Ever since she’d left UCLA with her degree in marine biology, she’d dreamed of being able to make a living from her love of the sea, and specifically the dolphins that inhabited the Gulf of Mexico. Two decades as a tour guide all over the world had only sharpened her need to be her own boss.
And what a poisoned chalice that had proven to be. Turned out being captain of your own boat wasn’t just a matter of sipping champagne and barking orders. It was more about cleaning up vomit and fretting over whether you could make the next lease payment. She'd spent the best part of a year as Julio's apprentice so she could pass her 6-pack as a charter boat captain and had since forgotten just about all of it.
“Captain Fischer?”
She snapped out of her reverie and turned to see a man striding purposefully along the boardwalk, a young woman scurrying along in his wake.
“Please call me Ellen,” she said, “or Ellie.” She thrust out her hand.
He took it as his craggy face split into a smile, revealing white teeth that were slightly uneven. “Patrick Reid.”
Well, obviously, Ellie thought. She’d gotten used to being disappointed when she met actors or musicians, but Reid was almost as impressive in the flesh as he was on screen. He was like an old oak tree bearing the unmistakable signs of age but still strong. And his voice was just the same, except that in the movies he didn’t get to speak in his Northern British accent. Deep, melodious and blunt. She suspected that described him in a nutshell. Or perhaps a poor man’s Sean Bean.
“And this is Jodi.” He stepped back to reveal his companion, a slight woman with blonde hair, stars and stripes sunglasses, denim jacket and fashionably torn shorts.
“Yo,” she said, flicking her hand up in lazy greeting. She looked as though she wished she were anywhere but standing beside a catamaran on a sunny day in Clearwater Bay. “Look, are you gonna check my bags and stuff ’cause, like, that’s not cool.”
Reid rolled his eyes at Ellen. “Come on, J. We’re only doing what your uncle said. I’ve packed your tech and you can have it back when we return.”
“What I don’t get is how he talked you into being my babysitter,” she sneered. “Oh, no, of course. It was Dad’s money.”
Ellen spotted the momentary flinch before Reid composed himself. The young girl had hit the mark. Well, it had been a few years since she’d seen him in a big movie. Maybe he was broke? He wouldn’t be the first to blow a fortune on women and fast cars. Ten minutes on Wikipedia the previous night had revealed four marriages—two of them very brief.
“I didn’t need much persuading to look after my friend’s daughter. Now, shall we get onboard?”
Ellen stepped back and helped each of them onto the bow—his hands rough, hers as soft as kid gloves—then followed them and glanced along the boardwalk.
“Oh,” Reid said, “a bloke called Julio told me to say Tom’ll be along in a minute. Tom Cruise, I think he said.”
Snorting, Ellen shook her head. “No, Tom Cruz. He’s Julio’s boy.”
“Ouch! I’m not sure I’d do that to my son,” Reid added before his smile disappeared as if something had just occurred to him.
Ellen led them to seats on the fly bridge immediately behind the helm.
“Did the rest of our luggage arrive last night?” Reid asked as he settled into a seat and wrestled with the cork on a champagne bottle.
“It did,” Ellen said, remembering her shock at just how much luggage a young girl on a technology ban needed for three nights off the grid. “I’ll leave it to you to check.”
Reid grunted and glanced across at Jodi, who had cast herself onto a couch and was pretending to be asleep. “Great. Thanks.”
“Sorry I’m late! I was in bed when Paps called.” Tom’s head appeared as he climbed to the helm station.
“Did she mind too much?” Ellen asked. Whether by pure chance or the power of cosmic suggestion, he actually resembled his namesake—though he was taller and browner—so he rarely slept alone.
His mouth widened in a toothy grin. “I don’t know what you mean, Skip. We heading out soon? Tide turns in an hour.”
“We’ll go out with it. You know this is a three-night trip?”
Tom nodded, and Ellen turned to her passengers. “I’ll show you to your cabins while Tom gets the boat ready.”
