Book Read Free

Lackbeard

Page 3

by Cody B. Stewart


  Stories about Walter had always swirled around the orphanage. The most common being that he once owned his own commercial fishing boat with a small crew. They were out one day, doing what they always do, when a massive shark took an interest in them. The shark circled the boat all day, scaring away the fish. When it came time to pack it in and head to shore, the shark had other ideas. Suddenly, every line on the boat jerked. A quick flash of excitement from the crew faded almost instantly when they realized that it wasn’t a big pay day pulling—it was doom with a dorsal fin!

  The boat was ripped in half. Walter was the only one to make it home, drifting back to shore on a scrap of hull. And he’s been tossing hunks of meat out in his yard ever since, trying to catch that shark.

  That’s the story, anyway. Ms. Roberts always said he was just plain crazy.

  The arrival of a Chevy Suburban with a camouflage paint job in the orphanage driveway drew Carter’s eye from Walter’s house. A pit formed in his stomach. “Crap. They’re early.”

  Brad let out a sigh and hung his head. “Hey, you tried. Let’s just get this over with.”

  “No way,” Carter said. “That isn’t happening. We’ll go to Plan B. I always have a Plan B.”

  Brad brightened, hopeful. “Serve it up.”

  “As soon as it comes to me I’ll let you know.”

  Brad’s face sank.

  Suddenly they heard the front door crash open and boots march on the tile floor of the foyer.

  A booming voice shook the floor: “Bradley Humbolt front and center!”

  Carter grabbed Brad’s arm as his big brother walked for the door. He squeezed tighter than he’s ever squeezed anything. “This can still work. You still trust me, right?”

  Brad smiled at him, tousled his hair. “Never trust a pirate. You taught me that.” And then he walked out.

  Carter made to follow, but a horn honk outside drew him back to the window. “Now what?” he grumbled.

  Pulling into the driveway behind the camo SUV was a powder blue vintage Rolls Royce, a car that looked straight out of one of those classic movies where women are always swooning and there are a lot of tight close-ups.

  Like the car, the woman who stepped out of the door held open by her chauffeur looked like she stepped out of the past. She was in her seventies, wore a bright yellow Kentucky Derby hat that shone like the sun, her face was hidden behind octagonal sunglasses, and she carried a golden parasol. She looked like an Andy Warhol painting of an aristocratic British lady.

  “An ill wind,” Carter mumbled, and then ran downstairs.

  Brad had already fallen in line by the time Carter reached the foyer.

  Major North of the Valley Forge Military Academy towered over everyone. Brad nearly disappeared in the shadow of the man’s pectorals. He looked like an extra from Predator—bulky, chiseled from granite, like he could survive in the jungle while being hunted by aliens. At least until the second act.

  Two of his academy cadets stood at attention behind him. They were identical twins, which took a second and third glance to confirm considering there were both in uniform and had shaved heads.

  “Every morning will begin with two hours of PT,” Major North barked. “Followed by two hours of marching in place.” He leaned over, put his face only inches from Brad’s. “You will follow orders without question. Or you will know pain.”

  Ms. Roberts stood next to Brad, smiling like a hyena at Major North. “You’re strict.”

  “Discipline is the backbone of every young man,” Major North said. “Without discipline, he is nothing more than a useless sack of goo.” He turned back to Brad and barked, “Do you want to be a goo-sack, son?”

  “No, sir!” Brad barked back, his voice cracking.

  Ms. Roberts ran her finger down the major’s arm. “I know a little something about discipline. There are some that still know me as Mistress Jane.”

  The front door swung open again, and another elephant joined the circus. A man in a suit who looked like he hadn’t farted in forty years stood just inside the door. His mustache hid his entire mouth, so it seemed like his voice came from nowhere. “Presenting, Mrs. Phyllis Katzenbacher.”

  The woman who emerged from the Rolls Royce walked in like she expected everyone to bow.

  Ms. Roberts nearly did. “Mrs. Katzenbacher, welcome. Thank you so much for coming.”

  “This establishment is quite dreadful,” Mrs. Katzenbacher said. “I feel like I’m getting hepatitis just standing here.”

