The Pirates of the Apocalypse

by J. B. Craig

  “We don’t want no trouble,” one man said, who seemed to be the leader of the crew. “We just need your food. If you move slow and don’t get jumpy, everyone can live.”

  Maria held her hands up. “We barely have any, and we’re going to need it to get south,” she said. “But we can spare a little. There’s no need for violence. Just leave us enough to get to our destination.”

  “Shut up, Maria,” Pete muttered. “We can find food on the way.”

  “They look like decent people, Pete. We can give them a box of MREs,” Maria called, loudly enough to calm some of the others in the boat. “We only need six. Two meals each. They can have the rest.”

  “We’ll be taking anything we want…anything.” One of the rougher-looking men leered at Maria. “And you look good enough to eat.”

  “Shut up, Wilbur!” the leader called. Pete tensed up, reaching behind him with both arms in a protective gesture.

  Pete whispered, “I’m going to have to kill that fuck. Talking to you like that.”

  A whispered, “not this time” came from the cabin. At that moment, Bannon emerged into the cockpit with his head low, below the gunnel. He was still out of sight of the John-boat. “When I say duck, do it,” he whispered. “Don’t think, don’t protest. Just drop to the deck.”

  The leader continued from the boat. “Now, y’all just cooperate, and nobody gets hurt, okay?” He said this as the jon-boat was rowed closer. When it was only a dozen feet away, Bannon screamed “Duck!”

  Maria dropped to the deck, pulling Pete down with her, such that he was laying on top of her. He took a split second to cover her head with his arms, and curled around her, with his back to the trespassers. Bannon threw one of the grenades Reid had given him directly into the middle of the john-boat. Over the gunnel, Maria heard panicked shouts and the sounds of gunshots as the men opened fire on the sailboat.

  A loud boom rang out, followed by silence. Maria cautiously looked over the gunnel of the boat and saw dead men everywhere, floating in the bay and crumpled in the boat. Wilbur, who had said that she was good enough to eat, was still in the boat; he was holding a leg wound and screaming. He was under a fellow attacker, and that fellow was well and truly dead.

  Bannon came out of the cabin and emptied a three-round burst into the screaming man. After her ears stopped ringing, Maria could only hear the sound of the waves.

  “We should get out of here, cuz,” Bannon said. He went forward and put his back into pulling on the anchor line. “Pete – get up here!”

  The two put their backs and legs into it, and between them and some rocking back and forth, they were able to finally pull the boat off the last of the mud. The freed Miss Behavin’ swung into the inbound tide. In a minute, the sails were up, and she was heading north along the shore of the island.

  “I need a few tacks into the wind to clear the north tip of the island,” Maria said. “Then we can turn and run south and leave this place behind.”

  Maria couldn’t help but feel guilty as she looked at the island. She could see numerous women and children standing on docks or the shoreline, crying and pointing at her. She took cold comfort in the fact that the dead guys picked the fight, while her crew just defended itself. Wilbur would have been a problem, even if the rest of the community was just hungry. They didn’t know what almost happened to her crew.

  Still, while Bannon might have overreacted, he had saved their food, if not their lives. A few cases of MREs wouldn’t be enough to feed a starving community, but they would last the trio a few weeks when supplemented with fish and salvage. She knew that they couldn’t save everyone but hoped that the community on Poplar Island found a way to make it through the rest of the apocalypse. It would be harder to survive with all those men lost.

  The grenade from Reid had turned a dire situation into a victory of overwhelming firepower and no losses. More and more, Maria was starting to understand her dad’s favorite saying from the Army: “The right pressure applied at the right time can be a force multiplier, turning one man into twenty.”

  As they ran down the Chesapeake Bay, Maria felt the boat start to turn sluggishly. It was also running a little low in the water. She asked Bannon to check out the bilge and had Pete hold the tiller as she tied herself off so she could hang off the side. Maria was starting to suspect that her initial thought of “no losses” was about to get a reality check.

