Reba raised one brow and met Trip’s eyes. They stared at one another other until Trip eventually averted his gaze, shifting his attention to the bag of electronics. With an imperceptible half-smile, Reba turned and walked back to the van. Kai jumped out of his pilot seat and caught up with her, asking, “What was that all about?”
“Amid chaos, there is opportunity,” she replied. “That Ashfield is one cool customer. Just watch your back, babe.”
“If he flirts with my shiela again, that bloke had better watch his.” Kai bent down and kissed Reba on the mouth.
Adili brushed past them as he hauled his gear out of the van. A sudden shout came from the helicopter and they saw Eli fall to the ground. The merc leapt out of the cockpit and dashed toward the woods. “No!” Reba gasped. “Don’t let him get away!”
Billy drug Eli away from the helo to safety as Kai raced after their prisoner. He reached him near the edge of the gravel lot. The ropes around Mike’s wrists were frayed, as if roughly sawn-through. Kai ran out in front of him to cut off his escape but the merc plowed past, ramming into Kai’s ribs with his shoulder. Kai hit the ground hard. Regaining his momentum, Mike barreled toward the woods. Kai gasped for breath, staggering to his feet in time to see Adili rush by and tackle Mike with a single blow. The Kenyan stood over the merc with his feet apart and arms open, inviting him to get up. Kai moved to close in, but Adili shot him a look that said, “Leave this to me.” Nodding, Kai held back. Mike stumbled onto one knee, then stood upright and faced Adili. They circled one another slowly, their eyes locked—hands open.
From inside the helo, Trip watched the fight take place. He shot a furtive glance out both sides, then back to the bag of electronics laying between the front seats. Sliding down as low as he could in the harness, he extended his good leg toward the bag. His shoe barely touched the canvas… Closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath, Trip pushed against the seat base with his injured leg, leveraging himself forward. Pain ripped through the shattered joint. “Eee-augh—shit, fuck, damn!” Trip’s extended foot snagged the bag and he slid it toward him. Sweat covered his forehead as he gritted his teeth, the throbbing in his knee made him feel faint, but the bag was within his grasp. He looped the strap around his foot and bent his good leg… slowly, carefully, lifting it high enough to grab with his bound hands. Fumbling through the contents for his phone, he muttered, “C’mon…c’mon—where’d you go?”
A hand appeared on the bag and Trip looked up to see Reba leaning over the bench. She wrenched the bag away from him. “You really don’t want to do that.”
“Oh, yes. Yes, I really do.” Trip brought his bound hands over Reba’s head and wrapped them around her throat, pulling her off her feet. Reba gasped for air, kicked wildly and spun, slipping out of Trip’s choke-hold. She head-butted him squarely in the nose and he fell back against the seat.
Wiping away the blood with the back of his hand, Trip muttered, “Alright, fine—you win this round, Pocahontas.”
“I am a Chief.” Reba spat, throwing the bag onto the ground. “And you Mr. Ashfield, are a nobody.”
The skirmish from the helicopter could be heard across the gravel lot. Kai instinctively turned to help his wife, then stopped as he saw her take the upper hand. Adili glanced up and his hesitation provided the merc with an opportunity. Mike took it—aiming a well-placed kick to the Kenyan’s abdomen. Adili doubled over, pivoting in time to block an elbow-blow to his head, he clamped onto the merc’s forearm and snapped it back until he felt the bone splinter, then threw the soldier onto his back.
