Against the Sea: Tales On and Under the Sea

by John E. Christ

  John could see two gaffs marking each corner of the stern. He knew Bill and Ray were in position. He turned the wheel away from the dock and put the outer engine into reverse. The boat momentarily continued as if it had ignored his directions. Slowly, the boat began moving as he wanted. Using one engine in forward and the other in reverse he skillfully nudged the stern between the outer pilings. At a point he felt, rather than knew, he took the engine which was pushing forward and put it into reverse. As the stern passed between the pilings Bill and Ray grabbed the bow and spring lines with their gaffs. Everything was going perfectly.

  Once the spring lines were in place John put one engine in idle. The boat continued slowly moving toward the dock. When he saw the gaffs moving through the air at the stern he knew he was finally safe. Whatever doubts he had had about his ability were fully dispelled. When Bill appeared above the edge of the upper deck and signaled all the lines were secure, he shut down the engines and breathed several sighs of relief. He quickly closed the pilothouse and went down on deck with Bill and Ray.

  “I knew you could do it.” Bill grinned. “Now Dad will let us go out by ourselves.”

  “Sure.” John remained unconvinced. “I’m going home. I don’t feel like fishing.”

  “Don’t worry,” Bill said. “I’ll defend you.”

  “Thanks.” John jumped off the boat onto the dock. “I guess we will just have to see what happens.”

  When John got home, most of the lights were out. The TV was on in Dad’s room, but that was no sign he was awake or asleep. John undressed and went straight to bed. Just before he closed his eyes Mom came into the room.

  “Did you have a good time?” Mom said warmly. “It’s not like you to come home without saying goodnight. Is something wrong?”

  “I took the boat out tonight,” John said softly. “We went out the cut for a few miles, turned around, and came right back.”

  Mom was not in any way disturbed. She smiled and patted John on his right hand. She sat thoughtfully for a moment. “Your father will be very proud of you. He knows you can do it.”

  “He won’t be upset?”

  “No, I think you’ll be surprised.” Mom laughed.

  Next day was obvious Dad knew what had happened but he never said anything about it. Dad had pride in his sons. He expressed more by the expression on his face and from what everyone could see he was very happy.

  Too Easy

  The moment the 10 foot wave crashed across the bow, Ruiz knew he was in trouble. Pulling the throttle back to idle did little to prevent the next wave, which was even bigger, from almost swamping the sleek, ultrafast Donzai. Turning the bow to starboard, Ruiz inched the throttle forward praying the storm would quickly subside as fast as it had appeared. Running contraband across the Straits of Florida was risky enough with the US Coast Guard and Cuban Navy always on alert, but to be subject to the weather was far more threatening. Release from whatever authorities was far easier than returning from a watery grave.

  For an instant Ruiz lost sight of the light on the nearest island. He cursed, inched the throttle forward and looked at the compass. Unfortunately, calling for help was out of the question since his cargo consisted of crates of automatic weapons. Neither the Cubans nor Americans would look favorably on his soul once he had been rescued. Therefore, there was nothing more left than fight against the sea by himself.

  The moonless night coupled with clouds obscuring the stars plunged Ruiz into darkness with heartfelt genuine fear. He swore, if he survived, this was the last run. The money had certainly been good and, after tonight, he had enough to live comfortably for a long time.

  The Donzai lurched sideways exposing the port side to the next wave. Ruiz gunned the engine repositioning the bow into the next wave, but his action was too late. A wave far larger than all the rest rose instantly on the port side, towered over the thirty plus foot boat and crashed solidly on top of it throwing Ruiz out of the cockpit into the sea while capsizing the boat.

  “Mierda!” Ruiz screamed before sinking below the waves. The water was colder than he expected and the salt water stung his eyes. Although it seemed an eternity, his life vest brought him back to the surface quickly. Looking around he could neither see nor hear anything but the roiling waves.

