Humanaty's Blight

by LeRoy Clary

  Our boat was bouncing as it drove forward, and it swayed left to right with swells in the water. It came closer, even as I evaluated my first two shots and realized the scope might not be adjusted properly or had been knocked out of alignment at the bottom of the aluminum boat. I fired three more shots as I heard Steve shooting.

  My fingers fumbled for more bullets and before I finished loading, Steve fired again. I looked up to see the nearer boat clearly in the scope. Five, possibly six men were on the main deck, most with pistols that were too far away to fire. They were a few hundred yards away and closing fast.

  The men were massed together on the open rear of the main deck, and I could only see them because the boat came at a slight angle. I aimed for the mass of them and squeezed off all five shots. I hit one man. The group ducked out of sight, not so brave anymore.

  The double-barreled shotgun found my hand. I broke it open and loaded two green slugs. The shots boomed. I think I missed with both, but they might think there were more of us because of the different sounds.

  I reloaded and listened to Steve fire at them more slowly with his rifle, taking a second or two to aim between each shot. The nearer boat was going to pass directly ahead of us, and I waited before firing my rifle, but pulled my nine-millimeter and emptied the magazine at the other boat that was now speeding away. I saw the driver was a deck higher than I’d been shooting, out in the open.

  My rifle came to my shoulder and I fired five spaced shots at the figure. Steve was firing again, and one of us must have hit the man at the wheel. The boat made a sharp turn and looked like it was going to roll over, it turned so fast, the engine still running at full speed.

  It went too far away to hit anything, but I looked for the other boat and didn’t see it in the mist. A look at the radar screen showed it was rapidly pulling away from us. The first boat, the one that had been turning at full speed, pulled to a stop as if someone had managed to get to the throttle. Winks of orange and yellow told us they were shooting at us before we heard the sounds of several guns. None of the shells came close enough to hit us or to see where they hit the water.

  They were using handguns, as far as I could see, a silly thing since we had rifles that were accurate for twice the distance. I reloaded and timed the rocking of the boat with my shots.

  Steve spun the wheel and shouted at Sue, “Let me steer.”

  Sue rushed up the stairs and reached for the bullets in the bowls. “Can I load the guns?”

  We went away from the boat firing at us and made a wide circle around it. It remained stationary. As soon as we were lost in the fog, the shooting stopped.

  Steve pointed at the radar screen. “It looks like they’d have enough.”

  I sat heavily on the seat, my heart pounding.

  Steve said to me, “If I had any doubts about your bravery, Cap, they’re over.”

  Sue looked at him with the same puzzled expression I must have worn.

  He said to her, “He stood up and returned fire with all those bullets flying all around us.”

  “What bullets?” I asked.

  He started to laugh, then halted. “On their approach, everyone on board was shooting at us.”

  “I was reloading, I think. When they pulled away, I saw them shooting at us.”

  He shook his head. “No, there must have been a few hundred rounds that came our way, most of them too high. Look at the jib.”

  There were five or six new holes in it.

  If bullets went through the jib because they were fired from a boat in front of us, those same bullets had passed right by me. I hadn’t known a thing about them. It was good I was sitting, or my knees would have given out and I’d be on the deck.

  There were no more boats on the radar and the fog seemed to be thinning. He said, “I’ll be right back.”

  He went below while I avoided admiring looks from Sue. It was hard to tell her that I was so scared the bullets had flown past without me knowing. She went below and returned with a cold can of soda, the store brand of a supermarket that can never seem to get the right cola taste of the big two. She also carried two more boxes of ammo. We reloaded in silence.

  Steve finally emerged and shut down the engine. The quiet of fog at sea enveloped us, with only a few splashes against the hull, the call of a seagull high overhead, and a metal something that again tapped out a pattern on the metal mast.

  He gave us a thumb’s up. “We’ll hang here for a while. I talked to that boat behind us and it is a sailboat. Four people on board, doing the same thing as us, running for a safe place to anchor at an island. I warned them about the blockade.”

  “Good,” I muttered.

  “Also, they are in touch with another boat they are following, and both are turning around and coming this way.”

  Sue said, “How can we trust them?”

  “Both are sailing their family boats. They know each other and know how to sail. We can go on without them, but there is safety in numbers. I doubt those last pirates would have attacked three boats. It’s something to think about.”

  My reservations were kept to myself. I didn’t like crowds and didn’t trust them. Never in my whole life. I’d been the one made fun of too often. My insecurities were well-founded.

  “More good news,” He said. “There is a guy on the south end of the island with a view of the water and a marine radio in his house. He’s going to warn all boats traveling north.”

  I wondered if it was the man we’d seen walking his dog on the beach down there. There was a good chance it was. While we waited, the wind and currents carried us closer to the island. We noticed but were a half-mile away and waiting for the first of the other boats to arrive. A splash fifty feet away and a little behind us drew our attention, and then the sound of the gunshot reached us.

