Uncharted Waters

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Uncharted Waters Page 25

by Scott MacKenzie


  “Is it time?” I ask. I don’t have to elaborate, because we have been sitting dead in the water all day and she’s been waiting for me to suggest we motor.

  “No! I’m not ready!” she says, and raises her fist to the sky. “Come on, wind!” she shouts.

  We are acting like we’re drunk, although we haven’t had a drink. We’re simply drained of energy. We have made love a few times already, we have eaten more than we should have, and we are lying naked in the hot sun like lions with their bellies full.

  “Okay, maybe the wind will pick up,” I answer, trying to sound like I believe what I just said.

  It’s strange. When the ocean is calm like this, it’s hard to imagine it any other way, and when the swell is high and the wind is strong, it’s the same. Blue water sailing makes you live in the moment.

  This moment calls for a swim, and it’s the only thing that will break the dreamy spell we are under. I’m lying with my feet up, slouched in my spot on the bench, and Tenn is kneeling next to me kissing my arm, shoulder, neck, and lips. She seems to be smelling me between kisses. We really are becoming animals.

  Lazy lions on a sailboat in the middle of the ocean.

  I slowly get up from my spot. The sun has been hitting me from the same angle for too long and I need to adjust. I take off my sunglasses and I feel like a welder taking off his mask. The sun is directly overhead and reflects off the water, creating a glow as if we were inside a flame.

  Splash.

  The splash came from the bow. I assume Tenn had enough and jumped into the water. I hurry along the deck and make my way to where she is. Tenn is smiling, floating on her back.

  “How’s the water?” I ask.

  She doesn’t answer but gives me a hang loose motion with her pinky and thumb. I can’t help but think of how she has gotten braver since the last time she swam in the open ocean. I climb up the railing at the tip of the bow, move along the pulpit, and stand there balanced on the rail for a moment. I know I can’t balance here long and will have to jump soon. It feels odd, perched up on the front of the boat, completely naked. I start to tip over like a tree being felled, and I dive into the ocean, naked and free.

  I let the inertia take me deep and float weightless about fifteen feet below the surface. The rays of the strong sun pierce through the water like shards of glass. Tenn swims through the crystal-clear water between rays of light, toward me. We float and twirl below the surface like we are sea creatures and this is our home.

  Tenn swims up first and I follow. The clear water makes Crazy Lady look like she is floating in the sky, and Tenn looks like she is flying above me. Her feet kick, and her naked bum wiggles as she makes her way to the surface. The magic of the moment dissolves as my need for air increases. I, too, swim up to the surface and take a breath.

  Tenn smiles at me. Her wet hair pushed back makes her look quite different compared to her wild, curly hair. She looks incredibly beautiful. Her smile is genuine, and her eyes shine. I swim close to her, and she playfully pushes me away. She giggles and does a backstroke with the grace of a ballerina.

  Something on the horizon takes my attention away from Tenn. It looks like a large motorboat; I can tell it’s traveling fast, even from this far away. I see Tenn has also noticed it. We share a look and start to swim to the ladder.

  Tenn climbs up. Once she pulls herself on deck, I follow. She already has her long dress and her floppy sunhat on when I get on deck. I pull on my shorts quickly. The motorboat on the horizon is traveling fast and is heading our way.

  “There are no pirates here. I’m sure they are just a fishing charter,” I assure Tenn, who is looking at the boat with concern.

  “Hopefully they see us,” she says.

  The boat is close enough that we can hear the motor and the sound of its heavy bow splashing through the water.

  Tenn stands on the bench, waving her arms, and I’m making my way to the ignition to start the motor so we can maneuver if needed. By the time I’m ready to turn the key, the motorboat sounds like it is right on us. Tenn looks like she has seen a ghost and steps down from the bench. I abandon my attempt to start our engine and get up to see what has Tenn so spooked.

  The boat has powered down right beside us.

  “Tenn, you don’t look happy to see me,” Jesse says from high up on the flybridge, his idling motor a low rumble.

