by Joe Nobody
Her withdrawal wasn’t lost on the Texan. He had a new thought, a way to make amends and perhaps improve both of their attitudes. Reaching into his pocket, he produced the wedding ring.
“Here,” he offered sheepishly. “I was almost late to the ceremony because I was down in the machine shop creating this. I know it’s not a proper diamond, but it was the best I could do given the circumstances.”
Grace held the ring up into the starlight, her smile seeming to illuminate the raft’s interior. “It’s perfect! Dusty, you’re amazing. I love you… so very much.”
Dusty rested the rail gun across his lap, taking the ring and sliding it over her finger. It seemed to fit.
“Okay,” she said, holding up her hand to gaze at the new addition wrapped on her finger. “Maybe this isn’t such a bad honeymoon, after all.”
Armstrong entered the bridge, stepping over the bodies that had yet to be removed. He sped to the radar station, growling when he found the unit wasn’t functioning due to damage suffered in the attack.
Studying the complex console of equipment, he sought out the ship’s primary GPS plotter next, watching the numbers adjust to display the ship’s exact position.
“We’re drifting to the southwest,” he noted. “That means their lifeboat will do the same.”
He then stepped quickly to the nearby chart table and began jotting down a series of calculations. “They should be here,” he said, poking the map with his pencil. “We’ll bring her about. Full power.”
The admiral watched as his men rushed to fulfill his orders, his gaze now directed toward the front of the ship. “I want our best shooters on the bow with night vision. If they spot that lifeboat, spray it down with small arms fire. This is going to be tricky at best. We want to kill the occupants, not sink the craft and its cargo.”
“Yes, sir,” came the response, another man rushing out of the bridge to execute the instructions.
“Where are you, Weathers?” Armstrong whispered.
Dusty heard the deep rumble of her massive engines before Parthenon appeared out of the darkness. “Oh, shit,” he muttered, pointing toward the huge bow barreling straight at them. “Get down.”
Next, a twinkling of light sparkled from the ship’s deck, followed quickly by the pop, whack, and ping of bullets striking the water around them. “They’re shooting at us,” he warned Grace, “find something to hide behind.”
On she came, barreling down on a collision course, her hull looming larger and larger as the distance closed. Another round of gunfire sent tiny geysers of water spouting skyward, a few of the bullets thumping into their boat.
Dusty raised the rail gun, centering the optic on the rapidly approaching wedge of steel streaming directly at them.
He fired.
Parthenon seemed to hesitate, almost as though she’d lost all traction. In the low light conditions, the Texan would have sworn he saw her entire hull shudder for a nanosecond of time, and then she exploded.
“Get down!” Dusty yelled, the command wasted on an already cowering Grace.
A wall of furnace-hot air slammed into the life raft, lifting it from the surface and then rolling the hapless vessel and its occupants over and over again in the wake of the devastation.
The centrifugal force pinned Dusty and Grace to the raft’s hull, their brains nearly scrambled and pummeled during the few seconds the raft was airborne.
And then it landed, crashing into the ocean and skipping like a child’s stone skipped across a lake.
The two passengers were tossed and turned, hitting the sides and mashed against each other. When the turbulence finally subsided, they laid in a heap at the bow of the boat.
It seemed like every muscle in Dusty’s body had been tormented, stretched, and pulled. He remained absolutely still, not daring to move from the waves of pain generated by even the slightest motion.
Grace moaned, “Are we still alive?”
“You are,” he replied. “I’m not sure about me.”
“Oh my God, Dusty,” she managed. “Now I know how it feels to be a pair of tennis shoes in a dryer.”
Slowly, cautiously, they began to test their bodies.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve cracked a few ribs,” Dusty announced. “And one arm isn’t moving so well.”
Grace’s biological inventory yielded a similar report, no broken bones, but one knee was sure to be swelling. And numerous cuts and scrapes covered both passengers.
Dusty scanned the horizon, trying to find any sign of the ship that had been bearing down on their tiny craft. There was nothing, wall-to-wall water and sky.
“Now what?” Grace ventured, trying to sort through the jumbled mess scattered around the boat.
“I guess we drift and hope somebody finds us. I don’t know if the captain got off a mayday or not.”
Grace held up the emergency beacon, its plastic case shattered during the turmoil. “I guess this little thingie isn’t going to help us much now.”
