Colony East (22 page)

Abby grabbed their packs of food and water and followed. Toucan cried out when the rain hit her face. In the passenger seat, Abby held on to her and gently wiped the water off her forehead. “In twelve hours, you’ll be in the hospital.” She tried to sound more convincing. “A real doctor will take care of you.” Her tone still sounded fake. “Touk, I love you.”

“Where’s Eddie?” Abby asked Toby as he climbed behind the wheel. “He can help us carry her to the boat.”

Toby started the engine. “Eddie’s not coming.” He paused a moment. “Do you want the real reason or the reason he gave me?”

Abby imagined a metal box deep inside her mind where she kept her fears and wishes stored away. She lifted the lid and packed her disappointment inside. Eddie, Jordan’s best friend, had failed her and Toucan in their greatest hour of need. Abby closed the lid of the imaginary box. The only thing that mattered to her was reaching Colony East.

She quickly discovered that Eddie wasn’t the only one afraid of catching the Pig. When they pulled into the parking lot at the harbor, Abby had expected at least a few friends to show up and see them off, albeit from a safe distance. The lot was empty.

She jostled Toucan. “Wake up.” Her sister didn’t stir. “If you get up, I’ll give you a piece of chocolate.”

“Two,” Toucan murmured.

Abby smiled sadly at her sister’s effort to negotiate. “Okay, two.”

They didn’t need the flashlight. The sky had lightened enough to reveal solid gray cloud cover and the jetty, lying low and long against the horizon. Together, she and Toby half-carried, half-dragged Toucan across the parking lot and out onto the slick dock. With the rain coming down in sheets and the wind howling, Abby didn’t want to think about the strait—the twenty miles of open ocean they were about to cross.

She climbed down the dock ladder and stepped into the whaler, cursing the water that had pooled in the boat, rising just above her ankles. Toby handed Toucan to her and returned to the Jeep for their supplies.

She covered herself and Touk with a tarp. Inside their dark cave, she gave her two small pieces of chocolate.

“More,” Touk cried.

Abby grabbed her wrist just in case. When Toucan curled into a ball instead of thrashing, Abby wrapped her arm around her, trying to comfort her as best she could.

Toby fired up the outboard, and Abby soon sensed the motion of the boat as he pulled away from the dock. She knew from the smooth ride they were still in the protected harbor.

Beyond the jetty, Toby drove the boat hard, skittering over the wave tops. Abby hugged Toucan, hoping the whaler’s ability to handle rough seas would offset Toby’s lack of experience.

Gripping the rail with one hand, she found the rhythm of the boat as it pounded the waves. She cradled Toucan’s head before each impact.

The further from land they went, the bigger the waves. Every bruising crunch, Abby told herself, put them closer to their destination.

The bow crashed into a rising wall of water, slamming Abby from her position, jostling Touk. The next wave caught Abby off guard and knocked the wind out of her when she landed stomach-first on the fiberglass bench. Toucan burst into tears as icy water drenched her clothes.

At that moment, the engine quit and the boat swung around, now taking the waves broadside. They rolled violently side-to-side, water pouring over the port and starboard gunwales, rising to Abby’s shins, then her knees. She clutched Touk to absorb the brunt of the blows. Fearing they would capsize, Abby ripped back the tarp and gulped at the sight of Toby trying to insert the gas spout into the outboard’s tank. With the boat bucking up and down, gasoline splashed everywhere.

He forced a smile. “Part of the plan.” He finished filling the tank and pushed the starter button. The engine sputtered. Toby cranked the motor without pause. She didn’t think that was part of the plan. If it didn't catch soon, he’d drain the battery. Abby’s stomach twisted in panic. Stranded halfway between the island and the coast in stormy conditions, the list of ways for them to die was long.

Toby kept his finger welded to the starter button.

Abby remembered her dad teaching her how to start a lawn mower. “Sometimes the engine gets flooded with gas,” he had explained. “Move the lever to the highest speed. The gas will flow through.”

She grabbed his arm to get his attention. “Toby, give it full throttle.”

He shook his head and kept cranking and cranking the motor.

Wondering at what age boys might actually start to listen, Abby reached out and pulled the throttle lever toward her, full on. The motor coughed blue smoke and hummed to life.

