Flotilla (39 page)

"But they do," I said. He nodded and took a sip of the beer he was holding.

We were sitting in wheelhouse of a boat that was part of a failed social experiment. We were leaving it and our friends behind to face an uncertain future. On top of that, our neighbors were in danger because of things that my father had done. The sum total of the loss and the shame of how things were ending brought the tears to my eyes. I couldn't help feeling very glad that we were away from the immediate danger. I couldn't help feeling very guilty, too.

I looked to my left and saw that Madison's eyes were drooping. Knowing how tired I was, I was afraid that if she dropped off I would fall asleep as well. Stopping for the night was out of the question. That might give the pirates all the time they needed to catch up to us. "Talk to me, Mad," I said sharply as she was about to doze off. She jumped and sat up, rubbing her eyes really hard.

"I'm tired," she complained.

"Me, too. We can't go to sleep yet ... I need you to talk to me."

"About what?"

"Anything - just pick a topic. I need you to talk to me so I can stay awake and we can get away."

"Can't I get 20 minutes?" she whined.

"If I go to sleep, we sink or we get boarded by pirates," I replied. Madison's eyes widened in fear. "Talk to me ... about anything." She let a few moments go by in silence and I looked toward her in frustration. "Well?"

"Why do you have to get drunk all the time?" she asked. Ouch.

Trust your sister to find the
one thing
you don't want to talk about right after you get through telling her that she has to talk to you about anything. Classic. I put my head down on the cool aluminum of the helm and groaned. Is this what they mean by 'be careful what you wish for?' She wouldn't accept a groan for an answer.

"Well?" she mimicked me. Very annoying.

"I don't know." I kept my eyes on the windshield so I wouldn't have to see her staring holes through me.

"Where are we?" she asked.

I looked at the GPS. "About ten miles north of the colony."

"Are there any islands out here?"

"I don't think so."

"Why do you do it, then?"

"Do what?"

"Drink." I grumbled again and asked her to find me a Coke or something. She dropped away wordlessly and disappeared. I wish Madison hadn't brought it up. The drinking was something that I did and then didn't do and after it happened it was like I had been watching someone else. Getting drunk or high was like taking a vacation from me. It felt so out of character to me that it was like I was watching it happen to someone else.

But what did all that mean? I'd get hammered and then I didn't want to drink ever again ... until the next time. What was wrong with me? I got depressed thinking about all the mistakes that my Dad had made. What would keep me from following in the same loser path that he was on? Dad's little scams had graduated from painfully embarrassing to irresponsible and dangerous. He clearly hadn't been thinking about us when he did it. Dad was doing what he did best: thinking about himself. Madison reappeared with an open can of Coke that we could share. I reached for it and she pulled it back, taking a sip first. Then she held it out of my reach ... I knew what was coming.

"So?" She wasn't about to give this up.

"I don't know why I drink," I said, half in frustration and half in surrender. I admitted to my little sister the thing I wasn't able to say to myself or anyone else before: I had no idea why I drank. "I don't know why I do it and I'm sorry every time." I looked at her and then added, "You should know that I love you more than I like to drink but sometimes it ain't enough."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. The older I get the harder it becomes," I said. "The older you get the more you see that everyone else makes excuses. Excuses for not trying hard enough ... excuses for giving up when you know you can keep going. Everyone does it ... even Mom." Madison was aghast.

"No she doesn't!"

"Sure she does."

"She does not."
"Does, too."

"Whatever..." She gave me a dirty look and we continued on in silence. This was frustrating because I was fighting fatigue and I knew she was, too. In the back of my head were all the problems that could still be waiting for us. We were definitely out here with no protection and no help. It's terrifying at any age but I was 15
. I was a kid
. What made me think I could do this?

It's times like this that I usually get dark and depressed about everything. Anyone would have trouble surviving the last few hours like we did. Would they also have the crushing weight of their own problems making them feel like this was going to be yet another item in a long list of failures? All of this negative junk was making me upset and Madison could see it in my face. Falling apart was definitely not an option right now.

Stop it
, I told myself sternly.
Whatever else happens, you still managed to get away. You and your sister are still alive because of that.
Dad would often say that 'hindsight is 20/20.' I guess I'll know better for the next time me and Madison have to bust out of a fishing colony ahead of a bunch of Mexican pirates. In case you're wondering: yes, I am being sarcastic.

I had to knock off this constant stewing in my own juices and
just try to do the right thing now
. That was the only way we were going to get through all of this. I pushed all of the mental debate out of my mind and checked our heading, the GPS and the depth finder. I wanted to know if we were about to run this old tub up on the rocks.

As time passed, I felt calmer. I was piloting the boat, I could see my compass and my GPS ... we were doing okay. I had done well so far and I would probably be able to handle whatever came after this. What would getting upset accomplish, anyway? I was a teenager steering a boat for the first time, a beat-up yacht, in a horrible storm. Of course I was having a hard time ... this is a hard problem.