  Someone on land had taken a shot—and it came far too close. Steve hit the starter for the engine, spun the wheel, and gunned the engine as he took us away from land. Three more shots came our way, each farther away than the last, yet they may have served their purpose. We were not going anywhere near where the maniac who shot at us was located.

  My anger riled and my reaction was to point the bow right at where the shots came from, leap over the side into the water, wade ashore, and hunt him down. I picked up the rifle again and used the scope to search the beach. If I saw someone, I’d return fire, because those are my new rules. In the past, I’d have wanted to do the same. Now, I would.

  When Steve turned the engine off, Sue asked, “What is wrong with people? Are they all trying to kill everyone else, so they are the last left alive?”

  That was an interesting thought in a couple of ways. One way of looking at it was what she intended. Another was to do something about it. People were scared. Most probably hadn’t figured out that no more were getting sick. The danger from the flu, or blight as it was becoming known, seemed over.

  If there was a way to tell everyone and pull them together to put things in order, I’d be willing to do my part. My eyes went to where the CB and marine radios were. Beside them was the short wave.

  Steve went below. A few moments later, he returned with three cold beers, the last of our stash. Sue handed her’s back and went for a soda. He looked my way as he popped the top of his can and took a long drink. “Good news. We have another boat joining us.”

  “We can’t save everyone,” I said, again thinking of a crowd of people around us where I’d feel lost and out of place. The comment hadn’t meant to be said but came out anyway. Sometimes I think there is more than a little Tourette syndrome in my makeup. My mouth says things without thinking and I can’t seem to stop the words from spilling out. I put on a face that hopefully said I was serious.

  “But they might save us. Think of it that way. Four boats traveling together. Well-armed. Traveling as a force. Not many would dare attack us.”

  He was right. I’d felt naked in the boat when I was alone with Sue. My temper was rising again, for no reason. After reach
ing the islands, we could go our separate ways. But that didn’t cool my anger. I said, “Don’t you think that’s the way every band of idiots on land is thinking? Surround themselves with as many guns as possible to protect themselves?”

  He nodded and added, “Maybe it is not a case that all of them are wrong and you are right. It could be they are right. Our world changed and our thinking has to change also. If you want me to ask you before doing things, just say so, Cap. You’re in charge of this boat and all that goes on in it. Just think about it and if you want us to sail on alone, we will.”

  I did not want to be in charge. I didn’t want anyone else to be, either. He was right. I needed to think about it and get my head straight. I couldn’t have things both ways. “I will. Sorry.”

  Sue came back outside. I suspected she had been listening at the door and waiting. Steve went into the cabin as she took a seat beside me. “Anybody else shooting at us, or racing speed boats in our direction this morning?”

  “Is it me, or am I getting jumpy and paranoid at the same time?” I asked.

  She raised her soda can in a salute. “Both . . . and more. I used to think school made me stress out. A history paper due or an upcoming math quiz put me into a sweat. How are those things compared to what we face daily? I need some time to put it all in order inside my head. Like a month on a tropical beach, maybe.”

  Her words were my thoughts.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Two of the boats arrived within sight at the same time. They were sailboats, both ten feet smaller in length than the Truant, both gleamed white with fresh paint as if they were painted at the same time. The condition of each was immaculate at first glance, although with closer inspection, there were signs of aging around rusted fittings that had been painted over, a few dents and dings, corrosion on metal, and other clues the boats were not new.

  What that meant was that they were well cared for by owners who cared. The people traveling on them remained outside in plain sight, without obvious weapons, although I was sure they had them nearby. It was a trust issue. They were showing us they came in peace. I put my rifle aside and raised empty hands. Their postures relaxed.

  The man at the wheel of the nearest boat called, “Can we toss a rope and all of us get together instead of broadcasting our plans all over the air on a radio?”

  “Cap?” Steve hissed from the side of his mouth after the question was shouted. “They’re waiting for you to answer.”

  “What do I say?” I asked, not sure of the nautical terms that were appropriate.

  “How about, ‘sounds good’ or ‘come on over?’”

  My scowl at his caustic reply caused Steve to smile. I turned away and called, “That sounds good.”

  Steve said, “Cap, I’ll get the rope and handle tying us up while you invite them to come aboard since we’re much larger.”

  That was twice he called me Cap in the last few moments, and he’d asked my opinion both times. Now that he was treating me as a captain, as I’d wished. It was uncomfortable.

  My attention was torn away from introspection as I saw the other passengers. A woman of about thirty with a girl that looked so much like her it had to be her daughter—and the girl also shared features with the man at the wheel. A boy, younger, seemed to look like all three.

  A survival family? Four people in the same family were unaffected by the flu?

  The second boat was pulling close and with a nod in my direction. A man in the stern called out, “Permission to come alongside?”

  I gave him permission as if I was in charge of things and knew what I was doing.

  Steve caught the rope for the next boat that was tossed to him and pulled it closer. He tied the sterns of each boat to either side of Truant and helped them to climb over with an outstretched hand. Unlike the first boat, the second held two men and a woman, none of whom looked related. Soon, they were all aboard and introductions were made.

