by Otto Schafer
Garrett nodded. “Okay, so we stay until we get to the lock. It’s called the Melvin something or other, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s the last one. If we can beach this thing before we hit the lock, cross on foot, and find another boat, then we got a good chance to float all the way down to the Gulf of Mexico.”
“And let me guess, you know this because of those special studies your parents made you do?” Ed asked.
Garrett nodded, motion moving in his peripheral vision.
“You go… gonna… wanna tell me what’s where you think er taking this… this here boat?” the drunkard mumbled, having somehow managed to retrieve and open a fresh bottle of Malört before stumbling down the steep flight of the tugboat’s metal steps, through a swing-gate with a sign that read Authorized Personnel Only, and out onto the ferry’s parking deck.
“We’re real sorry about this, but we need to get downriver as far as we can,” Garrett said apologetically.
“Kong didn’t te… tell me downriver, just you’d be needing to cross!” the man said, swaying.
“Kong?” Paul asked.
“The catfish! Said he was Me… Mekong, which du… dudn’t make sense.” The man took a long pause, blinking real slow, as if considering this for the first time. “See, Mekong ain’t in this part of the world but he ain’t blue and he ain’t no fl… flat. No way. No indeed! Mekong he must be!” That struck the man as suddenly funny, and he belted out a laugh that threw off what little balance he had. The bottle of Malört slipped from his hand and shattered on the deck of the ferry. The drunk’s face went serious. He frowned and lurched backward as his grey-bearded face screwed up. “Well, ain’t that a bitch!”
Garrett and Lenny lunged forward, taking the man by the arms and guiding him over to a car where he could sit on the bumper. The others followed.
“Mister, what did Mekong say exactly?” Garrett asked.
Lenny raised his hand and gave Garrett a look that said, You know this dude is crazy, right?
“Just Kong! That’s what he calls me… er me him… he likes it all right. Fits hi… him too… every bit of a thousand pounds!” the man said, trying to give Garrett a serious scowl, but his head bobbled and he lost focus.
“A thousand-pound Mekong catfish in the Mississippi?” David said in disbelief.
“That’s wha” – hic! – “what I said, isn’t it!”
Garrett shot David a look. He wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but he was sure this old drunk guy was worth listening to. “Sorry, Kong, I mean. What exactly did Kong say?”
The man smiled and nodded approvingly. “Said Garrett and his smages were heading this” – hic! – “this way. Said I should help you get across, so the trees don’t get you.” Hic! “So… you Garrett, or what?”
David’s eyes went so wide Garrett thought his head was going to pop.
Garrett nodded, a thousand questions blossoming in his mind. “What’s your name, mister?”
“Louie!”
They all crowded in around the front of the sedan where the drunk man perched precariously. Suddenly, Louie had all their attention.
“Can you tell me what Kong told you, Louie? I need to hear all of it,” Garrett said.
Louie blinked again, long and slow. “C-course you can tell me all of it. You need to… to hear it,” Louie said, raising a swaying finger as he pointed downriver. “But if you don’t… don’t get this ferry into the main channel, we’re going to be playing in the sand… sandbox… sandbar” – hic! – “in the middle!”
All eyes followed Louie’s toward a fork in the river with a protruding sandbar. They were heading right for it.
“I’ll get in the water and try to push!” Ed shouted, leaping into motion.
Paul stepped close to Louie, who was still being steadied by Garrett and Lenny. “Mr. Louie, can you man the rudder and steer us in the direction my brother pushes?”
Louie frowned, his eyes going wide and then narrow, before his entire face twisted up. “Wha… what? I don’t know nothing ’bout a rudger!”
“Rudder! The steering wheel, Louie!”
Louie just continued to stare at Paul, seeming even more confused than before.
“Guys!” David shouted, his own voice going high as he braced himself against the parked car. “We’re getting way too close.”
“Look at me, Louie!” Paul said.
The man found Paul’s face as if for the first time. “Oh! Hey there.”
“Louie, can you manually steer your tugboat without power?” Paul asked in exasperation.
