The Raft

by Christopher Blankley

  Chapter 33

  “Gandalf is dead,” Maggie said, tossing the large Colt revolver down on the counter before the gathered Gray Beards.

  While Maggie addressed the council, Rachael was in the Palm Room of the Kalakala, breaking the news more gently to Tiger Print.

  The Gray Beards, gathered at counter of the Kalakala's Horseshoe Café, recoiled in shock. The sight of the old revolver and Maggie's blunt delivery stunned them into silence. They exchanged confused glances, all eyes eventually falling on Orac.

  After stepping down off the three-mast sailing ship, Maggie and Rachael had found the car deck a roaring party. A thousand Rafters, at least, were watching the Kon-Tiki Races. All the Gray Beards were in attendance, including Orac, the celebrated man of the hour. It had been his plan, after all, to face down the Coast Guard. He had brought the Raft en masse here to the Races today. A few beers and the celebratory mood had worked to erase everyone's memory of Gandalf and Maggie crossing in the fog to the Coast Guard cutter. No one wanted to quibble; it was a great day for each and every citizen of the Raft.

  But Maggie's arrival without Gandalf drew a few questioning looks. When Maggie had called all the Gray Breads together for an emergency council meeting, the mood on the car deck subtly changed.

  “My God, what happened?” Orac spoke, picking up Gandalf's revolver and looking it over.

  “He drew down on the Feds. They shot him down like a dog,” Maggie said, knowing better than to sugarcoat it.

  There was a ripple of angry murmurs from the Gray Beards.

  Maggie raised a hand for silence. “But it's how he got us through the blockade. The Feds blinked. When they realized they might have an all-out revolt on their hands...”

  “You bet they have a revolt on their hands!” One of the Gray Beards leapt to his feet, angrily slamming a fist down onto the table. Maggie fixed him with a withering, pointed glare that sent him slowly back down into his chair.

  “No,” she shook her head. “No one gets to be angry about this. No one. What Gandalf did, he did for the Raft. It was self-sacrifice. No one will sully his good deed by using this as an excuse for more violence. The fact of Gandalf's death will stay in this room until such a time as the full weight of his act can be communicated to the Raft at large. Until then, if this information leaks, I will hold each and every person in this room accountable.”

  “But what about Tiger Print?” someone asked.

  “Rachael is with her now.”

  “Then we must honor Gandalf's memory,” Orac spoke up, returning the revolver to the table. “And continue our stewardship of the Raft after the model he established.” Orac began to pull himself up to his feet. “I, for one -”

  “No,” Maggie interrupted. Her attention was enough to return Orac to his seat.

  Maggie reached into the front pocket of her jeans. She rummaged around and came up with the large, flat key. This she dropped down on the table beside the revolver.

  There was a collective gasp from the Gray Beards.

  “Where did you get that?” a Gray Beard asked.

  “Gandalf left it for me,” Maggie replied.

  “But...”

  “And with it, I think we can all agree, he meant to leave me the Exchange also.”

  “But...” Gray Beards muttered amongst themselves.

  “What are you doing, Maggie?” Orac asked, looking up from the key to Maggie's face. His voice was almost lost in the tussle of everyone attempting to speak at once.

  “How do we know that's genuine?” a Gray Beard called out over the din of voices.

  “Quiet!” Maggie called out. She picked up the heavy colt, and used its handle as a gavel on the table.

  The Gray Beards fell silent.

  “Alright,” Maggie began, dropping the gun back on the table. “I know the Raft has no leader, has never needed a leader, and doesn't want one. And up until today, that had been all well and good because we had Gandalf. A king with no desire to be king is the best kind. But those days have passed and when Gandalf saw the need to sacrifice himself for the good of the Raft, he did so. When the time came for Gandalf to act as a leader, he did. The Raft might have never wanted a leader, but it had always had one. And now he's gone.

  “For whatever reason, Gandalf saw it fit to hand this mantle of un-leadership to me. Perhaps Gandalf understood that the death of Meerkat has fundamentally changed the nature and purpose of the Raft. I don't know. Perhaps he saw what the Raft sorely lacks is law and order. Whatever his reason, leaving this key behind for me signified something. Perhaps we can argue about the detail, but one fact about this key is undeniable: what it unlocks. How can you know it is genuine? It would only take a trip below decks to know for sure. No, I think everyone here understands what this key is: authority. The authority of the Exchange. The authority of the gold that sits in the vault below our feet, the only the authority the Raft has ever had or can ever understand.

  “Of course, there is no reason anyone here should accept my authority. The Raft is free, everyone can do as they please. And what I will propose in the coming weeks will give each and every one of you pause. The days of the Raft sitting separate and apart from the mainland is over. Closer integration with the dryfoots is inevitable. I accept the challenge of overseeing this change. Let's say I've accepted the Raft's franchise. I accept responsibility for its welfare and safety.

  “But all of you must understand what is at stake if you choose to oppose me. This key gives me the power to sink the Raft. You all know it. Without the Exchange, without Sum, this whole enterprise can so easily vanish below the water. This key is power – total and ultimate power over the Raft. And Gandalf left it to me.”

  The Gray Beards were silent. There was nothing to stay. They stared at Maggie in awestruck silence. She'd gotten her message across. Looking from slack-jawed face to slack-jawed face, Maggie knew her power play had been successful. What she knew about Gandalf that remained unsaid, could stay unspoken.

  Maggie reached forward and picked up her key. She returned it to her jeans pocket and turned, starting for the Horseshoe Café's door.

  It was Orac who couldn't let the moment pass by. “Have you caught Meerkat's murderer?” he asked, speaking low and even. He meant it as a biting rebuke, one last twist of the knife before Orac admitted defeat. But Maggie had an honest, truthful answer ready. Until she'd stepped aboard the Kalakala, she could not have answered that question positively. But as she stood before the Gray Beards giving her ultimatum, the fog of the whole confused mess had cleared before her eyes.

  She could now answer honestly, truthfully, “Yes, I have,” she said as she hobbled slowly forward, reaching for the handle of the door.