A scowl crossed Dusty’s face at their next discovery. Holding up one of the broken containers of water, he announced, “Now this might be a real problem.”
“How much do we have left?”
“A gallon. We lost two-thirds of our supply.”
Apparently worried, Grace shrugged her shoulders in a helpless gesture. “Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.”
Dusty scanned the ocean again, this time concentrating on where his internal compass believed was east. “The sun should be coming up soon. Maybe there will be a rescue. When Parthenon doesn’t show up at Pearl, they’ll figure something went wrong.”
“But that was supposed to be days from now. Will we last that long without water?”
“I don’t know, Grace,” he replied. “We’re in God’s hands now. Nothing much else we can do but wait and pray.”
Mitch, his family, and Andy sat around the television, watching as the President of the United States approached the podium.
“My fellow Americans,” the chief executive began, “It is with a saddened and heavy heart that I come before you. At 9:53 PM two days ago, a distress call was broadcast from the recently launched cargo ship, Parthenon. During that short broadcast, the captain reported that his vessel was under attack by unknown forces. The word, ‘pirates’ was used. Two Coast Guard cutters were dispatched immediately to the scene, as well as numerous aircraft. Over the past 48 hours, an extensive search has been conducted. No survivors have been found.”
The president paused, looking into the cameras with a dejected expression before continuing to speak. “This tragedy at sea effects all of us, as the Parthenon was carrying Durham Weathers and his invention. Our experts now believe that some rogue element discovered our attempt to protect the Olympus Device by keeping it at sea. They tried to take control of the ship and its precious cargo, which held such promise for the future of mankind. Orbiting satellite data indicates that Mr. Weathers discharged his device, most likely in an attempt to fight off the pirates. While there’s no way of being sure, this brave act may have resulted in the vessel’s demise and subsequent disappearance.”
“In addition to the unfortunate deaths of the crew, the entire world has suffered a great loss. The Olympus Device held great potential, and at the stalwart insistence of its inventor was to be developed for the benefit of all of earth’s citizens.”
The Commander in Chief’s expression then lightened, his voice changing to a tone of optimism. “The best scientific minds in the world will now be undertaking the task of reproducing what Mr. Weathers had created. While it may take time, I’m confident that eventually we will uncover the secrets and benefits of his invention. My heart and prayers go out to the families of the captain, the brave crew, and Mr. Weathers. God bless America.”
Mitch reached for the remote, no longer interested in what the television had to say about his brother. The reality that Dusty might actually be dead was finally setting in, the pain and remorse in the professor’s core gro
wing by the second.
His thoughts then turned to Andy, the young man sitting nearby, quietly staring at the television as if he expected to hear better news any moment. When his nephew closed his eyes and started shuddering with tears, Mitch moved to his side and pulled him close.
“I guess dad doesn’t have to worry about being hunted down anymore,” Andy finally managed between bouts of weeping. “I hope Grace and he can finally rest in peace.”
“They’re together in a better place now,” Mitch responded, but even he was struck by the hollow echo of his words.
Epilogue
Something was different… the ocean’s rhythm and sound had changed.
Dusty forced his eyes open, quickly regretting the move as the bright sunlight added to his already pounding head.
They had consumed the last of their water two… or was it three days ago? Dehydration was making them both lethargic, Grace spending most of her time sleeping in the limited shade offered by the lifeboat’s damaged canopy.
Dusty’s first thought was that he’d been dreaming again, his ears reaching out to seek what had caused him to wake. There it was… a change in the sound of the waves.
Squinting with pain, the Texan managed to raise his head and peer over the side. He had to blink several times before he realized the vision was real.
There were mountains in the distance, each covered with a brilliant emerald green canopy of tropical lush flora. He could make out the white sand of a beach just on the horizon.
Another bolt of pain surged when the Texan smiled, his blistered, dry lips pulling on sun-crisped skin.
“Grace! Grace! Land! There’s land out there.”
Moaning at being disturbed, she tried to ignore his voice, but he wasn’t going to let her. “Come on, lazy bones,” he croaked. “We’re going to be okay… there’s land out there.”
With his help, she managed to sit up, the effort requiring all of her almost-depleted resolve. “Oh, Dusty, you’re right! Oh, God… it’s a miracle.”
