by Rick Kueber
“Hey, I just thought of something. Might be a problem.” I had an ‘Oh crap’ moment. “How are you ever going to sleep? I can’t sail this boat without you.”
“I didn’t have time to really check it out, but we should be able to just drop anchor and sleep tonight and then set sail again in the morning.” She seemed fairly certain of herself. “I’ve never done it before but we did learn how to... Is that a Snickers?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. I thought you might want a snack.” I handed over one of the candy bars and a bottle of water.
“Brilliant!” She smiled. “I’m starving.”
“So, did you ever think we’d ever be invaded by aliens?” I tried to keep a conversation going to avoid thinking about Daniel.
“No, I guess not.” Her answer was much simpler and shorter than I’d hoped. “But you know what’s funny?”
“Clowns?” I shot back quickly.
“No.” She chuckled. “Clowns are just creepy.” She shook her head. “I came down here to get away from the hectic world we live in. I thought life without all of the electronics, without cell phones and schedules would be beautiful, and it was, but I was just fooling myself. Even though I never left the village, really, I always knew I could and that all of those comforts still existed. Knowing they are gone for everyone, not just me, is actually a frightening thought.”
“One thing I’ve learned is this: The simpler the world is, the more barbaric it becomes.” My mind drifted back to being shot by someone who would have never pulled the trigger if they could have dialed 911.
“One thing about this blood thing you did for me...” She looked around nervously. “I can see pretty damn good in the dark.”
“Yeah that’s one of the good side effects.” I looked at the deck awkwardly. “As long as there’s some light, it’s pretty cool, but pitch dark is still pitch dark. It was better when it first happened, but it drove me crazy at times... Sometimes it was just too damn bright!”
“You mean there are bad side effects you’re not telling me about?” She didn’t give me a chance to answer. “I was just going to say, I could keep sailing after sunset, but I don’t trust myself sailing by the stars. The sun, no problem, but the stars... Now that’s a whole other ballgame.”
We chatted a while longer and then she had me take the wheel while she surveyed the rest of the deck, lowered the sails and then the anchor. “Seventy to eighty feet. Best guess.” She said when she returned. “Hopefully the weather will cooperate overnight.”
“Let’s hope.” I had been aboard an alien craft, drowned in some alien memory goo, I’d been shot, I’d killed people and watched friends die, but sleeping on a sailboat in the middle of the sea... Now that frightened me.
“So what’s below?” She asked softly, in a provocative voice. “I’m going down. You coming?”
“Yeah.” The thought of being alone on deck gave me an uneasy feeling in my gut and I soon joined her below deck.
“LOOK!” She was squatted down searching the cabinets, and called out loudly not realizing I was right behind her. “Oh, hey.”
“Hey yourself.” I joked. “So, what am I supposed to look at?”
She pulled two clinking bottles out of their hiding spot. “Daddy Rabbit’s!”
“And... That’s supposed to mean something?” I was puzzled.
“Daddy Rabbit’s Amber? Only the best micro-brew ever made!” She gave me a ‘duh’ look. “Who hasn’t heard of Daddy Rabbit’s? You been living in a cave or something?” It was dark, but I could see her face turn red.
“Well, maybe for a while.” I laughed. “I’ve still never heard of it, but right now, I’d drink any beer, even warm.”
“Me too.” She said as she began digging through the ‘junk drawer’ to find a bottle opener.
With a couple of quick flips of her wrist and a hiss of released carbonation, our noses were filled with the scent of warm hops and alcohol. She handed me one of the malt beverages and continued digging through the rest of the cabinets, drawers and a tiny closet. She ecstatically began tossing clothes from the closet and shouting “Woo-hoo!”, held a shirt up to her face drew its aroma in deeply.
“It still smells like fabric softener. Can you believe it?” She was in creature comfort heaven. “I haven’t had machine washed clothes in a year, much less clothes washed and dried with fabric softener. I wonder if the sheets smell this damn good too?”
