by Nora Penn
Carol had started to cry when she saw how afraid the older couple looked. James picked her up and set her in the boat. As he set her down he cupped her head in his hand and whispered “Daddy loves you.” He knew this wasn’t good for her to see, and he would make it up to her as best he could. To her credit, her crying wasn’t a demonstrative sobbing like a lot of kids would have done, but rather a quiet weeping. It was no less heartbreaking, but it made the whole unfortunate episode just a tad bit easier to endure.
Once they were in the water James started to think about a plan. He would cut the boat’s engine as he approached the Happy Clam, so that he could glide in unheard, and then pull up alongside the fishing vessel. He instructed Carol that when he got to the Happy Clam that she was to stay hidden under a blanket that the older couple had left in the boat. The entire time he explained this, he went to great pains to keep any anxiety from creeping into his voice. But the fact is that he was beyond worried about both Hannah’s and Carol’s safety. And he was prepared to be positively brutal to anyone who endangered his family. If Steve was on The Happy Clam, and James did manage to catch him, he wouldn’t want Carol to witness the man’s fate.
The sun had fallen in the sky and it was nearing twilight. When the fisherman finally spied the Happy Clam up ahead, it cast a long shadow over the golden dappled waves. His heart raced as he saw that the boats that they’d taken over – both his and Steve’s – were alongside the fishing vessel. Steve must have taken his boat and tugged his own behind him, figuring that by doing so he would be leaving James stranded. That no good bastard, James muttered under his breath.
He was just about to cut the engine on the older couple’s boat when he heard a gunshot.
Now, instead of cutting the engine, he cranked it up to top speed and drove straight at the fishing vessel.
“Get under the blanket, Sweetheart!” he shouted to Carol over the roar of the motor. He hadn’t explained the situation to his daughter, but he could tell that she somehow grasped how serious things were. She said ‘Okay Daddy’ and obeyed his instructions.
“Stay hidden until Daddy comes back to get you.”
She nodded one last time and withdrew her tiny head into the darkness underneath the blanket. James turned back to the fishing vessel which loomed ahead.
It seemed to take him forever to get there, even plowing through the water at top speed. But he finally reached the vessel, cutting the engine when he was a few yards away. Rather than take the time to tie the smaller boat up alongside the fishing vessel, he merely threw an anchor so that it landed on the Happy Clam’s deck, so the smaller boat wouldn’t float off. As soon as he was within jumping distance he leaped onto the deck of the fishing boat, ran to the door of the cabin, and kicked it open.
Inside the cabin, Steve was leaning against a wall, holding his side. Blood poured between his fingers as he held a fresh gun wound in his stomach. Hannah was on the opposite side of the cabin, looking harried, with the 22 in her grip.
“What the fuck do you want?” Steve grunted at James.
The truth is that he didn’t get that far. He made it as far as saying ‘fuck do you wa…’ when James’s thrown fishing knife shattered the right lens of his mirror sunglasses, entered his eye socket, and pinned the back of his skull to the wooden wall.
The fuck up’s jaw fell open and blood ran out of his open maw, leaving a brand new stain on his badly soiled track suit.
James turned from the dead man to look at Hannah. He had never seen her look so relieved. She lowered the 22 and said “Thank God you’re here.”
James went to Hannah and they embraced. The fisherman was careful not to press against his wife’s belly. She put her face in his chest and wept softly. James didn’t want to leave Carol outside. After a moment he gently extracted himself from his wife’s embrace, giving her a kiss on her forehead. He looked down at her feet as he stepped away and made the comment that she was wearing some jive ass slippers, which was something of a private joke.
Hannah smiled despite herself. But the smile was discarded as a more familiar look of concern came over her features.
“Were you able to get Carol to the hospital?”
“Yes. The news isn’t good.”
Hannah looked down.
“Brain tumors,” James confirmed. “Several of them. At the moment we’re without a way forward. The best we can do is to keep her comfortable.”