  The three of us are quiet for a moment. My adrenaline begins to pump.

  “Vince,” Jesse says to me with a nod.

  “Jesse,” I respond in kind.

  My mind races. I know this isn’t good. I consider for a moment jumping from our boat to his and trying to kill him with my bare hands, but I know I would be shot before I took two steps. I can’t see his hands, but I can tell by his posture that he’s holding a gun.

  “Alright, here we are. Isn’t this fun?” Jesse shouts. He smiles like a villain who has won.

  “What do you want?” Tenn shouts.

  Jesse laughs. “Hmm, let me think, how about we start with two million dollars, and take it from there.”

  Neither Tenn nor I move. Jesse waits for a moment, and when he sees we are not moving, he raises his assault rifle.

  “The money. Now.” He is no longer smiling and points the rifle at Tenn.

  I take a cautious step toward him and hold my hands up in a soothing gesture, as if I can calm him down. But before I can say anything, Jesse fires his weapon into the air. The loud cracking sound drains me of any bravado I had.

  “Get me the briefcase or I will kill both of you here and now!” he yells. The rifle is now aimed at me.

  “Okay. Okay, Jesse. I will get it for you, and we can all go our separate ways,” I say as calmly as I can.

  Tenn has been inching closer to me, and I can feel the fear radiating off her. My ability to stay calm in a crisis is being tested. It’s not only my life that is in my hands and I feel the weight of that responsibility with a crushing force.

  I don’t know what will stop Jesse from killing us both the moment I pass him the case. My heart is racing, and it aches at the thought of this life with Tenn slipping through my hands.

  “Jesse,” Tenn says in a falsely charming voice.

  He turns the rifle back on her. “You can’t charm your way out of this one, darling.”

  “I’m going down to get it. Just calm down,” I say, moving toward the companionway door.

  “Don’t tell me to fucking calm down!” Jesse roars, then steps down from the flybridge. “New plan, both of you grab a line and raft us up,” he orders, swinging the gun between us.

  We tie his large boat to Crazy Lady, and he steps from his deck to ours, keeping his rifle on me now.

  “I don’t want you coming up with guns blazing — you don’t seem right in the head. We all go down. Tenn, you first. Let’s go,” he orders, using the gun to point to the companionway door.

  Tenn is shaking as she climbs down. I consider sacrificing myself to save her, but I just can’t think of how I can pull that off without her getting hurt in the process. My mind is on the flare gun down below. Jesse was right. If I were sent alone to get the briefcase, I would have come up firing a flare gun at him.

  “Alright, move,” he says to me, waving the gun. “You stay where I can see you down there, Tenn.”

  I climb down. I’m not shaking like Tenn, but I’m rattled more than I have ever been. He gives me a kick and I skip the last few steps, landing in the cabin with a thud. Jesse then jumps down in one swoop.

  “Where is it?” he asks, scanning the area, keeping his rifle pointed at me.

  “Under there,” I say in a calm voice. I motion to the bench where the case is hidden.

  “Tenn,” he barks, and moves the rifle to her, then quickly back to me.

  Tenn lets out a slight cry when he yells at her, then complies and lifts the bench seat, pulling out the briefcase and holding it out to him with her shaking hands.

  “Open it on the table,” he orders.

&n
bsp; Tenn sets it down and opens the suitcase, exposing the bills tightly packed inside.

  “Alright, close it up. Vince, you take it.” He looks around the cabin. “Tenn, I want you in the aft cabin. Close the door and stay there. If you leave the room, you’re dead. Move!”

  Tenn looks at me as she passes. When I see the fear in her eyes, I know I must find a way to keep her safe. I don’t care about the money, not even a little. She’s all I care about.

  The door to the aft cabin closes with a thud.

  “Alright, Vince, get up there,” he orders.

  I carry the briefcase up the stairs with Jesse close behind. When I’m on deck, he barks at me again. “Keep moving! Keep moving!” he yells, poking me with the end of the rifle with each word.