Mike clasped his broken arm to his chest and twisted his hips, scissor-kicking Adili’s legs out from under him. The Kenyan fell onto his side, then sprang back to his feet. Mike staggered, lunging into Adili’s torso like a battering ram, pushing him backwards toward the helo. The two men remained locked together, heads down, in a lethal dance. Kai sidestepped them, searching for a way to intervene. He saw Mike free his arm and pull a small shiny object from his hip pocket. “Look out—he’s got a blade!” Kai bolted forward to grab Mike’s hand, but before he could reach it, the blade had struck home. Adili groaned, stumbling as the merc jabbed a surgical knife between the Kenyan’s lower ribs. As Adili faltered, Mike shoved him away, dealing a roundhouse kick to the chest. Adili collapsed in a daze. Mike danced around him, hunched over—holding his broken arm close to his chest. Kai saw his chance and slammed in from Mike’s left, blindsiding him low enough to pick the merc off his feet. Mike was thrown backward, cracking the back of his head against the landing skids. He laid on the ground, glaring up at Kai. Reba backed away from the helo, while Trip watched the events impassively. The helicopters blades continued to hum. Kai shouted over the noise, “Alright mate, enough already… Give it up!” He held out his hands in a gesture of non-aggression and moved closer to help Mike get to his feet. Grabbing a handful of gravel, Mike threw it into the air, the wind from the helo’s blades blew the grit into Kai’s face. Mike launched himself upright, and with blinding speed, pinned the Maorian against the tail boom, pummeling him repeatedly. Kai tried to fight back, but the merc pressed him against the boom, jamming his arm into Kai’s windpipe. Reba screamed and ran towards them just as her husband’s legs began to buckle, a hoarse rasping sound came from his mouth. Suddenly, Mike was pushed aside and Kai, gasping for air, fell to the ground. Adili stepped over him, and lifted Mike above his head. With a loud cry, he threw the merc against the helicopter’s tail-boom. A mass of blood erupted as the tail-rotors severed Mike’s head from his shoulders. The gravel all around them was splattered in crimson. Adili stood stone-still as Mike’s body crumpled to the ground.
Kai remained on all fours with his head down, coughing and wheezing. Reba threw her arm across his back and whispered, “Deep breaths … Slow down and breathe, tāne.” He looked up at her face and nodded. Reba helped him stand and slowly, she walked him back to the van, easing him onto the floorboard. Placing a hand on each side of his face, Reba put her lips to his forehead. Kai glanced over her shoulder and noticed Adili standing alone, frozen over Mike’s corpse. Kai raised his eyes to meet Reba’s and then gestured toward the Kenyan. She glanced over her shoulder, brushed her fingers along his cheek and said, “I’ll be right back.”
As Reba drew near, she found Adili staring at his former opponent, his arms hung limply by his sides. “Come with me jelani,” she said, taking his large hand in her own. “It is done.”
36 Contact
Point Roberts WA. Aug 24. 2033
48°58'16.1"N 123°04'54.2"W
Táan woke to the sound of voices. Where in the hell am I? He yawned and rubbed his face with both hands. The mattress he’d spent the night on was too soft and smelled faintly of disinfectant. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d slept indoors. It dawned on him then, where he was. How’d we get here? His mind was fuzzy and his arms and legs felt as heavy as lead ballast. Staring up at the beams overhead, he tried to sort through the events leading up to their arrival at Point Roberts.
He remembered pulling a semi-conscious Dot from the ocean. And recalled that afterwards, he and Kim had paddled the baidarka toward the mainland. Initially Táan had doubted Dot’s plan. But as the weather worsened, he was soon grateful for the protection of a windward shore. Looking over his shoulder at white caps churning in the Strait of Georgia, he’d seen the wisdom of her decision. Eventually Dot had regained enough strength to join in, and with the addition of her paddle strokes they made good time down the Fraser River delta. Saka, freed at last from the painful concussions of naval sonar testing, followed closely—loathe to part from his human companions. He was back to his old self once more, content to frolic nearby. The whale came and went in search of meals, never straying too far from the sound of Dot’s taps on the hull.
By the next day, the travelers had arrived at the sprawling shipping terminal of Tsawwassen, British Columbia. Columns of faded metal crates lined the waterfront, hemmed in by gangly looking cranes made of
steel and cable. Dozens of empty vessels, recently unburdened of their cargo, idled at anchor while other ships, pregnant with rows of stacked containers, awaited their turn. Táan’s breath caught in his throat as he stared upon the mainland. His quiet life in Haida Gwaii seemed so foreign and faraway to him now.