“I was afraid of this,” she said with a sigh that came from the bottom of her heart.
“I have a copy of the scan. Let me take care of Carol, and get this dead asshole off the boat, and we’ll talk more about it.”
James walked past Steve’s bleeding corpse, which was still securely pinned to the wall, and stepped back on the fishing vessel’s deck. He went over to the older couple’s boat, which the anchor had held secure.
“Okay, Sweetheart,” he leaned over the side and whispered to the lump in the blanket. The edge of the blanket rose up and Carol peeked out.
“Can I come out now?” the seven year old whispered back.
“Yes,” James said. “But I want you to stay on the boat for just a moment more.”
“Okay,” the little girl whispered.
“And I’m going to take this blanket…” James said and dragged the blanket off the boat. Carol did as her father asked and continued to sit in the boat.
James tucked the blanket under his arm and went back in the cabin. Hannah had sat back down and was holding her belly, not so much out of pain, but almost as if to comfort the tiny inhabitant for having to endure a traumatic event.
James went up to Steve’s corpse and tugged on the knife that was stuck in his head. James had thrown the knife with such force that half the handle was sunk inside the man’s skull, making it exceedingly difficult to retrieve the blade. James had to put one foot against the wall and twist the knife as he yanked on it. There was a sickening SQWUNCH sound as the blade came free. James caught Steve’s body as it slumped forward. He wiped the knife on the would-be rapist’s tracksuit and stuck it back in its sheath. Then he wrapped the man in the blanket and threw him over his shoulder.
Being careful to leave the cabin through the door opposite the side that Carol was on, he laid the swaddled corpse on the deck. Then he walked back around to the other side.
“Okay, Sweetheart,” he said to Carol and helped her to climb out of the boat. She gave him a big hug when she got back on the fishing boat’s deck. It was almost as if she knew what a terrible event her parents had been through and was congratulating them for the mere fact they were surviving in such a cruel world. James knew that she didn’t know what had occurred and he made a solemn vow to himself never to tell her. As far his daughter was concerned, she would never know what happened to the strange man in the tracksuit who had travelled with them into Boston one day when she was seven years old.
Once Carol was inside the fishing boat, Hannah set about washing her up.
“How’s your head feel, baby?” Hannah asked.
“Fine,” Carol said. “We saw spiders today.”
“You did? I hope they were all far away.”
“Nope!” Carol said, excited to tell her the story. She proceeded to explain to Hannah about how they had got in a car and were driving over all the mean spiders. While their daughter was regaling Hannah with their adventures, James went back out on the deck where Steve’s blanket-wrapped corpse was still lying. He brought some duct tape with him and wrapped it around the blanket, making it look like a mummy. Then he wrapped the parcel with a chain and attached the other end of the chain to his heaviest anchor. As soon as he was done, he nudged the anchor to the edge of the deck with his foot and gave it a final shove.
The anchor plummeted into the water. The thick chain unfurled, making a hell of a racket as the links passed over the edge. James took a step back as the swaddled corpse flopped over the edge and was pulled down into the frothy waters of the Atlantic. The fisherman could have simply let the c
orpse float off without weighing it down. There were certainly enough bloated dead bodies littering the shores these days. But it brought him some peace of mind to dispose of the body a little more neatly than it deserved. For the first time he could remember, the fact that law and order was a thing of the past had worked in his favor.
“Rest in peace, shit head,” he said and spat at the trail of bubbles.
Having carried out his brief ceremony, he walked back inside.
“What was all that noise, Daddy?” Carol asked with a perturbed look on her face. The racket had interrupted her story telling.
“Oh nothing, sweetie. Just taking care of some unfinished business.”
This bland response seemed to satisfy the seven year old, who launched right back into her tale of how she and her father and some strange man with sunglasses had outsmarted the mean spiders of Boston’s north end.
