Patrick and Charla searched the river using the kayak. It was the most maneuverable vessel and was able to traverse the river as long as it hugged the edges where the current was weaker. Everyone else, save for Ms. Mary and Marta who were left behind to care for Justin and Louise, roamed the riverbank, scanning the river for any sign of the Justaks.
The first sign of something related to the Blender catastrophe was the discovery of the fishing boat. It had come to rest, right side up in a tangle of debris in a left-hand bend in the river about a quarter-mile away. Patrick and Charla in the kayak hooked a towline onto the boat, which the others then used to haul the vessel back into shore.
Amazingly, some of the supplies that the group had secured inside the boat before they’d left the island were still there. Two coolers and several bags were still roped down in the center of the boat. But gone was the generator and the gasoline necessary to fuel it. Also missing was a garbage bag of clothing and one of dry food. But Michael and the others were glad to see that the cooler full of guns and ammunition was still in place. The other garbage-bag-wrapped rifles were also present, although it remained uncertain as to how the water may have affected these items.
As the group worked tiredly to haul the boat into shore, Patrick and Charla returned from there continued search downriver. Michael saw them waving before anyone else and made his way as close as he safely could to the river’s edge to meet them.
“We found them,” Patrick said quietly.
The look on both Patrick and Charla’s face told Michael everything he needed to know if the tone in Patrick’s dejected voice hadn’t.
Michael just nodded, and then said, “Where?”
“Downriver another couple hundred yards, right at the center of the bend,” Patrick answered.
The kayakers had found Josh and Julia’s bodies in a tangled mess of debris. The deceased couple was still wearing their lifejackets. Patrick and Charla assumed that once they’d gone into the water, they had been sucked under and entangled in the tree’s submerged branches. There, they’d likely been held under, akin to how Michael had been ensnared by the tree himself. There was no sign of their canoe or the supplies it had been carrying.
Michael looked at Charla who sat inside the front of the kayak. She was weeping silently, and he could tell the discovery of the bodies had rattled her deeply. Patrick didn’t look much better.
The rest of the group had paused in their work and made their way over to where Michael stood talking to Patrick. They knew that something was up and that it didn’t appear to be good news.
“Can we get to them?” Michael asked. He felt bad making the request of Charla and his son. If just the sight of the bodies was enough to rattle them this much, he could only imagine what effect having to recover the Justak corpses would have.
“You think we should?” Patrick eyed him, and then those around him warily, obviously thinking of what the task meant for him and what seeing the recovered bodies might mean to the others.
Michael paused, contemplating the same thing. But then he also thought of Justin and how having a formal burial for his parents might help him with the grieving process.
“I guess we should try,” he said at last. “That is, if you think you can do it without endangering yourselves.”
Patrick nodded solemnly. “We can try,” he said, sounding less than confident.
“Come on. I’ll follow you down the bank,” Michael said, looking to provide moral support more than actual assistance.
Before the kayak departed, Michael found two long-sleeve shirts inside one of the recovered garbage bags of clothing. He gave them to Patrick to cover the faces of the deceased. He wasn’t even sure that he could take seeing the couple. He’d been so close to them, come so far with them, only to have it end like this. It wasn’t fair. Then again, none of this was fair to anyone.
But it turned out, somewhat to Michael’s dismay, somewhat to his relief, that by the time Patrick and Charla returned to the Justaks’ resting spot, both bodies had been dislodged by the current and swept away.
It was a horrible end to a week that had started so promisingly. Just days ago, they’d been settling into their island home, Josh and Julia working so diligently to build the canoe lean-to. They’d been so proud of their work. And now this.
But there wasn’t time to dwell on the subject; at least not now.
The remainder of the day was spent hauling the fishing boat and what supplies could be salvaged from it back to the roadhouse. It was a somber process to say the least. The only positive aspect of their situation, other than that they had recovered a portion of their supplies, was that the group, save for Josh and Julia, had come out the other side of the river debacle relatively uninjured. Other than being both physically and mentally exhausted, and Michael having suffered some cuts to his hands while climbing onto the overturned vehicle, most everyone else escaped unharmed.
It was mostly the emotional trauma from the loss of the Justaks that affected the group, especially little Justin. He was inconsolable after Michael had broken the news to him regarding his parents’ demise. He ended up crying himself to sleep later that night as Patrick did his best to console the lad.
The rest of the group tried to settle in to the roadhouse, get to know Marta and Louise, who seemed warily welcoming, and get some much-needed rest.
Meanwhile, Marta took inventory of the recovered supplies and did her best to salvage anything that had become wet during its river dousing. While she was concerned about the number of new arrivals to the roadhouse, she was also glad to see some new menu items to add to what had recently been an overly fishy diet for her and Louise.
* * *
The next morning, as the sun broke bright and warm in a cloudless sky, the group gathered on the roadhouse deck. Throughout the night, Michael had been considering the best course of action to help Justin with the passing of his parents. He decided that even though they hadn’t been able to recover the bodies, a formal funeral was a necessary part of the coping and recovery process. Michael felt that as Justin one day matured to a man, he would need this moment in time to reflect upon and eventually help him process the death of his parents.
