David panicked for a moment, as it meant having to get into full view.
“I’ll cover you!” she added.
David climbed out of the hatch and over the top of the cockpit, pulling on the halyard to hoist the sail. It was incredibly heavy, hanging over the railing and draping in the water, the drag slowing the efforts of the electric motor.
Kelly steadied her aim in the gently moving sailboat and fired two shots at the center of the vehicle she believed the gunman was hiding behind. David, meanwhile, had lifted the sail out of the water and was pulling hard on the rope, raising it skyward, its blackness almost matching the darkness of the sky.
A flash of orange light was visible from the shore, followed by the sound of a bullet whizzing by Kelly’s head, arriving at the same time as the crack of a gunshot from the shore. The bullet was close, but the muzzle flash gave away the location of the gunman, still behind the car. Kelly pulled the high-powered rifle's trigger, firing six shots into the side of the vehicle, knowing they’d travel all the way through it and hopefully wipe out the guy on the other side.
David pulled frantically at the rope, the sail now reaching the top of the mast, before pulling the rope through a cleat in the cockpit and grabbing the tiller.
The rowboat was now about fifty yards behind them, slipping below the cold surface of the water, its occupants floating lifelessly. The outgoing tide was now aiding them in their escape, but only just.
“Get down!” Kelly yelled.
David dropped to his hands and knees in the cockpit, just as another flash occurred from the shore, the bullet tearing a perfect hole in the sail above his head.
David and Kelly both fired at the source of the flash, awakening the entire city to their whereabouts with deafening sounds and muzzle flashes. The combination of the electric motor, the full mainsail, and the outgoing tide meant that they were now moving at about four miles per hour. A muzzle flash from somewhere else on the shore resulted in a loud cracking sound from the hull, but it was now getting too dark to see what was happening or if they were taking on water. It was clear they now had two gunmen on the shore, firing at their craft. Kelly raised her rifle in the dark and squinted, looking for the source. Another muzzle flash from somewhere around the first gunman then resulted in a spray of water a few yards behind them.
“There’s more than one now!” Kelly said, panicking.
David, crouched next to her, watched the silhouette of her gun as it moved left and right, hunting for the target in the enveloping darkness. Another muzzle flash on the shore was replaced by the sound of a bullet zipping past. Kelly looked down the sight of the rifle.
“Don’t shoot back!” David ordered.
“What?! Why?!” demanded Kelly. “There’s more than one out there!”
“They’re losing us. They're shooting blindly. They can’t see the black sail. You shoot; they’ll see us!”
With another gunshot from the shore, David and Kelly leaped inside the boat cabin and lay down on the floor, waiting expectantly for a bullet to hit them. The dry crack of gunshots rang out across the harbor, bullets peppering their general location, but missing them as their black sailboat blended into the dark sky, edging toward the ocean.
The gunshots had stopped, gradually being replaced by the sound of lapping waves slapping against the side of the sailboat. The craft was moving about much more now, the tension being felt on the tiller. The battery for their makeshift outboard motor had gone flat but now they were operating on sail power alone and didn't need it. Perhaps they were going in the right direction, perhaps not. Perhaps they’d cleared the harbor, or perhaps they were heading straight for a rock.
“So much death,” Kelly said, holding the tiller tightly as the wind pushed against the sail.
“It’s all over now,” David replied, sitting down next to her.
Kelly rested her head on David’s shoulder, the two of them safe, at least for now.
“Things are always better in the morning.”
To Kill a Mockingbird
The dawn light revealed a spectacular scene. The expanse of the Atlantic Ocean spread forth on the boat’s port side, while the eastern seaboard of the United States occupied the starboard. The cold salt air was heavy in the lungs, as Kelly raised her head from the seat cushion, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She looked through to the cockpit, seeing her husband, looking across the ocean, his unshaven face and greasy hair flapping in the breeze.
“Hey,” she said.
David looked down to meet her eyes.
“Hey yourself,” he said, a smile appearing on his face.
He patted the seat next to him.
“Come up here, babe.”
Kelly climbed out of the cabin and sat alongside David, putting his arm around her waist, the small sailboat rocking across the tops of the waves.
“So, what’s for breakfast?” asked Kelly.
“Anything you want, as long as it’s fish.”
Kelly laughed. God, she thought. It felt good to laugh. It felt good to just talk without the fear of being overheard. Kelly lifted her head back and looked up at the sky. She took a deep breath and let out a long scream, surprising David. After all, for three and a half months they’d lived in silence. Kelly looked at her husband, smiling. David saw the joy on her face and let out a scream himself. It was instantly therapeutic, releasing months of frustration, anger and misery.
Kelly and David Shepherd from Lynchburg sat on the back of their stolen sailboat, the cold salt spray dusting their faces. It had taken months, but they’d done it.
Digging into her pocket, Kelly pulled out her small compass and steadied it in her hand.
Looking from compass to shore, she turned to David.
“So, captain. Where are we going?”
David stared into the distance for a moment, adding a dramatic pause. He turned to his wife, sitting by his side, her greasy hair wet with salt spray, but still the most beautiful woman in the world.
“Somewhere warm.”
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