Kujira had four cabins, which meant Tom would escape the indignity of having to sleep in one of the tiny berths in the bows. Ellie gave the best cabin to Jodi since her father was paying for the trip, though it had been her uncle who’d apparently suggested it. He’d been the one to insist that they spent the three nights and four days incommunicado. She was under strict instructions to isolate the boat from the world, except for the ship-to-ship channels she had to keep open for safety reasons.
It was a puzzle, and Ellie had gnawed at it like a dog with a bone ever since she’d gotten the call from Jodi’s father, infamous movie star Joel Baxter. He’d called from Morocco where he was filming, and he seemed as puzzled as she was about his brother’s demands. But Buzz Baxter was the brains of the family, and Joel had always taken his advice seriously.
Ellie knew Joel pretty well, and it had been through a contact of his that she’d heard about Kujira’s lease expiring a year ago. She’d built her business taking the spoiled rich into the bay to spot the dolphins since then. But the lease was expensive, and she wondered how much longer she’d be able to keep it going.
“Jeez, Skip, how long are we going for?” Tom said, emerging onto the fly deck. “I’ve just been in the stock room. Never seen so much food.”
Looking over her shoulder at him as he approached the helm, she said, “I know, but Joel’s brother sent the list through. And he’s paying through the nose.”
“Is he?”
She chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay you time and a half. I don’t imagine you’ll be worked too hard. Now, let’s get out of here. All ready?”
He nodded with a smile, and disappeared below as, with a quiet rumble, the engines sprang into life. Ellie took a deep breath of the fresh sea breeze and put the boat into reverse before calling for Tom to cast off.
She watched the palm trees that lined the marina slip by as she turned the boat and gently guided it out of the marina and into Clearwater Bay. Tiny waves distorted the reflection of a perfect blue sky and the warm breeze tickled her cheek. To her left, cars rumbled along the causeway, while they passed palm-fronted condominiums to the right, sandwiched between the bay and the sea beyond. Wow, what a place to live.
Ellie guided the big catamaran through the transit channel, little yachts bobbing in her wake as they passed, and waved as a trip boat pulled out from its mooring. A familiar, rotund figure gestured back.
“Safe sailing, bonita! You look after my boy, you hear? You look after him good!”
She gave him a swift middle finger, and he roared with laughter as Patrick appeared from below.
“Does Jodi like her cabin?” Ellie asked as he came to stand beside her. He was wearing an earthy scent and she suspected he’d made use of the shower already.
He grunted. “She doesn’t like anything at the moment. I found an iPhone in her case, hidden in the lining. Didn’t make me very popular, but Buzz was pretty clear. No communication with the outside world. So, I gave her my old iPod Mini. I reckon it’ll take her an hour or two to suss out how it works and another thirty seconds to chuck it over the side in disgust at my musical tastes.”
Ellie chuckled, then turned her attention to Tom as he moved lithely across the trampoline, then tidied the mooring rope and checked the anchor.
“Whoa!” Patrick cried out as the boat hit a wake and swung slightly. “I’m not much of a sailor.”
“Don’t worry, it’s pretty calm out on the gulf. Might get a bit more lively when we head away from the lee of the coast. We’ve got plenty of medication, don’t worry.” He was looking a little green, but she wanted to take her chance while he was alone. “Look, do you know what this is all abo
ut?”
Patrick shrugged as he steadied himself. “Not a clue. Joel asked me to look after his daughter and when I heard it involved a three-night cruise to the Caribbean, well, I wasn’t going to say no, was I? Look, don’t take this personally, but…”
“What is it?”
“He told me I’ve got to check you.”
“Check me for what?”
He sighed. “Cell phone, laptop, that sort of thing.”
“What the hell is going on, Patrick?” She turned to face him as he swayed, holding on to the handrail. “I can understand why a father might want to send his daughter on a digital detox, but this seems like a totally over-the-top way of doing it. And what do you imagine? I’m gonna give her my cell?”
“I’m really sorry… Can I call you Ellie? You said it was okay.”
“Sure, let’s get familiar. After all, you’re about to frisk me, aren’t you?”
