Strikers

by Ann Christy

  He’s got the detonator clutched tightly in his hand but the safety cap is firmly in place. It’s a rather large thing, with a big red case and a handle molded to the shape of gripping fingers. The cap is bright yellow and is perfectly placed so that a thumb can flick it upward to press the button inside. It doesn’t need wires, but it has to be close enough that the signal will travel through the air—yet another strange mysterious object from the East.

  The roar of Mario’s engine changes pitch and the boat lowers in the water as it slows, still a couple of hundred yards from our boat. He turns it sideways to us and I see a figure lurch to the side with the sudden motion. Though he’s just a tiny thing from this distance, I can tell it’s Creedy when he rights himself. There’s an almost tangible chill coming off the water from his direction.

  “Are you ready?” I ask Jovan, keeping my eyes on the boat.

  He doesn’t answer for a moment, just flexes his fingers on the detonator a few times like he can somehow make it more comfortable to hold. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he says.

  The boat is creeping closer, but slowly. Creedy gesticulates for Mario to hurry, but the boat doesn’t speed up at all, which is good. I judge the boat to be about a hundred yards away, perhaps less, when Mario executes a neat dive over the side and into the water. He doesn’t delay, and I can see the regular strokes of his arms as he swims away from the boat.

  Creedy seems at a loss for a moment, shifting from one side of the boat to the other. He grabs at the wheel and the boat jerks as he clumsily steers. Then he points toward the water where Mario swims away and the report of a gun sounds out. I can hardly believe my ears. He’s actually shooting at Mario. I don’t think about my actions—or how inexpert I am with a gun—when I reach down and grab the gun from Jovan’s belt.

  Even if I had actually ever practiced and done more than dry fire a gun, there’s no way I would have been able to hit anything at this distance. Even Jovan told me that these types of guns are only good for shooting at a few dozen paces, so they certainly aren’t for a target at seventy-five yards and closing. But before all this can do more than flash through my mind, I raise the gun, click off the safety and fire.

  The reaction from the other boat is immediate. Creedy ducks down and I see him peek over the console. I have no hope that it hit him and the fact that he doesn’t fire back tells me that he knows accuracy at this distance isn’t possible and he’d just be wasting ammunition. But that doesn’t matter, because he stops firing into the water at Mario and that’s all I wanted.

  Jovan’s looking at me like I just grew another head, but I ignore it and pull him down to make him less of a target. For all I know, Creedy has a better gun than we do and I certainly don’t underestimate his ability with a firearm.

  “Sorry. But he was shooting at Mario,” I say while peeking over the back of the boat. The boat is aimed toward us again and moving slowly our way. He seems to have figured out steering but not speed, because it’s still a slow approach only a little faster than ours. The little green light we should see on the top of the detonator is still stubbornly unlit, so we can’t just push the button and get it over with. It has to be in range and the detonator’s parts must be communicating with each other for it to work.

  His eyes keep flicking back from Creedy to the detonator and his jaw is so tight I think he might shatter his teeth. When I peek back up, the boat is closer. It’s close enough for me to see the details of the boat and the gray in his hair. A short gasp behind me makes me turn, only to see a slowly blinking light on the detonator. That green flash means it is trying to connect with its twin on the other boat. Jovan looks frozen, his knuckles white around the handle and the cords in his arms standing out like he’s carrying an unbearable weight.

  I don’t need to ask him if he’s okay to do this thing. I can see that he’s not. He delayed not a second when it came to a stranger in that old building where I lost my father, but this is different and far more personal. I stand so that I’m in full view of Creedy. He’s within fifty yards of us now and we can see each other plainly. I hear a shout from his boat and then his hand comes up. It takes all my will not to flatten myself on the ground, but I’m counting on his anger, the motion of two boats and the distance to keep me safe. It’s a foolish thing to do but I can’t just take the detonator with it gripped so tightly in Jovan’s fist and his thumb clamped over the cap. “Down,” I say behind me.

