Landfall: Islands in the Aftermath (The Pulse Series Book 4) (11 page)

He thought there was a good chance they’d be stopped by Bahamian officials as well, but when he asked Scully about that, the islander said he wasn’t worried. Larry told him the Royal Bahamas Defense Force was spread thin even in normal times, and it was rare to see them in many parts of the islands, especially in the more remote places like their destination. He said that if they were even operating at all, they would likely have their hands full dealing with a huge influx of American boats seeking refuge in the more popular parts of the archipelago—like the Abacos, the Berry Islands and the Exumas.

“Not passin’ dem places where we goin’,” Scully said. He held the chart so Thomas could see while he steered. “I t’ink we cross to de closest point of de big island, dis Andros here,” he pointed. “Larry said not many boat going to Andros. We sailin’ down de west side all de weh to de bottom. Lots of reef but no problem in de small boat. We go in places most boat, dem can’t, an’ den work our way down and den sail southeast to de Raggeds.”

Thomas followed the route Scully’s finger traced and contemplated the voyage ahead. It was a
long
way to the Ragged Islands. Even after they got to the south end of Andros, they would only be about halfway there. Thomas had never even considered that part of the Bahamas when he’d dreamed of sailing there. The Ragged Islands were closer to eastern Cuba than they were to any of the more popular cruising destinations of the Bahamas. But the fact that they were so far from Florida was reassuring too. Such a remote place
had
to be safe. He couldn’t imagine that it would be otherwise. The people with bad intentions like those two men Scully had killed were going to be found in places with a good supply of potential victims. They wouldn’t make the effort to go someplace as remote as the Ragged Islands. At least that’s what Thomas told himself.
 

They were well out of sight of all land by midmorning, and sailing over water that was the prettiest shade of blue Thomas had ever seen. Scully said they were now in the Gulf Stream, and seeing nothing different about it other than the color of the water, Thomas felt silly for fearing the notorious stretch of ocean for so long. There was certainly nothing to fear there now, sailing under sunny skies in steady winds that were between 10 and 12 knots. At last he was able to relax, and when Scully took over the helm again, Thomas napped on the leeward cockpit seat until Mindy woke and came back on deck from below.
 

Thomas’ smug feeling that they had defeated the odds and were in control of their destiny vanished again that afternoon, though, when heavy clouds began to gather out of the east, the sky darkened by an approaching line of squalls from dead ahead.
 

“We’ve got to turn, Scully. We can’t sail through that!”

“Where we gonna turn to, mon? Can’t run from every cloud, mon. Thunderstorm comin’ most every day dis time in de year.”

“I thought you said you felt good about the weather,” Mindy said, in a voice only slightly less nervous than Thomas’.
 

“Not to worry, only little rain, mehbe lightning, an’ de strong wind. Soon pass, mon.”

But what Scully called “a little” was an afternoon of terror for Thomas and Mindy. They sailed directly into what appeared to be an impenetrable wall of dark clouds. The color of the sea changed from the tranquil deep blue of the morning to a cold and opaque, steely gray. Thomas helped Scully reef the main to the deepest row of reef points after they dropped the jib completely and stuffed it in its bag to put below. Scully assured him they could ride out what was coming, as long as they didn’t have too much sail up, but that didn’t relieve the twisting knots of anxiety Thomas felt in his stomach. Were his worst fears about the Gulf Stream about to come true? What if the wind turned against the current? How would their little 17-foot boat possibly stay upright in the mountainous seas he heard so many sailors report in those conditions?

Thomas heard the fast-approaching rain pelting the water in sheets just before the first band of the storm swept across. When it reached them, the big drops stung as they hit from a near horizontal angle. Scully steered so that the boat fell off the wind, running before gusts that at times heeled it to the gunwales even with both reefs in the main. They were all drenched in a matter of seconds. Thomas had given Scully one of his extra T-shirts, since he had no shirt at all when they met him, but there were only two cheap plastic rain jackets on board before the blackout and they were already torn and leaking from before, making them practically useless.
 