Kim pulled his wide-brimmed straw hat well over his face and kept his head bowed as they negotiated their way between the fleet. His misgivings were made obvious by his silence. Dot showed no sign of hesitation as she steered their boat across the river’s mouth. Táan marveled the ease in which she maneuvered around the steel giants. As they paddled around the anchor chain of a moored ship, Táan was tempted to reach out and run his hand along one of the rusted links—so large that he could have slipped his entire arm through the center. As they passed by, a sudden tension caused the chain to torque, the links twisted and clanked as the vessel pulled against its tether, shuddering with the final rebuke. Táan felt the reverberation through the baidarka’s hull and swallowed hard.
They cleared the anchorage and the estuary began to shallow. A long wharf stretched out into the sea for almost a mile. Behind its pilings, two gleaming white ferries rested like horses nosed into their stalls. Dot pointed offshore and they paddled seaward, putting the ferry terminal to their port side. They quickened their strokes, anxious to cross the ferries’ traffic lanes. A loud blast echoed from the terminal, and was immediately followed by four others—each as loud and imposing as the previous. Kim spun around and shouted, “What’s happening? What does that noise mean?”
“It means ‘danger’ I think.” Táan looked over his shoulder at Dot for confirmation. She nodded and dug in with her paddle. The three of them pushed the baidarka forward with all their might. Táan glanced back at the terminal and noticed a red, twin-turbo boat pull away from the pier. “Kijii—I think we might have company. What should we do?”
Dot looked back and bit her lower lip. She pointed toward the spot on her arm where they’d taped her old ID chip. Táan nodded and took a deep breath. “OK. I’ll do the talking,” he said.
They continued moving away from the ferry docks, taking great pains to look calm and nonchalant. With the edge of her paddle, Dot tapped out a series of sharp sounds on the hull. Soon enough, the familiar sound of spray from a blowhole was heard from the starboard side of their vessel. Táan rehearsed his story to himself as he forced his paddled up and down. They’d prepared for such an event—had in fact, talked it through explicitly with Kai and Ooligan on many occasions. Now that an encounter with authorities was actually happening, Táan felt ill equipped to pull it off.
The waves from the vessel’s turbo engines hit them before the boat arrived, tossing the baidarka around like a bathtub toy. Dot waved at the two men in the vessel and pointed toward the large black fin surfacing 15 feet in front of them. Her face was the very picture of delight as she pointed toward the breaching orca. Táan drew a breath and turned toward the officers, “Hullo!”
One of the men flashed a scanner toward the threesome as his shipmate climbed over the inflatable chamber nearest the baidarka. “What are you three doing out here? Do you realize that you’ve entered an exclusionary zone?”
“We’re very sorry, sir,” Táan replied. “We’ve been following this orca for over an hour and well, we sort of lost our bearings until it was too late.”
“What is your name, son?”
“I’m Gwáayaay. My last name is Jefferies”
“Why is it that only one of you has a readable ID chip?”
“We’re Salish. None of my family have chips, sir… being exempt from your government’s rules on that and all.”
The officer looked back at his colleague and shrugged. The other officer holding the scanner leaned forward and spoke. “Evangeline Cleary—that’s your legal name?” Dot nodded, looking straight ahead. The officer continued, “I see that you’re a citizen of the United States. Why is it there is no record of you showing up since the year 2022? That’s a long time to be off the grid, young lady.”
Dot shook her head and gestured to her mouth. Táan cleared his throat and interjected. “Excuse me sir, but my cuz can’t speak. She lost her voice when she was a little girl… Right around the time of the Tyee quake. She’s been living with our people ever since—for about ten years now.”
“Huh, she doesn’t look very injun to me. Are you a half-breed?” the officer spoke slowly, enunciating his words. Dot gritted her teeth and nodded. The agent called up to the baidarka’s bow, “Hello? …Hey, basket-hat. What’s your story? I’ll need your name, buddy.”
Kim turned his head just enough to show a portion of his face. He gruffly called out, “Edward. My name is Edward Abenake.”
“Edward Abenake, are you also a Canadian Salish tribal member?”
“Yessir.”
“Where did you people come from?”
“From a giant clam shell, washed ashore. Raven set us free… Or, so they say.” Táan responded quickly, allowing Kim the opportunity to turn away.
“Don’t get smart with me.”