Chapter 11
James wanted very badly to spend time with his family just then. So much craziness had transpired on that eventful day that his head was spinning from the sheer tumult of happenings. And the only thing to remedy the feeling he had that chaos roared on all sides would be to hold his wife and daughter in his arms until they all fell asleep. But he soberly accepted that he had one more task to complete that day before he could rest his head.
The sun had sunk halfway behind the horizon, and the light was quickly fading from the sky, so he had to work quickly. He tied his boat to the couple’s boat and set about tugging it across the water back to shore. He managed to make it back to the mainland just as the night fell.
As luck would have it he was able to see the couple’s RV. The older man and woman were where he had left them. The old man stepped out of the vehicle as he heard the motor of his stolen boat approach.
James pulled the boat ashore as the older fellow walked down to him.
“I was going to drive off,” the old man said. “But Sonja told me that you would be back.”
“I’m sorry I had to take your boat,” James said, stating the obvious.
The old man nodded.
“My name is Bill, by the way…” the old man said and held out his hand.
“James,” the fisherman said and they shook hands.
The old man’s wife got out of the RV and came over.
“This is Sonja,” Bill said, introducing his wife. “James,” the fisherman repeated and shook Sonja’s hand.
“I knew you would come back,” Sonja said, smiling in a grandmotherly way. “I told Bill. I said that’s a good man in a tight spot. He’ll be back, I told him.”
“Thank you for believing in me, Ma’am.”
“Can I get you a beer?” the old man asked. “I’ve still got a couple. Last beers in Boston, I’d wager.”
James sighed. “I would love to…” he said. “But I have to get back to my wife and kid.”
“No problem. We can always do a rain check,” the older man said good-naturedly.
“Before I go, let me help you get this boat on top of your RV…” James suggested.
“I’d appreciate that, young man.”
James helped the man get the boat back up on top of his RV and helped him secure it.
As they worked, James clued the older couple in on why he’d had needed their boat so badly.
“I know it inconvenienced you both,” the younger man said. “But being able to use your boat may have saved my wife’s life.”
“I could tell it was something important,” Sonja said in her understanding fashion.
“Yes, without it I might be a widower. And my daughter might not have a mother. So we are forever in your debt.”
James skipped over the gory details of how he had dispatched Steve. Even so, there was the unspoken understanding in the air that some serious business had gone down. Based on the fact that James had fulfilled his word by returning the boat, the older couple plainly felt that, for once at least, good had triumphed over evil. This was something that was by no means a given, especially not in that dangerous time, and so the three of them savored the rare sense of things being set right for a change.
After a little bit more small talk, James said that he had to be going. The couple told him that they hoped they would run into each other again at some point.
“Maybe you can bring your wife up to our lighthouse,” Bill said, adding “Sonja here makes a mean cherry pie.”
“And Bill here is pretty handy with the grill,” she said, topping him.
James laughed and agreed that they should all hang out sometime. Then he finally said goodnight.
As he motored his small boat back to the Happy Clam, James reflected that the older couple – Bill and Sonja – had provided him an immeasurably valuable service. They had reminded him that good people still exist in the world.
Chapter 12
James and Hannah stayed up a little later than usual that night, talking about all the challenges that faced them, all the important decisions that they needed to make. The two most pressing concerns – in addition to the ever-present concern of merely staying alive – were maintaining the health of their daughter, Carol, which meant having enough Algopyrin on hand to keep her from suffering one of her crushing headaches, and ensuring the safe birth of their son, Ben, who they expected to arrive at practically any moment. Towards this end both James and Hannah had worked very hard to provide a safe, stable environment to have their baby in and to raise him in.
At some point Hannah declared that she was going to get some sleep and pulled the curtains across the little porthole that was next to their mattress, so that the moonlight wouldn’t keep her awake. James told her that he was going to have one last cigarette up on the deck and then join her.