  “Now what do I do?” Ruiz mumbled. “Mierda, Mierda, Mierda!”

  Alone in the water there was nothing to do, except wait, for the storm to subside and for daylight to come. Of course there was always hope the Donzai had not gone down and was nearby. Survival was a matter of hope and hanging on. He was certain this was his last trip regardless of whether he survived or not. Putting all negative thoughts out of mind, he got mad and swam to vent his anger.

  The waves tossed him around oblivious to his presence. Occasionally, a piece of seaweed scratched his hand throwing him into a panic, fearing a shark or other such sea monster was about to attack. Unable to think clearly, he thrashed even faster in a direction he felt was better than no direction at all. By daybreak, he was totally exhausted and simply bobbing lazily in a calming sea. Fatigue overpowered him and erased his awareness with several hours of needed sleep.

  Ruiz woke to a persistent nudge at his feet. Suddenly alert to the possibility of imminent danger he pushed downward and met solid resistance. In reality, it was a shallow bottom. He broke out in a nervous laugh relieved he was safe and very much alive. Shaking off the last vestiges of sleep he scanned the surroundings. He found himself barely one hundred yards from what was a small island occupied by one of those houses rich people pay architects exorbitant sums of money to build at the beach only to sit idle and unused most of the year.

  As he left the water, he looked back out hoping the Donzai was nearby. Unfortunately, he saw nothing afloat anywhere. Discarding the life vest on the beach, he boldly walked up to the house watching carefully for signs of activity. Although not truly superstitious, he was uncomfortable for reasons he could not explain. Upon reaching the wooden sundeck, he paused wondering if he was doing the right thing. When his inward question was answered with silence he mounted the deck and went to the wide sliding glass doors. The sun had come well up over the horizon illuminating the inside through the doors and skylights as if someone had turned on the interior lights.

  “Nice place.” Ruiz smiled. “Pretty cozy.” He tapped on the glass door. “Anybody home?”

  After waiting several minutes, he circled the house looking in the windows until he came to the front door. Again he tapped on the door yelling loudly. In the absence of an answer, he assumed no one was home. He completed another circuit of the house and returned to the back deck where he ventured to slide one of the glass doors open. Quite to his surprise it was unlocked and opened easily. Without crossing the threshold, he called again hoping if anyone was present they would excuse his intrusion once he gave an explanation. However, the previous silence was met with even more silence. Becoming ever bolder, he crossed the threshold, examining every room cautiously. In the end, he confirmed the suspicion he was totally alone and hungry.

  The kitchen was well-appointed with just about everything a gourmet chef could ask. A walk-in pantry was stocked with enough canned goods to survive the Apocalypse. He had no difficulty selecting something, not only to satisfy his hunger but also to suit his taste. Once the pangs of hunger were satisfied he was more curious about the house. Three bedrooms, three and a half baths, living room, dining room, library and a room filled with electronic equipment arranged in a plan both open and artistic.

  A clock chimed the hour and he jumped to the reality of the situation. He was shipwrecked at an unknown location which was bad by itself but now he added trespassing to the growing list of activities. Nowhere in the house was there any indication of ownership or when the place was last occupied. Without further ado he went out the back following the beach to the right. He returned an hour later after completely circling the island. He confirmed he was completely alone and reentered the house.

  Next on his
list of priorities, he needed to get cleaned up. In the master bathroom, he stripped naked, throwing clothes carelessly on the floor. He turned on the water to the sunken tub expecting saltwater. To his astonishment the tub filled with water as pure as anywhere back home. He pampered himself with a leisurely soak and a loofah scrub enjoying every minute. Afterward, he found clothes that fit fairly well and ate again.

  Rather than consider getting back to the mainland, curiosity overwhelmed his sensibility. The house was a strange country in need of exploration. There was something too neat and too perfect about it. Everything belonged; there was nothing that was not useful in some way. There was not a single detail omitted for comfort or utility. This was a place he could live the rest of his life. The only problem was the owners when they returned. That was something he would consider only when the time came. In the meantime, he would take advantage of the situation and enjoy it while he could. Whatever consequences were to follow, he was sure he would handle one way or the other. Aside from the room with electronic equipment, the house was pretty much a standard affair so it was not too much of a surprise he found himself intensely drawn to the mysterious room and all its unrecognizable devices.

  The room resembled something more out of a grade B sci-fi movie of the 50s than anything else. He examined each piece of equipment with keen interest. At first, he thought the room was one massive entertainment center, except for the fact the only speakers and video monitor were a part of an obviously sophisticated PC. Aside from the single seat in front of the keyboard and monitor there was no other place to sit. To the right of the computer was a tall bookcase stacked with numerous volumes of technical books. None of the titles were even remotely familiar. He came to the conclusion the whole setup was probably either the product of an eccentric computerphile or clandestine project. If the latter, he could not tell whether it was hostile or friendly to any country. The titles of almost all the books were in English, but then most important technical works were communicated in that language. To the left of the computer was a tall rack of row after row of DVD discs with titles from classical music to the Encyclopaedia Britannica. A brief perusal led him to believe there was not a single subject left out; he reassessed his first opinion and concluded that what he saw was in reality a very expensive personal entertainment system designed to the taste of a recluse. A single person could occupy this house for an eternity and not exhaust the possibilities afforded through the discs. The only thing missing would be live coverage of sports which was no big deal since he did not watch them anyway.

  Ruiz sat down with his hands holding each end of the keyboard. He stared blankly at the monitor trying to recall everything he knew about computers. The best he could recollect was his experience at a friend’s house playing games. He wished he had learned more of the important stuff. Unwilling to turn away, he carefully examined the equipment. He recognized what he thought was an off-on switch and pressed it without hesitation. There was a pleasant chime followed by a barely perceptible whir as the machine came to life.

  A screech and he pushed away from the computer and jumped to his feet. He dashed to the window fearing the worst. Seeing nothing in one direction he went to the windows on each side of the house. Finding nothing more than a lone bird or two, he concluded the sound had come from one of them. Breathing a little easier he returned to the place in front of the computer where a distinct warning was displayed. It said “proceed only if properly trained–Axxon Corporation.”

  “What does that mean?” He mumbled. “What do I do next?”

  Without thinking he hit Enter with his right index finger. The screen instantly changed to a menu of choices which at first struck him as incomprehensible.

  “What does this all mean?” He exhaled, more than a little confused. “I wish there were instructions.”

  At the moment he finished his rhetorical request, the computer answered nearly knocking his socks off. The voice was soft, authoritative and pleasant.

  “Please select a specific area of instructions,” the computer intoned.

  “Who are you?” Ruiz was shaken.

  “Nebulous question, please rephrase,” the computer responded flatly.

  “Okay, what do you do?”

  “I am REMAD which stands for Remote Manufacturing Device.”

  “Remote Manufacturing Device?” Ruiz said slowly. “What’s that?”

  “By definition, a complex machine able to convert raw materials into any desired object within existing programming parameters.”

  “You mean you can make anything I want by asking?” Ruiz shook his head.

  “Anything within existing parameters,” the computer said warmly. “Please state your request or would you prefer a demonstration?”

  “A demonstration,” Ruiz said slowly.

  The rest of the equipment of the room, which had hitherto been inactive, sprung to life with flashing lights and a low level hum. Ruiz saw the picture of a machine screw appear on the monitor with a set of numbers underneath counting down. When the numbers reached zero, the screen flashed the message: “Demonstration Complete.”

  “Now what?” Ruiz was totally confused. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Sample is to be found at the flashing red light.”

  All the devices in the room resumed an inert state except one which had a flashing red light. Ruiz got up slowly and went to it. He found a button under the light labeled “Open”. He pushed it and a door flipped open showing an internal closet sized space surrounded by a tangle of incomprehensible gizmos. On the bottom was a single screw. Ruiz picked it up and took it back to the monitor.

  Rolling the screw over and over between his fingers smiling, he recognized what was done. Making a screw was a pretty nifty thing. He wondered if it could really make what he wanted. The possibilities swirled in his mind with a passion. Then he remembered his lost boat and its cargo.

  “Could you make me,” Ruiz hesitated. “An automatic machine gun.”

  “Please state caliber, type and/or model.”

  Ruiz sat momentarily stunned by the reply. As the reality of the answer registered, he smiled. “An Uzi,” he said smartly.

  The equipment in the room pulsed with energy and he felt it. There was very little actual noise except the same low level hum as before. The big difference came in the dance of lights on every device. The monitor began a countdown which he felt compelled to watch. He only broke his eyes away to glance toward the delivery port from time to time. His heart raced ever faster with growing expectation and anticipation. If a real Uzi was actually produced, his worries were over. He would replace the load lost in the Donzai, and then he would become a supplier rather than a runner. Running guns was always profitable but extremely risky; supplying guns to the runners was far more profitable and certainly less risky.

  When the monitor flashed “item complete” he nearly upset the chair he was sitting and dashed to the delivery port. Upon opening the door, he found an exact replica of a brand-new Uzi. He slowly picked it up, grinned widely and stroked the steel body lovingly.

  “Does it work?” Ruiz turned to the monitor.

  There was no answer forthcoming. He examined the weapon carefully and tested all the moving parts. Everything was exactly as it should be.

  “I need ammunition; I need Uzi ammunition.”

  “In what quantity?”

  “Five hundred rounds.”

  The room again pulsed with activity and, in no more time than before, the ammunition was delivered. Ruiz snatched the ammunition from the delivery port and took it and the Uzi out to the kitchen table. There he deftly loaded the weapon. When he finished, he went out the glass doors in the back and onto the beach. On the soft beach sand he cocked the weapon while sighting a coconut palm arcing out toward the ocean. He slowly lifted the Uzi, aimed and squeezed the trigger. The noise shattered the idyllic tranquility of the scene while the bullets flowed in a steady stream exploding one green coconut after another.

  Overw
helmed with excitement, Ruiz laughed raucously, shouting “Yahoo” over and over again. He was elated beyond words. This was a dream come true. He could see his fortune swell to unimaginable heights. There would be nothing he could not possibly have at any price. The best part, however, was the secret was his alone. He would not have to share his good luck with anyone.

  Back in the house Ruiz knew he needed a celebratory drink. The kitchen was well stocked with food, but there was nothing alcoholic. There was no wine, beer or spirits.

  “No problem.” Ruiz laughed. “Computer, make me a gallon of Scotch.”

  “Brand?”

  “J&B.”

  Within a few minutes a gallon of J&B Scotch was in his hands. He poured half a tumbler full of the golden liquid, sniffed it deeply and took a large swallow. It burned the throat in a pleasant way and instantly warmed the cockles of his heart.

  “Now that’s a drink.” He coughed. “It don’t get no better than this!”

  He sat down in front of the monitor, the Uzi resting to the left of the keyboard, the gallon of Scotch to the right and the tumbler in his right hand. He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. He had not eaten and the alcohol went to his head. There was an incipient dizziness clouding his thinking. The more he drank, the heavier the darkness engulfed his consciousness. The urge to sleep crept up slowly and in the end captured him. The tumbler fell to the floor as he dozed off to a deep, dreamless sleep. Most of the day was gone by the time he woke up. At first, he felt disoriented as to where he was. Once his eyes were open and focused he regained a sense of equilibrium and orientation. He had a pounding headache and extremely dry mouth. In the bathroom there was aspirin and toothpaste which almost immediately brought relief. He retrieved the Uzi and went to the kitchen. With little difficulty, he put together and thoroughly enjoyed a substantial meal.