  Just as I knew it would, a shot rings out and it’s close enough to make me cringe, but a quick inventory tells me I’m not hit and the shot went wide. Jovan’s free hand tugs at my arm, but I pull right back and say, “Give it to me, Jovan. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life running from him or others like him.”

  It seems like a short eternity that we stare at each other and when a second shot rings out, I flinch and hear the round thunk into the water ladder, now lifted up and no more than two feet from my legs. Jovan flinches too but stands.

  Creedy is perhaps thirty yards from us and the steady green light on the detonator signals its readiness. And now, I think Jovan is ready as well. For a long moment, they look at each other and I see from the corner of my eye as Creedy lowers the gun. Then Jovan flicks the cap and presses the trigger.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  I’m just another girl enjoying the sunshine with pixie short hair and tan lines on my feet. I couldn’t be happier about it. Everything else aside, there is something wonderfully liberating about being on the water with no land anywhere in sight. Also a little scary, but I think that’s part of the fun of it, too.

  Cassi’s bright red-gold hair is no more and the dull shade of brown that covers her unique shade somehow makes her look more grown-up. The curls are still there, now hidden by the two tight braids that rest on her shoulders and swing like fat tails when she moves. She’s coiling ropes on the deck, excited about the day to come, while I’m doing little to help and just enjoying the way the early sun feels on my skin. It’s nice and with the salty breeze, it’s like I’ve grown more nerve endings with which to feel it.

  It was hard to cut my hair off, to see it flutter away in the wind and fall into the sea, but I have to admit that I like it now. I don’t even need to comb it with anything other than my fingers and the knots that plagued my daily life are a thing of the past. Jovan and Marcus still start now and again when they see me, even though it’s been two weeks since I cut it.

  Two weeks since the day after our final confrontation with Creedy. By now, the news that Creedy and his boat-load of prisoners were lost at sea has traveled up the river. Given that we radioed that Mario was the only survivor and the family is well known, I’m pretty sure it will be believed by those who need to believe it. I feel bad for our families, but I’m confident our choice was the right one.

  Only Mario and Cassi seem to really like my new look and Mario’s taste simply can’t be trusted. He’s long married and has four little girls, so he says everything is pretty as a self-preservation instinct.

  Today is our first trade, the first we’ll need to make in order to pay back the rather nebulous cost of the boat and engine. I really don’t think they actually care much about it and I could probably pay it many times over with what’s on my pendant, but it’s an excuse for us all to stay together for a while. It gives me the time—and Cassi the time—to decide on the future. I have a feeling that when we move on, Cassi will be staying behind. That’s a hard thought and I’m more than willing to put it off.

  When we pulled into a huge port called Pensacola, supposedly once a part of Florida but now belonging to the Gulf Cooperative, a quick visit to the wall confirmed my message had reached my father’s wife and a return message awaited me. And my approval as a citizen awaited me as well.

  My first experience with a computer followed and I was amazed at it. Afraid to touch it, the gate-keeper had operated it for me and I read the glowing letters with trepidation, fearing the words would be accusatory and angry. They weren’t though. Ins
tead, the message was simple and direct and very understanding. So much so that I found tears stinging my eyes. She ended by telling me to come when I could, that I was and always would be welcome.

  Her words freed me in so many ways. I’m not ready to face them yet. I’m not ready to start a life that I’ll continue forever. Right now, I’m just happy to wallow in the pause between lives, relishing the moment.

  Not wanting her to think me dead if the news ever made it that far, I wrote back to let her know I was traveling for a while but would see her when I was done. I hope she understands. I hope Quinton, my as yet un-met brother, understands.

  On the upside, we were able to get a message to Maddix and Connor. These computers are amazing. All I had to do was give their name and a border worker looked him right up for me. They are fine, though missing us, and making their way to Pensacola to meet up with us. I’ll be so happy to see them again, whenever that may be.

