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The Raft

Page 12

by Christopher Blankley


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  The rafts of boats were growing thicker as they neared the Kalakala. Dozens of craft were moored together, bobbing gently on the waves. Twenty yards from the hull of the old ferry, the raft grew so thick that the Soft Cell could sail no farther. Here, at the core of the Raft, boats formed one large artificial island, wrapping the Kalakala in a protective shell of smaller ships.

  Maggie pulled up along the side of a large, opulent pleasure craft and yelled out “Ahoy” in a deep, resonating voice. From the lower decks of the pleasure yacht, a pair of young men appeared and rapidly helped Maggie secure the two boats together.

  “From here, we walk,” Maggie told Rachael once the lines were secure.

  “Walk? Across the other boats?”

  “Yes, it's how it works. This is as close as we'll get to the Kalakala until this Raft breaks up and starts to sail north. It's customary to allow other Rafters use of your decks for transit. Sometimes these Rafts can get pretty big. Everyone out here kind of likes to huddle together.” Maggie moved up the length of the Soft Cell toward Chemical. “Come on, let's go see the Wizard,” she told him.

  “Piss off,” Chemical cursed.

  “I could just leave you tied up here,” Maggie said.

  “No, you can't, Maggie Straight. I'll sue.”

  “You can't sue, Chemical, you don't have a Magistrate.”

  “But-”

  “Come on.” Maggie took a pocket knife from her jeans and cut the zip tie that held Chemical to the pulpit.

  With Chemical Ali G free, Maggie took him by the scruff of the neck and lead him off the deck of the Soft Cell and up onto the deck of the neighboring pleasure yacht.

  “Maggie Straight?” Rachael asked, scrambling up onto the yacht to follow.

  “Yeah,” Maggie sighed. “Maggie Straight the Magistrate,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “You said everyone on the Raft has 70's Citizen Band handles...”

  “Ooo, can I call you that?” Rachael smirked.

  “Absolutely not!” Maggie fired back.

 

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