by Jim Craig
It took us a half hour to get our stuff together and walk to the harbor. On the way I told Brandy about meeting Charlie and going back to Taroka. The road was muddy and slick but we made good time hiking fast along the drier edges of the ruts.
When we reached the big fuel tanks above the harbor I stopped to look around. Down the hill to the right I saw that the ferry was already settled in place. The M/V Tustamena. She was one of the older ships in the Alaska state fleet, but she was long and sleek and her topside was painted bright white. The lower half was dark blue with a stylish yellow line running from bow to stern. Thick ropes stretched diagonally and wrapped around heavy yellow cleats to hold her to the pier.
The small boat harbor was down the hill to the left. Walking to the top of the metal stairs I looked down the pier and saw Charlie's Zodiac where we'd left it, but there was no one around. I looked down toward the ferry dock and saw a few people and a couple of vehicles milling around.
My watch said it was eight o'clock. While I was thinking about what to do, Brandy tapped me on the arm.
"What's that?" she asked, pointing down the stairway.
The yellow Sponge Bob pack was sitting three stairs down jammed in a corner like it'd been dropped and maybe stepped on.
"So, he has been here," I said.
"Who, Charlie?"
"Yeah, I guess so." While I bent down to pick up the pack the ferry's horn sounded three times startling me.
"Sounds like they're getting ready to leave. Let's go down there and see what's up."
At the top of the hill we were almost level with the upper deck. But when we walked down and entered the dock area, the ship loomed over us, four decks higher. And on top of that, barely visible through the fog I could just make out a glass enclosed structure and various railings and masts that extended out of sight into the gloom. They called it the sun deck.
A boarding ramp from the middle of the ship sloped down to the dock. A small group of people stood at the bottom. A couple of them wore dark blue uniforms with matching caps and fluorescent red and yellow vests. A couple others looked like locals getting ready to board. I searched up and down but didn’t see Charlie anywhere.
To the left of us another opening in the side of the ship held a vehicle ramp. A pickup and an older looking station wagon were in line and moving slowly onboard. Above that was an elaborate black frame of steel beams rising from the aft deck, some kind of a crane and lift system for cargo containers.
Native Mike from the beach the night before was standing at the dock entrance looking official. He wore black uniform pants, a black fleece jacket and a dark cap with the picture of a ferry and AMHS printed on it in gold letters.
I headed for him and called out. "Hey, Mike, anything new?"
He recognized me right away and shook my hand with a limp grip and solemn face. He nodded at Brandy.
“The cops are out there somewhere,” he gestured toward the bay.
"The missing guys?"
"No, the searchers."
I stared at him not understanding.
"They got here a while ago in a couple of boats. They're searching now for the troopers."
“What about the Coast Guard?” I asked. “They here too?”
“Nope,” he shrugged. “I heard they had a distress call from Middleton."
Middleton Island was a remote radar station more than forty miles away in the Gulf of Alaska. I'd seen it on the map many times before and had thought about flying out to its big airstrip, but the wide stretch of open water intimidated me.
“Have you seen Charlie?”
“Yeah," he mumbled and poked his jaw toward the big blue vessel.
"What? He got on the ferry?"
He gave me a wary look and nodded. "All of them," he added.
"What? Charlie and the woman and the kid?"
Mike nodded again and nervously wiped at his nose.
"Charlie got on the ferry with the little blond woman and a red headed kid?" I knew I was repeating myself and sounding like an idiot but my brain was struggling to understand the sudden change in the plan. And I was having trouble letting go of the image of Greta in the airplane beside me heading for Seward. But it was evaporating fast.
Mike nodded again shifting back and forth on his feet. He glanced down at his watch. "They leaving."
Questions were jamming together in my head like an ice dam in a spring time river. Where were they going? What happened to Charlie's plan to close down the lodge? I thought Greta agreed to wait for me to come for her with the plane? And what about the troopers?
“Didn’t the cops want to talk to Charlie first? How could they just let him leave?”
Mike shrugged, and I knew I wasn't going to learn any more from him. Then I remembered Sponge Bob.
"Hey, I've got something that belongs to that kid. Can you get this to him?" I asked and started to pull the pack off my back.
"See her," Mike answered.
I turned the way he pointed and saw a check-in podium near the ramp with a woman in uniform standing behind it. I turned back but Mike was already walking away.
I looked up then to the higher decks and spotted three familiar figures walking in front of the glass wall of the highest level observation deck. Greta was leading the way carrying her makeup case. Charlie was loaded down with a back pack and two Samsonites. He was shuffling along wrestling with the bags with Tambourine walking ahead of him.