  “I can assure you, all the children have had their shots,” Ms. Roberts said. “Major North,” she said, turning to the hulking man, “This is Phyllis Katzenbacher, one of the wealthiest women in the country.”

  Phyllis cast a sideways glance at Ms. Roberts like she were a swamp creature emerging from the muck. “Yes, I’m quite rich. Now, if you please, fetch the child for whom I came.”

  Carter sunk back around the corner to the kitchen.

  “It’s high time we be on our way, as well,” Major North said. “Cadets, fetch Humbolt’s belongings.”

  Everything was going wrong. No, not wrong, just in a different order. A pirate was beholden to no plan that couldn’t be rewritten. This could still work.

  But he had to act fast. Avoiding Ms. Roberts’s searching eyes and the marching cadets, Carter took the backstairs up to his room.

  He remembered the memory of his mother. The words Mr. Croce wrote in his book.

  By all the salt in the sea, he would not lose his family this day.

  5

  Everything went dark. Not a shred of light. Carter used that to his advantage. Pretended to be asleep. Footsteps outside. Calm, relaxed, don’t move.

  He took a deep breath and let it out as slowly as he could.

  Suddenly, he was weightless, drifting through the air.

  Muffled voices sounded from all around, like they came straight out of the darkness.

  “Man, this thing is heavy,” said one of the twin cadets. “You got a dead body in here, Humbolt?”

  Brad tried to force a laugh.

  Carter unzipped the bag from the inside, just enough to peek out. They were in the foyer now.

  “Roll out,” Major North commanded. Brad made to turn but was suddenly slammed into by a petite frame covered in a skull and crossbones hoodie.

  She’s good, Carter thought as he watched Linn sob into his brother’s chest. He’d had only seconds to explain to her what was happening before the cadets stormed into his room. He wasn’t even sure she’d agreed before he stuffed himself inside Brad’s duffel bag.

  Linn ran past Brad, out the door, sobbing. Carter hoped he’d see her again. His cheeks burned when he thought of their near-kiss.

  Phyllis and her chauffeur followed Linn without a word.

  Brad followed the major out, and the cadets brought up the rear.

  Ms. Roberts whistled a joyful tune behind them.

  Carter spied the Rolls Royce tear out of the driveway like the occupants had just stolen something. And then he saw another figure crash into Brad’s chest.

  “Is this goodbye?” Darla said, choking back sobs.

  “No, never,” Brad said. It’s `I’ll see you soon’.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Ms. Roberts said, her voice still singing.

  Brad and Darla pressed together again, her lips nearly touching his ear, whispering something to him.

  Brad climbed into the Suburban. The cadets threw the duffel into the trunk.

  And then they were moving. So many moving parts. Barely controlled chaos. But that’s where pirates thrived. The illusion of chaos was their greatest weapon. Make everyone think they were out of control, and use the fog of turmoil to take what they wanted.

  Carter moved a little, careful not to make noise, trying to relieve the cramping in his legs. He pressed his nose to the open hole in the zipper, trying to breathe some air that hadn’t been circulating near Brad’s underwear.

  Then he tensed in anticipation.
r />   Any second now.

  Any second.

  Wait for—

  The SUV jerked violently. Carter rolled forward and slammed into the back of the seat. A loud, metallic shriek pierced his ears.

  The truck stopped.

  Major North screamed a steady stream of obscenities. The doors opened. Everyone shouted. Carter’s ears still rung and his head hurt.

  Maybe he had a concussion. He couldn’t see! Everything was black! Oh no! He was blind!

  No, wait—he suddenly remembered … Duh! I’m in a duffel bag.

  A duffel bag that was suddenly hoisted into the air and moving fast.

  Carter unzipped the bag enough to stick his head out. Brad was wearing the duffel like a backpack and running through the woods from the scene of the wreck. The rear axle of the SUV had been completely ripped off. Attached to it, a giant shark hook and a hunk of beef.

  “This doesn’t mean I trust you,” Brad said through huffs and puffs.

  “Says the guy not currently cleaning a toilet with his toothbrush.”