Everyone but Justin, Marta, and Louise said a few words, mostly expressing the fond memories they had enjoyed with Josh and Julia, experiences they had shared, or ways in which the couple had influenced them.
At the end of the ceremony, Michael symbolically sprinkled ashes he had collected from the roadhouse stove over the deck rail. The group watched silently as the ashes floated out over the water, were caught in a wisp of wind that stirred the early morning air, and landed in the now gradually receding river. There, they were silently whisked away from the Blenders, just as Josh and Julia had cruelly and unexpectedly been whisked away from them the day before.
CHAPTER 7
The Blenders spent the first few days at the roadhouse acclimating themselves to their new living space, getting to know Marta and Louise, and helping Justin with the grieving process. The young man spent most of his days crying or sleeping. Patrick did his best however to find ways to perk the boy up in any way he could, but nothing seemed to work.
Finally, once Marta had mended her net, Patrick asked her to teach him and Justin how to fish. He did this mostly as a way to distract Justin from his mourning. With the weather finally having broken, both Marta and Louise jumped at the chance not only to supplement the group’s food supply, but for the opportunity to get outside.
“No, no, no…” Louise scolded Patrick as they stood on the roadhouse deck, “…you don’t hold it right. Here,” she insisted, “give the net to Marty. She’ll show you the right way.”
“Oh, okay,” Patrick nodded and obediently handed the fishing net over the Marta.
Marta took the net, showing no emotion but inwardly chuckling to herself at the child’s belief that the way in which Marta cast the net was indeed the correct way. Marta had no idea if what she was doing was right. All s
he knew was that the way she cast worked. And she welcomed the help that came in the form of Patrick and Justin, both of whom stood nearby watching obediently, eager to learn.
“You hold coil in this hand,” Marta gestured, then paused. “Wait, you left or right handed?”
“Left,” Patrick said.
Marta switched the coiled rope into her other hand. “Then you hold it this way,” she held the rope up for Patrick to see.
Patrick nodded, watching Marta more than the rope. He had to admit, she was a stunning creature – beautiful, confident, and strong. She seemed to wear her emotions on her sleeve, yet at the same time, she was darkly mysterious. She not only attracted Patrick, but she intrigued him.
“Now, hold net in other hand,” Marta instructed sternly, handing the weighted net over to Patrick. “Hold tight so doesn’t slip, but loose for easy throw.”
Patrick nodded diligently, pretending he understood even though he didn’t.
“Now,” Marta instructed as Louise and Justin watched her casting tutorial, “turn body like so.” She moved to stand behind Patrick, placing her hands on his waist and turning him so that he faced upriver. “This make cast better.”
Patrick was paying more attention to the deep Polish intonations of Marta’s accent than he was her actual instructions. She spoke in an almost husky sort of voice that made Patrick feel as if he was a character in some sort of international espionage movie or a film noire.
“You understand?” Marta tore him from his thoughts. He’d completely missed her final instructions.
“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Patrick said, his voice full of uncertainty.
“Okay,” Marta stepped back. “Is now time to show you are man,” she said, stern-faced and steady, hands on hips like some sort of Nazi drillmaster.
Her words sapped any ounce of confidence Patrick had for his upcoming attempts. And he knew before the net left his hand that he was doing something wrong. He just didn’t know what – at least until the net left his hand, jerked tight, and dropped, hanging limply over the side of the dock railing.
Louise and Justin both burst out laughing.
“No,” Marta said. “Exactly wrong. You see, I tell you, and you do exactly wrong. Maybe I show nine-year-old boy next and he do better.”
Patrick felt like an idiot, but at the same time, and in a strange sort of way, he kind of liked Marta’s chiding. It made him want to do better, to show her that he could do better.
“Wait,” he said, undeterred by Marta’s lack of enthusiasm for his first casting attempt. “I think I get it now.” He hauled the net back in, re-arranged the coiled rope, and re-positioned himself near the dock’s river-facing edge.
Marta stood, silent, hands still on hips, watching.
Charla was down at the other end of the deck, trying her hand at a bit of fishing. She was thankful to have packed her pole in the canoe in which she and Christine had traveled. Otherwise, it might have been lost along with the Justak’s canoe or when the fishing boat capsized.
She snuck glances at the somewhat unlikely group gathered at the other end of the deck, their interaction secretly amusing her. And she saw something else, something that those involved in that interaction might not have noticed. But she was content to keep her observations to herself. Instead, she enjoyed watching Patrick in another failed attempt at casting. This time, the net didn’t even clear the deck rail as it became hung up on the top of one of the rail supports.
Patrick realized the positive effect his failed efforts were having on the children, especially Justin. It was the first time he’d seen Justin laugh in days. Marta realized what Patrick was doing after a few more overplayed failures of his throws with the net. She let up on the verbal thrashing she’d been giving the poor man once she realized that faulty flinging of the net had Justin and Louise in hysterics. After a couple more failed attempts, using the right technique, but with poor follow-through, Patrick gave in.
“Maybe you can do better,” he said to Justin, handing over the net and attached rope. He gave Marta a knowing look and a wink as he did so.
