the word over,” she instructed, turning the helm so that the sailboat moved into the next series of waves.
“This… This is the Defiance, over,” Tyrell said into the radio.
“Tyrell?” Henry asked. “Is Makayla alright? Over.”
“Yes, she’s driving, steering, whatever you call ‘it’ the boat,” he responded, before remembering to add that he was finished and releasing the button on the side.
“What’s the wind and water like? Over,” Henry demanded.
“It’s rough,” Tyrell started to say before Makayla leaned closer and spoke.
“There are six to eight foot swells with about a count of ten between them, Henry. The wind is steady at twenty miles an hour with gusts up to forty. The storm is approaching really fast off of our port side. Over,” she said, nodding for Tyrell to release the button.
“Listen carefully, Makayla,” Henry instructed. “You need to make sure you are both wearing your life vest and have the PLB attached to each one. Get your foul weather gear on, too. You’ll need it if something happens and you end up in the water. Make sure you attach a life line to the stanchion. If one of you goes overboard, you’ll be able to pull yourself back to the sailboat. Over,” Henry instructed in a calm voice.
“We will,” Makayla said, pushing down the fear. “What should I do next? Over.”
Henry released a low breath that echoed through the radio. “Turn the Defiance into the waves. Make sure you keep her there. You don’t want to get broadsided as that can capsize the boat. Furl the jib and furl the mainsail so that you still have control without it being enough to knock the boat over. You’ll want to start the engine. That will also give you more control. The leading edge of the storm is alw
ays the worse, remember that. The wind will be the strongest and the waves the roughest. Once you get through it, it will still be bad, but you’ll see a slight decrease. Just remember, safety first. If anything happens, you’ll have the PLB on and the Defiance has a beacon as well. We’ll come for you. Don’t panic, Makayla, that is the surest way to get yourself killed. Over.”
“Okay,” Makayla said, her eyes on the dark, rolling edge of the storm cloud and the churning waters. “I’ll contact you as soon as it blows through, grandpa. Over.”
There was a moment of silence before Henry replied. “You’d better, Makayla. I love you, girl. Don’t you forget that. Over and out.”
Makayla blinked several times to clear her eyesight before she cleared her throat. “Tyrell, in the storage compartment under the stairs is the foul weather gear and life vests. The PLB’s are attached to several of them. You’ll see the ones I’m talking about. Get suited up. I’m pretty sure the one for my grandfather will fit you and put a life vest on. Once you are done, bring me a set and take over the helm while I get it on.”
“What are you going to do?” Tyrell asked.
“I’m going to furl the jib and mainsail and make sure we don’t capsize,” she replied in a calm, unemotional voice, not revealing the fear deep inside her.
Chapter 23
Two hours later, Makayla clung to the helm with white knuckles. The Defiance slid down the receding edge of a wave only to have the one following it crash over the bow. The force of it almost jerked her off her feet.
Lightning danced around them, lighting up the dark clouds as thunder exploded in one deafening boom after another. Tyrell clung to the bar next to her. His arms wrapped on each side of her as he tried to support her from behind. Both of them bent their knees in preparation for the heart-wrenching crash at the bottom of the trough.
A low cry escaped Makayla when she felt Tyrell’s body being pulled away when the Defiance tilted at a crazy angle. His body spun around and he fell to one knee, holding onto the hand grip bolted into the side of the console with his left hand. Her eyes locked with his for a moment before adrenaline kicked in and spun the helm in the opposite direction so that the bow was facing into the waves.