Winter Fall

by Byron Tucker

  He didn't want Irene to see the building worry in his face, so he took a step backward and said, “I'll get Jimmy to open it up to dry it out, okay? Don't do a thing to it until after we get back, okay?”

  Irene pointed to Eliza lying prone on the bed, fighting to breathe. “Just hurry. She needs a treatment as soon as possible.”

  Sam left the stateroom and followed the stairs up to where the bridge was located, on the highest part of the ship. Once he got there, he was confronted by a scene of a wild gale lashing the forward windows and heavy snow coming down to boot. Looking at Jose standing next to Jimmy holding the large wheel, he said, “We've got water in the cargo hold.”

  Jose pointed out the windows. “Yes, I have a loose hatch cover, but there's not much to be done about it, as the wind keeps blowing it open. The bilge pumps will keep the water from getting too high in there, so don't worry about that.”

  Sam didn't really care for this explanation, but there was no sense in arguing. It was his ship, after all. He pointed at Jimmy and said, “I need for you to come downstairs with me.”

  “What for?” he asked in a reluctant tone.

  He reached for his wrist, pulling him away from the wheel. “Because I need your help.”

  Jimmy turned to Jose and said, “Thanks for letting me up on the bridge,” and then followed his father down the narrow stairs.

  When they arrived at their stateroom, Sam said, “I've got to go back down and get my shoes, but you help Mom get the nebulizer dried out.”

  “Dried out? What do you mean?”

  “It got wet when I was getting it from the motorhome. Now get in there and help your mother.”

  Sam raced back downstairs and grabbed his shoes, fighting a wave of nausea rising within him. He stood at the base of the stairs for a few moments, wondering if he should stop and put his shoes back on before continuing.

  The ship continued to be battered by one colossal wave after another, the steel frame of the ship creaking and booming all around him. Turning around to sit on the steps, his stomach heaved mightily, and there went his supper, making a mess over an amazing amount of real estate. He sat down in an effort to catch his breath, which only induced more heaving in his stomach and, for the next five minutes, it was all he could do but to hold on and suffer through the terrible contractions of his stomach muscles.

  When things finally managed to calm down, Sam slowly made his way up the stairs, having to stop every few seconds to keep from heaving again, also to brace himself against the violent rocking of the ship. After what seemed like forever, he made to the level of the stateroom. Even before he made it to the doorway, his nostrils indicated something was seriously wrong.

  Forgetting about his stomach, Sam stepped inside, waving his hands at the acrid smoke filling the room. “What the hell happened in here?”

  His wife and children gave him a long, silent look as they pointed to the machine located in the room's only chair, smoking like a barbecue grill. Jimmy said, “Mom had it plugged in when I got back, and it caught on fire before I could unplug it.”

  Sam looked at the machine and then at his daughter holding one of her rescue inhalers up to her mouth. “So it's ruined?”

  “I'm sorry,” Irene said. “I thought I got the water out of it, and I really wanted to run a treatment for her. It turned on just fine, and it worked for about a minute before it started smoking up. I know I should have turned it off, but I...I just...” She broke down in tears, the sound of her anguished sobs filling the too-small space around them.

  Sam didn't know whether to be angry, or sad, or just be without hope. The thought of coming all this way, to board the ship that would take them to Costa Rica, to have survived such incredible adversity, only to lose his precious daughter to something as trivial as a burned out nebulizer – it was a fate too cruel for even the devil to imagine.

  He got down on his knees even as his stomach dry-heaved, throwing his arms around Eliza as he said, “It'll be okay, Eliza. We'll get you through this.”

  A tremendous wave rocked the ship, causing the lights to flicker. Jimmy pointed to the door and said, “I'm going back to the bridge to see if Jose needs my help.”

  Before Sam could object, his son slipped out of the room, allowing the door to snap shut behind him.