  They exited the small patch of forest onto a residential street in the neighborhood just up the road from the orphanage. And if everything went according to plan…

  “There it is,” Brad said, pointing to the unrecognizable orphanage van. Iggy and Spritz hid it perfectly under a coat of graffiti.

  “Uh oh,” Carter said.

  “What uh oh?”

  “Just keep running,” Carter said as he unzipped the bag further.

  Running up behind them were the two cadets, purpose in their eyes and discipline in their guts.

  Carter pressed his feet into Brad’s back. “The captain always goes down with the ship.” He spring-boarded off Brad and slammed into the cadets, whose heads bounced off the pavement. “Go on without me,” Carter said, lying on top of the dazed cadets. “I go to meet Davy Jones this day.”

  “Get up, idiot.” Brad yanked Carter to his feet, and the two sprinted for the van.

  Darla was waiting in the driver’s seat. She leaned over to Brad as he climbed in.

  “Save the kissy stuff for later,” Carter said, pointing to the two recovering cadets through the windshield.

  As the van pulled away, and the orphanage and Major North and the crazy rich lady fell behind, Carter felt like he could breathe again. The last hour happened so fast he barely had time to think.

  He was so tired. He stretched his legs and lay down on the pile of blankets in the back of the van—and nearly peed his pants when the pile moved. He lifted the edge of the blanket, and three sets of eyes looked back at him. Carter kept quiet, assuming any more surprises would cause Brad to have an embolism, or go insane and squeeze Carter’s head until his eyes popped.

  The smell of salt and the sound of seabirds grew stronger with every passing second. Soon, they crossed the short bridge that led to the Camachee Island Marina. The cove had direct access to the intracoastal waterway, St. Augustine Inlet, and the Atlantic Ocean. In other words: freedom.

  Oh, and boats. Lots and lots of boats.

  The tires squealed as Darla pulled into the marina parking lot and slammed on the brakes. She and Brad got out and opened the back so Carter could follow.

  When he didn’t move, Brad said, “Let’s go. We can’t waste time.”

  Carter sucked in a breath through his teeth. The lump of blankets at his feet felt like a land mine that, if disturbed, would blow everything to pieces. “Just so you know, it’s not my fault.”

  Brad was perplexed. “What are you talking about?”

  Carter pulled the blanket away, revealing Marcus, Yvette, and Louis.

  “Hey,” they said in unison.

  Brad’s jaw dropped. He marched away from the van, arms flailing in the air like they’d suddenly become separate from his body. “No. No way ever. Not a chance.”

  “What’s a pirate without a crew?” Carter said, climbing over the pile of friends to exit the van.

  “More like, what’s a criminal without accomplices?” Brad said. “Because that’s exactly what we are. Criminals. We stole a car. Destroyed another. And—”

  “Technically, we stole a van. And technically, we destroyed an SUV,” Carter corrected.

  “Technically, you’re an idiot,” Brad said with a snarl. “And I’m an even bigger idiot for listening to you. And now, you want to…” His voice drifted away as he looked out over the water.

  “Steal a boat,” Darla finished the sentence for him.

  Brad spun and pointed a stern finger at all of them. “We are not stealing a boat.”

  “Then what are we not doing here?” Carter asked. “Why come to the marina in the first place? You knew the plan. This was always the goal. Always.”

  Brad paced the pavement. He looked at the black beneath his feet, then at the blue sky above his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a keychain, a trinket that he always had with him. He rubbed it absently with his thumb. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, Carter. I told her I would. I promised.”

  A rogue wave of feeling slammed into Carter’s chest. Grief, sadness, gratitude. It all mixed together. He stepped to his brother. “You can’t keep me safe if we’re on separate sides of the country. This is the only way we stay together.”

  “The only way we all stay together,” Darla added.

  Brad looked at each of them, the ragtag bunch of orphans and runaways he had grown up with. Rogues, all of them.

  “Face it, bro,” Yvette said. “This is your family.”

  “All for one and all that,” from Marcus.

  “That’s musketeer speak, not pirate,” Carter corrected.