“I’d love some fresh, clean clothes, but it sure would be nice to get a bath first.” I imagined that just showered feeling and pulling on a fresh pair of boxers and t-shirt.
“Yes sir.” She said sarcastically. “That would be the icing on the cake. Let’s just see...” Her hand reached for the wall and with a magical touch, she depressed a button and, “TA-DA!” the lights came on, but she immediately turned them off.
I was astounded, but Mariah explained things to me in layman’s terms. In the simplest way to explain it, some sailboats are set up, or retro-fit with a hydro-electric generator which will generate electricity when going above 5 knots. Some crafts, like this one, back up the power into a series of batteries. Mariah did explain that there was no telling how long the batteries would last, and the amount of fresh water was limited to the size of the tank and the fresh water generator capabilities. Long story short, take a very fast, short shower and turn it off when washing and then just rinse off when finished. It was a blessing to have soap and a washcloth for the first time since I had been at the Cancer Center, since before Daniel and I had been Taken, since before I had sent Elle to Phoenix. Did I make the right decision? I suspected I hadn’t, but I also suspected that I would never know.
Mariah was kind enough to lay down in one of the two small beds on either side of the steps and at least pretend to not watch me. I stripped down naked, threw my clothes into a pile on the floor and stepped into the tiny shower. Having scrubbed so long that the soap had started to dry on my sunburned skin, I turned on the shower for another few seconds to scrub down again before actually rinsing off. Toweling off afterwards, left me feeling like a new man and the feel of the crisp, fresh boxers had me feeling as happy as a kid on Christmas morning.
I may have fooled myself into thinking that Mariah wasn’t watching, but she was definitely paying attention and well aware of my every move. The moment I snapped the elastic band of the boxers around my waist, she jumped up and pulled her shirt off, exposing every inch of her top half to me and then slipped her shorts off, just before pushing past me in the close quarters.
“My turn!” She said with an elated and joyous tone.
“It’s all yours.” I held my hand out in a gentlemanly gesture and then slipped away into my own tiny bed.
My head was filled with thoughts of Elle and what had become of her and my child. Every person I had met, from stuttering Jimmy, who had shot me, to ol’ George, who had thought of us as enemies until his dying moments and little Maddie to Elle’s brother Bobby, all of them had made an impression on me and my mind was a whirlwind of memories. In the foreground of my thoughts were the countless, gut-wrenching scenarios of my friend Daniel’s last moments and how terrifying those must have been. I blamed myself for what had happened to him, but I also felt responsible for the horrors that I was certain Elle must have faced alone. By the time Mariah stepped shamelessly out of the shower, her naked body dripping wet and glistening in the moonlight that crept in through the small rectangular windows, I was submerged in a deep depression and mentally wallowing in self-pity and blame.
Mariah dried off and then dropped her towel on the floor. She didn’t sift through the clothing she had found or even attempt modesty. Instead, she seductively bit the tip of her index finger and climbed, cat-like, into bed and on top of me. I was in no mood for romance, though her sensuality was hard to ignore, and so, I turned my head to the side and closed my eyes. Mariah slipped to my side with one arm and one leg curled up across my body and gently kissed my neck before nuzzling her face against me and drifting off to frustrated sl
eep.
The bright sunlight beamed in through the slotted windows and quickly warmed up the cabin. Mariah stretched her tanned limbs and tasseled her hair. She donned a pair of loose cargo shorts, an ‘I (heart) NY’ t-shirt and a floppy straw hat and then shook my leg.
“Wake up, sleepy head.” She said as she walked to the steps. “Time to weigh anchor and put some waves behind us.”
“I’m awake.” I replied as I listened to her bare feet tapping their way up the wooden steps to the deck.
I really hadn’t slept much, but at least the few hours I did get were free of nightmares or dreams that couldn’t come true. I woke up slow and moved even slower. I found a pair of board shorts but didn’t bother with a shirt. I fully believed that a sloth would have beaten me at a race on this particular morning, but eventually, I found my way top-side.
