Seeking a Sane Society: Nothing is the Same (The Seeking Series Book 2)

by Albert A. Correia

  “It was coming along well,” Warren told him, “but we had an interruption or two. Now, with the new people in Avalon, we need to incorporate that area into consideration and look at it with a broader perspective. We’re going to bring them in on the discussions.”

  “Will you wait until the invasion by Silva’s troops is over?”

  “I don’t know,” Warren said. He looked at Zach.

  “I don’t think we need to wait that long,” Zach said. “The people at Two Harbors are well organized, and it won’t take them long to make adjustments to repel the attack. Stacey and the kids, along with my mom and the people from Two Harbors, will begin training the Simi Valley people today. We’ll train as if there is an imminent attack on Avalon, but we will still have time make future plans.”

  “That what I like about you,” Kotchel said. “You think positive. Others would want to make sure there’s going to be a future before they plan it.”

  “Oh, there will be a future,” Zach responded firmly. He felt no need to elaborate.

  “Which brings up another subject,” said the captain. “Are you sure you don’t want us to escort you to Catalina? Just because we haven’t seen the pirates doesn’t mean they’re not around.”

  “You need to go north,” Zach said. “People up there are counting on you – and that food.”

  “We’ll only be delayed a little over half a day, Zach. That’s not much, and I’m almost sure the pirates won’t bother you if we’re on guard. On the other hand, if we’re not there, it’s almost certain they’ll go after you to get the food.”

  “I’m counting on it,” Zach replied.

  “You’re what?” Kotchel thought for a second. “So that’s why you said you figure there’ll be three less enemy boats later today.”

  “Yes. We are ready for them.”

  “Look, I know you have two super bazookas and some sharpshooters aboard, but they have their own rocket launchers and heavy artillery. Not to mention they out-number you three to one.”

  “They won’t use heavy weapons,” Zach told him. “because they’re after the food, and if they hit us with a rocket, our boat will sink before they can get to it. My father and I are good with the super bazookas. We’ll knock them out before they can get off a rocket shot. We have the advantage.”

  “If they don’t shoot you before you get off your rockets.”

  “That’s why we have the two ex-snipers aboard,” a curl reached the edge of his lips. . . “to get rid of pests before they sting.”

  “Just two?”

  “Two is enough,” Zach asserted.

  Captain Kotchel glanced at Warren’s boat and then gave Zach an odd look. He was going to say something but changed his mind and remained silent for a few moments. Finally, he said, “And so you’d rather take that risk instead of going over without armed conflict because. . . ?”

  “I think you’ve already worked it out,” Zach replied. “If we can destroy three boats, make them use several rocket launchers, and kill fifteen or twenty adversaries, that will reduce the invasion force.”

  “It’s a good theory, if it works,” said the captain, “but. . . ”

  “. . . the reality isn’t going to be pleasant if it doesn’t,” Zach finished for him.

  Warren had already climbed down a ladder to the boat’s deck. Zach followed him. Just before his head disappeared below the pier, he stopped and said to Kotchel. “It’s worth the gamble. We’re risking seven lives to save hundreds.”

  Kotchel glanced at the boat and gave Zach the same odd look. “Apparently you don’t know just how much you’re really risking. I pray you all make it safely.”

  He turned and walked away before Zach could ask him about the oddity of his comment. What could he possibly be risking that he didn’t know about?

  * * * * *

  The radar on Warren’s boat picked up blips made by three vessels midway between Port Hueneme and Catalina. The boats moved at a rapid speed toward them and then waited in the waters off Zuma Beach, just far enough to stay out of sight or be picked up by radar.

  Warren pushed the throttle forward a little to appear as if they were trying to escape from the pirates.

  The three boats approached from the port side. They were too far away to intercept them from the side and would have to fall in behind the cabin cruiser to catch up. Based on their speed, they catch up within the hour. Once they were directly behind their target, they spread out.

  Zach was lying in the cockpit with a super bazooka at his side. With him was an ammo loader with three rockets, shells, and a sniper holding a long-barreled rifle. Glen was on the bow in the space between the cabin and supplies. A loader and sniper accompanied him, as well. Warren sat at the wheel in front of the cockpit, which gave him visibility over the cabin.

  The radar was next to the wheel and, until the enemy boats broke through the early morning fog, only Warren could tell what they were doing. “It looks like their plan is to bring boats up along both sides of us,” he called out. “The third boat is directly behind us and dropping back a little.”

  “They’ll try to move two boats on each side and slightly ahead of us,” Zach reasoned. “They want to pinch us in and then board us, figuring we’re easy kills. “If that’s their plan, the third will move up to block us from getting away from the rear and will stay back until they board us.”

  “I’ll take the one to starboard, Zach,” his father called back. “You take the one to port. Wait until they’re so close we don’t miss.”

  “Agreed,” called Zach. “We can’t waste ammunition. If we can knock out three boats with three shots, great.”

  “I don’t have experience with this kind of thing,” Warren said, but judging from the radar blip, the one in the middle looks pretty big.”