“We’re going to die!” Thomas muttered, after
Intrepida
was pushed so far over in one gust that he was sure just another few degrees would capsize her. Mindy squeezed his hand as they huddled together, but Scully was still grinning wildly through it all, apparently having fun.

“She’s a good boat, mon! I told you she a good boat. Not to worry ‘bout de wind mon. Storm soon pass!”
 

And pass it did, first the strong wind, then the rain, and finally even the clouds in time for them to witness the sunset. Scully estimated their approximate position and said that they might have gone a bit farther north in the current than he would have liked, but that Andros was such a big target, it would be hard to miss. The problem was that they would reach the banks sometime during the night, rather than in daylight hours. They would have to stay alert and watch and listen for any signs of shoals or reefs when they did, so it was going to be another long and sleepless night.
 

Thomas didn’t care. He was just relieved to be out of that storm. It was the same feeling he had when the man pointing the gun at him had suddenly dropped dead—the feeling of knowing he was alive again when he was certain it had all been over. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the fear of being shot or the terror of a storm at sea. But he’d survived both because of a man named Scully. Was it sheer luck he’d come along, or some kind of divine providence? Thomas wasn’t sure, but wasn’t about to question it. Come morning they would be sailing
Intrepida
through Bahamian waters. He had to squeeze Mindy tight to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

Fourteen

A
RTIE
STOOD
ON
THE
beach feeling totally helpless as he and the girls watched his brother and Grant and Tara set out in the dinghy in pursuit of the
Sarah J.
He didn’t particularly like Russell, especially after seeing what a pest he’d become shortly after meeting their group, but the thought that he would do something this outrageous hadn’t occurred to him. It was obvious from the beginning that he was a loud-mouthed know-it-all a bit of a bum and a con, but he hadn’t come off as
this
irrational. Artie had been worried about how they were going to get rid of him but he’d assumed Russell would give in and accept Larry’s offer of a ride to Florida, despite his strong objections to going there. He realized now that maybe it was because of Larry’s continued refusal to take him anywhere else that he’d decided to take matters into his own hands and leave without warning. Whatever the case, they had all seriously misjudged him and now Tara’s boat and her daughter were gone with him. It was a nightmare for them all, but Artie was afraid it would absolutely destroy Tara if they didn’t stop him before he got away.

“I don’t think Grant or anyone else could row fast enough to catch him,” Casey said. The
Sarah J.
may not be as fast as the
Casey Nicole,
but she still sails well and the wind is good.”

“God! I can’t believe that bastard did this!” Jessica said. “What a low-life creep! I wish he had gotten back up when Grant pushed him now, so Grant would have beaten the crap out of him. I wish
I
had beaten the crap out of him!”
 

“Tara will, if she ever catches up. She’ll probably half kill him. But I don’t think they’re going to. Look!”
 

Russell had gotten the jib under control and now with both working sails set and trimmed, the
Sarah J.
was bearing away quickly to the southeast on a beam reach. And if that were not bad enough, they heard rifle shots echo across the water.
 

“He’s shooting at them!”
 

“Oh my God! GRANT!” Jessica screamed.

The sailboat was too far away to make out any details in the cockpit, but Artie knew the girls were right. It had to be Russell doing the shooting because he could clearly see that it wasn’t Tara or Larry. Grant instantly slowed his rowing pace and Artie knew that it was because they were under fire. He could hardly watch, expecting any minute to see his brother and the others collapse into the dinghy or fall overboard.
 

“They’ve got to turn back! They’re going to get shot!”

“They will!” Casey said. “Uncle Larry won’t shoot back because Rebecca is still on the boat. All they
can
do is come back. Russell must have found the rifle Larry left on board.”