“Thanks,” Toby muttered with a sheepish grin. Avoiding her eyes, he revved the motor and headed off in the direction of Portland.

When they entered Portland Harbor an hour later, the rain had thinned to a mist and clouds were breaking up to the west, showing a patch of blue. Abby watched Toby steer for a slip at the trading zone that was reserved for lead negotiators.

Once he had tied up the boat, together they moved Toucan to a park bench. At first, Abby thought it was strange that traders and shoppers, some wearing germ masks, cleared a wide path for them. She shuddered when she realized how sick Touk must look. She had witnessed her sister’s gradual decline. If these kids were this afraid, Touk might be sicker than she thought. They had no time to waste.

Toby gathered their supplies from the boat and told Abby to wait at the bench while he finalized the deal for their ride to Colony East.

With Toucan slumping against her shoulder, Abby kept a wary eye on her surroundings. Activity at the zone picked up. A fishing trawler, looking like it was towing a flock of hungry gulls, motored toward a dock. Kids shouted out their wares. Puma sneakers, smoked deer meat, even baseball cards. Just about anything could be traded. The blast of a horn caused quite a stir as the crowd surged toward a fuel truck in the parking lot.

She wished Toby would hurry up.

Abby closed her eyes and thought about Jordan. A sudden shiver passed through her. The feeling made her uneasy. She wished he were here. If her brother had skippered the whaler, they would have avoided their near death experience in the strait.

Once more, Abby lifted the lid of the metal box deep in her mind and placed in it her fantasy that Jordan would sail into Portland Harbor on
Lucky Me
, and they would go to Colony East together.

CHAPTER SIX
Mystic

A blade of fear twisted in Jordan’s stomach as the growl deepened. He took a step back in the dark shadows. The throaty vibration wound tighter and tighter like a spring ready to snap.

Then the dog pounced. It had a broad chest and a flat head and blank eyes. Pushing off its back paws, it hurtled at Jordan, strings of saliva flying from open jaws.

The dog smashed its throat against his thigh, choking off its air supply, which enraged it even more. Then it clamped its jaws until teeth met bone.

Jordan screamed and then blinked as bright light drilled into his brain through his eyes. Wondering if he had just jumped from one nightmare to the next, he saw he was in a bed, facing a window where leafy branches swayed outside, creating dancing shadows on the teddy bear wallpaper.

Trying to clear his vision, he focused on a bag of clear liquid hanging from a metal pole next to the bed. A tube ran from the bag to the top of his hand with white tape holding the needle in place. He realized he was awake and hooked up to an IV.

He saw bandages on his thigh and it all came back to him. Horrific images flooded his mind. Pirates attacking. Getting shot.
Lucky Me
vanishing in flames. The exploding cans of gasoline were land mines buried deep in his heart. He remembered struggling in the cold, dark water. He cried out as he plunged deeper into grief.

All of a sudden, it felt like someone was hammering a spike into his thigh. Each blow in sync with the beat of his heart. He screamed again.

Two girls rushed into the room. The shock of seeing them silenced Jordan. There was one his age who had straight black hair that came to her shoulders and very dark eyes. When she gazed at him their eyes locked, and he forgot about his pain for a second. He decided then, to try not to scream so loudly. The other girl was younger, probably around twelve. She also had black, straight hair, but her expression was far less serious than the older one. It almost seemed as if she had just told herself a private joke and was stifling laughter. Jordan saw nothing funny about his situation. The girls spoke to each other in a foreign language.

The younger one put a blood pressure cuff on his arm while the older one took his pulse. The lightness of the girl’s fingers on his beating pulse, while her serious eyes darted from his wound to her wristwatch and back, made him forget his anguish again for a fleeting moment.

Jordan lifted his head, but the searing pain it caused in his leg convinced him to lie back. “Where am I? A hospital?”

The girls traded glances. He didn’t know what they were communicating except this was no hospital.

“You’re lucky,” the older one said. “A fisherman found you floating.”

“Where?”

“This is Mystic, Connecticut,” the younger one said.