“I apologize, I misunderstood what you were asking. We came from Port Alberni sir. We’re sorry that we got too close to those ferries. We’ll head back over to the island and leave our brother orca to his journey—if that’s alright with you. My awáng will be plenty angry with us if we get in any trouble over this. I sure hope you don’t report us.”
The two officers conferred. The one holding the scanner shook his head, looking upset. Táan studied their body language, trying to gauge the possible outcomes of their situation. At last, the discussion ended and the official with the scanner returned to the wheel. The other agent called across to the baidarka, “Alright, we aren’t issuing a citation this time, but stay out of this restricted area—I don’t care if you discover an entire family reunion of whales—this is ‘no-man’s land.’ We’ll log an incident report when we get back to the office, so don’t let there be a next time, clear?”
The paddlers nodded their heads in agreement. Táan reached up and offered his hand. “Thank you, sir.”
Ignoring Táan’s gesture, the officer said, “My advice is to head straight home—don’t get any closer to the border. And truthfully pal, I’d think long and hard about coming over to the mainland without any identification in the future. You First Nations people may get a pass on the ID chips, but life can get pretty difficult once you’re off the rez. Get my meaning?”
“Yessir, we get it.” Táan gripped the combing as their boat peeled away. Once the baidarka stopped rolling from its wake, Dot grabbed her paddle and rapped it on the hull. Saka’s nose appeared next to the stern. Leaning back to scratch his head, Táan said, “You’re a champ, boy. Thanks for the assist.” The whale rose out of the water, opened his mouth, and made a series of clicking noises before sinking back into the waves. “That orca sure does love you, Kij’,” Táan chuckled, adding, “or should we call you Evangeline now?” Frowning, Dot dug her blade into the water. Kim and Táan followed suit and the baidarka advanced toward Point Roberts.
Clarity finally returned and Táan inhaled deeply, aware of the muggy quality in the air. It was only 8:30 in the morning but the basement was already stifling hot. Tossing off the blankets, he rose and looked around the draped enclosure for Dot. The voices in the other room grew louder as Douglas argued on his mobile with someone he called Jun. Táan heard Kim interject sporadically, alternating between English and Mandarin. Both men looked up and nodded as Táan walked into the room, then returned to their discussion.
“Dude, I’ve already confirmed with the Austrian that we can’t get any forged RFID chips smuggled in without three days’ notice. By that time, who knows? Someone may have reported these guys. It just isn’t worth it Jun. There’s gotta be another way, bro.”
Kim walked over to Táan, handed him a cup of hot tea and whispered, “It’s looking grim. They can’t come up with a plan to get us into the states without raising HighTower
’s alarms.”
“You guys will figure it out,” Táan yawned. “I’m going outside, it’s too stuffy in here.”
“Be careful. Now that we’ve been pulled over once, you shouldn’t show your face outside too often.”
“Got it.” Táan took a cautious sip of the tea and climbed the stairs. He stood on the landing, shirtless and barefoot. The sting of early autumn had already set in and the ocean breeze brought a chill. Táan stared at the sea and thought of home. Just then, Monk landed on the lid of a nearby dumpster. Placing his cup on the railing, Táan said, “Good morning, joker. Where have you been lately?” The raven twisted his head upside down and chattered, then hopped to the dumpster’s edge and peered into its opening. Pecking on the lid numerous times, Monk stared expectantly at Táan. “Oh, hell no. You should’ve been around to help us when we got stopped by the authorities the other day. You can get your own breakfast today, pal.” Táan swallowed the last of his tea and swung the door open, waiting long enough for Monk to fly through before closing it behind him. Douglas and Kim sat slumped in chairs, deep in conversation. “You guys get it all figured out yet?” Táan asked, sitting on the edge of the table. “C’mon, the hardest part of this whole mission was supposed to have been paddling the last 600 kilometers. This can’t be that big of a deal, right?”
Kim shook his head with resignation. “The difficult part may be behind us, but the closer to New Seattle we get, the more dangerous our mission becomes.”
Monk hopped onto the table and instantly spied a shiny gadget near the computer. Stepping over various components, the raven plucked up the trinket and turned to make off with it. Douglas snatched the device away. “Hey man, can you tell your bird to chill out on the whole grab n’ go thing? This shit isn’t cheap.”
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