“Okay Sweetie, if I’m sleeping when you get back, sweet dreams. I love you.” She puckered up her lips for a kiss. James said ‘I love you’ and kissed her lips and then her swollen belly.
On the way up to the deck he peered in on Carol to make sure she was okay. She hadn’t had a headache for the whole second half of the day, which was a blessing. He knew that her comfort wasn’t bound to last, but he was grateful for whatever moments of pain-free existence she managed to have. Satisfied that she was okay for the moment, he crept up to the deck, trying to keep the noise he made to a minimum.
The sky was clear and the stars were out in full force. That was one nice thing about the power grid being down, the fact that the stars no longer had any competition from all the light pollution that had come from cities that lined the East Coast. Without the ever-present haze of city lights to dull their shine, the twinkling of the stars was positively riotous. It reminded James of a fireworks display, except that it was happening all through the universe and not just in one part of the sky. Adding to the celestial spectacle was the moon, which was a day or two from being totally full. The glowing orb left its shimmering trail of silvery light on the ocean waves, which were thankfully gentle that evening.
James lit up a cigarette and smoked in it in the tranquil silence that followed. Quiet moments like this were rare and he had to enjoy them while they lasted. Halfway through the smoke he decided to try the URH radio. It hadn’t been worth a damn lately, but that was more an issue with a lack of users than with the equipment itself. The first thing he did was to adjust the volume. He didn’t want the crackle of the static to wake up Hannah or Carol.
Sifting through the spectrum he encountered mostly white noise. Every now and then he’d happen across a snatch of conversation or something that sounded like a word, but these were becoming increasingly rare and were tough to zero in on. He’d had a few conversations but he had to be sure that whoever he talked to wasn’t in a nearby boat. And regardless of who he happened across on the dial he made sure not to divulge any personal details, such as the fact that he had a family.
Suddenly a voice jumped out of the crackle of static. “Hello Red Sox! Are there any Bostonians still around? Over.”
“Hey! Good Ol’ Boston here, I’m lis
tening. Over!” James was so excited he forgot about his boat mates who were sleeping below. Then he remembered and lowered both his voice and radio.
“This is Bigsby!” the voice boomed. “Your homeboy from New York. How goes it? How many are there of you? Over.”
Just hearing his voice, James had a mental image of this “Bigsby.” He pictured him as looking like a toady from a New York gangster film, but with some Rodney Dangerfield mixed in. His New York accent was strong, and there was something slightly dopey about him, like he was either half drunk or had just taken a hit off a joint.
“There’s hardly anybody left up here,” James said, obviously lying. “I haven’t seen anyone for weeks. How about you guys? How is New York City holding up? I hope you guys are still making that delicious pizza. Over.”
“It was a rough couple of weeks but now we’re doing a lot better. A lot more people are coming down here it seems. NYC is just a natural magnet for people, I suppose. And they’re starting to rebuild. It’s starting to feel like a regular community again. And yes, we’re still making our world famous pizza. Over.”
James’ eyebrows popped up. He’d always liked New York City, or parts of it anyway. Hmmm, he mused. Maybe it was time to pay another visit to the Big Apple.
“How are the spiders down there? Over.”
“That’s just the thing,” Bigsby said in his slightly dopey way. “The spiders are all starting to go away. I don’t know if they’re just getting bored, or what, but they’re all just kind of drifting off. And plenty of them are dying. I guess just because they can’t get enough food. We New Yorkers are tough, ya know! We’re not just gonna let these motherfuckers eat us without a fight!” Here he laughed good naturedly. “Over!”
“That’s good news! Over!”
“Oh, and here’s the best thing. There’s a new breed of spider. It’s not dangerous at all. It must be some kind of mutation as they call it. It’s a lot smaller than the other spiders – cuz you know those Black Hermit Spiders can be as big as dogs – no, these new ones are a lot smaller. And they’re real pretty too. They’re dark blue and they got black crosses on their backs. Over.”