Adventures
In A
Pair-A-Dice
First Edition Design Publishing
Sarasota, Florida
Adventures In A Pair-A-Dice
Copyright ©2015 Terry Michael Peters
ISBN 978-1622-878-64-2 PRINT
ISBN 978-1622-878-65-9 EBOOK
LCCN 2015934670
March 2015
Published and Distributed by
First Edition Design Publishing, Inc.
P.O. Box 20217, Sarasota, FL 34276-3217
www.firsteditiondesignpublishing.com
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means ─ electronic, mechanical, photo-copy, recording, or any other ─ except brief quotation in reviews, without the prior permission of the author or publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
I would like to dedicate this book to my Mother for encouraging me to write it all down, as well as, supporting me in all my endeavors. And, to my best friend Tom, who was a big part of this story.
Also, to my friends Gary and Doug, as well as to all those who have ventured down roads less travelled.
Tommy
3/3/1950 – 8/12/2001
Gary Doug
3/9/1951 – 3/4/2002 10/19/1955 – 11/21/2000
And, I’d like to thank Kimball Love, my girlfriend for the past 20 some years, for typing, editing and encouraging me to finish writing this story.
Adventures
In A
Pair-A-Dice
Terry Michael Peters
Chapter 1
As I held my hand up to my face, the tiny light from my watch sliced through the blackness of the night with the brilliance of a flashlight. It was now one o’clock in the morning and the air was thick with dampness as if it were about to rain.
It had been well over an hour since the last car had passed and I was getting wearier by the minute. I could have fallen asleep right there in the underbrush alongside the road except for the fear of waking up with a snake or some poisonous insect indigenous to the area as a bedfellow.
There I was standing in the middle of the state on a highway named after a reptile they use to make shoes and pocketbooks. This was the first time my Harley had ever left me stranded. It was more my fault than the bike’s though.
I had brought along a set of points but this time the condenser had fried itself. I was on my way to meet some fellow bikers then head up to Daytona for the annual run there. My girlfriend was waiting for me in West Palm and my not showing up at the prescribed time would leave her thinking that I had run into one of my usual diversions.
Just then I saw the lights of an oncoming vehicle heading in my direction. My first thought was to lie down in the road, thinking that whoever it was would stop. I was desperate at that point but I remembered a story once told to me of a person getting run over by a drunk that way and I opted for the conventional outstretched hand and a look of cold desperation.
As the lights got closer, I noticed that there were two pairs of headlights. I had been here for the past hour and a half without a car going by in either direction and now there were two cars, both going my way. The chances of my getting out of the godforsaken place and on to West Palm, where I knew a warm bed would be waiting, looked good. Before I could finish my thoughts, both cars roared past with the first of them almost running me down.
When I turned around voicing my disgust, I saw the brake lights come on and both cars came to a full stop. First they each went by me and now both cars wanted to give me a ride? I wasn’t about to reason it out, I just grabbed my bag and ran up the road toward the cars.
As I approached, a guy in the first car leaned out the window and told me to get in. I thought this to be odd but figured that both cars were travelling together. I squeezed into the back seat next to a couple of duffel bags and before I could get comfortably situated we were off and down the road.
My two newfound travelling companions seemed amiable enough. Introductions were made and after the usual exchange of information as to how far and where I was going, things got pretty quiet. I had mixed emotions about leaving the bike behind but felt sure that no one would find it after taking such care in camouflaging it with the brush from the roadside.
Just as I was figuring on getting some shut eye, the one who had introduced himself as Bruce started asking me a barrage of questions. He wanted to know what I did and where I was going after my stay in West Palm.
The questions kept coming and I was reaching the point of politely telling him how tired and in need of sleep I was when he asked if I would be interested in making some fast money. Now, I’d been around enough to know that when somebody asks if you’re interested in making some fast money it more than likely involves something illegal.
My first reaction was to say, “No. I don’t think so.”
I mean I was tired and, up to that point, was only thinking of a hot shower and a warm bed. But when he asked the second time, I thought I had nothing to lose by hearing out his proposition.
The proposition was that for five hundred dollars all I had to do was help him and his friend deliver a boat to a small island in the Bahamas that was about seventy miles from the coast of Florida. We would leave the boat in the islands and then we would fly back the following morning.
Right off it didn’t seem to add up but I reasoned that if these guys were smugglers they would more than likely be doing it the other way around - flying to this island and bringing a boat back. Then I thought perhaps someone there in the islands needed the boat for some such purpose and that it was worth his while to pay outlandishly to have his boat delivered to him in the islands.
For whatever reasons, I had the time and was always in need of money. I could use the extra money for the bottom end on my Harley’s engine. I had been wanting to split the cases for some time but the lack of money was holding me back. So I agreed to the deal and soon after things got quiet again. Not long after, I fell asleep.