Justin accepted the rope, glancing at Marta and Louise. Marta gave him a slight smile and a nod. “Try,” she coaxed.
“Yeah, Justin,” Louise urged with excitement. “You can do it! You’ll be good at this! I just know it!”
Justin took a deep breath, looking from the net, out to the river, and then back down at the net. “Okay,” he said softly. “Here goes.”
He swung the net out behind him, part of it dragging across the deck due to its size and Justin’s slight stature. Then he hurled it forcefully ahead of him. The net slammed straight into the deck rail. Its weighted edges thudded against the wood and fell heavily to the floor as Justin released the coiled rope. The rope plopped down onto the deck.
The boy exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping.
“That’s okay!” Louise’s upbeat voice came unperturbed at the failed launch. “You can try again! I’ll bet you get it faster than Patrick!”
“I bet you’re right,” Marta nodded with a smile at Justin.
She moved to re-coil the rope, haul the net back into place, and get Justin positioned for another attempt.
“Ready?” she nodded to Justin.
“Ready!” he nodded back.
She knelt before him, squaring his shoulders with her hands so that she could look directly into his eyes. “I know you get this time,” she said unwaveringly, as if the statement were pure fact. “You had right power. You had right throw. You release rope at right time. You just need little height. Like this,” she made a gesture with her arm, moving it in an arcing way that lifted her arm upward in a motion akin to tossing a grenade. “More loft, less straight,” she instructed. “Then you get it. You see.” And with that, she rose and stepped back, giving Justin the floor.
Justin took a deep breath, exhaled, and closed his eyes. Then he opened them, took another deep breath, clamped his jaw tight, brought his arm back, and hurled it forward, lifting the net over his head as he made his throw. The net passed him. As it cleared the deck rail, Justin released the coiled rope he held in his hand. He ensured that he kept hold of the end of the line even though Marta had tied its end around his wrist to ensure the net wasn’t lost in the river if Justin accidentally let go.
The net sailed out a good ten feet past the railing and then dropped into the river with a splash.
A cheer went up from the group clustered along the edge of the deck, as well as from Charla still fishing just down from them.
“Good job, buddy!” Patrick came over and ruffled Justin’s hair.
“Yeah, good job!” Louise joined in.
“Well done,” Marta agreed. “Now, start to pull back in. Use rope,” she advised. “Yes…there you go, now you have. Good, good,” she stood back and watched Justin haul in the net.
“Look! You have something! It’s a shoe!” Louise cried. “No, no! It’s moving. You caught a fish!” She was jumping up and down, clapping her hands in delight. “You did it! You caught one! See! I told you, you’d do good!”
“Nice job,” Marta nodded, helping Justin to get the sopping net, that now included a sizeable catfish, up from the river and onto the deck.
The net plopped onto the wood deck where the ensnared catfish flopped helplessly.
Marta untangled the fish from the net and then held it up for the kids to see and touch.
Patrick watched her in a state of awe and admiration. She was a woman in every way, yet she was so much more.
Charla had set her fishing pole down and come over for a closer look.
“Great work, Justin!” she smiled, patting the boy on the shoulder as he looked proudly at his catch.
The fish seemed to have succumbed to its environment. It now lay limply on the deck where Marta had temporarily set it while she worked to re-gather the net.
Charla picked up the fish. “Would you like to hold it?” she asked Justin.
“Can I?” Justin brea
thed.
“Sure,” Charla nodded.
Several more of the Blenders had come from inside the roadhouse to see what all the commotion was about.
“If I had a camera, I’d take a picture of you,” Charla said as she handed the sizeable fish over to Justin. It looked even larger framed against his small body.
“Wow!” Louise exclaimed. “You look just like a real fisher…” she looked uncertain. “What would you call him? Fisher-boy!” she nodded proudly at having solved the title riddle. “I think that is one of the biggest fish we’ve ever caught in the net,” she went on.
“Might be,” Marta agreed with a smile.
It was one of the first smiles any bigger than a soft smirk that Patrick had ever seen from Marta, and he had to admit, she wore it wonderfully. He found himself wishing he got to see that smile more often. And right then and there he made it a personal goal to try to elicit it more regularly.
More of the Blenders came outside, continuing to lavish attention on the boy whom they all knew needed as much positive reinforcement at this particular juncture in his life as possible.
“Fantastic job!” Wendell smiled at Justin. “You caught us dinner for tonight!”
“You’re really starting to pull your weight around here, little man,” Michael ruffled the boy’s hair.
“I’m not going to have anything to do if you keep catching fish like this,” Charla smiled, throwing her hands up in feigned disappointment.
“Wow, cool! Nice job!” Andrew Franko said, his eyes wide in amazement. “Can I try the net next?”
“Yeah, me too!” his brother said eagerly.
It was a small victory in the overall scheme of things. But it was also a much-needed victory, especially for Justin. And while the fish wouldn’t even cover the group’s dinner menu for the evening, its catch was an event that brightened everyone’s day and took their minds off their troubles, even if only for a few minutes.
The Last Bastion [Book 5] Page 5