“It’s about time!” She exclaimed at the sight of me. “I need help with the jib so we can get over the anchor.”
It was more work than I expected, but once we were in position, the anchor came up without any real trouble. But that was just the beginning. Next we had to raise the mainsail, but this time with just the two of us. It’s amazing how quickly memories are bonded to actions. Everything we had done during our great escape with Daniel, we were now repeating and his absence weighed heavy on my heart. It was a lot of work, but I felt a sense of accomplishment when the wind caught our sails and we began to turn the waters under our bow.
“Hey!” Mariah called out to me as I stared off into the deep blue.
“Huh?” I needed a distraction from my own thoughts.
“Put a shirt on, would ya’?” She seemed to be joking, but finished her sentence with, “Seriously.”
“I thought you liked me shirtless.” I made light of her ‘come on’ the night before.
“Oh I do...” She raised her eyebrows and gave me a once over. “But you’re going to burn to a crisp out here. Trust me.”
I found a white, long sleeved, button down shirt in the cabin and put it on, only buttoning a couple of the lower buttons and leaving the sleeves unrolled and the cuffs unbuttoned. I returned to my pointless look out and the warm, salty breeze felt liberating.
“Much better, but you’re gonna want to take care that your face doesn’t blister.” She warned.
“Thanks. I’ll remember that.” I figured that when cabin fever set in, which seemed inevitable, I would go below and search for a hat, or some zinc-oxide, or something.
It was mid-morning when I shouted out ‘Land-Ho!’ but Mariah quickly informed me that the hint of green that appeared to our left was Cancun at the tip of the Yucatan peninsula. That meant we were about a third of the way to the U.S. I asked if we should stop and see about getting more supplies and she agreed that it wasn’t really out of the way. Adjusting the sails, our craft veered westward I watched longingly as the shoreline grew closer. Much to my disappointment, when we were still quite a distance away, I spotted what appeared to be two Titans towering over the once tourist riddled city. Another adjustment and our boat, our fortress of solitude, skirted to the east.
Cancun slipped away in the heat of the midday sun and soon we were surrounded by limitless horizons of dark blue waters that kissed the pale blue of the cloudless summer sky. In some directions, it was impossible to tell where the gulf waters ended and the sky began. I did find a ball cap to shield my face from the sun, but I still ended the day, with a stinging sunburn.
“You probably won’t like this, but...” Mariah seemed worried.
“But?” I was curious about what concerned her out here in the midst of the never ending waters.
“We either need to stop here or sail all night.” She rubbed her forehead and looked at the sun’s position, still fairly high in the afternoon sky.
“Why’s that?” I truly didn’t understand why we couldn’t just anchor at sunset like before.
“If we go too far, the continental shelf will drop off, and unless we have three or four thousand feet of line, we’ll have to sail or drift all night. If we sail all night, we might get to the U.S. Coast before sunrise, but not likely, and that’s going to be a long night.” She pondered the options.
“We won’t starve. Have we been generating fresh water?” I asked out of honest ignorance.
“We have been. The Tank probably isn’t full yet though.” She impressed me with her knowledge of sailing and sailboats.
“Then, I say, we anchor for the night.” I thought, what difference would one day make?
“Lower the mainsail!” She called out, in a farce, exaggerating the size of our vessel and crew.
“Aye-Aye cap’n!” I teased back. Our lighthearted moments of fun were rare, but they were always needed and appreciated.
