The Inside Passage (Ted Higuera Series Book 1)

by Pendelton Wallace

  “Look out, oh God!” Meagan held her hands to her mouth as the boat crossed wind’s eye and the boom flew over from the port to the starboard side.

  Ted looked up in time to see the thirty-foot long hunk of metal coming right at him. It struck him on the shoulder and sent him flying over the rail.

  Chapter 21

  William and Mary Island, Canada

  Ahmad gathered with the others in the Valkyrie’s hold as they turned east to Mecca. He spread his sajada on the deck while Yasim began with “Allah, Akbar.”

  After morning prayers, the group went to work. We’re already functioning as a team, Ahmad thought. When your cause is just, great mountains can be moved.

  Ahmad looked at the bay around him. Hills dropped sharply to the water everywhere in a cascade of green. On shore, the tide line showed where the sea rose and fell six or eight feet every day. At the head of the bay lay a small patch of beach. Less than three hundred miles from Vancouver and we might as well be at the edge of the world.

  Out here there was no civilization, just wild country and wild animals. The chance of seeing another human being was almost non-existent.

  A strange-looking craft lay anchored in the bay, a small barge with a huge ramp off the bow and a tiny deck house on the stern.

  “What’s that floating abortion?” Ahmad asked.

  “It’s the SeaLander.” Mohammed beamed with pride. “I bought it and the pickup in Port McNeil. We can land our supplies with it.”

  “It reminds me of a World War II landing craft.”

  “That’s exactly what it is, only smaller.”

  Mohammed, Kalil and Hani took the skiff to retrieve the SeaLander. Ahmad climbed to the operator’s seat of the cargo boom while Yasim unstrapped the truck from the deck.

  Ahmad took the controls of the winch and hoisted the truck free of the deck. He swung it out over the rail and lowered it to the waiting SeaLander.

  From his perch at the cargo boom’s controls Ahmad watched Hani run the SeaLander onto the beach. The ramp dropped onto the sand and Kalil drove the big four-wheel drive pickup through a couple of inches of water onto the hard shore.

  After disgorging the truck, Hani brought the SeaLander back to the Valkyries’ side.

  “How did we get use of this island?” Ahmad asked over the grumble of the machinery.

  “We leased it from the British Columbia government.” Yasim shouted up at Ahmad from the hold. “The kafirs will sell us anything we need to hasten their own downfall. The first pallet is ready.”

  Ahmad engaged the engine and the cargo boom lifted the pallet out of the hold. He swung it over the rail above the SeaLander and lowered it to the deck. Hani undid the cargo slings and slid the pallet to one side.

  “Ready for the next one,” Hani shouted up.

  Ahmad swung the boom back over the hold and lowered the slings to Yasim.

  “How are we coming on our timetable?” Ahmad shouted over the roar of the machinery. “Do you think we’ll be done in time?”

  “If Allah wills it,” Yasim yelled as he attached the sling to a pallet of sheet metal and rails. “We need to set up our camp in time to rendezvous with the freighter and receive the goods.”

  Ahmad hoisted the aluminum rails and steel plates out of the hold. Hani secured them on the SeaLander, then ferried them ashore where Mohammed and Kalil took charge. They finished up by unloading boxes of electronic gear.

  “Be careful with the electronics,” Ahmad shouted down to Hani. “And make sure they’re covered. We can’t take a chance on them getting wet.”

  ****

  The Haro Straits

  “Holy Shit! Man overboard!” Chris yelled.

  In an instant, he was at the stern pulpit, tossing the horseshoe shaped life buoy into the water. Acting on instinct, he hit the “mark” button on the GPS and punched “Man Overboard” on the menu. The GPS fixed the location where Ted went overboard and calculated a course back to the spot.

  “Swim to the buoy,” Chris yelled, his heart in his throat. “We’ll come back and get you.” As the line from the buoy paid out, it pulled the man overboard pole with it.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God.” Meagan’s hands flew to her cheeks. The Defiant’s wheel spun free and the boat turned into the wind.