  The fog still hid the boats, so Zach was able to get up and go to the radar without being seen. He whistled. “You’re right. I don’t think there is a way to measure, but that one in the center is definitely bigger than the others. By the size of their blips, I think the others might be larger than we anticipated.”

  Zach went back to the stern and kneeled down, keeping his body below the top of the transom, but allowing his head to be high enough to watch the ocean behind them. Like all the others on the boat, he felt tense. The enemy boats would be upon them soon, and there would be a battle. He felt confident, but knew from experience that anything could go wrong.

  The fog started to lift, and a boat appeared in a clear spot about five hundred yards behind them and to their starboard side. It wasn’t the size Zach thought, but it was bigger than theirs. He estimated it to be at least fifty-feet long.

  A cargo ship in the middle broke through the fog. It was slightly farther back, probably seven hundred yards from them. It was small by commercial standards, about one-hundred-fifty feet, but to those aboard Warren’s cabin cruiser, it was huge.

  The ship got Zach’s attention but not as much as the scene on its bow.

  Two men with bazookas stood on deck with ammo loaders beside them. Four others with automatic weapons were at their side.

  The bazookas were aimed at where Zach was kneeling.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 30

  THE third boat appeared out of the fog. It wasn’t quite as large as the others were, but it was at least forty-five feet long. When all the boats were in the open, the assailants made their move. Even though they were already going faster than Warren’s boat, the two at their sides revved up to close in.

  There were five armed men standing on the deck of each vessel, ready to jump when the boats were alongside their victim. They thought they would make short work of killing the crew so they could take over the boat and get those supplies.

  When they were within one hundred yards, Warren helped them get closer by slowing down to steady their craft and make Zach and Glen’s jobs easier.

  Zach kept his eyes left, watching the boat there get closer and angle in toward them. He figured their p
lan was for the two side boats to pull their bows in so close they would almost touch. That would form a V that would wedge Warren’s boat in and force him to slow to a stop and make it easy for the thugs to board.

  Not today, he thought.

  He made a quick check of the boat on the other side. Its bow also pulled even with the stern of Warren’s cruiser. Zach wanted them as close as possible, but he and his father would have to shoot before the boats moved further ahead of where they were now. If they got to the point where their wakes hit Warren’s boat, the rocking of the boat would make aiming difficult.

  When the assailants’ boats gained another ten feet, they were within fifty yards.

  “Now!” yelled Zach.

  All the men on the cruiser snapped into action simultaneously. Glen rose from the bow deck, dropped to one knee, and hefted his Super Bazooka to his shoulder. His loader had a rocket ready to load, and the sniper stood, looking for targets.

  The men at the stern did the same.

  The hijackers on the boat to their starboard side were quick to see they were going to have opposition. Four opened fire with small arms while a fifth hurried below to grab heavier weapons.

  A shot hit the sniper guarding Glen on the bow before he could shoot. In less than two seconds, Glen loaded his bazooka and shot. It hit the fifty-foot boat where the four men stood, right where the deck and hull met. The boat blew apart, and the men went somersaulting through the air.

  The thugs on the port side boat were almost as fast to open fire as were their compatriots. Zach’s loader was hit before he could load a shell, and a bullet grazed Zach’s shoulder. The sniper guarding Zach killed two of the assailants, and then he saw a rocket fall and roll around the cockpit deck. He dropped his weapon and rushed to pick it up.

  Zach had fallen when the bullet grazed him but regained his stance and aimed his Super Bazooka at the boat, which turned to get away. The boat’s motion redirected the aims of the remaining gunmen, and their shots soared off target.

  The sniper with Zach loaded the rocket shell he picked up, and his aim was perfect. The shell hit the stern of the fleeing boat at the waterline, penetrating the hull and fuel tank. The shell and fuel tank blew, sending pieces of the boat and men flying for fifty feet in all directions. In seconds, there was nothing left but debris.

  Zach got his shot off a second before a huge wave caused by the first explosion hit Warren’s boat. Everyone grabbed for handholds as the boat lifted ten feet in the air, and then dropped and rocked as new waves came from the other direction as the result of the second explosion. The boat rocked violently.

  As the craft settled, Zach looked quickly for the third boat with the two men sporting bazookas on the bow, loaders, and four armed gunmen.

  It swayed gently on the waves over five hundred yards away. Their bazookas could make a kill up to one thousand yards, but their effective range for normal targets or tanks, was only three hundred yards. Warren’s boat presented a target about the size of a tank. Theoretically, the shooters couldn’t be sure of hitting their target at five hundred yards. However, if they got off enough rounds, they might get lucky.

  That was just what the men on the cargo ship intended to do. They fired two and loaders picked up more shells. Both went wide but the shooters adjusted their aims for the next shots.

  They had to take out those pirates they could zero in on them. Unfortunately, one of the snipers on Warren’s boat was dead and the other had dropped his weapon to load Zach’s bazooka.

  On the pirate’s boat, one loader was already loading another shell. The second was not far behind. The men on Warren’s boat were out of time.

  * * * * *

  Zach heard a shot from behind and watched incredulously as the first loader on the boat behind them fell backward, dropping the shell he was about to load. A moment later, there was a second shot, and the other loader fell.