  Today, we’re about twenty miles off the coast of Florida. I can’t see it with my eyes, but it’s on the chart kept flat and weighed down by old stones. Our trading mission isn’t exactly legal or illegal, but lies in the vast gray space between.

  Florida doesn’t get along with the East or Northeast, but has a relatively benign relationship with the Southeast and the Gulf Cooperative. Yet theirs is the land of the best technology, highly sought after yet traded only under the most stringent circumstances. Hence our little trading deal. Off the books and no one the wiser is how these things are done.

  “There they are,” Marcus says from the bow, pointing to a spot in the water.

  I look out but see nothing for a moment. There’s something, a small white spot, far too small to be a boat. After I’ve got that one resolved, I realize there are two and they are speeding toward us. The ball Marcus dropped over the side on a line will tell their trading partners where we are. I didn’t believe it then, but there’s no denying the two small white objects coming toward us at a decent clip.

  “Okay,” Marcus hollers back at Mario, who is tending the wheel. He includes us by saying, “Let’s lower the sails and get ready. You three are okay with doing the trade? You’re sure?”

  I know I am, and the way Cassi is bouncing on her toes says she is as well. Jovan already has the big orange floating buoy and the line attaching it to the boat in hand, ready to toss it over the side at Marcus’s sign. I’m guessing that means he’s ready to.

  “Let’s go!” Cassi squeals, tugging on her life vest.

  Luckily, these life vests are smaller, the kind meant for people who can swim. Instead of feeling like I’m stuck inside a much too large bubble, it feels like a little orange hug around my middle. As a bonus, they make me feel less self-conscious wearing these so-called bathing suits. Purchased in Pensacola, it clings to my body and makes me feel more than naked. Still, it’s better than swimming in my heavy clothes.

  The two white-topped buoys come close, but not too close. Both of them have plastic bundles strapped to the top. We’ll swap those with our own bundles.

  “Looks good. In you go,” Marcus says, flipping the ladder over for us. We all clamber down into the choppy water, but it no longer feels strange to have such a yawning depth below me. The water is so blue it’s almost magical from far away, but clear as air once you’re down in it.

  The buoy is attached to a line, which is in turn attached to a winch on the boat. The clicking of the line paying out as Jovan pulls the buoy is loud in the quiet air.

  Cassi reaches the nearest buoy first and circles it in delight. We’ve been told about them, but they are something else up close. Florida is the most advanced of all the territories and zealous about remaining so. No one can even land there save at specified ports, and access beyond is strictly prohibited.

  They apparently live very differently than the rest of us. The Flint brothers have told us stories of tall towers where thousands live and work, never leaving the building at all and technology so advanced they can control machines with other machines implanted in their bodies. It sounds rather horrible to me, but who am I to judge?

  The buoys seem to give weight to those assertions. Small screens and glossy lenses rise from the surface and I can see more moving around under the water behind thick glass. Marcus says there are people who look through those lenses from back on land, so Cassi does just what I would expect her to do. She ducks under the water and waves into one of the lenses, pressing a kiss to the glass and grinning.

  Jovan and I don’t dawdle, but unhook the first parcel and replace it with our own. It’s heavy, so I’m glad for the buoy. Inside should be advanced engine parts and difficult-to-find computer components. Inside our parcels are things banned in Florida: alcohol of several types, cocoa powder, butter and all sorts of decadent foods. I can’t imagine living life without those rich additions now that I’ve had them. Minus the alcohol, which I won’t have anything to do with, of course.

  When we move to the second buoy, one of the camera lenses rises from the top inside its protective glass and the little lens darts around until it focuses on me, where it stays fixed. I smile down into the lenses and see the aperture widen and narrow in response, which makes me laugh. I wrap my legs around one of the protrusions off the body of the buoy to remain steady and I can feel the hum inside it as whatever propels and guides it keeps it in position.

  Our parcels neatly tied to our buoy, Jovan and I prepare for our swim back. Cassi is already halfway there, swimming with sure strokes. Jovan gives the high sign to Marcus that he can pull in the buoy.