He flushed and lowered his eyes as if trying to look anywhere other than at her. “No, I’m not. Look, Ellie, I made a promise to Joel and Buzz. I’ve got plenty of flaws, but I do my best to be a man of my word.”
“How about this? We’ll put all the electronics in the safe and you can have the key, but you’ll have to trust me. I like you and all, but I’m not having you feeling me up.”
His face was bright red now, and she realized just how little he was like the action heroes and villains he’d made a career out of playing. “That’s not why I’m doing it! I wouldn’t dream of…”
She pulled a mock offended face.
“……I mean, you’re a very attractive woman, but…but…”
“She is teasing you, Mr. Reid.” Tom had appeared from behind them both on his way down to the cockpit. “Don’t worry, you will get used to it.”
Ellie smiled and Reid sighed. “Okay. I’ll take you at your word.”
“Tom’ll take the helm while we put the twenty-first century into the safe.”
That evening, they anchored off Kinzie Island, in sight of the Sanibel Lighthouse. Together, Tom and Ellie had put together a meal of sirloin steak with fries, only for Jodi—who’d emerged from her cabin during the afternoon—to declare herself a vegan. Tom shrugged it off, but Ellie was fuming as she rummaged around to find something the brat would eat while her steak went cold.
But a bottle of wine and, in Jodi’s case, a joint, improved the mood enough that, by the time Ellie went to bed, the ice was broken and she was beginning to hope that the voyage wouldn’t be the nightmare it had threatened to be.
The next day, they continued south, anchoring on the second night off Key West. It was the third night that bothered Ellie.
Their instructions were clear: she was to take the boat into the deep water of the Straits of Florida and keep it there, north of Cuba’s coast, until the morning of the fourth and final day. Then she would bring the boat back, offering an optional fourth night if her guests wanted a more leisurely return.
Despite repeated questions—including the liberal use of alcohol and occasional flirting—Patrick revealed no more, and she became convinced that he genuinely knew nothing. Like many actors, it seemed he was happy to go along for the ride if it meant a free cruise with unlimited food and drink.
She sat beside him on the aft steps as he lounged with a fishing rod across his legs. It was a perfect March day. No, April. April 1st. But if this was some elaborate Fool’s Day joke, she no longer cared. The boat bobbed gently up and down as she sunned her legs, knowing how much Patrick appreciated them. The air had an electric tang to it that seemed incongruous, but she’d never been out here before, so she imagined the smell was drifting over from Cuba. She tried not to think about the mile of water between her feet and the seabed.
“I used to be good at this,” Patrick said. “Spent half my childhood fishing for pike in the Rochdale Canal. Mind, I snagged more shopping carts than fish. But I haven’t had a bite so far, and I thought it’d be teeming with them.”
Ellie gazed between her feet into the clear water below, as if she might spot the fish that were evading Patrick’s line. “I don’t know much about fishing, but we usually head for a reef if that’s what the guest wants to do.”
He grunted—she was becoming accustomed to this as his default way of acknowledging what she’d said—and began winding the line in again. “I dunno. It just seems odd.”
She didn’t respond other than to sit up straighter and look out over the featureless sea. She felt her heart racing as if she were a prey animal subconsciously aware of the lion in the grass through some mysterious sense. A foreboding had been creeping up on her the entire day. She’d put it down to being incommunicado for longer than she could ever remember and the sheer isolation of being out here alone. More than once, she’d started up the engines just to be sure they were still working, though she knew they could sail back if they had to—that was, after all, why Tom was with them. She could steer a boat efficiently enough, but compared to him she was no sailor.
And then there had been that brief swell in the morning. It was especially odd because, while the boat had lifted, she hadn’t felt it settle back again. She’s assumed it had just gone back to its normal level so gently that she hadn’t noticed, but it was creepy.
Jodi had spent the entire day sunbathing on the trampoline with Tom for company, and neither had noticed anything amiss, so Ellie was inclined to assume it was her imagination. Until Patrick had reawakened her fear.