  I step onto the deck of his boat, and Jesse follows.

  “Put it down over there and get the hell off my boat.”

  I sigh quietly in relief. Until this moment, I was sure that this would end in our deaths. Jesse doesn’t have to give me the next order, he simply motions with his gun to where the lines are tied. I untie them and our vessels are free from one another.

  I feel a weight lift off me as his boat starts to drift away from ours. I don’t care about the money; I just want to be with Tenn on Crazy Lady. He finally sets his rifle down and starts his motor.

  “You see, that wasn’t so bad,” he says with a smile.

  I don’t answer, I just stand on the deck and watch as he slowly pulls away. I feel every inch of distance. He turns to me as if he just had a thought.

  “Hey Vince, one last thing.” He leans on the railing of the flybridge and puts on his dark sunglasses.

  “When the Taylors left you this here suitcase, they left a few other things, too.”

  Jesse holds up a black box with a red button. He smiles a devil’s smile and squeezes it tightly in his hand, pressing the red button.

  Snap … snap, snap, snap.

  I know what those four sounds mean. I’ve heard them before. Everything seems to move in slow motion. Jesse motors away at full power, and I jump across the deck to get below where Tenn is. I feel like I’m in a dream where I can’t seem to run fast enough. I can smell something burning, and I know what it will bring.

  The sound is so loud it becomes silent. I can hear the initial bang, then everything hums, and I am floating high above the deck. I see the explosion slowly happen around me. Broken, splintered wood planks from the hull fly past me. A second explosion pushes me further into the air and away from the boat. I see the red flames come out of Crazy Lady. She looks like a fire log, cracked in the middle from heat, and flames shoot out of where they break though. Still, there is only silence.

  I start the descent of my long, slow, fiery journey. Just before I reach the water, my ears open and let the awful sound in. I am no longer in slow motion. I slam into the water and feel like my limbs are torn from my body.

  For a moment, everything is black, as if I cease to exist.

  I take a painful breath when I surface and jolt back into the horrible reality that surrounds me. Most of Crazy Lady is under water, there are pieces of her hull scattered around that are on fire. Smoke is everywhere. I’m seriously injured from the blast and fall, and swimming is nearly impossible, but with one arm I’m able to make my way to what is left of the ship.

  Tenn. Tenn. Tenn, I think over and over again as I struggle though the water. Finally, I get to the largest piece of the half-submerged Crazy Lady and take three deep breaths before diving down. I struggle to swim but manage to grab handholds and pull myself down. Down, down I go, into the cabin, which is now a complete water world. I swim around the corner and feel overwhelmed with relief. Tenn is alive. However, my relief lasts only a fraction of a moment because I shouldn’t be able to see her through the door. It’s damaged, creating a splintered hole so I can see her struggling to try to open it.

  I pull myself to the door; when she sees me, she looks like she has seen an angel. I make eye contact briefly, trying to convey some kind of reassurance before I pull like a madman at the door.

  It’s impossible, and I know the energy I’m using to try and open the door is being wasted. I turn my attention to the hole and try to make it bigger. I summon all my strength and pull off only a small piece of wood.

  I grab the other side of the hole to hopefully have better luck. But, before I begin to work at it, I feel her hand on mine. Her gentle touch. My eyes go from her hand to her eyes.

  She looks calm, and I know what she is telling me. She is telling me to stop. She is saying goodbye.

  “Nooo!” I scream into the water and feverishly fight with the door again.

  Tenn puts her hand on mine and nods her head side to side, telling me to stop.

  “No,” I say with defeat.

  She looks at me so calmly, her hand touching mine gently, telling me everything is going to be okay. I take my other hand off the door and put it on hers. We touch lips for a moment, and then she pulls away.

  I love you. She mouths the words, and I can hear her voice in my head like a whispering angel.

  I love you. I mouth the words back.

  It looks like a hiccup at first, and then she takes a watery breath and her hand goes limp. I cry deep inside my soul, holding on to her limp hand. I can feel Crazy Lady sink faster and faster, and the sunlight becomes faint. I know what I’m going to do.