  Sure enough, once Maria ducked down, she could see about a half-dozen shrapnel and bullet holes in the hull, some above the water line and a few just below. “We’re taking on water!” she announced, and dispatched Pete to get the hand-pump as she held the pump’s hose outlet by her elbow as she took the tiller and steered.

  Pete started pumping, and Bannon tagged in with him. When Pete was back on the pump, Bannon came out, dropping a cinder block from each hand over the side. “Cuz, I got bad news,” he said. “We can’t stay ahead of it. If we pump our ass off, we’ll probably only take on another inch of water every twenty minutes, but we can’t do this forever. We’re going to need to ground it and figure out how to patch these holes, or we’ll sink.

  “Luckily, they’re just hull holes,” Bannon continued. “All of our treasures inside should be okay; we moved the HAM radio to the highest point, and our food is fine. But the water won’t stop. A superhero couldn’t pump fast enough to stay ahead of it. The more water we take on, the more holes there are to fill up!”

  “Well, I think we’re coming up on Calvert Cliffs State Park,” Maria said. “But I remember Dad saying there was a nuclear plant there, so we need to steer as clear of it as we can. If we can make it to the Patuxent, we should be okay.” She handed her cousin the outlet. “Why don’t you steer for a while, and I’ll get a bucket? If it’s getting that deep, I can scoop and dump.”

  As Bannon took the wheel, Maria went below and grabbed a cleaning bucket. She was fine at first, but it was hard work jogging up and down the small boat stairs with heavy buckets of water and anything else that was heavy and unnecessary to lighten the load. As she was becoming too fatigued to keep up with the steady inflow of water, Pete suggested a duty rotation - sail, man the bilge pump, or bail with the bucket.

  Sailing was the closest thing to a break they got, but even then attempting to sail a heavy, sinking sailboat in high bay winds was a difficult task. Each eastern tack to the hole-ridden side would pull in massive amounts of water, so it was a delicate balance between keeping wind in their sails and keeping the boat up. With all three of them working as efficiently as they could, they stayed just ahead of ‘sunk.’

  Finally, Maria knew that she had to take a more difficult action. On one of their western tacks, when Maria knew they would be tilted with most of the holes out of the water, she asked Bannon to get on the HAM radio and see about repairs and refit. Ban moved quickly to set the radio up, dialing in the frequency Reid had given him to the Naval Air Station on the Patuxent.

  “NAS Patuxent, this is Dragon Two,” Bannon said. Maria was glad she’d put him on radio duty - his voice was calm despite the dire situation. “We’re a civilian sailing vessel with military papers. We’re taking on water, and need to refit and repair. Requesting shelter, over.”

  They all breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the radio crackled to life. “Dragon 2, this is Pax NAS,” the voice called. “Be advised we don’t have services for refit and repair at this time. Repeat, we don’t have services. Advise alternate destination. Do you copy, over?”

  “They won’t let us fucking stop there?” Pete called from below, but Maria hurriedly hushed him as Bannon relayed his reply. “Understand, Pax NAS. Don’t have services. Request alternate port suggestion, over.” As he released the ‘talk’ button, Ban called to his shipmates, “Don’t Have Services is code for DHS. We’ve got to steer clear.”

  “Hurry up,” Maria called. “I have to tack again, and the wind is picking up. We’ll need you back on bailing in a minute here.”

  “Dragon 2, this is Pax NAS. We r
ecommend International Seafarers’ Union at Piney Point. They have repair services and will honor Military Ration Cards for your refit. Caution, another summer storm coming in. Recommend closer Malone Bay Harbor to southeast if the storm or your condition forces it, over.”

  “Thank you, Pax NAS, understood,” Bannon replied. “Directions appreciated. Dragon Two out.”

  As he was setting the radio aside, the voice said, “Be advised, Dragon 2, Dragon 1 sends best wishes. Advises you to check six, over.”

  “Roger, Pax NAS, much appreciated. Pass on our status when possible,” Bannon said with a grin. “Dragon Two out.”