  It quickly became obvious the second owner and his two passengers were both unrelated and strangers to each other. They were three survivors, which was to be expected. However, the captain of the second boat was familiar with the family on the first. That was a puzzle that added to how an entire family had made it past the blight, along with a friend.

  What were the odds of that?

  Or did they know something that allowed them to live when so many others had died? I chastised myself for being so suspicious as the others talked excitedly among themselves. The radio had an almost steady stream of conversation and Sue remained seated there where she could speak.

  Steve came to my side and said, “Now that the flu has run its course, people are coming out of their holes. Boats are a natural conclusion.”

  “Like for us,” I muttered.

  “Everyone has the same idea. Those islands up north are going to get crowded.”

  Being a loner, that didn’t sound good. Neither did having seven strangers on my boat. Yes, my boat. Uncomfortable. I didn’t bother to learn their names. My eyes kept track of their hands, possible places they might conceal weapons, and furtive movements. I saw none.

  I was correct in my summation that the family of four survived together, along with the man who owned the second boat. The family had been on vacation at an isolated ski cabin in the Cascades near Stevens Pass when they heard about the outbreak. Instead of rushing home and chancing infection, they remained up there and shunned any visitors. That choice probably saved the lives of the family.

  Their friend, who owned a similar sailboat, had lost his family to the illness and had taken to his boat right away after that. He’d sailed in circles near Tacoma for a week before reaching his friends on the boat’s radio. The other two people on his boat were refugees they’d come across. One had been making her way to the coast south of Seattle to find a sailboat, much like we’d done. She had limited experience sailing but had determined it was her best chance to escape the carnage they described in the larger cities.

  The cockpit was very crowded. Sue came to my side and looped her arm in mine as if she could read my mind, and she whispered in my ear, “Stay calm. They’ll be gone soon. Steve is going to call them all inside the cabin and make plans. You don’t have to join.”

  I nodded. Looking around, the sun had come out and there were five more boats within sight. Four seemed to be heading north and turned to avoid the three of us. One puttered in wide circles and repeated the action. I assumed it was fishing. Sue agreed and put a line over.

  Steve had everyone inside but came out and flashed us a look. “I asked another boat to join with us, Cap. Okay?”

  I gave him another silent nod, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. My aversion to people was making itself felt.

  He said, “If you don’t mind, keep your pistol ready and watch them close. It’s a forty-foot yacht with eight on board. All armed to the teeth.”

  “Why let them come close?”

  He appreciated my hesitation. “The one I spoke to on the radio knows a friend of mine. Not a lot of connection, but some. He knew a few things about him only a friend would know. They were heading up the other side of Whidbey and ran into two boats that turned back because of our warning.”

  “A family, I asked?”

  “No. Mostly men. They can provide protection for us in return for us helping them avoid the trouble with the blockade.”

  Over his left shoulder, I saw the boat coming our way. My defenses rose a little more.

  Steve left me to go inside and make plans. I was isolated again. Sue had slipped away while he and I talked. Her fishing pole bounced, and the line stripped out. I grabbed it and managed to land a small salmon without help.

  When I turned around, the motorboat was close. Men stood on the bow; rifles held loosely in their hands.

  One stood slightly alone. He was short, wide, and about forty. When the boat was fifty feet away, he asked, “You the captain?”

  “Yes.”

  He scrutinized me. “Don’t think us unfr
iendly, but we’ll keep our distance if you don’t mind.”

  I nodded again. It seemed to be my way of communicating today.

  He continued, “We appreciate the warning you gave us. We’re also going north to wait things out. No hurry to get there, I suppose. Safety in numbers while traveling and all that. So, if you want us to cruise along with you, we’ll be happy to do it to repay you by mutually adding our protection.”

  “We’d like that. Is there anything you need that we can provide?”

  “We’re good. For now. We might see a place to stop and restock that we can’t pass up, but we’ll face that when and if we find it. When are you planning on leaving?”

  I jabbed a thumb at the cabin. “They’re inside figuring it out.”

  He scowled slightly. “Without the captain?”

  “I’m new at this.”

  He chuckled, and so did a couple of others. He said, “We’re all new at this. Thanks again for the warning about the blockade, and thanks to you, there are now two fast boats down by the bottom of Whidbey Island that will intercept any others moving north and send them this way.”

  “Is that why there are so many boats today?”

  He turned to look behind. There were two more boats moving north. One sailboat, another a pleasure boat with a big outboard. He said, “After seeing how things are going, how we’re tearing ourselves apart and killing each other on land, I suspect a lot of people are going to grab a boat and try to get away until things calm down.”

  “It seems like a lot of us,” I said glumly, thinking that the islands I thought of as isolated and almost deserted might already have hundreds of boats anchored in the bays. It might not be much better than being on land.

  The man hung his head for a few seconds and then straightened his shoulder and stood taller. He said, “Maybe too many up there. The waters around those islands must be getting pretty crowded by now. We might move on up north into the Canadian islands. There’s a lot of them and I guess nobody is going to fine us for going into Canadian waters without the right paperwork, huh?”