  “Goddamn it, keep your hands on the wheel,” Chris shouted. “Keep an eye on the flag,” he said as the pole went over the side. It hit the water and popped upright, flying a bright orange flag six feet above the water.

  “It’s almost impossible to find a man in the water,” he screeched at Meagan. “The flag’ll show us where he went over.”

  “Oh God, Chris, I’m sorry,” Meagan screamed.

  Chris didn’t have time to respond.

  ****

  Ted felt the blinding explosion of pain in his shoulder, the cold embrace of the water. The little knife stabs of the frigid water almost helped numb the pain. As he broke the surface and gasped for breath, he saw the blue sloop sailing quietly away from him. Somewhere, in the distance he heard a voice and realized that it was Chris, shouting to him, but he couldn’t make out the words.

  He saw Chris throw the bright yellow buoy from the stern of the boat. Ted wasn’t wearing a life jacket. Have to get life preserver. In a matter of minutes, he forgot about the cold as his body adjusted to the chilly water.

  Pain coursed through his right shoulder. He couldn’t use it to swim. He tucked his right hand into his left armpit and clutched himself, while he used his left arm and kicked his way towards the life ring. The salt water’s buoyancy kept him afloat. He reached the life buoy exhausted. He slid his hand into the canvas strap and held on. His breath came in short pants, his mind numbed.

  A few yards away, he saw the man overboard pole floating straight up in the water. The International Orange flag waving in the breeze gave him some comfort. At least they’ll be able to find me.

  The Defiant made a big turn, her main sail dropping to the deck. From the water, the boat looked enormous. As Ted rose to the wave crest, she looked like a destroyer bearing down on him, shoving aside a white wave of water as she came.

  “Chris! I’m here.” He waved his good arm in the air. He noticed a red plastic whistle attached to the buoy. He put the whistle to his lips and blew.

  Jesu Cristo, he’s going to run over me!

  ****

  Seattle

  “Mr. Wilson,” the well-dressed attorney said into the microphone, “When did you first become aware of my client’s disability?”

  Harry looked past opposing counsel. From the sixty-fifth floor of the Columbia Tower, the conference room had an unrestricted view of Puget Sound, the islands and peninsulas beyond. Late afternoon sun danced on the water, turning it a golden hue. White sails dotted the scene.

  His mind was not on the deposition. He had associates for that. My piranhas, he called them. I wonder how Chris is doing? He should be well into Canada by now. Why hasn’t he called?

  Harry really didn’t expect Chris to call him. Somehow a large gulf had developed between his son and him. Whatever happened to that toe-headed little boy? He pictured Chris as an eager ten-year old, anxious to learn everything there was to know about sailing.

  He could see the beautiful child at the helm. Before he was a teenager, Chris could handle the Defiant by himself. If there was anything in this world that Chris was good at, it was sailing. He knew everything he needed to know to make his summer cruise a success. He just lacked confidence in himself.

  How could such a smart, strong kid not be confident? When he was that age, Harry had the world by the balls. After graduating near the top of his class, he went to U-Dub Law and finished in the top five. He came out of Law School with the same brawler mentality that he carried onto the football field. He didn’t just want to beat his opponents, he wanted to destroy them.

  Why can’t Chris be more like that?

  ”Mr. Hardwick? Your witness. . . “

  ****

  The Haro Str
aits.

  “Bring her into the wind.” Chris shouted at the top of his lungs. “I’ve got to get the main furled so we have room to work on deck and can use the boom to hoist him aboard.”

  “Listen, I hear a whistle.” Tears flowed from Meagan’s eyes. “Oh God, Chris, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. . . “

  Chris glared at her. The two minutes or so that it took to douse the main sail seemed like two hours.

  “Keep her coming around until you’re on a course of a hundred eighty degrees. That should be opposite the course we were on when he went over.”

  Meagan brought the Defiant around to as close as she could get to the wind, following the bright purple line on the GPS screen.

  “Look! There’s the flag.” Meagan shouted.

  “Do you see him yet?”

  “No, but he’s got to be there somewhere. Oh God, I hope I didn’t hit him in the head.”

