Seeking Safe Harbor: Suddenly Everything Changed (The Seeking Series)

by Albert Correia

  “Seeds. The people at The Isthmus need them.”

  “We’ve got thousands we were taking with us to the mountains.”

  “Then let’s head straight for Highway 101,” Zach said.

  They hesitated when they heard the roar of motorcycles behind the house start up again. “They’ll see we’re gone and come after us,” Zach’s father said. “They’ll have to go to the main road and come here, the same way you did. The sounds of their motors are moving in that direction. We need to detour around the back way.”

  “We’ll follow you,” said Zach.

  “What’s happening?” George wanted to know. “It was really quiet out here until the shooting started.”

  “That’s the way it is these days,” Zach mused. “We’ll explain what happened this time as we go.”

  They drove in the opposite direction of the main highway, turning left at the first corner.

  The two wounded men came out onto the front steps and watched them disappear. A few seconds later, the first of the motorcycles, many of them now carrying two people, turned onto the street.

  Pulling up to the curb in front of the house, they looked over at the two men who clearly didn’t belong.

  “We’re looking for the people who have a bunch of food,” a large, scraggly-bearded man who was riding on the back of the first motorcycle called out.

  “They went that way,” the man with the leg wound called back, pointing toward the corner the Arthur family and friends had just turned. “They got the food and all kinds of other stuff with them.”

  “Other stuff? How about gas? They have any of that?”

  “Yeah, they got some full cans in the back of the SUV”

  “A bunch of hoarders. Is this their place?”

  “No,” the wounded man replied, “It’s ours.”

  “Yours?”

  “Yep,” the man said proudly.

  The bearded man and five others pulled out a variety of handguns and peppered the two men on the front step with bullets.

  “Ain’t no way I’m gonna let people that shoot at me live,” the bearded man snarled as he put a last bullet into the man's head. As soon as they were sure the “home owners” were dead, they jumped off their bikes and, stepping over the dead men, went to investigate the house.

  A few minutes later, having found nothing to eat and little they wanted to steal in the house, they came out and looked around. The bearded leader said to a man with a patch over one eye, “Blinky, are you sure it’s the same people?”

  “Same MO,” replied Blinky, trying to make it sound like a certainty. “They shot the tires out from under us on the 101, just like they did back there in the field. Gotta be the same ones.”

  “Then they’ll probably head back to the 101,” the leader surmised. He turned back to the man with the eye patch. “You take twenty guys and go watch for them on the 101, south of town. Me and the others will try to catch up to them. Between us, we’ll have them pinned down within the hour.”

  Chapter 46

  THERE was no way to stop them from shooting the rocket, but a split second before it fired, Stacey made one last, desperate move. She shoved the throttle full ahead and cranked the wheel hard to starboard. The shell from the bazooka, a small rocket with the power to stop a tank, whistled by, barely missing the stern.

  She knew it was a temporary reprieve, at best, but at least they had another minute or two of life. She could see the man with the bazooka zeroing in on the sailboat again. This time, he would be ready for any diversionary tactic she might employ. She was too far away to try to ram them again. They could get off four or five rockets in the time it would take to reach them, and they wouldn’t miss a target on a straight course, either.

  The La Sirena would be sunk long before it had a chance to get near them a second time. Even at that distance, she could see the evil smile on the face of the man with the bazooka. Great, she thought, we’ve come across one of those fiends who enjoys killing.

  “I’m sorry, Glen,” she said. “You, too, Millie. There’s nothing more I can do.”

  “Maybe not, but I can at least try to nail one or two before I die,” Millie growled. She began shooting at the distant boat.

  Glen followed suit.

  The men on the launch were under cover, but instinct told them to duck, so the bazooka was momentarily out of action. The bullets flew by without coming close to hitting anyone.

  All the crew on the sailboat had gained was another few seconds.

  The smile on the face of the bazooka triggerman broadened. He trained the weapon on the sailboat and called for a shell to be loaded. The second man picked up a shell and shoved it into the tube.

  Before they could get a shot off, the launch raised high in the air, knocking all of the men down and causing the bazooka to fall into the ocean. The nose of a submarine shot up right at the launch’s bow, creating a massive wave that lifted it and threw it backward. It rolled over and capsized, throwing all the men into the angry water.

  The submarine surfaced, stopped its forward motion, and backed up to where the swamped launch was laying half out of the water; the overturned boat was sinking rapidly. Two of the men were trying desperately to get a small dinghy loose from the davits that attached it to the launch. A third person was swimming around the bow of the boat, trying to get back to them – and away from the sub. There was no sign of the other men.

  Captain Wang, joined by two armed crewmembers, climbed onto to the conning tower deck and watched as the bad guys got the nine-foot fiberglass dinghy loose from the davits and climbed aboard. They all watched as the third man managed to get to the dinghy just as the launch sunk into the ocean.

  The Chinese captain called to them. “I suggest you head for shore.”