When I woke up we were within the city limits. I looked around behind us and noticed that the car that had been travelling with us was gone but didn’t bother giving it anymore thought.
We stopped for coffee and when Bruce returned from making a phone call, he informed us that we would be leaving within the next hour. Kevin, who was the driver of the car that had delivered me from the wilderness to the warmth of the restaurant, seemed surprised that we would be leaving so soon.
The idea of heading out to sea at three o’clock in the morning didn’t bother me as I had done a lot of night sailing between the islands before. The plan was for Kevin and me to meet Bruce at the city marina in an hour and that he was going to ready the boat for the trip before we got there. As Bruce pulled away in the taxi, Kevin mentioned something about killing some time. He then turned around and walked back inside the restaurant.
I followed him back to one of the booths where we sat and drank more coffee. Like more than a few times before, we discovered that we both shared the mutual misfortune of having spent time in Vietnam during the height of the war. With the rehashing of old war stories the hour passed by quickly and it was now time to make our way to the Intracoastal Waterway.
Kevin pulled the car into the marina and I could see Bruce at the main dock in what appeared to be about a 34 foot Scarab. Sure enough, it was and it had the power, too. Kevin mentioned that the engines were a pair of reworked 400s an
d when Bruce fired them up the engines sounded like they had more than the usual grind on the cams.
Kevin unloaded the two duffel bags that I had shared the back seat with, along with a few more boxes from the trunk. Once everything was on the boat, we drifted away from the dock and were off.
We headed up the Intracoastal to the inlet, made a right, and in no time at all, we were doing 60 mph over an ocean that was like glass. The stars were bright and I wondered where they had been a few hours ago when I was stuck in the middle of nowhere.
Down below, the boat was laid out like a rich man’s home, complete with a sound system that made mine back home sound like a Walkman. Kevin yelled down below and asked if I wanted to handle the controls for a while.
As I took the wheel, he gave me one of those looks like ‘it’s all yours’. I brought the rpms up and trimmed off a bit as we roared on through the night to the sounds of Jackson Browne singing ‘Running On Empty’ accompanied by the throaty roar of the four hundreds doing their thing.
Time passed quickly and Bruce, who had been the quiet one since we left the restaurant, mentioned that we would soon be there and that he wanted to talk with me down below. I handed the helm back to Kevin and went down below.
Bruce was sitting there with a puzzled look on his face. I could see that something wasn’t quite right. I asked what was wrong. He then proceeded to describe a scenario that, from the beginning, I thought might have been the case. He then increased his monetary offer to two thousand dollars. Suddenly, I found myself in somewhat of a precarious situation.
My first impulse was to grab this joker by the throat and proposition him with a deal of life or death. At the same time, I figured these guys to be experienced hardball players and that they had already prepared themselves for my reaction to this news in any way, shape or form it might have taken.
I sat across from Bruce at the table and explained that being out here in the middle of the ocean left me little choice, but wanted to know why he hadn’t leveled with me from the start. As it turned out, earlier that day, there were, in fact, three of them that were prepared to undertake this venture themselves. Supposedly, at the last minute, one of them who remained nameless checked out - whatever that meant.
I asked what the whole deal was and was informed that we were heading for a rendezvous with a plane that would rain bales of a smokable type herb on us. I figured I was into it this far and had little choice at this point. I could explain that I was kidnapped or claim temporary insanity. The two thousand dollars did have a nice ring to it and Bruce offered to pay me right then should I decide to help them with their endeavors.
Now, if my mother had raised a fool, then surely it was one of my brothers. I took the money and stuffed into my pocket. I reasoned that if these guys were going to try to kill me they would do it whether I had taken the money or not. At least this way I wouldn’t die penniless.
It was getting lighter now and Kevin yelled down that we would be there soon and to get ready. At this point, Bruce proceeded to open up the duffel bags. To my amazement, he produced boxes of ammunition for a number of guns that he was now pulling out from beneath the seats we were sitting on a minute ago.
When I asked about the need for such armament, he reassured me that it was merely a precautionary measure. He then asked me how good I was with a gun. I was about to say something when Kevin called Bruce topside.
I could hear them arguing about something in muffled voices and got the impression that Kevin was defending me in some way. I figured that he was the one to trust. It was a gut feeling and perhaps due to us both sharing some deep-rooted feelings about our experience in Nam. Besides that, he hadn’t actually lied to me like Bruce had.
Kevin came down below and helped me finish loading the guns. I got the impression from the start that Bruce was running this show. I was reassured of that when I asked Kevin what was going on.
He just said, “You’re about to find out.”
After the weapons were loaded Kevin turned out the cabin lights along with the stereo. Without a word, I knew we were close to whatever it was that was going to happen. The reason for the lights being out was for our eyes to get better acclimated to the outside darkness despite the fact that it was getting lighter by the minute.