  “There he is! He’s got the horseshoe buoy.” From his vantage point on the cabin roof, Chris was several feet higher than Meagan. “That’ll do the main for now. I’ll take the wheel. You get the boat hook out and get ready to grab the man overboard pole as we come along side.”

  Chris hit the starter button and a miracle occurred. The engine fired. He let the jib fly and slowly motored up to the man overboard pole.

  Meagan reached over the life lines with the aluminum boat hook and grabbed the line attached to the pole. “Got it.”

  ****

  The Defiant towered over Ted. From water level, the decks seemed impossibly high. How was he ever going to get back on board?

  “Hold onto the life ring, bro.” Chris tossed him the life sling. “Here, slip this under your arms.”

  Ted grabbed the padded sling and dropped it over his head with his good arm, then waved at Chris.

  “Pull him in,” Chris ordered Meagan as he moved to the stern pulpit over Ted’s head. “Can you climb the step?” he shouted down, “or should we hoist you aboard?”

  Ted looked up at the swim steps on the transom. “I can make the step, dude.”

  Chris unfastened the swim step and lowered it into the water. Meagan walked the line around to Chris. He hauled it in, bringing Ted to the rear of the boat.

  “Ted, I’m so sorry,” Meagan sobbed.

  Ted reached up with his left hand and grabbed the swim step. Chris took Ted’s weight on the line. Ted put a foot on the lower rung and reached for a higher rung.

  “I can’t use my right arm, you’re goin’ ta have to lift me.”

  “No problem, bro. Just grab the next rung.”

  Ted managed to lift himself onto the swim step as Chris hauled on the line. Eventually he climbed back up into the cockpit.

  “Ted, Teddy, I’m so sorry.” Meagan rushed to throw her arms around Ted’s neck and hug him tight.

  “Easy, chica.” Ted pulled away. “You’re killin’ my arm.”

  “Let’s look at you,” Chris said. He gently took Ted’s wrist in one hand and his elbow in the other.

  “No broken skin, no purple bruises. I don’t think anything’s broken.” He lifted Ted’s wrist and rotated his elbow.

  Ted winced. “Take it easy, dude. You tryin’ to kill me?”

  “Your shoulder seems to be working. I don’t think it’s dislocated. I think you’re going to be okay.”

  “Does it hurt a lot?” Meagan danced around on her toes. “I have some of my mother’s pills in my bag.”

  “Yeah, it hurts like a son of a bitch. I been hit by three hundred pound linemen that didn’t hit that hard.”

  Meagan dashed below and returned with a little orange prescription pill bottle. Ted sat in the cockpit and stared into the distance in the silence.

  “Hey, the God damn engine quit again.” Ted’s breathing started to ease.

  “I was so busy trying to get you out of the water that I didn’t even notice.”

  “Here, take two of these.” Meagan poured a couple of pills out into Ted’s hand and handed him her water bottle.

  Chapter 22

  The Haro Straits

  “We need to get you out of your wet clothes. I think you better lie down for a while, Teddy,” Meagan brushed back a lock of Ted’s dark hair. “Let me get you down below.” Meagan took Ted’s good arm and wrapped it around her shoulder, leading him to the companionway stairs. She went down first and helped him climb down after her.

  Ted stood dazed in the center of the cabin.

  “Let me dry you off.” Meagan grabbed a towel. She rubbed his hair and gently patted down his shoulder.

  “Uhhh,” Ted muttered.

  She pulled down his shorts and he didn’t even care. He felt a slight tingling as she stripped off his soaked boxers and toweled him off.

  “Well, look at you, stud.” Meagan gently led Ted towards the quarter berth. “Here, climb in your bunk,” she whispered. “You grab the hand hold with your left hand and I’ll help you in.”

  Ted reached up and grabbed the teak rail over the berth. Meagan cradled his right arm and took his weight as he lifted his feet and slid forward.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “No, I’ll be fine.” In a matter of minutes the Percocet took effect. Meagan brushed back his mop of black hair and kissed him on the forehead. “I’m so sorry, Teddy.” Ted drifted off.

  ****

  “I’m so sorry, Chris.”