  “They’re telling us to watch our backs?” Pete asked from below.

  “Yeah,” Maria replied. “Sounds like he was a friend of Reid’s. It sounds like they’ve got a heavy DHS presence at the naval air station, so we’ll need to keep an eye out for military.”

  “I don’t think we’re making it to Piney Point,” Bannon said to Maria, having dropped the radio handset to consult their map. “It’s pretty far south of us, and almost directly across from Rock Harbor. If we could push it there, we’d be home free, but I don’t think she’s going to stay afloat that long.”

  Maria nodded grimly. “We need to find a sandbar in a safe harbor before all of us are too tired to keep up with the water. The wind and current are working against us, and Miss Behavin’ is getting heavy again.”

  “I think we can make it to Fisher Point harbor,” Bannon suggested. “It’ll be the first harbor on our starboard.”

  “Okay,” Maria agreed. “If you know how to get us there, do you wanna switch with me? I can go back to bailing for a while.”

  Bannon shook his head. “You keep us afloat. I got a bit of a break; I’ll go help Pete below.” He gave her a confident smile as he grabbed two buckets to double-bail, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Maria had known her little cousin long enough to know that he was genuinely worried.

  Maria knew that she was walking a razor-thin line as she made for the harbor. Pete and Bannon called out the rising water height from below - she could hear and feel the water sloshing each time she tacked, and she knew it would be a close one. She would have to briefly run north to build up some speed, and then make her approach from the east, allowing the boys to catch up on bailing. She would try to run them aground with a sharp turn to starboard and beach it on the sandbar. Hopefully it would be steep enough to allow them to rescue their gear from the boat.

  Maria was surprised how close they got to the shore before she felt the keel bite into the sand. It hit the bottom hard, and then slid them a few feet closer to shore, cutting deeper into the sand before finally coming to a complete stop. She heard Pete and Bannon swearing below as they struggled to maintain their footing with the abrupt landing, and smiled despite herself.

  As she headed down the steps to inspect the damage, Maria could see that the Miss Behavin’ had slid to the point where she was actually a little higher out of the water than she had floated in, water running off the floorboards and out of the hull holes. “Alright,” Bannon said, as Pete, who had been doing the bulk of the bailing while they discussed their plans, caught a much-needed breath. “I’m getting the radio out first. Maria, you got any trash bags in your pack? I’m hoping not to get this baby too wet.”

  After the radio was safely waterproofed, Bannon held it above his head and cautiously jumped overboard. He landed in about chest-deep water and waded to shore with it, setting it down on the beach. “Water’s fine,” he joked as he waded back out, hoisting himself back onto the boat’s small swim platform and climbing up. “C’mon, Cap and Pete! We need to abandon ship.”

  Maria grabbed her bag and rifle. Preferring to climb rather than jump, she picked her way down to the platform and slipped into the water, holding both overhead. Her toes hit the sand on the bottom as the water came up to her chest. Fortunately, she was able to take a few steps into shallower water , and was able to inch her way forward until she hit a steeper up-slope of mud. She slipped forward, landing on her knees, cussing. She eventually staggered up to shore and dropped her gear by the radio, going back for a second load with muddy knees and a grumpy look on her face as Bannon snickered at her at her.

  As she waded down into the water, she passed Pete, who looked completely comfortable - he was tall enough that the water didn’t even fully cover his chest as he brought his own pack, medical bag and rifle to shore. “This is ridiculous; I hate tall people,” Maria grumbled, as Pete laughed.

  “Hey, Bannon,” Pete called. “Put your cousin in the boat, and let’s make a chain. She can dig out the gear from the cabin, you can climb up and down the platform, and I’ll walk it to shore. It’ll go a lot faster than her trying to tiptoe stuff out up that muddy bank.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Bannon agreed, immediately handing his box of food to Pete to walk to shore. “C’mon little lady,” he called to Maria. “Let’s go!”

  “You’re no giant either!” Maria yelled, mock-offended. “I can kick your shins out any day!”