Just then I could hear the sound of a plane that was approaching us. As the plane got closer, I heard Kevin mention to Bruce that he hoped there would be no trouble with Bishop. I assumed that Bishop was their contact on the other end of the deal and let it pass. Besides, by now my stomach had a bad case of the butterflies and I was psyching myself for what was about to happen.
I kept telling myself that the plane would drop the dope, we would pick it up and then head back. I’d worry later about how these guys were going to get the merchandise back through the inlet and to its destination. Then my ears detected that the plane was leaving and went up topside to check it out. Topside, Bruce was looking through a pair of binoculars and telling Kevin to get the boat started and moving.
In a flash, the engines came to life and we were off. I grabbed the hand rail on the top of the cabin to maintain my balance. The wind had increased and we were pounding the surface of the ocean with a vengeance. Bruce was starting to lose his cool manner and was now yelling for Kevin to get more to the right of our present position. I could now see the merchandise bobbing in the water a hundred yards off our starboard side.
With the overpowering noise from the four hundreds and the three of us looking out ahead, none of us was aware of what was bearing down on us from behind. In no time at all we were among the bales of precious cargo. Kevin disengaged the drive unit as we were right on top of two of the bales.
Reaching over the side, Bruce and I grabbed hold of one and up and over it came. Kevin had hold of another one at the stern of the boat and was yelling for help. I jumped up on to the stern deck and proceeded to help him procure the second in what seemed to be about twenty bales that were floating all around us.
No sooner had we gotten the bale up and on top of the engine compartment when I heard what I thought to be a shot ring out. I looked over at Kevin and, to my amazement, saw blood all over the front of his jacket. Looking back, I found the source of the shot to be a boat that was bearing down on us.
Before I could make a move or voice a warning I felt the drive unit engage and the four hundreds scream to an unbelievable level of rpms. The boat seemed to just sit there, like a race car spinning its wheels, then seconds later, like slick tires grabbing asphalt, the props took hold and we were off. I held on for my life as a thousand thoughts seemed to flood my mind. I turned toward Kevin and he was gone, along with the second bale, now over a hundred yards behind us.
From my experience in Vietnam I had learned that when being fired upon, one should run, hide or fire back and not necessarily in that order. More important than that was to never make oneself a target. I clawed my way off the rear deck and into the cockpit of the boat. All this time I could hear lots of gunfire. Some of the rapid fire indicated that these boys had automatic weapons. If we could keep the distance between us and the other boat we might be alright but where the hell would we go? We couldn’t race these guys all the way back to the States. For what seemed to be hours, but was in fact only minutes, I hadn’t said a thing to Bruce who, between steering the boat, eyeing our pursuers and avoiding being a target himself, was frantic at the wheel.
I was trying to come up with some course of action as I lay there on the floor of the boat staring at this bale of weed. That’s it, I thought, give them what they want. I stood the bale on end taking care to stay low and behind it all the while as I maneuvered it up and over the side of the boat. There, I thought to myself, but my theory proved wrong as seconds later I saw the seat cushion ripped apart by gun fire.
For the second time, I looked up at Bruce. This time he looked quite different than before. I could see that he was scared, but even more than that, he looked to be in pain. When he saw that I was looking at hi
m, he turned to show me that he had been hit in the arm. He yelled for me to go below and grab the guns. As I went below I noticed that there was water now in the cabin but couldn't find the source.
I grabbed a rifle and a .45 hand gun and went back up to the cockpit. Giving Bruce the .45, I explained about the water and wanted to know what the plan of action was. I wanted to ask him a lot more than that, like who were these crazed maniacs and why they should want us so badly, but right then my main concern was survival and that meant losing these guys.
Within view was an island and I yelled for Bruce to head in toward it. I figured that if this boat was leaking we surely wouldn’t make it back to West Palm even if the gas held out. I also had no idea of how persistent these guys were going to be about catching us.
I tried firing a few rounds but it was useless with all the motion of the boat and besides that, it was once again making me a good target. I saw where that had gotten Kevin and then Bruce whose arm was now dripping blood all over the controls of the boat.
As we approached the island, I could see that there was a rock jetty that extended a good two hundred yards off from the shore and yelled ahead for Bruce to cut in behind it. I was thinking that perhaps we could round it, then beach the boat and take to the brush where we could have a better chance of standing them off.
They were now a few hundred yards behind us and I was crediting the four hundreds for that, but these guys were persistent. It didn’t appear that they were going to give up easily. I wondered what Bruce had done to provoke them this much. After all, we had left them all our weed. Then it dawned on me that Bruce had lied before and perhaps it was him running a scam on them rather than the other way around. Things started to make more sense with this theory. Later, I thought to myself, later.
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