  Chapter 35

  Unable to determine the current time, Sam stepped out of the stateroom, closing the door behind him softly so as not to disturb his wife and daughter, who were still sleeping in their respective bunks. Eliza had fought her attack for many torturous hours, using the rescue inhaler far too many times. But her lungs finally relaxed to the point of her not having to fight for every breath, and she fell into a much-needed sleep, spooned up against her mother lying next to her. He knew the attack would probably resume once she woke up again, but for the moment at least, she was at peace.

  A wall clock told Sam it was past nine AM, much later than he had thought possible. Where has Jimmy been all this time? He noticed that the rocking of the ship wasn't as severe as it had been during the overnight hours. Determined to locate Jimmy as quickly as possible, Sam sprinted up to the level of the bridge. He was shocked to see Jimmy alone at the wheel, with nobody else on the bridge

  “Where's the Captain?”

  Jimmy looked at him with a weak smile, his eye sockets ashen gray, making him look zombie-like. “He had to crash for a couple hours. I'm his relief.”

  Sam stared out the front windows for a few seconds, watching the driving rain being whisked aside by the steady sweep of the windshield wipers. Since it was daylight, he could see the wide expanse of the ocean, dominated by angry, white-topped waves as far as the eye could see. Low, dark-bellied clouds scurried overhead at cross-angles to the ship at an unnatural rate of speed.

  “Jose is really making you pilot this ship by yourself?” he finally asked as the ship continued to pitch up and down over the massive waves.

  Jimmy laughed and said, “It's not that hard, Dad. I just gotta maintain the heading at one-seven-five and keep the engines at eighty percent power.” He pointed out the windows and smiled. “Notice something different?”

  “The waves have gotten smaller.”

  “Well, that too. But look, it's raining. It means we're coming out from under the volcanic winter. I was afraid we'd be seeing snow all the way down to Costa Rica.”

  Sam stared at the wind-whipped waves for a few moments before replying. “That wasn't even on my list of worries, but yes, that is a good thing, isn't it?”

  Jimmy's expression darkened. “Is Eliza okay?”

  It was Sam's turn to smile. “For the moment, yes. She and Mom have been sleeping for hours. Have you not gotten any sleep at all yet?”

  Jimmy shook his head slowly. “I'm too tired to sleep, if such a thing is possible. I'd gone crazy being stuck in that room with you guys.”

  Sam realized Jimmy was right; it'd been both physically and emotionally exhausting night in the extreme. Indicating behind him with his finger, he said, “Perhaps I should go find Jose or the first mate. They really shouldn't have put you up to this.”

  “Oh no, I don't mind. It beats sitting around twiddling my thumbs. I figure I can sleep after we make it to Costa Rica.”

  “Well, how about I go down to the mess and see about bringing up some coffee and a bite to eat for you?”

  “Yeah, that'd be awesome.”

  Just then, the Captain appeared. "Buenos días!” he boomed, holding a mug of steaming coffee. He placed a hand on Jimmy's broad shoulder. “David is cooking up breakfast down in the mess if you care to have something.”

  Jimmy smiled effusively as he relinquished control of the wheel to Jose. “Thanks. I'm starving. It's going to take a week of eating before I stop feeling hungry.”

  Glad to have his son with him again, Sam followed him down to the mess, the delicious aroma of pancakes and coffee filling his nostrils before they even got there. After getting served by the kindly cook, Sam sat down across from J
immy and allowed him to eat his pancakes in silence as he sipped his coffee.

  “Aren't you going to eat, Dad?” Jimmy asked between bites of food.

  Sam picked up his mug of coffee, blowing on it a few times. “I'd better take it easy, with the way my stomach treated me last night. It wasn't fun, to say the least.”

  Jimmy frowned. “That sucks. The only thing I'm sick of right now is not having sleep.”

  “Yes, I'm going to start acting like a father for once, and order you off to bed.”

  He looked at him as if he was crazy. “In the daytime? I might as well as stay up until tonight.”

  Sam thought for a minute and said, “We'll wait until Mom and Eliza are up, and I'll have you sack out, for a couple hours at least. You look like you could seriously use some rest.”

  “Yeah, I guess you're right. I just hope Eliza does okay without the nebulizer at least until we get to port.”