The couple watched, the current seemingly taking forever to wash them towards the shore. Charged with adrenaline, Dusty finally slid over the side, finding himself able to stand on the sandy bottom.
He pulled them ashore, the effort taking nearly all the strength he had left. Grace had trouble standing, her legs weak and unsure from lack of use and a shortage of water.
Dusty spotted a small structure just down the beach. “You stay here,” he ordered. “Let me go check it out.”
He found a spigot on the building’s exterior, the fitting and valve looking just like any other he’d seen, ready to accept a garden hose. He twisted the knob and was thrilled when clear, clean smelling water rushed out.
Dusty filled his cupped hands three times before turning off the priceless resource. The liquid gave him strength, and he stumbled back to the beach, waving for Grace to join him.
He drank some more while he waited for her to make the journey. Pointing toward the godsend, he said, “It’s fresh and cool. Be careful. Not too much too quick though.”
While Grace drank her fill, Dusty ventured around the small building’s exterior, now strong enough to be curious where they’d washed ashore. He didn’t have to go far for his answer.
“Hanauma Bay Nature Preserve,” the sign on the door stated. “Oahu, Hawaii, Ranger’s Office.”
Dusty started laughing, the irony of it all making it difficult for the Texan to control himself. Grace, unsure if her mate had finally gone insane or had actually seen something funny, rounded the corner to see what was happening.
Dusty pointed to the sign, waiting until she read the words.
After the initial surprise wore off, Grace just shook her head. “Of all the places for the ocean to deposit us. What are the chances?”
Recovered from his outburst, Dusty continued to scout around while Grace stayed close to the water source. “I peeked inside the window and looked at the clock. The sign says they open at 8AM, and it’s only 6:30. We’ve got a little time before the park opens.”
“I’ve made it this long,” she said. “Another little bit won’t matter.”
“Actually, I was thinking about something else,” he replied, staring down the beach at their lifeboat.
“What?”
“Well, nobody knows we’re here, right? They probably all think we’re dead. I’m wondering if that isn’t the best solution to this entire mess.”
Grace frowned, wondering if Dusty had finally succumbed to sunstroke. “I’m not following.”
“We have those papers and documents Monroe gave us back in Seattle. We have money, new lives, and new names. Why not let everyone think we’re dead, and then they’ll stop looking for the rail gun and us, too? We can start fresh and not have to be looking over our shoulders.”
It took a moment, but Grace finally nodded and smiled. “Does this new life include a hotel room, bath, meal, and a real bed? If so, then I’m in.”
But then Grace started having second thoughts. “What about Mitch and Andy? They’ll think we’re dead, too, and I’m sure both of them will suffer for a long, long time.”
“I know. I was thinking about that. After things cool down a little, and we’re set, I’ll figure out some way to contact them and let them know we’re okay.”
She didn’t like it, but after what they’d been through, Grace couldn’t come up with a better solution. If they announced their survival and the rail gun’s reappearance, the drama would all start over again. The violence. The running. The deaths. She smiled her agreement.
Dusty grinned, “Okay. One problem though, we have to do something with that lifeboat. If anyone finds it, they will start looking on this island for us.”
“Maybe it just washed ashore?” Grace countered. “I’m sure sea junk washes up all the time.”
Dusty thought about it for a minute, and then shook his head. “Let’s not chance it. This is an opportunity of a lifetime, and I don’t want to mess it up.”
She followed him back to the raft, helping him drag it across the sand to a patch of thick undergrowth. “I’ll come back later with a rental and haul it off to a landfill. For right now, that’s the best we’re going to be able to do.”
The sound of an engine drew their attention, a bus pulling into the distant parking area. The sign on the side advertised, “Hanauma Bay Snorkeling – Free Shuttle Service.”
They approached the bus, waiting for the final tourists to depart. “Excuse me,” Dusty inquired, realizing Grace and he both looked like death warmed over. “I had a little too much to drink last night… and well… I ran my car off in a ravine. We’re okay, but could we get a ride back to the city without the… errr… police getting involved?”
The man driving the bus looked at the couple with a knowing expression. He’d been working the tourist trade long enough to have seen much, much worse.
“Hop on,” the driver responded with a smile worthy of the island’s famous hospitality. “I’m heading back to Honolulu. You can hire a wrecker there.”
The End