  If the men were surprised there was a Chinese submarine in California waters, or that the officer in charge spoke English, they didn’t show it. They looked out to sea, but the container ship was off in the distance and heading away at a fast pace. They apparently anticipated that would be the case, because their expressions didn’t change when they looked back. The only concern they expressed was for the unfortunate situation in which they suddenly found themselves. “We don’t have a motor,” the man who'd held the bazooka yelled back. “We don’t even have oars.”

  “Well, now, you do have a dilemma, don’t you?” Captain Wang was not sympathetic.

  “You sunk our boat!” the man screamed.

  “Because you were trying to do the same to friends of mine,” Wang reasoned. “A fitting response, I’d say.” The dinghy drifted close enough for him to get a good look at the men and converse just by talking a little louder than normal. He looked the three men over. None had anything but what they were wearing. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I will tow you ten or fifteen miles from here, far enough away to be sure you can’t get back to bother these people again. I will take you to within a mile of shore, and you can paddle with your arms to get the rest of the way in.”

  “By hand? That will take hours!”

  “Exactly.”

  By that time, the La Sirena had motored up alongside the submarine, on the opposite side of where the men sat in the dinghy.

  “Captain Wang,” Stacey called, “We thank you for saving us.”

  He went over to the other side of the conning tower. “Ah, Mrs. Arthur, so good to see you again.”

  “In this case, I can assure you the pleasure is all mine!”

  “No, not entirely. It is always a pleasure to see my friends.” He explained that he was going to take the three men far away.

  “Good! We dropped Zach, Denise, and the other two men off this morning. The three of us are alone out here.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “You know?”

  “We have a periscope.”

  “Which also explains how you knew we were under attack.” She voiced in a moment of realization. “It continues to be in our favor that you and your submarine are in the vicinity. What
are you going to do after you take those men to an isolated spot?”

  “As we agreed to do, we will once again become inconspicuous.”

  Chapter 47

  AFTER making the first left turn following their quick departure from his house, Zach’s father turned several more times. Zach understood they were simple evasion tactics and kept pace. Those on the motorcycles were too far back to see any of the moves, so they wouldn’t be able to follow easily.

  Fifteen minutes and twelve turns later, the elder Arthur pulled over to the side of a quiet street. There were several burned out houses nearby, but it appeared that the damaged happened weeks before, and there was no evidence of any people in the area. They surveyed the houses and the street for several minutes to be sure they were alone, and then they got out of their cars.

  “We need a plan,” the elder Arthur said when they met on the street.

  “Yes, we do,” agreed Zach. “But first, we all need to know one another. These are my friends, George and Ron. George and Ron, meet Glen and Mae Arthur.”

  “So, that’s where young Glen got his name,” George observed. “I suspect he’s proud.”

  “I can’t say if he is,” said the older Glen, “but it’s for sure that I’m proud he’s my grandson.”

  “I don’t recall your mentioning a George or a Ron in the past,” said Mae. “Are these new friends?”

  “You’re as sharp as ever, Mom. Yes, they are, and let me tell you how we happened to get together.” He gave his parents a quick rundown regarding what had taken place in the last month, ending with their trip to Santa Maria. “I’m afraid I recognized one of the motorcycle gang members as one of those that Denise shot the motorcycle out from under,” he admitted. “We probably led them to you.”

  “Don’t fret yourself over that,” his father told him, “because it isn’t true. If they had been following you, they would have come in from the front. That gang has been checking us out from the back of the house for the last couple of days. I think they picked that field because they could spread out and hit us with large numbers. The two of us with our single shot guns couldn’t have done what you three did with your automatic weapons. But, even with those weapons, there’s just too many to fight off. We knew it was coming, and that’s why we were packed and ready to go.”

  Zach looked over at the SUV. “That looks like a gas powered car,” he said. “How’d you get gas? On that note, how are they getting gas for their motorcycles?”

  “I don’t know about them, but I anticipated there would be a gas shortage, so I filled up the tank and twelve five-gallon cans while there was still a gas station or two intact. I hear that their tanks ran dry the next day, and there are no other ready sources. I haven’t driven the car since. I figured I would have enough to get to that survivalist camp in the mountains, and that was about it.”

  “Exactly where is that place.”

  “To be honest, I only have a general idea.”

  “Well, I think you two should come with us.”

  “I agree,” Glen Arthur said. “We should stick together. We’re family.”

  “Which brings us to the plan. The Coast Guard cutter I told you about is scheduled to pick us up tonight at midnight at Gaviota State Park.” He looked at his watch. It was almost noon. “We have twelve hours to get there.”

  “More than enough time,” his father said, “if not for that motorcycle gang. Did you come in on the 101?”

  “Yes. That’s where the two motorcycles tried to ambush us.”

  “They’ll be watching for us there. We can try Highway 135. Hopefully they won’t have it under surveillance, too.”

  “They’re doing all this for a little food and some supplies?”

  “That’s like gold these days. Besides, they’ve been watching us, so they know we have solar panels, batteries, and even some walkie-talkies. And, now that you’re here, they have a chance at getting some slaves.”

  “Slaves?”