“My boat?” Louie said in surprise, then started laughing. “Thi… this ain’t my boat! I been slee… sleeping on it.” Hic! “Was empty when I found it.”
“You got to be kidding me!” Paul shouted as he turned to run for the tugboat.
The ferry was within forty yards of the sandbar and closing.
Garrett watched as Paul crossed the deck, leapt over the rail, and climbed the flight of stairs leading to the bridge. “Louie, if this isn’t your boat, how are you supposed to help us cross?”
Louie ran a hand through his beard and then onto his head, realizing with surprise he was wearing an Irish flat cap. He took it off, exposing his balding head, and inspected the hat.
“Louie?”
“What? Oh! Well, I told yo… you about the sandbar, didn’t I?”
From the front of the parking deck on the starboard side, Garrett heard a deep grunt. He leaned Louie back against the grille, hoping he’d be able to keep himself steady there. “Come on!” he said to the others, and the four boys ran to the starboard railing.
When Garrett looked over the side, he found Ed hovering just above the water, his shoulder pressed into the side of the ferry, pushing with everything he had.
“Whoa! He’s flying!” David announced.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Lenny said.
“How can we help?” Garrett said, leaning out over the rail.
“You can tell me… when… we… are clear!” Edward said between grunts.
Garrett looked back toward the sandbar. They were moving toward the channel alright, and still a good thirty yards from the sand. “It’s working! Just keep pushing.”
Louie was up and staggering toward them. “You’ll run aground before” – Louie bent, vomiting onto the pavement of the deck; he stood upright and wiped his face on his sleeve – “before you ever get to the sand!”
“That was gross!” David said, looking green. “I can’t watch people get sick! It makes me get sick!”
“You and your chickenshit mustache stand over there!” Lenny said, pointing. “You’re not puking on me like you did that time at the Menard County Fair.”
The ferry continued to move toward the middle of the channel, and it looked like they were going to narrowly miss the sandbar.
“I think we got this!” Pete said just as the starboard side of the tugboat heaved upward to the sound of metal dragging through sand.
Everyone jolted forward, off balance as the tugboat continued to rise, and the sound changed to twisting metal. With a sharp snap of steel, the tugboat broke free of the ferry.
Louie fell face down, barely getting his hands out in front of him before he hit the deck. He lifted his head and shouted, “Sandbox!”
Paul appeared from the control room with no time to descend the stairs. The tugboat was running aground, and the ferry deck was drifting away.
“Jump, Paul!” Garrett shouted.
Climbing up onto the railing of the upper deck, Paul jumped. He cleared the gap easily, landed, and rolled. The tugboat continued straight, beaching into the sand hiding just beneath the water.
Edward continued to grunt as he pushed against the starboard side of the ferry. Without the added weight of the tugboat, the giant pontoon parking deck shifted toward the center of the Mississippi.
As quickly as the danger of the sandbar had come, it passed. “Climb up, Ed. We’re clear,” Paul said.
Ed cli
mbed up the side and the boys pulled the giant man over the rail and onto the deck, where he collapsed in exhaustion, while Garrett and the others sat catching their breaths. Louie lay passed out and snoring some feet away.
For a little while, no one spoke.
Finally, Garrett broke the silence. “Everyone okay?”
Grunts and nods answered him.
“Pete, what the hell happened between you and Governess?” Garrett asked.
Pete shook his head. “I don’t know. I was looking at her, trying to see what that clasp was on her neck. I focused in on it, and at the same time she stumbled back.”
“How did you do it, Pete?” David asked.
“Do what?”
“Make her lose her concentration and fall?” Lenny asked.
Pete shook his head. “I… I don’t know.”
Garrett put a hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Well, I’m sure glad for it, whatever it was.”
“It looked to me like she lost her balance and fell. Probably lost her focus after that,” Ed said, pushing himself up and starting toward the front of the boat.
“Where are you going, Ed?” Paul asked.
“I’m going to the bow to try and adjust our course without crawling over the side.”