  “And there's the question of obtaining a new one when we do get there.” Sam let out a sigh. All of this is just so hopeless.

  Irene appeared in the doorway the small dining room, her hair a jumbled mess. “How's Eliza?” Jimmy asked without delay.

  She sat down next to him, and looked up at Sam. “She's just had a big coughing fit, coughed up a lot of phlegm, but she's drifted back to sleep again.”

  Sam reached across the table to hold Irene's hands. “Good, the more she sleeps the better.”

  Irene let out a long breath as she looked at Sam and Jimmy in turn. “We're down to her last inhaler. As much as she's having to use it, it'll be gone in no time.”

  “But we'll be in Costa Rica in two days,” Sam said. “She can make it that long at least, right?”

  Irene didn't answer, looking as if she was going to break down again.

  Jimmy pushed his empty plate back a bit and said, “Know what, Mom, Dad? Maybe we should do a bit of praying. That's the only thing that seems to be working lately anyhow.”

  Sam looked at his son for long moments before replying. “I think you're absolutely right. It's all really in the hands of the man upstairs, isn't it?”

  Jimmy nodded, as did Irene. Sam said, “Let's hold hands, and I'll lead. You can go after me, Jimmy, and then you, Irene.”

  Sam never considered himself a religious individual, even back in the days when his mother would make him go to Sunday school, but he figured if there was ever a time to be religious, it was now. He leaned his head over, closing his eyes and began saying the most earnest prayer of his life.

  * * *

  Sam mentally braced himself against the cold as Jimmy opened the door in front of him. When he stepped outside behind his lanky son, he was shocked – not at how cold it was, but how warm the air felt.

  Jimmy moved his outstretched arms around in a series of revolutions as he walked toward the starboard railing. “Wow, it's so warm now! It must be sixty degrees out here.”

  Spotting a thermometer on the wall next to the door, Sam squinted to see what it read. Although it was in Celsius only, he mentally converted the figure of fifteen degrees C to sixty degrees F. “Yep, you're right. It's about sixty. Pretty nice, huh?”

  Jimmy came to where he was standing, his dark hair, badly in need of a haircut, flopping in the stiff breeze. “Yeah, but that's pretty cold for the tropics, though. Normally it'd be in the eighties.”

  “But I'll take sixty any day, after what we've been through.”

  “Me too,” Jimmy said, even as he appeared to look past him at some distant object. He pointed with his finger. “Look, Dad. I think there's land.”

  He turned to see where his son was pointing. Sure enough, he could see a thin brown line at the junction of where the steel-gray ocean met the whitewashed sky. “You're absolutely right. That is land. It's probably the east coast of Nicaragua, since it runs north and south. It can't be too much farther to Limon, though.”

  “Jose said we should make it by noon today, so hopefully he's right. Another four hours to go. Can you believe it?”

  Sam placed his right hand on Jimmy's shoulder. “Let's not get too excited yet. We still have to ask permission to live in Costa Rica, we have to find a new machine and meds for Eliza, and we –”

  “Dad, what can they do? Make us sail back to America, which doesn't exist anymore?”

  “One thing at a time, Jimmy. When we dock, we'll meet with the customs officials, explain that Henry Adams is willing to sponsor us, and just hope to God they let us in.”

  “And we've got all that gold to pay them.”

  “Let's just hope they don't ask for more than what we have with us. The critical issue is getting hold of a nebulizer for Eliza as quickly as possible.”

  Jimmy's face darkened. “Yeah, I know. It's still pretty tough with her breathing. Mom says she only has like twenty puffs of albuterol left. She'll burn through that today.”

  “Damn.” Sam pointed the way inside. “Come on, let's see if we can find the captain.”

  They made their way inside, and ran into Jose, who seemed happy to locate them.

  “I just wanted to let you know that I've radioed Limon, and let them know I have a family of four seeking to gain entry into the country, so they should be ready for us when we arrive.”

  “How much longer before we get into port?” Jimmy asked.

  Jose glanced at his gold wristwatch. “Three hours, three and a half at the most. We make excellent time now, with seas so smooth.” Turning to look at Sam, he cleared his throat and said, “There may be a problem, however.”