  “That’s what I’ve heard they’ve started doing. People like that don’t like working, so they’re taking men to do the work for them. They want women around to do their bidding.” He looked at Denise, and then turned back to his son. “You need to be darn sure you don’t let our little girl here get taken by those thugs.”

  “Let ‘em try,” Denise exclaimed, sticking her AK-47 out at arm’s length so her grandfather could see that she was ready for them.

  Zach grinned. “There’d be a lot of dead ones.”

  “But,” his father opined sadly, “that’d still leave a lot of live ones. What say we not get in that situation? Follow me. I’ll take streets alongside Highway 135 and we can stop and check every now and then to see if they have the highway staked out.”

  They drove through a burned-out business district and on to a stretch of road that fronted the highway. They stopped at the end of the first block on that street, and Zach and his father got out and walked over to the corner of a building to look at the highway. The elder Arthurs took a set of binoculars he had in the SUV, so both men were able to survey the highway.

  They saw no activity, so they moved two blocks and repeated the procedure. The fourth time, Zach was first to the corner of a building and, immediately after focusing on the highway, he motioned for his father to use caution. The motorcycle gang was there.

  “Any thoughts?” Zach asked after his father had studied the area for a minute or two. Although the bikers were well over a mile away, the ex-army ranger whispered.

  “It’s them all right,” said the elder Arthur. A combat veteran himself, he, too, whispered. “There’s not many of them, though.”

  “Yeah, I saw that… and that’s exactly what worries me.”

  Chapter 48

  “WHY?” the elder Arthur asked. “The fewer the bett… ahhh, I get your drift.” He pointed to their cars. “Okay then, let’s go take a look.”

  They went back to the cars and trained their binoculars on the street ahead of them. The street angled slightly down, but they could see a couple of helmeted heads in the distance.

  “They must have every southbound street covered,” said the older man. “What we’ll have to do is go back seven or eight blocks and head west to Guadalupe. There are some country roads west of the town that eventually lead to Highway 1. The intersections are far enough south that we should be able to avoid these guys. How are you fixed for fuel?”

  “The tank is about empty, but we have another five gallons in the trunk.”

  “That should be enough,” his father said. “I doubt they have binoculars and probably can’t see us. But to be on the safe side, let’s back up slowly and in a straight line for a few blocks. By that time, the distance and the earth’s curvature will definitely have us out of their sight. We can put the fuel in, then head for Guadalupe.”

  They backed away carefully. If anyone was watching from a distance, they couldn’t see the cars move. Fifteen minutes later, the last five gallons of diesel was in the Mercedes, and the two cars were speeding as fast as they could around stalled autos, toward Guadalupe, a small town west of Santa Maria. Again, they saw few people, and most of them were just sitting forlornly along either side of the road.

  “Grandpa” Glen took several side streets after they passed through Guadalupe proper, and they ended up on a single lane road that passed through an area of small hills. It took more than three hours for them to get to the outskirts of Orcutt, a town south of Guadalupe. They skirted around the town and finally arrived at Highway 1.

  They were several miles south of Santa Maria and were confident they had escaped the motorcycle gang that was after them. The sun was rolling down toward the ocean, its light shining on the highway in front of them. It reflected off the windshields of several vehicles that were blocking the road. After a quick discussion, they agreed that Zach and Ron would drive to the blockade in the Mercedes to find out what was happening. The others remained in the SUV a hundred yards back.

  When they arrived, Za
ch and Ron saw there were six or seven armed men behind the cars. Taking their weapons with them, they got out of the car and walked over to the first car. “Why are you blocking the road?” Zach asked.

  “We are the appointed leaders for this area,” a gruff looking, overweight man of about fifty said from behind the car. “Where is it you’re going?”

  “To Gaviota.”

  “You may pass, but you have to leave your vehicles here.”

  “We can’t go on foot,” Zach protested. “We don’t have the time, and we have things with us, plus some elderly people.”

  “You are not allowed to take anything out of the area.”

  “By whose order?”

  “I told you, we’ve been appointed.”

  “By whom?”

  You ask too many questions! Now, go get the other vehicle and bring it here.”

  He eyed the AK-47s Zach and Ron were carrying. All the weapons the men behind the cars had appeared to be single shot or, at best, semi-automatic. “Leave your weapons. No one except us can have weapons.”

  “By order of…?”

  “Just do as I say.”

  Zach and Ron exchanged glances. They backed slowly toward the Mercedes.

  “Where are you going?” the overweight “leader” demanded.

  “You ordered us to go get the other car.”

  “Leave those automatic weapons here.”

  “No can do!” said Zach as he and Ron eased into the Mercedes.

  Several of the men got up, went to the front of the cars, and watched suspiciously as Zach backed the Mercedes away. Unlike the forlorn people they saw off to the sides of the roads, none of these people appeared to be undernourished.

  “What was that all about?” Zach’s father asked when the Mercedes was alongside the Ford SUV.

  “It’s not good,” Zach told him. “They claim to have some kind of authority, and they want everything we’ve got.”

  “All our food?” asked Mae, who’d come over to the car.

  “Food, cars, guns, everything.”

  “Why, that’s robbery,” she said.