  “Musketeers, pirates, tomato, tomatoe,” Marcus said with a shrug.

  “We’re family any way you slice it,” Louis chimed in.

  “Una familia de bichos raros no deseados,” Yvette said with a chuckle. “A family of unwanted oddballs.”

  “And families stick together,” Carter said, extending his hand. “No matter how odd or unwanted.”

  Brad clasped his brother’s hand in a half-hearted embrace. “They used to hang pirates once they caught them, you know.”

  Carter smiled. “Then we won’t get caught.”

  “And…fade to black,” Louis said as he wiped away a tear. “Beautiful, you guys. You made me feel some serious feels right there.”

  “Yeah, except nothing’s fading yet. We still need a boat,” Yvette reminded them. “And the gate is locked up tight.”

  Her thought was punctuated by a loud bang.

  Marcus stood by the now-open gate, brandishing his bat. “Nah, it’s open. Totally found it like this.”

  There was no time to laugh. The group ran through the open gate and onto the docks.

  They all slammed on the brakes before slamming into Carter, who had stopped short. He marveled at a fifty-eight-foot Rossborough Ketch. With its polished teak gunwales and thick, tall masts, it looked straight out of the Golden Age of Piracy.

  It spoke to him.

  “This is it,” Carter said. “This is our pirate ship.”

  6

  Meanwhile…

  Ashore, far from the adventure on the high seas, but never far from adventure…

  Phyllis blinked her brightly painted eyes at the child sitting on the far end of the leather bench seat in the back of her Rolls Royce.

  The child blinked back.

  “You are not a boy,” Phyllis said.

  “I am not,” Linn said. “Thank you for noticing.”

  Phyllis stared a while longer, perhaps trying to wrap her head around the odd turn of events. “Jeeves,” she eventually called to her driver. “Bring us back to the orphanage posthaste. This is not the child I ordered.”

  The vintage luxury car swung around and headed back to where they’d come from.

  Linn made a sweeping motion with her hand, gesturing from Phyllis’s hat to her shoes. “I love your ensemble.”

  Phyllis scoffed. “I am absurdly wealthy, child, and am th
us immune to flattery.” As she spoke, she ran her hands down the length of her dress, flattening out the wrinkles, realizing, obviously, that her ensemble was quite outstanding.

  Linn removed her Carter disguise and unzipped her backpack. “If you don’t mind, ma’am, I’d love to get out of this drab outfit.” She pulled her derby hat and blindingly bright dress from her bag.

  Phyllis slid her octagonal sunglasses down the bridge of her nose. She admired the outfit, and then looked at Linn as if for the first time. “You know, I’m thinking of having my tearoom repainted. What hue would you choose?”

  Phyllis’s tone said it all. This wasn’t just a question, it was a test.

  “Vermillion,” Linn said without a moment’s hesitation. “Perhaps some eggplant polka dots as well. A tearoom should be bold.”

  Phyllis sat back, folded her hands across her lap, looking impressed. It wasn’t often that she was at a loss for words, but she was now.

  After a long moment of deep thought: “Is there anyone at that awful orphanage who would miss you terribly if you weren’t to return?”

  Linn looked down at the skull and crossbones hoodie. “No,” she sighed.

  “Then we best be on our way,” Phyllis said. “Jeeves, you dunce, turn this car around. The airport is in the complete opposite direction.” She opened a compartment in the seat between her and Linn and removed a sparkling water. “Life is short.” She handed the bottle to Linn, and removed another for herself. “Best not to spend it around people who don’t appreciate you or a good color palette.” She held her water toward Linn, and they clinked bottles.

  “Agreed,” Linn said.

  7

  His peg leg pounded out a shanty rhythm on deck. The salt seasoned his tongue. The wind filled his lungs.

  Captain Carter Humbolt, lord of the seven seas.

  The world was his.

  “Weigh anchor,” he yelled. “Hoist the mizzen. Get us to sea or feel my blade at yer throats. A storm’s a-comin’ and its name be Carter Humbolt! I’ll chain the kraken to our bow, tame the tides themselves. The sea is mine!”

 

‹ Prev