“What the hell’s that?” He was on his feet, pointing south toward Cuba.
Ellie jumped up and made her way up the ladder to the fly bridge to get a better view. Tom was there before her.
“Boats,” he said. “Hundreds of boats.”
Chapter 3
Cabin in the Woods
Ed “Buzz” Baxter dropped the satellite phone into its holder and ran his hands down his face. “Where are you?” he whispered. “Jeez, Joel, just once you could have done what you said.”
He pushed back the chair and picked up the clipboard. He had to keep busy. Yes, that was the only way to keep his mind from spiraling out of control. The world was falling apart, but the chickens still needed to be fed. And the pigs, cattle and alpacas. The mini-llamas had been Joel’s idea. Typical of him. But, since this whole operation had been funded with his money, Ed could hardly refuse his movie star little brother.
You rarely met a rich scientist, after all, and it had been Ed’s curse to be born with the brains and Joel’s blessing to inherit their mother’s good looks. So, while Ed had pursued a stellar but modestly rewarding career in science, his brother was one of the most recognized movie actors in the world. It was like being the ugly sibling of George Clooney.
It didn’t help that he’d lied to Joel about why he’d wanted the money. He’d told his brother he wanted to build a family farm for them all to retire to, and the idea of being able to hide himself away from the public spotlight had been enough for Joel to write Ed a blank check. Ed had told him he wanted to make it self-sufficient so they could completely disappear for months at a time. In truth, it had to stand on its own because he knew there was a risk that disaster was coming. He’d only told Ed a week ago, when the xenobots were just about to be released onto the southern ice cap, and he’d thought his brother would come here at once with Jodi, his daughter. But he was shooting, so Buzz had concocted this elaborate scheme to make sure she was off shore in the care of one of Joel’s movie buddies if things went wrong in the Antarctic.
And boy, had they gone wrong. Fast.
Who is to blame? The one who swings the ax, or the man who could have stopped him, but didn’t? He wiped the tears from his cheeks as he opened the back door of the cabin and picked up the bucket. The chickens were pleased to see him, streaming out of their hen house and into the wire-enclosed run. They erupted into a chaos of noise as he cast the seed, forcing his mind to switch from the drowning of millions to whether any of the hens had signs of being bullied by the others. He’d built contingency i
nto his calculations but, in truth, he hadn’t expected things to go as disastrously as they had.
He’d warned them, but they hadn’t listened. He should have done more.
Ed left the squabbling birds and walked across to the cattle shed. A feeling of desolate loneliness overcame him as he stepped into the open. My God, what if Joel never made it? And Jodi? He should have hired at least one hand to help him, and to keep him company. For a man who thought he was putting an elaborate insurance policy into place, he really hadn’t thought it through. What would be the point of surviving the great deluge only to die of loneliness in the midst of plenty?
He forked alfalfa into the troughs of the cattle and pigs, steeling himself against the stink of ammonia, then, as if to confirm his folly, he headed for the storeroom. It had seemed like such a solid plan. Here, in the heart of the mountains of Arkansas, he’d found and purchased (with Joel’s money) a derelict logging operation built at the end of a valley and surrounded on all sides but one by tree-clad slopes. He’d had a security fence put in at the neck of the valley and filled the trees with sensors. Chances were, they’d stay hidden for weeks, assuming anyone else had survived on what had become a small island. The land included two early twentieth-century farm buildings with long, single-story sheds on both sides, each split into three discrete units. One had been converted into housing for the pigs and cattle, but he was now opening the door of another.
He stepped inside and flipped the light switch. The solar panels mounted on the tops of all the sheds provided more than enough power to keep the lithium batteries topped up. Lights clunked on one after the other, revealing enough food and supplies to feed an army. And the tears fell again as he thought of his folly. More food than he could eat in a lifetime and, for all he knew, not a single soul he cared for had survived to share it with him. There was even an underground cooler with a small freezer, though whether he could keep that going would depend on how the solar panels worked long term.
Deluge | Book 1 | The Drowned Page 3