  I belong with Tenn and Crazy Lady. I hold her hand tight and take in my own painful watery breath.

  We sink fast, into the deep, but there is still one sharp ray of sunlight that makes its way into the hull and lights Tenn’s angelic face.

  My lungs are full of water so I can’t say them, but I mouth the words before the light is gone and all is black.

  Moodchieta.

  THE END

  Epilogue

  The book is done.

  Tears stream from my eyes and my hands shake. I mourn Tenn like she’s a real person.

  She is real to me.

  I slowly close my laptop and look around the cabin of my sailboat, S.V. Tuuli. I don’t know how long I have been writing — several days at least, maybe over a week. I close my eyes and I’m back in the story like I’m trying to return to a dream after I wake up. I prefer the dream.

  I miss her so deeply it manifests as physical pain. It’s as if my heart has been pulled from my chest and has left only dread and doom behind in the void.

  The more I fall back into reality, the further I get from the dream — from the story I have been living during the past week. I begin to feel the loss of Tenn in a different way, not because of her death, but because she never existed at all. We never swam in the middle of the ocean, we never battled a storm or made love on a wooden deck under a midday sun. I feel a deep sadness that this never happened, that I’m as alone as I ever was, in the same boat I’ve lived on for seven years. There was no adventure, there was no friendship, there was no love. But she feels real enough that I mourn her death.

  I look down at my laptop like it’s a portal that has been closed. I can tell my health is poor; there are many empty bottles of rum in the corner, and one empty bottle of gin close by. My head feels like it will split in two, my mouth is dry, and my stomach is empty.

  It takes all my energy to stand, and I groan in pain as my back straightens. My head pounds harder and my heart races just from the effort. I hold myself up like an old man.

  Somehow, I’ve done it. I wrote the book. I wipe tears from my eyes as I realize it wasn’t me helping Tenn get Crazy Lady across the ocean — it was Tenn helping me finish this book. I put my hand on my laptop like it’s a headstone; I thank her for getting me to Azores, and for the love and joy she gave me.

  I step away from the table. I fear I have gone mad. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling to me, but I’ve never traveled this deep into the dark.

  My sadness boils into anger, as sadness often does. I have no sense of accomplishment that the book is done. I’m angry that it’s done. I’m angr
y that I’m still here, in Solitude Bay, and never went on an adventure across the Atlantic. I’m angry that someone like Tenn does not exist, but someone like Lydia does. I grab an empty bottle of gin and throw it across the cabin, into the pile of empty rum bottles like they are bowling pins. The violent sound of crashing glass sobers me slightly, and I can hear the vulnerable sound of my own heavy breaths.

  I only now realize it’s daytime. The sun is coming through the port window and is casting a warm glow into the cabin. I still have my boat; she is still with me. I am reminded of an old expression: the boat can handle more than the crew.

  “Stan calling S.V. Tuuli. Over.” The radio squawks and the sound crackles from the speaker.

  “Stan calling S.V. Tuuli, you have someone here that would like to talk to you. Over.” The voice coming from the little speaker is thin and metallic, but there is no question it’s Stan.

  Stan is alive.

  I was so lost in the story that I felt like he had actually died. I mourned his death. I waddle over to the radio with my aching back forcing me to hunch over. The microphone is high up and it hurts my shoulder to raise my hand. I grab it with some effort and press the button to reply.

  “Hello?” I say in a sheepish voice and let go of the button. My eyes are wild and wide as I wait to hear whom it might be.

  “Vince, sweetheart? It’s Kayla. I came all this way to see you. I’m going to come over, okay?” The sound of Kayla’s voice pulls me closer to reality. I look down at the closed laptop on the table and the pile of broken glass in the corner. I suddenly become self-aware enough to realize my lack of hygiene over the past week has left me less than presentable. I pinch the bridge of my nose and think of how I can avoid her, but she’s traveled far, and she is my friend. She will understand.

 

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