  “I’d like to see you try, peanut!” he replied cheerfully, as Pete guffawed. As Maria clambered up onto the platform next to Ban, she gave him a sharp smack to his shoulder. A quick yelp didn’t stop their snickering, but she at least felt like she got some of her own back.

  Item by item, they rescued the gear out of the beached sloop. They were clearly all exhausted and a little punchy - Pete continued to shout out short jokes that Bannon laughed at with great glee, and even Maria finally just gave up and laughed with them. Their assembly line managed to get everything safely to shore - with Bannon and Pete working together, they were even able to lift Maria and Pete’s bicycles out with minimal water damage.

  As they confirmed that they had gotten everything out, Maria swam back to shore to join Bannon and Pete on the sandbar. She was soaked head to toe, her arms ached, and her scarring on her back was pulling tight in complaint. “Ship number two down,” she sighed.

  “Nothing you could’ve done differently,” Bannon said. “I’m sure we’re all hungry and tired. Let’s pitch a quick camp and get some rest.”

  “Man, I gotta be honest with you,” Pete said. “I’m beat. I’m about five seconds from passing out. If you guys wanna set up, by all means, but…” He gestured to the area where he’d sat down, the shoreline giving way to a smattering of fallen pine needles from nearby trees. “The ground has never looked so good. Let me check the lady’s injuries, clean her up, and I’m done.” He got out his bag, and told Maria to take off her shirt and show him his back. She started to get angry at the order, but realized from the look on his face that Peter really was concerned.

  “It’s all below my sports bra, so don’t even try to get that off, you perv.”

  Pete was too tired to even have a quick comeback. He pulled off her soaked dressing, threw it on the ground, and pulled open some sort of alcohol swab. In less than a minute, she was cleaned, re-dressed, and ordered to put on a fresh-ish T-shirt. “I don’t want that nasty river water getting you infected, Captain. I’m gonna crash now, OK, Bannon?”

  “I’m with you, but I’m worried about our gear with those clouds rolling in,” Bannon said, pointing to an ominous-looking storm front. “But if you wanna get some rest while Maria and I do it, go for it. It’ll only take us a couple of minutes. You were a machine with that pump below decks today.”

  “I try, but that’s all you get for a while.” Pete joked. He reached an arm over to his pack, dragged it over, and dug out his lined raincoat. “Gimme twenty minutes, and if you guys aren’t done, I’ll get my ass up and finish it.” He curled into a nylon-covered camouflage ball, punched his pack down into a makeshift pillow, and rolled onto his side. He hadn’t been kidding about how tired he was, Maria realized - within only a few minutes, she could hear soft snores from his side of the ‘camp.’

  Maria and Bannon worked together to protect the rest of their gear that wasn’t waterproof, cobbling together trash bags, salvaged tarps fr
om the boat, and space blankets from their emergency supplies. With the bare minimum accomplished, they both collapsed onto their butts on a log near the sleeping Pete. “I’ll take first watch,” Bannon volunteered, as Maria nodded, wrapped up in another space blanket and her poncho liner. They were all shivering - the June water was okay to swim in, but with the understanding that you’d have a warm towel, dry clothes, and a comfy bed waiting for you at the end of the day.

  Maria felt a little guilty - she’d done the bulk of the sailing, so theoretically she should be the first to sit up on watch - but she was too tired to argue. She nodded sleepily and lied down next to Pete. The crinkle of the blanket must’ve woken him, because his eyes fluttered for a second, and he yawned as he squinted at Maria in confusion. “Hey,” she whispered. “Sorry. Go back to sleep. Ban’s on watch.”

  “Hey,” Pete muttered. As her teeth chattered, he motioned her closer, lifting an arm up. She scooted in quickly, a little embarrassed but grateful for the extra body heat as he curled up against her, draping his arm over her shoulders. It was the safest Maria had felt in weeks, and if she’d been any less tired, she might have savored the moment - but she was bone-weary, and was asleep within minutes.