  Chris gave her an icy stare as she climbed back to the cockpit.

  “It was all my fault.”

  Chris ignored her as he began sheeting in the jib.

  “Chris, say something. . . I’m really sorry.”

  He spun to face her. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. You could’ve killed him. You’ve got to take this trip more seriously.” They stared at each other in silence for a minute. “Take the wheel while I get the main up again.”

  In a few minutes, Chris had the Defiant on a broad reach, sailing north towards South Pender Island again.

  “Chris, say something to me.” Meagan stamped her foot. “I’ve already said I’m sorry.”

  Chris thought for a long moment while he coiled down the jib sheets.

  “Just saying your sorry doesn’t make it all better. Meagan, sometimes you’ve got to think about someone besides yourself. You’ve got to be part of the team.” Chris took the wheel again. Meagan paced back and forth in the cockpit.

  She stopped and turned to Chris.

  “I know what would make it better.” She unhooked her bikini top.

  Jesus Christ! “Meagan, not now. We’re out it public for God’s sake. Ted’s in the cabin.”

  “Don’t worry about him. I gave him enough drugs to make him sleep until tomorrow.” She slid off her bottoms.

  “Jesus, Meagan. There’s other boats around here.”

  Meagan slipped over next to Chris on the helmsman’s seat. His heart rate went wild when she reached into his shorts.

  “Your mouth may protest, but Mr. Winkie says something else.”

  “Meagan, stop it.” His breathing quickened.

  She pulled down his shorts and took him into her hands.

  “I can make it all better . . .” She took him into her mouth.

  “Jesus Christ. There’s boats all around us. There’re people on shore with binoculars, telescopes . . .” He felt the pounding in his loins.

  Meagan climbed over him, standing with one foot on each side of him as he sat on the helmsman’s seat, her golden triangle right at eye level.

  “What’ll they say? What’ll they think?”

  “They’ll be jealous,” she said as she pushed a nipple into his mouth. “They’ll say ‘that lucky bastard.’” With that, she put one hand on each side of his head on the stern pulpit and lowered herself onto him. His hardness slid into a pool of desire. Chris’s half-hearted protest melted into nothingness. He felt her hands grasp his face and pull his lips towards hers. His mouth parted and her tongue darted in. His brain clicked off.

  ****

  Bo
nner’s Ferry, Idaho

  It looks just the same. Nothing here ever changes. Candace pulled her turbo-charged Porsche Cayenne SUV off the two-lane black top road and headed up the long gravel driveway. Blackberry bushes and ferns crowded the tall firs along the drive. In early July, everything already had a layer of dust on it.

  The drive wound through the firs and came out at a clearing on the top of a rise. The little frame house said “home” to Candace. Scooter, the aging golden retriever, and Mom scurried down the porch steps.

  “Candy, sweetie. It’s so good to see you.” Her mother threw her arms around Candace and pulled her tight. Candace looked over her mother’s head to see Dad coming around from the back yard, garden trowel in hand.

  “Hi, Mom, Dad. How’s my sweet puppy?” Candace squatted down and rubbed the old dog’s ears. His tail went wild.

  Standing, she surveyed the scene. Little had changed since she left home fifteen years ago. Her annual trips home for Christmas or Thanksgiving always revealed the same house, the same land.

  Mom and Dad are beginning to look old though, she thought. Her father’s wavy hair, mostly gray now, betrayed his boyish good looks. Her mother was thickening around the middle.

  “Come inside, sweetie. John, get her bag.” Mom led Candace towards the porch. “It’s already hotter than Hades. Let’s get in the shade.”

  The three steps up to the porch transported Candace back in time. She was fifteen again, the good daughter, obedient to Mom and Dad.

  Inside the front door she looked around the living room. The same flower patterned sofa and overstuffed chair matched the same flower patterned wall paper. The ashes from the winter’s last fire still lay in the fire place. Pictures of her sisters and their children sat on top of the TV. A small table covered with pictures of Candace, her awards and trophies stood under the window. A shrine to the prodigal daughter. There were no awards or trophies for her sisters.