  At the last second, he grabs my hand and then grips the handle on the buoy with the other. The buoy shoots forward and Jovan pulls me up until I can wrap my arms around his neck. It’s an amazing sensation, zipping through the water so quickly I can feel both of us rise a little. I let one arm go from around his neck and hold it up behind me so that we move more smoothly on the water. Those few seconds feel almost like flight, or like we’ve become some sort of boat ourselves, the water lifting us like those fish that fly above the water sometimes out here.

  It’s over quickly and I climb the ladder, bringing my dripping self up on deck. Cassi tosses me a towel on her way to the stern for her hat and I move out of the way so Jovan and Marcus can bring up the laden buoy and inspect their treasures.

  It is in that moment that I feel it and freeze, my towel forgotten in my hand. I am free.

  I. Am. Free.

  My life is my own. I control not just what I do now and in the future, but how I will feel about the past. I get to control how I will let it shape me. And in that liberated moment, I decide that it doesn’t matter. I decide that I am grateful for it all. That all my past pain, the fear and everything else in my life was a gift that left me the person I am now. The free, strong girl who stands here with the entire world before her.

  Jovan comes up on deck, dripping and golden in the sun. His eyes shine like that hawk’s and his smile is tentative for a moment. Whatever he sees must be the answer he’s been looking for. I know it’s mine.

  Just two steps each and we meet in the middle. There are no words, no hesitation. He cups my face in his hands and kisses me. Not the fumbling press of icy lips like in the river, not the uncertain and unskilled kiss behind the school of years before, but a real kiss. My first real kiss. And it is everything I have ever wanted and more. My toes curl into the deck and my arms tighten around his neck until he has to shift his hands from my face to around my back.

  The kiss seems to go on for a lifetime and there is nothing else in the world except us. He seems to feel as if he doesn’t have enough arms as he holds me, his hands shifting to press me to him, his fingers hot against the knobs of my spine between my shoulders.

  Some eternity later, a voice intrudes and Mario says, “Aw, get a room!”

  We part then, suddenly aware of the three people looking at us, two with mouths agape and Cassi with a smile from ear to ear.

  “About time!” she shouts at us and then disappears into
the hatch.

  There’s no awkwardness, no embarrassment, just the feeling that we’ve done the right thing at the right time. In front of us the sails snap into place and the boom shivers as the force of the wind tightens it into position. Jovan slips his arm around my waist and it’s perfect there, like his arm was designed to fit me and no one else.

  For just a flash, I think of the pendant and the life it can provide. But it’s just a flash and I push it away. It’s a tool meant for me to use, not meant to control my future. I understand that. It was given without obligation. A gift from the father I thought didn’t love me. In the end, he gave it all for me, even his life. Someday, I’ll venture into the interior of the territories. I’ll see the East, the Southeast and maybe even Florida. Those are thoughts for some other tomorrow.

  Right now the water ahead of me is so blue it almost rivals the sky. The sun is yellow and warm. Salty water is pooling at my feet and I feel the wind like a beckoning kiss across my skin. And Jovan’s arm is around me, finally. Right now, I’m right where I want to be.

  Dear Reader

  Thank you for reading! I genuinely hope that you liked what you read.

  This is a self-published book. I turned down traditional publishing contracts for a few very simple reasons. I want to write what I think will make people happy and do it at the pace that works for readers—and for me. I just can’t stand the idea of waiting two years after a book is done to get it out to the readers. So, I take my chances with self-publishing and hope the readers and I can connect somewhere in the vast world of books.

  You can help me with that. Self-published books—and self-published authors—rise or fall under the weight of their reviews and the enthusiasm of their readers. If you liked Strikers, please take a moment and review it on the site you purchased it from. You’ll be doing me a huge favor and allowing me to continue to write quality work without constantly worrying about marketing. And if you really liked it, share the news with fellow readers or on your social network.