Kiss On The Bridge

by Mark Stewart

  DARRYL COLLECTED his sons before running back up the beach. At the edge of the rubble, he turned to face the ocean. He spat at the disappearing yacht. Her mainsail looked to be already full of wind. Soon she’d be picking up speed. Shortly after, the yacht will be out of sight.

  “Any guesses where the ship might be going?”

  Darryl glared at his eldest son through murderous eyes. “How could I know the destination?”

  The man shrugged. “What are you going to say to Drake Campbell when he asks where Anneli is? They’re supposed to meet in four hours.”

  Darryl glanced back at the ocean. The yacht now appeared only as a white speck on the horizon. He slowly nodded.

  “We won’t be here.”

  Dirk side stepped so he could join in on the conversation. “If we’re not here, where will we be?”

  “We will be out there on the ocean, hunting a yacht. At a guess, the vessel in question is heading for Melbourne.”

  The five sprinted over the rubble. They circled around to the rear of the mechanic’s shed before running down the road. They jogged past upturned cars and skirted around many ruptured gas lines and closed in on what remained of the hotel. They spied Meredith sitting at a table sunning her tanned body in the warm sun sipping a Margarita. Two empty wine glasses were on her left.

  “Meredith, follow us,” called Darryl.

  Instead of standing, Meredith remained seated. She waited for their shadows to cover her face before talking.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, slurring her words.

  “What’s wrong?” puffed Dirk. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Your sister and the bloke, what’s his name have done a runner and are ocean bound.”

  None of the men noticed Meredith’s fox like smirk. She swallowed the remainder of her Margarita she insisted the chef make her before bringing up the rear of the group as they marched for the wayward side of the lagoon.

  Darryl waved at the man in charge of the small craft coming in from his ship.

  “I want to be taken out to my ship right now,” he barked.

  “Yes Sir,” replied the young man. “Mr. Vandenberg in case you were wondering where your ship went, I did wait until the last second hoping you’d show before ordering the vessel to be moved out to deeper water. I’m glad you made it through the cyclone.”

  Darryl slapped the man on the shoulder. “Thanks for caring.” He beckoned the others to climb into the run-a-bout. Shaking his head at Meredith, he spat. “If you don’t hurry we’ll leave you behind.”

  Dirk only just managed to pull her into the boat when the motor revved.

  The small craft motored away from the sand at speed. The sea rapidly calmed helping the craft to make quick progress. In a shade under nine minutes Darryl could be seen climbing up the ladder of his ship. The moment his feet touched the deck he bailed up the Captain giving him instructions to head back to Melbourne.

  The Captain stood at attention shaking his head at the orders.

  Darryl marched towards the bridge. “Weigh anchor. I want my ship moving.”

  “If I may take a minute to explain our dilemma,” began the Captain, stepping onto the bridge.

  “I don’t want to hear a word against my proposal. I want my ship moving right now.” Darryl spat his words through a locked jaw.

  “There are a couple of small matters which supersedes what you want,” answered the Captain provocatively.

  Pacing the floor, Darryl wore the look of thunder. He suddenly stopped and grabbed hold of the Captain’s starched white shirt.

  “I don’t pay you to go up against what I want. I think I need to remind you of your job description. Drive my ship. Now, weigh anchor. Every second we delay my daughter who is on the yacht I want to chase is slipping further away.”

  The captain brushed the fingerprints off his collar, staring at Darryl.

  “This ship will be stationary for a further five hours. The cyclone has damaged one engine. The maintenance crew you assigned to this vessel is working frantically to fix the problem. The only other remaining problem is.”

  Darryl raised his fist, shoving it at the man’s face, interrupting his report.

  “I don’t care for excuses. There are two engines on my ship; start the other. My daughter is leaving us behind. God only knows what the bloke is capable of doing to her if we don’t catch the yacht.”

  The Captain glanced over his shoulder at the first officer. “Stow the anchor. Start the remaining engine.”

  “Sir, what should be done about the one remaining problem?”

  “You heard my orders. Start the engine.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN