Landfall: Islands in the Aftermath

by Scott B. Williams

  “We’re looking for a Tartan 37 named the Sarah J.,” Artie shouted, as they slowly sailed past the first two boats that were rafted together near the entrance to the harbor. “And also a man and a woman who sailed this way yesterday afternoon in a wooden sailing dinghy. They were from our crew.”

  “Haven’t seen the Sarah J.,” a heavily bearded man yelled back, “but we saw the two in the dinghy. They said they were looking for the Sarah J. too.”

  “Did you see which way they went?” Casey asked.

  “Saw ‘em sail right through the middle of the harbor, heading east, but I don’t know after that. They didn’t come back this way or I would have noticed. They could have taken the cut to the outside, but I wouldn’t have in a little boat like that.”

  Several more passing conversations as they worked through the anchorage verified what the first man said. Larry and Jessica had definitely sailed through here, but no one had seen them come back this way. And no one had seen a Tartan sailboat named the Sarah J. Hearing this, Tara was devastated. She had thought they were getting close to finding Rebecca, but now they had no more knowledge of her whereabouts than when they’d left Green Cay. Actually, they had less because at least then they thought they knew where to look. Now, it was anyone’s guess as to which way Russell had really gone.

  “What do we do now?” Casey wondered.

  “I say we sail on through that cut that fellow told us about,” Grant said. “If they went that way, maybe that’s where they lost the dinghy. We can at least keep a sharp eye on the shoreline for any sign of them.”

  “I agree,” Artie said. “No point in going back the way we came. We already know we won’t find them there. We’ll sail around Staniel hopefully along the path we saw those guys coming from.”

  Artie was as devastated as Tara, but he was trying to keep an air of confidence and hope despite the sinking feeling of doom that fell over him. If the Sarah J. had not been spotted here, then Larry and Jessica’s loss of the dinghy was unrelated to Russell. That meant almost anything could have happened. The men they’d seen in the dinghy could have simply shot them as they sailed near the shore somewhere. If they were then dumped in the sea or had fallen overboard, Artie knew he might never learn what happened. And even if their bodies were ashore somewhere, they might or might not be visible from the water and it would be impossible to search the entire island and all the other little cays near it. All he knew to do was to sail on around Staniel Cay. The dinghy had come from that direction, from the northeast, so the encounter must have taken place not too far from where they were originally anchored at Bitter Guana Cay. Larry would try to get back there if he and Jessica were alive, and if they were, they had to know that he and the rest of the crew would be looking for them by now.

  Casey and Grant were both perched on the starboard cabin top, the one nearest the island as Artie steered the catamaran as close to shore as he dared. Tara was slumped in the cockpit, fighting back her tears as she had been since they found out for sure they were not going to find her daughter here.

  “We’re going to find Rebecca, Tara, if we have to sail to every island, cay and rock in the Bahamas. I promise you we will never give up. But it will be so much easier with Larry’s help. I’ve got to do what I can to find him and Jessica. But we will find Rebecca, no matter what.”

  “I’m scared that it’s already too late,” Tara said. “Anything could have happened. That guy may have been trying to come here and didn’t make it. We have no idea if he knew anything about sailing or not. All he did was lie. Every word out of his mouth was a lie. And now Rebecca has to pay the price for our stupidity in trusting him.”

  “It’s not stupidity, Tara. We were just all trying to be decent human beings. And I hope we’ll always try. Too many people have lost their humanity in the aftermath of this mess. Is it even worth surviving if one has to live like that?”

  “No, and it’s not worth surviving if I have to live knowing I failed to protect my daughter. There’s nothing left for me if I don’t find her.”

  “I understand. But until you’ve exhausted every possibility of finding her, you’ve got to stay strong, or you will fail her. I’m here to help you, Tara. I know what it’s like. I have my daughter after all the worry and fear when I didn’t. I have nothing else to do but help you find yours. But I’m really worried for Jessica and my brother. I can’t imagine facing this situation we’re in without his help, and Jessica has been through enough herself. I just want us to all be together and find some refuge where we can somehow put all this behinds us and start over.”

  “We would all be better off if Rebecca and I had stayed at Cat Island. The boats would have never gotten separated and all of you would still be together. Rebecca and I would have probably been fine there after those killers were dead. You said yourself when Larry first suggested it that it was a mistake to separate the crew on two separate boats. You didn’t want to do it, and neither did Jessica. You were right all along.”

  “That was just my first reaction because I was so surprised when Larry suggested it. I don’t think it was a mistake at all, because I don’t believe you and Rebecca would have been safe there. I know you can’t imagine anything worse than what has happened, but I think she is okay and we are going to find her and get her back unharmed. That’s better than what could have happened if you had stayed at that place. And whatever has happened to Larry and Jessica is not your fault. Larry would not have had it any other way. There’s no way he was going to leave you two at the mercy of whoever might have come to that island next. And yes, he found you attractive and that might have been a factor in his motivation, but my brother is a good guy, and he would have done it whether he thought he had a chance of something more with you or not. And now I know he was right to do so.”

  “I hope he’s okay. I really do. I do hope we can find him and Jessica, but do you really think we will?”

  Artie didn’t answer. He didn’t want to say because he was afraid to contemplate the truth. And though he’d tried to assure Tara that they would find Rebecca as well, the truth was that he wondered how they ever would. Every hour and every day that went by expanded the possible distance between them and the Sarah J., as well as the range of destinations the lunatic could be sailing with her to. The truth was that the more time they spent here searching for Larry and Jessica, the lesser the odds of finding Rebecca before it was too late—if they ever did.

  “That’s the south end of Staniel Cay dead ahead,” Grant pointed. “It looks like there’s two or three small cays between there and the one where we were anchored yesterday.”

  Artie glanced at the chart and saw that Grant was right. He stayed in the deeper water away from the rocky shores of the little cays, and along with Grant and Jessica, scanned the coast intently for any clue or anything out of the ordinary.

  “This has to be the approximate route the dinghy was sailing when we saw them,” he told Grant, as they sailed across the final stretch of water to Bitter Guana Cay.

  “Yeah, and there’s no sign of anything. What do we do now?”

  “Hey, look at that!” Casey shouted. “Isn’t that some kind of dinghy?”

  Artie and Grant turned to look to the northwest, where she was pointing. Sure enough, a tiny little speck of a boat was making it’s way up the east side of Staniel Cay, heading in the direction of the anchorage they’d checked before circling the island. It was much too far away to make out any details, but they could see the motion of oars propelling it, and it appeared there were two people sitting in it. Artie turned the helm to change course while Grant sheeted in the jib on the other tack. The dinghy was moving slowly and keeping close to the shore. The two in it could be from any of the boats anchored there, but since it was so far from the anchorage, it seemed like a good idea to check it out. And as they changed their course, apparently the occupants of the dinghy spotted them as well. Whoever was rowing spun the little boat around and started pulling in their direction.
r />   Thirty-one

  THE LITTLE MONTGOMERY 17 was not the kind of sailboat Russell was expecting to see calling at these remote cays. When he’d first noticed its sloop rig coming out of the northeast in the early morning light, he had assumed it was a much bigger boat and that it was farther away than it really was. But then it sailed quite close to the island and he saw that the kayak trailing astern was longer than the boat itself. When the crew of three dropped anchor and one of them headed his way in the kayak, Russell felt quite sure they were coming to help him. It would be obvious to anyone that he had nothing of value to steal, so there was little reason for them to stop otherwise.

  When he saw his opportunity to get back to the boat from which he’d been so savagely evicted, he quickly formulated his story, as it would not at all do to tell the truth. He was quite pleased with his brilliant performance when the black Rastafarian fellow approached the little cay and asked how he’d wound up there. It was such a logical narrative—as it was not at all surprising that a man could get hit in the head by a sailboat boom and knocked overboard into the drink. And that his young daughter, all alone and frightened, would then end up on a shoal or reef while trying to handle a big cruising boat all alone in unfamiliar waters.

  Of course it worked on the island man in the kayak. He bought the whole thing without question and within minutes, Russell was sitting in the bow seat of the two-man boat, being ferried out to the diminutive mother ship the newcomers had arrived on. It was hard to believe three adults had sailed on that thing all the way from Florida, but then again, a lot of things that were happening now were hard to believe. Four people on board it would really be a crowd, but they only had a short distance to sail to reach the Sarah J.

  The young white couple who were the owners of the boat seemed pleasant enough, but when they answered his question regarding what brought them to these particular islands, Russell was taken aback. He did a passable job of concealing his surprise, but it was a real shocker to learn that the Rasta guy was the very same friend that Larry the catamaran dude was planning to sail back to Florida to look for. Russell remembered now that Larry said his name was Scully, and now Scully had arrived at their planned rendezvous area after all, having sailed here on this tiny boat.

  Scully was looking for Larry’s catamaran and the Sarah J., but the grounded yacht in the distance was still too far away to identify. Once they started towards it, it would be just a matter of time before they were close enough to read the name painted clearly on the stern. Russell wished now he’d taken the time to sand it off. Anyone in their right mind who stole a yacht would do so right away, but that had been the least of his worries considering the situation at the time, and it was something he planned to get around to later, when he thought of a suitable new name with which to christen his ship.

  Russell had to figure out something quick because he knew that as soon as this island man saw the name on the boat, the BS story he’d concocted on the fly would be busted. This was going to be a problem. It was bad enough that the dude was over six feet tall and nothing but sinewy muscle—obvious to all as he wore nothing but a ragged pair of cargo shorts. But when Scully followed him aboard the little sailboat from the kayak, Russell now saw that he’d been carrying an AK-47 hidden under his legs as he paddled. He tried to keep calm about it, making a comment to hide how nervous he was.

  “Whoa, dude! I see you weren’t taking any chances when you came to the beach to check me out!”

  “Nevah know about de stranger dese days, mon.”

  “We’ve run across some unsavory types,” Thomas said. “If not for Scully and his AK, Mindy and I wouldn’t be here now.”

  “I hear you,” Russell said. “No doubt there are a lot of desperadoes around now. So many people just seemed to lose it when all their easy living got taken away. It didn’t affect me much. I’ve been outside the mainstream my whole life. I’ve never needed all that shit most of them think they can’t live without.”

  “Have you and your daughter been living aboard your boat for a long time?” Mindy asked. “Where you already cruising the islands when the solar flare happened?”

  “Oh yeah, of course. I literally raised her aboard the boat. It’s been just me and her for years. Her mom decided she didn’t want a kid any more, and she sure didn’t want me, so the two of us just took off for the islands. We’ve been all over the Caribbean and up and down the East Coast. One summer we went north all the way to Newfoundland.”

  “That’s really cool. What’s your daughter’s name?”

  “Rhonda,” Russell said without missing a beat. “She just turned 14 since the blackout.”

  “What a life she’s lived for someone so young! I would be envious if not for the way things have turned out now. But I guess she’s coping with it better than most because of how you raised her. Good for you, Russell. I’m glad we came along when we did. It must have been awful for you, being stranded on that island, unable to reach her.”

  “I can’t even describe it. But today seems like my luckiest day ever, seeing you guys come along. What are the odds? I figured I would slowly starve to death there. At first, I thought I wouldn’t last much more than a day or two from lack of water. But believe it or not, I found some rocks with pockets of rainwater in them. If not for that, I might have been too weak to even notice your boat go by.”

  “And we wouldn’t have seen you if you weren’t standing there waving that red PFD.”

  “I wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t been wearing it. Just goes to show you never know what’s going to happen when you’re sailing. You won’t catch me on a boat again without it.” Even as he said this, Russell made a show of putting the now-deflated PFD back on. Scully had tied off the kayak to the stern of the boat, and Thomas was going forward to retrieve the anchor. “Hey, I’d give you a hand with that man, but my legs are pretty torn up.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Thomas said. “Everything’s easy on a little boat like this. I’ve got it.”

  “I’ll get you some anti-biotic ointment,” Mindy said. “You don’t want those cuts to get infected.”

  By the time she returned the tube of ointment, Scully and Thomas had the boat underway again, and Russell was getting nervous. Trying not to make it obvious, he kept an eye on the AK that Scully had placed in on the cockpit seat next to him as he steered. The rifle was his only real chance of overpowering this man. Thomas he could probably take without it. And Mindy would be easy enough to shove over the side. But Scully looked hard and serious, despite his smiling demeanor and easy-going attitude. Russell could read people well and he could just tell from looking at him that Scully was bad news. He would have to take him out first and he would have to be ruthless and quick. It was a shame really, because they only wanted to help him, but once this man found out he had taken the Sarah J. from his friend Larry, there was no telling what he would do. And if they just sailed up to the grounded boat, Rebecca would surely tell them the whole story and that would be game over.

  Russell felt the knots tighten in his stomach as he sat there, rubbing the ointment onto his cuts and scrapes. The only way he was going to get that rifle was if Scully left the helm for some reason and didn’t take it with him. He only needed to leave it for a few seconds, but whether he would or not remained to be seen.

  The little boat was moving faster than Russell would have liked, giving him little time to make a plan. He hoped that Rebecca was down below, asleep or something so that they wouldn’t see her until the last minute. Scully would recognize her when he saw her, even if he didn’t recognize the boat first. But his time ran out when Thomas asked Mindy to pass him the binoculars. Scully was still steering, but Thomas wanted to get a better look at the boat as they sailed towards it. Standing at the base of the mast, leaning against it to steady himself, he raised the glasses as Russell cursed under his breath.

  “The Sarah J.,” he said. “The Sarah J., Biloxi, Mississippi. I thought you said you were based in the Bahama
s?” he turned to Russell.

  Before he could answer with another hastily concocted story, Thomas raised the binoculars again, saying he’d seen someone on the deck. Scully also stood up from where he’d been seated at the helm, asking Thomas what he’d just said. Things started happening fast at that point.

  “Turn the boat, Scully! She’s got a gun and she’s aiming it at us!”

  Just as he said it, a hole appeared in the mainsail two feet above Thomas’ head and they all heard the report of a rifle shot ring out across the water. Scully put the helm down hard, swinging the boat around off the wind so fast that Thomas nearly lost his balance and fell. A second shot followed the first and Russell saw Scully waving both hands over his head, trying to make himself visible to Rebecca even as he steered the boat with one foot on the tiller. Thomas and Mindy were still clearly confused even if Scully had figured out what was going on, and Russell knew if he was going to act, now was the time to do it. He grabbed the AK off the cockpit seat right from under Scully’s feet, and was racking the slide to make sure a round was chambered when the island man kicked him in the face. The blow sent him back against the cabin bulkhead, but Russell held on to the rifle, inadvertently pulling the trigger and firing a round over the rail as he stumbled. Dazed from the blow to the face, he struggled to bring the muzzle of the rifle in line with his foe, getting off one more shot before he felt a weight crash on top of him and take him to the sole of the cockpit. Russell was vaguely aware of Scully collapsing at the helm before he realized that Thomas was on top of him, trying to choke him from behind. He twisted and lunged, breaking the smaller man’s hold on his neck as he threw him hard to the rear of the cockpit where Scully was clutching his leg in a pool of blood. Russell had dropped the rifle and now he bent to pick it up, his full focus on finishing the job he’d started. Thomas had hit his head on something when he fell and his weight on top of Scully was keeping him pinned down as well. Russell smiled as he raised the AK to aim at Scully’s head, his troubles with the islander about to be eliminated with a pull of the trigger.