We began dropping the sails and then the anchor, working like a true team. Luckily, we were still in shallow enough waters and unlike our first venture, our sails were dropped and we were anchored in a half an hour or less. When we were secure in our anchorage, we went below for a snack and I found that Mariah had stocked the fridge with some bottled water, sodas and, of course, all of the Daddy Rabbit’s. She had also removed a deck of cards she had found when she was searching for the bottle opener and we spent the evening playing black jack, spades and 5 card hold ‘em. We talked about her silver spoon upbringing and all of the flaws that sort of childhood held, but we also talked a lot more in-depth about my experiences since the invasion. Her eyes lit up when I poured out all of the tiniest details about the Ahsushas and the beings of light. It wasn’t the glow of the ‘alien DNA’ that made her eyes sparkle, but a sincere interest. Several hours and long neck bottles of Daddy Rabbit’s later our words were tired and our brains were as empty as the long-neck bottles. I stripped down to my boxers and she stripped down to her birthday suit... again.
“I hope this doesn’t bother you. I got used to sleeping naked. In the jungle, it’s so hot that being naked is the most comfortable way to sleep. Nothing on at all, besides a mosquito net.” She winked and grinned. I couldn’t help but return the smile.
“No offense, but I think I’d sleep better alone tonight. You know, not as much body heat...” I knew there was no way she wasn’t offended.
“Oh... No, that’s fine. I was probably going to do that anyway.” Her drunken disappointment gave away her terrible lie. “Good night.”
“G’night.” I disappeared into my cubby and tried to settle my mind and not think about the beautiful, naked and willing woman only a few feet away.
My sunburn only grew more obvious and intense, the longer I laid still in the dark. I did eventually doze off, and again, my sleepless slumber was awakened when Mariah stirred. At some point after I had fallen asleep, she had crept into my bed again and it was only when she awoke, that I realized it.
“Sorry...” She hugged me before leaving my side. “I just get kinda... Scared.”
“It’s okay. I understand.” I didn’t have to say anything. She knew my heart was still aching for Elle. “Maybe next time you get scared in the middle of the night, you could slip on a t-shirt or something.” I smiled to let her know I wasn’t upset by her midnight visit, but I could sense her frustration and embarrassment.
It was early in the morning, but how early was difficult to tell with the low, rolling cloud cover. Again we weighed anchor and prepared to set sail. The cross wind was strong, but at times, it was so strong that it worked against us and our inexperience. The sky grumbled as the tumbling clouds darkened overhead.
“This doesn’t look good.” My nerves had my whole body tense and worried. I was all too aware that even though I had survived a gunshot, drowning was something I probably couldn’t recover from.
“It’s got me a little worried too.” Mariah agreed.
“Really?” I moaned. “You were supposed to say something more confident to ease my nerves.”
“Sorry...” She shrugged her shoulders. “Honesty... It’s one of my many faults.”
We took turns going below d
eck to relax, eat a bite and get our showers. I went first and took my time with everything except for my shower. I traded her places and made her promise to be quicker than I had been. With no visible sun and a constantly moving sky of dark gray, I was anything but comfortable holding the course alone. It must have been very late afternoon or early evening when the sorrowful sky let loose its tears. Fat drops of warm rain began to smack the deck loudly. Only a few, here and there at first, but minutes later a heavy and steady shower had set in.
“Get up here!” I shouted down to the cabin. “You hear me?”
“I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” She yelled from the steps. “Here!” Mariah handed me a large, black trash bag. “Rip a few holes and voila! Instant raincoat.” She took the wheel, already wearing her own homemade rain gear.
“I’ll be right back. I’m already soaked.” I looked down at my sopping wet clothes and the rain ran from my hair and dripped from chin and nose. “If I can’t find something dry to wear, there’s no sense in wasting a perfectly good bag.” I disappeared below and quickly peeled off my saturated clothes and dressed in a dry pair of jean shorts and Hawaiian flower print shirt. It was gawd awful red with big white flowers and at least one size too big, but I had few critics and with the state of the world, clean clothes were far more important than what they looked like or how they fit. I ripped three holes, pulled the bag over my dry clothes and rejoined Mariah. “Oh Captain, my Captain!” I regurgitated the famous quote from some deep recesses of my memory.