  Zach turned and was amazed to see Denise standing in the doorway of the main cabin, the sniper’s rifle at her shoulder.

  The sniper walked over to her, and she handed him the rifle. “Here,” she said, “keep them busy while I get my AK-47.”

  She disappeared into the boat’s main cabin, and the sniper went back to the transom to look for targets. There was no longer anyone standing at the bow of the cargo ship, which was turning away. The men had taken cover and were shooting from behind bulkheads and several barrels tied down near the bow. The turning boat was rocking, throwing off their aims, and so the bullets were flying high, or splashing in the water around Warren’s boat.

  Denise returned to the cockpit and took a position next to her father and the sniper. The transom protected them from enemy fire.

  “What are you doing here, Denise?” Zach demanded, but his voice was not very stern.

  “Sorry, Dad,” she apologized. “I just couldn’t wait back at the island while you were out here risking your lives for us.”

  “Did anyone see you come aboard?”

  “No. I was actually pretty sneaky – although I think Captain Kotchel may have caught a glimpse of me changing positions in the cabin while they loaded the cargo back there in Port Hueneme.”

  “Judging by the way he acted, I suspect he did. He didn’t squeal on you, though. I’ll have to think up some punishment for him, too.”

  “Punishment?” said the sniper. “You are aware that your daughter just saved our lives, aren’t you?”

  Zach smiled and patted Denise’s shoulder. “By the way, thanks for that.”

  Glen Arthur came around the cabin into the cockpit with his bazooka and loader. The man had two shells left.

  The cargo ship was completing its turn and moving away from them. “You’re not shooting at them?” he asked.

  “No,” Zach replied. “I didn’t see any more shells for the bazooka around. We have no more chance of hitting hidden targets with small arms as they had of hitting us, so I see no sense in wasting ammo.”

  His father nodded. “Good thinking, son.”

  After studying the cargo ship for a few seconds, he added, “I doubt that I can do enough damage with my bazooka to sink that thing from this distance, but I can put a hole in it if I can hit it. It’ll certainly give them something to think about.”

  He took aim at the fleeing ship, and the loader put in a shell. He got off a shot. The shell hit the water a little to the ship’s port side.

  “Thirty feet to starboard, Dad.”

  “Got it.” He aimed again and when the shell was loaded, he fired.

  The second shell hit the water slightly behind the ship and there was an eruption of water at its stern. From where they were, the rocket did not seem to cause a big explosion, but it appeared to lift the ship and probably penetrated the engine room. If so, it caused a lot of damage to the equipment there. The slowed.

  “You did it, Dad! And you definitely gave them something to think about.”

  “I’m almost as good with this thing as my granddaughter is with a rifle.”

  “You did better than me, Grandpa! The motion of the boat threw me off.”

  “What do you mean I did better than you? You knocked out a guy before he could load a bazooka. Two for two. It took me two shots to hit one target.

  “I never did hit my target,” she drawled sweetly, a sheepish grin spreading across her young face. “I was aiming at the guys with the bazookas both times.”

  She brought laughter to a group that was tense only moments before.

  Her eyes reflected pathos, a dull, haunted look that did not match the bright smile on her lips. As before, she used humor to camouflage the repugnance she felt for what she had to do. He renewed a vow he made the first time it happened. He would do everything in his power to rid this new, violent world of the fiends who forced a thirteen-year-old girl to kill someone just to stop them from doing the same to her and her family.

  Warren engaged the autopilot and looked at the cargo ship through high-powered binoculars. They were pulling away, and he could
see that the gunmen on the bigger ship had long since given up trying to shoot them. The cargo ship slowed to a stop, and Warren’s boat was making good headway, so they were now over one thousand yards apart.

  “There’s an old acquaintance on the bridge of that ship,” Warren said. He handed the binoculars to Zach, who put the glasses to his eyes and focused. He saw McFee, the man who tried to steal their food supplies three days earlier on the pretext of collecting taxes. The man stood on the ship’s bridge looking back at him through his own strong binoculars. He put them down and pointed menacingly.

  “I get the feeling he recognized us, too.”

  “Even without glasses, I could tell he was pointing at us,” Warren said. “What do you suppose he meant by that?”

  “It means he plans on seeing us again.”

  “All too soon, I’m afraid.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 31

  MALCOLM Slaughter was smoldering when he left the radio and went to the lobby to talk to the governor and the attorney general. Both sat in their usual spots on the sofa.

  “Mal, what is it?” Silva asked with concern. With all they had to do, he did not like to see the big man in such turmoil.

  “They’ went too far this time!” Slaughter uttered vehemently.

  “Who? Keep calm, Mal. We can’t have you flying off the handle.”

  “Look who’s talking. The guy who’s half a step from going bonkers most of the time.”

  “Why, you ungrateful slug! Remember who you’re talking to!”

  “No, you remember who you’re talking to, guv.” The big head of the “militia” put his hands on his hips and stared angrily at Silva. “You’ll only be in that seat as long as you have me around to keep you there.”

  Venable rushed to get between the two hot heads. “Both of you cool it,” he ordered in the most authoritative trial lawyer voice he could muster. “We’ve got too much at stake here for petty arguments.”