All of the negative stuff in my head gradually dropped off. It didn't matter whether I sucked or not - I had to do this because no one else could.
Our lives were in my hands
. The thought got me out of my slacker funk and focused on the problem of saving our necks.

On the radio, the Colony was dying. They turned our friend's boats into confetti but the pirates kept coming. When I had a second, I leaned my head as far as I could out to the starboard to see if I could see anything. There was an orange glow on the horizon. That had to be the E and D-Rings sinking into the ocean.

We listened to the fight as long as we were in range of the radio. The pirates boarded and among other things, they were looking for Dad. When they couldn't find him or the
Horner
, they started trying to fight their way aboard the
Phoenix
. Security tried to hold them off but the pirates weren't leaving this time. I guess there was some vicious fighting at the A-Ring gangway. The
Dixie Star
was somehow damaged or sunk in the process. I couldn't make much sense of it from what they were screaming to each other. Finally, someone on board the
Phoenix
decided that enough was enough.

They cut loose their moorings ... the big crossbars that attached the
Phoenix
to the rest of the Colony and then, they gunned the engines. It must have been quite a sight to see: that big old iron hulk smashing through docks and boats. The
Phoenix
was a military ship - a destroyer - and it was designed to take a beating. I didn't have to be there to imagine the shriek of metal on metal as it cut through the docks.

Maybe they hit some pirates making their blind charge ... they might have hit some Colony folks, too. I don't really know. The 'civilians' ... our friends on the Colony ... they had to hold on for dear life while their homes were shredded underneath them. We heard also that the Navy was coming in to 'secure the area' long after it was too late. The Navy was unable to reclaim the Colony and, since they didn't want the pirates using it for a base of operations, they cut loose some artillery and destroyed it.

I'm glad I wasn't there to see it. Our little Colony was a tiny corner of the world and holding onto life as best as it could. It wouldn't have stood a chance under some serious ordinance. I shiver now when I think about what a tremendous loss it all was. A boom town that grew to be a fledgling community and then gone again in less than a few minutes of sustained fire.

Ethan was right. The Colony was a boom town and a community like that couldn't last. It makes me wonder if Dad knew that and deliberately involved himself in what would lead to its downfall. I wonder if he felt responsible for helping to kill the neighborly spirit that brought us here in the first place. To believe we could or should help rebuild the fish population. To believe we could all get along together just by believing in a common purpose. To believe that a common purpose was all we needed in a place like this. I wonder ... I doubt if he thought about it all that much.

The radio eventually faded and all that was left was us, the rain and the steady grumbling of the engines. We were still heading north and already we were fifty miles away from the remains of the Colony. I could see that the idea of us getting up to Puget Sound was crazy. It's over a thousand miles away ... I just didn't know what else we should do. I was beyond tired and into that weird, euphoric state where you're running on adrenaline.

The storm passed and the sun came out around eight the next morning. I needed to rest and I couldn't leave Madison to drive the boat alone. As a matter of fact, I couldn't ask Madison to do anything ... she fell asleep about seven and there was no waking her. What were we supposed to do? I was watching the GPS for a boat dock or a beach we could pull up next to. The coast north of the LA basin is rocky and dangerous. There are big tall cliffs, rocks and then water. We just kept going and going.

About four the next day, I saw something on the horizon that might work. We had skirted Vandenberg Air Force Base and other places during the day ... now we were almost 200 miles from the Colony. The sun was setting when we pulled in and I tied off the boat on some pilings that were too tall for a boat dock.

The beach looked soft enough but I didn't want to try beaching the
Horner
. I doubt I could get it off of the sand again. It took everything I had to pull up, put the fenders over and then tie her off. Stupid things that Dad had taught me, like knot-tying and basic boat handling, were saving us right now. It made it difficult to hate him.

I had just finished tying the last cleat down when I saw an old man in a rain slicker peering down at us curiously. He was wearing a green rain slicker with brown docksiders and carrying a fishing pole. We were tied up at somebody's fishing dock.

"You guys alright?" he asked, pitching his voice over the noise of the surf. "Not the best place to stay."

"I need to stop," I called back. "I've been up for two days."

"For
two days
?" he called back. He sounded impressed. "Where were you?"

"Down in the Colony," I called back. "Off of the Channel Islands?" He nodded, understanding. "It's gone now."

"Gone?"

"Yeah ... they killed it." My voice was catching suddenly. "They killed the Colony and my friends and now I can't find my Dad." Tears were running down my cheeks before I could stop them.

Without a word, the old man his way over the chest-high rail and then worked his way to us to drop down on the forward deck. With practiced ease, he added expertly tied a few more lines to hold us even more tightly to the dock. "That'll hold you for a while," he announced. "You need to rest up a bit." He noticed Madison and pulled out a phone to dial a number. Whoever answered his call was told to make arrangements for us to stay somewhere and get a hot meal. "Where were you going?"

"My Dad said to get to Puget Sound and he'd find us there."