“You want some company?” Paul asked.
“Negative – you guys should get some rest and sleep if you can. Grab some MREs and fuel up,” he said as he stalked away.
“God, what’s that guy’s deal?” Lenny asked, getting to his feet. “We kicked shrub chick’s ass while you guys got the boat launched, and he’s still being a total jerk.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Paul said.
“MREs? Again?” David whined.
“In the army we called them meals rejected by the enemy,” Paul said.
“They should call them meals ralphed in an envelope because that’s what it looks like every time I open one.” David shivered. “So nasty!”
They laughed.
“Good one, kid,” Paul said, turning his attention to the bow of the boat. “Grab the gear and find a place to shelter. I’ll join you for chow in a few.”
Garrett understood this must be hard for Paul and Ed too, and he wished he could help, but he was just a kid and he was doing the best he could. He knew Ed blamed him for letting Bre get taken, and now he was probably pissed because Garrett hadn’t listened to him back in the parking lot. But they had made it, and most importantly, everyone was safe. So why the—
“Oh, my god!” David shouted, pointing.
Garrett blinked, torn from his thoughts as he jumped to his feet next to Lenny, both falling reflexively into a fighting stance.
Pete jumped up too, and everyone, with the exception of an unconscious Louie, was suddenly on their feet and ready.
“Whoa! Guys! How am I just noticing the truck!” David said, pointing.
Garrett relaxed his stance. “What the shit, David!”
“You scared the crap out of us. The truck has been here the whole time!” Pete said, holding his chest.
“Not the truck, fellas! The logo!” An infectious smile lit up David’s face as he started rubbing his hands together. “Days! It’s been days with only meals ralphed in an envelope! And now we have a whole Little Debbie truck!”
Lenny squinted at David. “Are you… Are you crying, David?”
“Tears of joy, Len. Tears of absolute joy!” David broke into a run, face fixed for some goodies.
“You think he’s crying now? He’s going to be devastated if that truck is empty,” Pete said. “Let’s go.”
“Wait, what about him?” Garrett said, glancing down at Louie, who was snoring loudly. The three boys carried Louie back to the sedan and laid him in the back seat, grabbed their packs, and joined David at the truck.
The truck wasn’t empty. In fact, by the time Garrett and the others caught up to David, he had already finagled the rear latch, lifted the door, and climbed aboard. A Nutty Bar stuck out of David’s mouth like a fat cigar and he was cradling an armload of Swiss Rolls as if he were holding a newborn babe.
“If eber der wer a heaben…”
Garrett looked at him, bumfoggled. “What?”
David crunched into the Nutty Bar and chewed. “I said, if ever there were a heaven! Come on, guys!” He held his arms wide, dumping the load of sweets onto the floor. “There’s plenty for everyone!”
Garrett grabbed a pack of Swiss Rolls and a Honey Bun. “I am going to crawl into the cab and chill for a bit.”
“Sure, Garrett,” David said. “I wonder how much of this stuff we can cram into our packs for the trip.”
Garrett slipped into the cab and settled back into the seat. He tore open the Swiss Rolls, realizing only now just how hungry he was for something other than an MRE. The truck was facing downriver and through the windshield Garrett had the perfect view as they drifted along, down the center of the largest river he’d ever seen. In five or six miles they would be at Grafton, where the Illinois River merged into the Mississippi. But he wouldn’t see it. Darkness was coming, and Garrett feared all the horrors that came along with it.
Paul and Ed were both on the starboard side of the bow. Starboard? He was pretty sure that meant the right side, and they were to his right. Judging from their expressions, the two men appeared to be arguing; at one point it seemed to be getting heated because Paul’s hands started moving up and down like he was juggling, except he had nothing to juggle. Plus, he just looked plain pissed. Garrett looked away, opting instead to watch the river as he finished off the Swiss Rolls and moved on to the Honey Bun.
Wiping his hands on his pants, he reached into his pack and pulled out Coach’s notebook, and there in the cab of the goodies truck he used what little light the setting sun offered to read.