I didn't know if he would be able to hear me over the heavy engine noise. I waved my arm at them and was just about to shout when I saw Charlie stumble and curse, dropping one of the Samsonites and almost falling. Even from my distance I could see the contorted scowl on his face. In a sudden move he dropped the other bag and swung forward with one arm. The blow caught Tambourine on the side of the head knocking him to the deck. Charlie leaned forward, yelling something down at the boy that I couldn’t hear. Then he hauled Tambourine to his feet and threw him after Greta.
The kid landed on his knees and scrambled to avoid the kick that he must have felt coming his way. When he turned to look back at Charlie, I could see his tortured face. His mouth was open wide in a silent scream.
Greta had already disappeared into a doorway. Charlie moved up on Tambourine fast then, his enormous size dwarfing the boy’s tiny figure. He took a furtive glance behind him, but he didn't look down and didn’t see me. Then he snatched Tambourine up again and I could see his mouth working, saying something into the boy’s ear. It almost looked like he was going to sink his teeth into the kid’s neck.
I'd seen that face on Charlie before. Right after he'd plugged the sign full of bullet holes and again when he'd killed the dog. A chill ran through me thinking how easily he could just toss the kid's little body over the rail. Tambourine’s mouth continued its soundless shriek.
“Did you see that?” I elbowed Brandy.
“Yeah, that poor kid."
I looked back up but Charlie was just disappearing through the doorway.
“There’s something going on. That guy is scary.”
“Yeah, but what can we do? They're leaving," she said.
Thinking fast I looked down at the yellow pack in my hand and then turned on my heel. I walked over to the podium. The young lady standing there wore a crisp white shirt with epaulets and an embroidered logo. She was closing up a booklet looking like she was about to leave.
"Can you take this bag?" I asked. "It belongs to that red headed kid that just boarded."
She looked down at the pack and frowned. "I'm sorry, sir, we're just about to cast off."
"I know that, I just need you to take this to the kid."
"I'm sorry, sir, but our policy only allows passengers to take on their own luggage."
I wasn't in the mood for bureaucracy. I turned and looked up at the railings nearby. It would be an easy thing to throw the pack up on deck and walk away. But there was a burly looking guy in a yellow vest up there and the way he was staring at me chang
ed my mind.
My thoughts were racing. Feeling like the rug had just been yanked out from under my feet, I tried to put the pieces together. State police and the Coast Guard were all converging on this small island. The people who knew the most about the missing troopers were about to leave the area on the ferry. Charlie and Greta. Everything they'd told me was completely changed. And Charlie's rage at the kid. Something wasn't right.
I took a deep breath and turned back to the ramp agent. “How much to Seward?” I asked.
“The ferry doesn’t go to Seward, sir. We’re on our way to Kodiak. Ninety one dollars per person,” she answered.
Kodiak? Why the hell would they be going to Kodiak?
"How long does that take?" I asked.
"We get in at ten o'clock tonight."
I turned and looked at Brandy. She was five feet behind me with her arms wrapped around her chest looking at me with a blank expression.
“I’m getting on board," I said. "Tell Willie."
“What? What? Why? What are you talking about?” She was staring at me in disbelief, her face a question mark.
"I need to go with those people."
“That’s crazy, Johnny. What for? What can you do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. I just know I’ve got to go. Somebody has to keep their eye on them.”
Her mouth was hanging open. Then she must have realized how she looked and snapped her jaw shut and rolled her eyes.
The agent spoke up. "Sir, we're just about to cast off."
I reached into my wallet and handed over a credit card. The agent opened her book and start taking down the information she needed. Brandy moved up beside me.
“I'm going too," she announced pulling out a credit card.
"No, you don't. No way." I tried to block her with my elbow but she held her ground.
“Willie's going to be back soon. You're just going to disappear on him like this?” Brandy ignored me and waited for the agent to finish my paperwork.
The agent broke in again. "Sir…"
With a sharp glare I stuck my hand up in her face and cut her off.
“Brandy, give me a break. Kodiak's a long trip. Don't you have to get back to work? This is something I need to do alone."
I was still thinking about Greta and even though she'd apparently changed the plan, I had it in my head that she still might need my help getting away from Charlie. And then things between us might develop. Brandy was the last thing I needed around me, butting in and complicating everything.
I looked up to see the agent staring at us strangely and handing me my receipt. "Thank you, it'll just be me…"
"Sign me up, too," Brandy interrupted, stepping in front of me. She slapped her credit card on the podium with a smile, then turned and swung her pack into my gut.
"Hold this for me, won't you, sweetie?" she cooed. "Don't mind him," she winked at the agent. "He's just a nervous traveler."
I grunted and stepped back, stunned into silence.