He tensed. The pirates had attacked them off Mystic. What would they do if they learned there was a survivor? Something else concerned him. He worried about Abby and Toucan. If the pirates boasted, the news of the disaster on
Lucky Me
would spread. The pirates would not know the name of the boat, but a two-masted schooner was rare. His sisters would hear about the boat sinking from other gypsies. They’d think he was dead.

“I live on Castine Island,” he blurted. “I need to get home, now.”

The older girl produced a syringe. “First, you need to get better. How does your leg feel?”

Unable to speak in the grip of pain, his contorted face answered for him.

The girls again spoke to each other in a language he didn’t understand. Then, together, they rolled him onto his side. He grunted in agony as they wedged a pillow underneath his back to keep him propped up. The younger girl scrubbed a spot on his butt. The older girl snapped her finger against the syringe.

He felt the pinch of a needle, and a moment later, the brilliant sunshine and leaves outside held greater interest than his throbbing thigh.

CHAPTER SEVEN
Portland Trading Zone

“Hey!”

Hearing Toby’s voice, Abby blinked in the bright sunshine and saw him standing before her with another boy. Coming out of a deep sleep, she panicked before realizing Touk was snuggling in the crook of her arm.

Toby nodded to his companion. “This is Spike. He’s our driver.”

Spike had a wispy mustache and a constellation of purple moon tattoos on his upper arms. Abby guessed he was fifteen or sixteen. She introduced herself and Toucan. When he scrunched his brow, a look Abby had seen a hundred times after mentioning her sister’s name, she added, “Her real name is Lizette.”

Spike grinned. “My name’s Arthur, but call me Spike.”

“Can you carry the girl?” Toby asked him.

Spike stepped forward, and with little effort, scooped Toucan up as if she were made of straw. “Whoa, she feels like she just came out of the oven.”

Toby shrugged. “It’s just a bad cold.”

Abby held her breath, fearing they would lose their ride if Spike decided Touk’s fever was from the Pig. She exhaled in relief when he walked off without dropping her sister like the hot potato she was.

Spike opened the passenger door of a red Mini Cooper, flipped the seat forward, and gently laid Toucan in back. Abby climbed in next to her, crinkling her nose at the strong odor of gasoline. She found the source: two five-gallon cans in the cargo section behind her. She wasn’t about to complain.

With Toby next to him in the passenger seat, Spike drove with one hand on the wheel, the other hand resting on the barrel of a shotgun.

They headed south on Route 95, weaving around the abandoned cars and trucks. Abby craned her neck left and right, taking in the sights. They passed corn and wheat fields, and bicycle convoys that rolled along in the breakdown lane. Her jaw dropped when Spike drove on the median strip to pass a slower moving fuel truck. She looked up into the rearview mirror, catching him smirking at her.

A few miles into New Hampshire, four motorcyclists roared up behind them. Abby gasped at the sight of rifles slung on the backs of the two lead riders.

Just then, one of the bikers sped up and rode alongside them. She peered into the car and grinned when she saw Spike. After giving him a thumbs-up, she raced ahead and the other bikers followed.

Spike winked at Abby in the mirror. “Nobody messes with Martha’s property.”

“Spike works for Martha,” Toby explained. “She’s the fuel king who controls Portland.”

Abby knew of Martha.

They stopped in view of the Welcome to Massachusetts sign, which was covered in graffiti, much of it purple. Toting his gun, Spike got out and took a leak behind a bush. Abby broke out snacks and water. She gave a few crackers to Touk and passed apples to the boys.

“More,” Touk demanded.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Abby placed her sister’s head in her lap. “Shhh.”

“Please, Abby, another cracker.”

Preparing to hold her arms if she started flailing, Abby dribbled some water on Touk's forehead and blew on it to cool her down. “Try to rest.”

“She’s got the Pig, right?” Spike asked.

Toby crunched his apple. “Nah. It’s the flu.”

“I want a cracker,” Toucan screeched.

Hugging Touk, Abby locked eyes with Spike in the mirror. It was obvious what was wrong with Touk. Should she tell him the truth? Her heart hammered in her chest as she held his gaze, but she said nothing. A flash of sadness crossed his eyes and then he started the engine. As they drove off, Abby wondered if the Pig had claimed someone close to Spike.

They approached a roadblock south of Boston, where a group of older boys and girls were collecting tolls.