I met your mom twenty-two years ago after working a covert military assignment that had me traveling between Colombia, Venezuela, Florida, and everywhere in between. My mission was to gain information on how the cartel was developing narco-submarines and using them to move tons of narcotics undetected through the Caribbean Islands and into Florida.
It was dangerous work, but no matter how many millennia have passed since I arrived on this planet, war has been my constant. It’s been the one thing I could focus on. The one thing to take my mind off waiting for the prophecy of Turek to begin. I’ve always found myself drawn to battle, and I’ve always chosen the side I felt upheld the values I believe in. There are other ways to pass the days, but they mostly include sharing your time with people. You learn quick that people die, and when you can’t, well, best not to get attached.
Over the millennia, I’ve lost plenty of men in battle, but that was different from losing them to old age. Dying in battle was honorable and could have claimed any of us, even me. But growing old, well, it isn’t fair to watch your men grow old and die. Curse the gods, it isn’t fair.
Women, though, that’s a whole different kind of loss. But in this I was careful to a fault. I made sure not to fall in love. Love ’em and leave ’em – you damn right. I know what you’re thinking, but like I said in the beginning, you won’t like everything you learn.
With women, it wasn’t that hard. Dökkálfar are less emotional than humans. We act more on logic – not that we don’t have emotions or feelings. Even if you weren’t half human, you would still be capable of emotion, of love. It just builds slower, that’s all. I figure this is how the gods intended it: since dökkálfar live so much longer, our emotion is slower to build. Humans get such a short time to live, they live it full of passion, full of emotion.
That was my theory anyway, but then I laid eyes on your mother and that all changed. I’ve been all over this world, walked this planet in every direction, and until the moment I met her, I thought I’d seen every type of human woman there was. I have seen pharaohs’ wives elevated to goddesses, kings go to war over virgin beauties, and entire countries plunged into chaos over a lover’s betrayal. But never have I seen beauty so pure until I laid eyes
on your mother.
I will never forget that day on a tiny street in Kingston when I rounded the corner and there she was. I stopped and stood there, frozen stupid. Then she spoke, and it seemed like the rest of the world stopped to listen too. The birds, the ocean, the wind – all frozen, and in that moment of absolute stillness my heart stalled, afraid to beat. Afraid to somehow interrupt perfection. I fell instantly in love. My heart beat once more and my mouth opened. Your mother looked at me, her flawless face crinkling in curious perfection. “Are you okay?” she asked. I nodded stupidly and said, “I love you.”
Our romance was fast and wild. We made love on the beach under the stars every evening, and we spent our days together, farming produce. For the first time since I came to this planet, I didn’t miss Osonian, and I didn’t miss battle. For the first time, I felt like I was right where I belonged. I fell harder every day, breaking my rule to never love a human, for to love a human was to break two hearts. I couldn’t grow old with her. I knew the questions that would come when she began to age and I didn’t. I couldn’t continue to lie to her. I would have to tell her what I am. I told myself she would understand if I just waited long enough. Months turned into years, and in a blink five years had passed.
I knew time was fleeting. I thought about it every day, how I would tell her what I am, how I would explain that it didn’t matter because I loved her and no matter how old she became, I would be by her side until the end.
Then one day she came to me, asked me to sit down, and told me I was going to be a father. I couldn’t believe it. I knew in that moment it was time. I had to tell her the truth. So I did.
As I expected, she didn’t believe me. I knew this would be the case, so I was prepared to prove what I was. I changed form back into a dökkálfar. Whatever I thought was going to happen, well, it was the opposite. At first my form terrified her, and I couldn’t even get her to look at me. Then when she did finally look, it was different. She hated me. Hated what I was. She told me to leave. To never come back. She said she never wanted to see me again and that I would never see my child.
I was heartbroken and angry. Angry with her, with the gods, with myself. But I did as she asked, and I left. I found the nearest conflict going on in the world, picked a side, and jumped back into battle. I buried myself back into my work, and I stayed buried for the next five years.