  A terrible weight began descending upon him, his chest clinching in raw fear. “Oh, gosh, what is it?”

  He made a motion of counting money with his hands. “The officials, you know, need to be paid. They want one hundred ounces of gold before they will give you permission to stay in the country.”

  Sam felt the weight lift as quickly as it had descended upon him, and Jimmy chimed in by saying, “Oh, that's not a problem. We knew about that already, and we do have the gold.”

  The relief on the Captain's face was visible as day. “That is a wonderful thing to hear. You should have no problem gaining entry in that case.”

  Recalling that the door of the motorhome was not locked, with the gold within easy reach inside it, Sam looked at Jimmy with a slightly stern expression and said, “Why don't you go down to the hold and get the motorhome ready to be taken off the ship?”

  “But we have hours to go still.”

  “Don't argue, I need for you to do that now, so I can tell Mom and Eliza what's going on. And I want you to stay put until I come down, okay?”

  Jimmy grasped what he was trying to tell him. “I'll get right on it, Dad.”

  Just before he went down the nearby stairwell, he paused and looked back as his father. “Oh, I just realized. Merry Christmas.”

  Sam mentally stumbled for a few seconds as he pondered the validity of what Jimmy had just said. My gosh, it really is Christmas Day. They'd left port on the twenty-second, and it had been three days, making it the twenty-fifth. Christmas Day. “Wow, I totally forgot what day it was.”

  Jimmy laughed. “Yeah, me too, until just now.” He turned and disappeared down the stairs.

  How apropos, that today is Christmas.

  Jimmy's Journal Entry, Christmas 2019

  Since I've been told to stay in the motorhome until Dad returns from upstairs, I figured I could kill some time doing another entry in my journal. I have a feeling I'll be pretty occupied once we finally make it to Costa Rica, which is just a couple hours away, so now's a good time to write as any.

  Good news, good news. Not only are we about to dock in the port city of Limon, the captain has already let them know to expect us, and how much money we should expect to pay the immigration officials. It's one hundred coins of gold, but that's no sweat, as we have that set aside, and that'll still leave us with something like forty-six coins, plus the silver too. I'm sure we'll need that to start our new life in Costa Rica, like getting some
land and a house or whatever. That's way off in the future, though, we just have to gain entry into the country first and get to Henry's place.

  The big issue of course, is Eliza. Since we no longer have a working nebulizer (it got wet and Mom burned it out by rushing to use it before it had a chance to dry), we have to get a new one for her as soon as possible, as well as more inhalers. None of us have any idea of what the situation is like in Costa Rica, but I have to think they'll have what we need. The question is whether we should stick around in Limon or go straight to Henry's. I think it's best to get to Henry's straightaway, as he'll know where to take Eliza to get help, as opposed to us wandering around in a strange city, especially since none of us can speak Spanish, and it's Christmas Day besides. The good thing is that Eliza is recovering from her pneumonia, since we had all those antibiotics to give her, but without that nebulizer, she's having a real hard time getting over her asthma attacks. I just really feel for her, as she's struggled more than any of us. But I know we'll get help for her very soon, and she's a fighter, so she'll be okay. I can feel it.

  As for what's happened in the past couple of days, whew, is there any real reason to write about it? It's been so hard on all of us, getting shot at, having to run from the authorities, Eliza being sick, having to bust through that scary roadblock, it's way more than anyone should ever have to deal with in their whole life, let alone in a few days. But I guess that's how it goes when a supervolcano blows a hole in the world and everybody starts nuking each other on top of that. I tell you one thing, we're dammed lucky just to be alive. No question about that. But damn, we need a break. We're all so tired, and we just need to be able to rest, wherever we end up. I hope we're able to get the motorhome hooked up somewhere on Henry's ranch so we can stay in it until we get a permanent place, but I guess I'm getting ahead of myself here. We just need to get to Henry's, and hopefully he'll be able to help us get situated. Give me food and sleep, I'll promise never to complain about anything else again.