The Passage (13 page)

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Authors: David Poyer

BOOK: The Passage
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“I'm going to get some sun,” said Big Mary, sounding bored. “You dump me in the water again, Jay, so help me I'll skin you, you hear?” Without waiting for an answer, she went forward around the cabin. Little Mary looked at Dan, then got up and followed her.
Harper said, “It's crazy, that's why. Say we go up there, steam four carriers and all the cruisers and destroyers and shit, and there's this huge all-out battle. The Reds lose, then what? They're out nothing; they're still rolling their wagons across Europe. But we lose four carriers, we've lost the fucking war. What if the admirals dick it up?”
“I don't know. They probably modeled it—”
“Sure, but what I'm saying, they don't know everything. Everybody thinks he's gonna win, or there wouldn't be a battle, right? But somebody's gotta get his butt kicked. All I'm saying, maybe we ought not to go sticking our dick into the pencil sharpener.”
“Well, you might be right—”
“Fucking right I'm right. And then, Christ, we go and publish it in the papers, tell them exactly what we're gonna do—so they can have everything ready when we show up.”
“Maybe it's a trick. Get them set up for an attack around the Kola Peninsula, then hit them from the Pacific, or through the Med.”
“Maybe.
I
don't think we're that smart.” Harper looked aloft, then aft, and put the helm over. Dan ducked as the boom came around; the boat heeled, then steadied on the opposite tack. “What I think, it's all theoretical. There isn't gonna be any war … . Hey!
Mary! Better tuck those in. You're gonna fall out—Oh shit!” He folded, laughing, as Little Mary waved her top at a passing boat full of fishermen. Their heads snapped around, beers spilling, faces gaping at
Blow Job
, where Big Mary, too, was pulling her top down, breasts rolling out like white cannonballs into the sunlight.
 
 
DAN shook his head and came awake with a start. But when he sat up, nothing had changed—except that a half-nude Little Mary was steering now, a beer in one hand and a Salem dangling from her lips. Pointed breasts swayed, pale with a hint of saffron, reminding him of his ex-wife's. Harper and Big Mary weren't around. He sat up, started to ask where they were, then looked down into the cabin.
Later they came up, flushed, and Harper took the helm again. He and Dan chatted while the girls basked like cats. The brick battlements of Sumter slipped by. They were west of the main channel, with wooden poles sticking up marking, Dan assumed, shallows. Harper didn't have a chart, just glanced at the compass once in a while.
“Having fun yet?”
“This is great … Jay.”
“So how come you don't have one? It's sick to live here and not have a boat.”
“Can't afford it.”
“Your paycheck's bigger than mine.”
“Not after alimony.”
“How long you been divorced, Dan?” Little Mary asked. She had a sweet voice.
“Not long enough.”
“How much you get shafted for?” Harper asked him. “I thought they knocked that off … women liberated and all.”
“Well, we went to the hearing. The judge said, ‘Mr. Lenson, I'm giving your wife eleven hundred dollars a month.' And I said, ‘Okay, Judge, maybe I'll kick in a couple dollars, too.'”
Harper laughed, then the women. “Funny. But
eleven hundred
? A month? Shit, she raped you, man. For how long?”
“Permanent, till she remarries. Get this: The judge was a woman.”
“Yeah, she filleted you and put you on the table.” Harper looked up at the rigging, then said to Big Mary, “Get me another brew, okay, bitch? And bring up that cheese stuff.”
“Don't call me that, Jay. I'm not your wife.”
“I'll call you what I fucking like on my boat. Get the beer, bitch.”
She passed one up for Dan, too. He sucked deeply, knocking his
head back against the coaming. He was exaggerating, inviting their sympathy. Six hundred of the eleven hundred was child support. And there'd be a review after five years. But still, Harper was right: It didn't leave much.
“Which is why you're livin' on the ship,” said Harper, chiming in uncannily with his thoughts. “Yeah, I can see where you'd be pissed.”
 
 
THEY picked up the tide around two. Sullivans Island slid by and they headed between the jetties, out to sea. Harper crossed the channel and hugged the port side as containerships and trawlers plowed past.
Blow Job
began pitching as she passed buoy Romeo 14, rusty bell clanging dolefully. The sun glared off the water in a million scintillating points. Little Mary asked Dan to sunscreen her back, then turned, offering her breasts. He felt dizzy and his bladder was full. “There a head aboard?” he asked Harper.
“Below and forward. Hey, and long as you're down there, bring up a towel. Should be some in the V-berth.”
He let himself down the companionway gingerly. It would be smoother outside the bar, but right now she was going up and down so hard, he felt queasy.
Belowdecks, the Alberg was roomier than he expected: a deep main cabin with settees and a galley; gimballed lamps and a hatchway that he guessed accessed the engine. “Beer in the icebox,” Harper shouted down from the blue cutout of sky, and Dan remembered the head. He went forward and found it. It was small but had everything he needed, and he sagged into the teak, closing his eyes as he drained used beer.
He was in the V-berth looking for the towels when the door closed behind him. He whipped around in the sudden dimness, feeling himself grow heavy, then light, almost floating, as the bow reared up and then dropped away.
A slim silhouette curved against the sliced light that filtered through the louvered door.
The sea pounded and swished against the hull as Little Mary, not saying anything, pushed him back onto the damp briny-smelling cushions. She unbuttoned his shorts and jerked them down with firm, practiced motions.
Suddenly, tears stung his eyes, and he put his hands on her hair, cradling her head in the reeling, plunging darkness.
 