“They’ve stopped,” Artie said, confirming what Casey said would happen. The shooting had stopped as well. Maybe Russell wasn’t trying to kill anyone, though he might make an exception for Grant after their altercation last night. The devious thief had what he wanted—a ride off the island and now so much more—a boat that would take him anywhere, along with loads of supplies and other goods. But he also had a captive 14-year-old girl. What he might do with her, Artie didn’t want to think about. But maybe he would simply drop her off at his first stop, wherever that might be. Artie doubted taking Rebecca was part of his plan, but then again, he didn’t know that. Whatever the intention, he feared that if she fought back, Russell might do anything, including throwing her over the side. And after what Casey told him about the incident in the Gulf, Artie knew Rebecca might jump overboard voluntarily if she thought she had no other option. It was a terrible situation no matter how anyone looked at it.

“What are we going to do?” Jessica asked. “We’ve got to get Rebecca back! Tara’s boat too! But our boat is on the beach!”

“Yeah, and that bastard knew that too,” Casey said, utterly disgusted. “He probably figured that with the catamaran grounded for repairs, and especially with both the masts down, we’d never be able to catch him.”

“And he would be right, but I think he’s underestimated what lengths Larry will go to.” Artie said, as he stood looking out there at the tragic scene. The dinghy was simply drifting now, as the wind bore the
Sarah J.
steadily away from Green Cay, her sails growing smaller on the horizon with each passing minute. Artie could see that Tara had fallen to a kneeling position in the floorboards of the dinghy and that Grant and Larry were trying to comfort her, but how could they ever?

“I feel so awful for Tara,” Casey said. “You cannot imagine what she was going through that night out there in the rain and dark when we discovered Rebecca was missing. And now this!”
 

Artie
could
imagine, because he was a parent too, and he knew the hell he’d gone through to get back to his child after all that had happened. Casey was a grown young woman, but he didn’t think of her that way all the time, especially during those long weeks when he wasn’t sure he’d ever see her again. Like Casey was to him, Rebecca was Tara’s only child. And it was worse that she
was
just a teenager, helpless at the mercy of a man they now knew was capable of anything.
 

“Larry’s going to be so torn,” Jessica said. “He was dead set on sailing back to Florida to look for Scully. We were just talking about it when we heard Tara scream. I told him I would go with him if he wanted me too.”

“He wants to find Scully, of course,” Artie said, “but he’s not going to be torn. There is no contest. It’s an easy choice. Scully is a grown man and a survivor who can take care of himself. Rebecca is still a child. And besides, we need Tara’s boat. I’d say we better get ready, because as soon as Larry gets back to the beach, we’re going to be working our butts off to get the
Casey Nicole
ready to sail.”

* * *

Russell whooped and hollered as he stood at the helm of the beautiful Tartan 37, the main and jib curved into perfect airfoils as they pulled him away from that wretched little cay where he’d spent so many weeks hungry and alone. He stared back at its desolate shores, receding in the distance, and at the pathetic little rowing dinghy he could barely see by now, making its way back to the beach. The SKS rifle he’d used to drive away his pursuers was lying on one of the cockpit seats beside him, and Russell was almost as thrilled to come into possession of it, as he was the yacht itself. He’d been instantly transformed from a starving, desperate beachcomber to an armed mariner with a ship of his own command. Life was about to be good again—
really good!
 

He laughed to himself as he reflected on how easy it had actually turned out. He had seized the opportunity when it presented itself and pulled it off without a hitch. What an idiot that know-it-all Captain-Larry-whatever-his-name-was, had turned out to be! A light bulb had flashed on in Russell’s mind as soon as Larry started talking about taking down the rig of the catamaran. With the boat not only aground, but dismasted as well, Russell would have plenty of time to sail so far they’d never have a hope in hell of finding him. It was an opportunity he recognized in an instant—a one-time opportunity that would only last a day or two—and Russell was determined not to miss it. When he noted that the wind was right that very afternoon for what he had in mind, he knew he couldn’t afford to hesitate.
 

It wasn’t ideal that the teenaged girl was on board, but that couldn’t be helped and he considered too that her presence might be an advantage later. He could order her off the boat before he left, giving her the option of swimming ashore, but if Larry and the others came after him, it could be handy to have a hostage to keep them at bay. And besides, he was tired of being alone. He would rather be taking Jessica instead, but that just wasn’t going to happen.