 
WHEN she led him back up into the cockpit, she said to Big Mary, “You were right.”
“I was?”
“Yeah. Like a horse.”
Dan blushed as they laughed. His head felt empty, as if his brains had been sucked out. He looked out to where the land was a black line. They were pretty far out for a small boat.
“Yeah, I figured you was one of us,” said Harper.
“What do you mean?”
“A cunt hound,” he said. Big Mary slid her hand up Dan's leg and into his shorts from beneath. “Not like some I can name.”
“What do you mean?” He didn't feel comfortable with her fondling his balls. For one thing, she had long fingernails. For another, he didn't feel comfortable having sex practically in front of another guy, especially one who worked for him. But it was a little late for second thoughts. He took the cold one Little Mary handed up from below.
Harper drawled, “I ever tell you I was on the
South Carolina?
They used to call her ‘the Love Boat.' Want to know why?”
He didn't care, but because it was Harper's boat and his party, he said, “Why?”
“Because they had queers up the ass. There was a yeoman, and he started ordering other queers in. They spread the word, and guys started requesting transfers, and finally there was a hundred and ten out of six hundred crew. They called themselves ‘the Family.' I was a chief then.”
The girls had gone below, and Harper lowered his voice as if he was telling a dirty story, although he hadn't when he actually
had
been telling dirty stories. “There was this guy in Combat—if you put your hand over his mouth, he looked like the most beautiful woman you'd ever hope to see. Remember when they came out with the fifty percent bigger Mars bar? He used to put two of them together and swallow them. Put 'em in his mouth, then take them out—dry. The master-at-arms finally caught him sixty-nining another guy.
“That's the only way you can get them, see—you either have to catch 'em actually fucking each other or else make them admit it … . The strangest one was a storekeeper. A couple of Navy docs came aboard and took him off. Stripped his rack with rubber gloves and put everything in plastic bags. I'm still not sure what that was all about.” He looked aloft, then turned to check the horizon. Dan did, too.
“And the
Kearsarge
, an
Essex-
class carrier out of San Diego, they used to call her the ‘queer barge.' They had a boiler technician chief, they found Polaroids of two hundred sailors in his locker.
He'd get the young kids down there in the hole, feed them jungle juice, then his guys would strip them and tie them up. The kids weren't queers, but they got made into queers … . And
LaSalle
, the flagship in the Persian Gulf, another nest of 'em.” Harper searched the cockpit for cigarettes, found Big Mary's pack. He lighted one, looking off at the now-dropping sun as it gilded the sea. “Shit, just thinking about faggots makes me want to dump my lunch in my briefcase. But it's funny. There were guys who didn't believe it. I guess just not everybody sees things like that. And some of them, it's hard to tell.”
Dan said, “Why are you telling me this, Chief Warrant?” “Why? Ain't no why, Lieutenant. Just that I was glad to see you ain't got knee- pads on your trousers. What about that little brown fucking machine? She's got a nice body, a nice attitude; she takes care of herself. I figured you'd like her.”
“She was something.”
“Know how to tell you got a good blow job? When it's over, you got to pull the sheets out of your ass.”
“It's not just the sex. She's nice. How'd you meet them?”
“The usual way. Hit 'em with a monkey's fist.” Harper chuckled. “I was standing on the pier when one of the other ships left for deployment. One pulls out, another slides in, you know? Big Mary had this see-through top on. I asked if I could buy her a drink. The rest is history.”
Dan felt something; he wasn't sure what. “And Little Mary?”
“They're friends. They're in some kind of wives' club together.”
“Some kind of—” He went tense. “You mean she—”
“Sure, they're married, if that's what you mean. Little Mary, her husband's Air Force in Japan. Don't sweat it; he's having a good time, too. Ever been to Yokosuka? USS
Newport
, an old patrol frigate they built for the Russians. We'd ask the girls, ‘You got clap?' ‘Yes.' ‘Syphilis?' ‘Yes.' ‘Gonorrhea?' ‘Yes.' ‘You got VD?' ‘No, me no got VD.' Short time was a hundred yen; all night was two hundred yen, and your blues were clean and pressed in the morning. Three hundred and sixty yen to the dollar. I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.”
Dan didn't laugh. They were on a reach now, still headed out. The wake chuckled under the counter, smooth yet slightly roiled, as if things were moving under the surface of the sea. “I didn't know she was married,” he muttered.
“I ever show you the old shell game?” Harper said. He was drunk, Dan realized, even through his own beer fog. But the man carried it. He didn't reel or glaze, just got more intense. “Hey! Bitch!”
“Yeah, asshole?”
“Hand me up some of them plastic cups.” Harper fished in his
pocket, broke the foil pack. He arranged the cups mouth-down on the cockpit seat and put one of the condoms under one of them. “See which one I put it under?”
“Yeah.”
“This one here?”
“Yeah.”
“Now watch close. You take this one and move it here—and that one and move it—and—” He lifted his hands. “For twenty bucks: Where's the rubber?”
Dan considered. Harper's hand had hesitated, then reversed direction. A little faster and it would have fooled him, but the chief warrant was drunk, just the tiniest bit slow.
“Come on, which one?”
“That one.”
Harper grinned. He lifted the cup, and Dan stared at nothing. “Forget the twenty, Lieutenant. You never seen this? Here's how it's done.” He put the cups back and did it again, and this time Dan saw that the hesitation was not an accident but that it drew the eye while the other hand twitched the right-hand cup aside. “Classic misdirection. Make 'em think they've won. Then, when they lift the last cup—
nada
. They're dicked.”
Dan looked at the dropping sun. “How long we staying out? We don't want to go back in the dark, no radar—”
“I know the channel,” said Harper, grinning. “And we got loran. Hey! Little Mary! Your man needs another
ba me ma
. Enjoy yourself, shipmate. Next week, we're going to sea.”

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