Runaway Storm

by Dawne Knobbe

  Nate reached out his hand to run a finger along the length of the bow. There were no fractures or stress cracks on its smooth, shiny gel-coated surface, not a single imperfection.

  “It’s fiberglass,” he whispered, as if that would explain everything.

  Mike peeled off the card and handed it to Nate. “It’s got your name on it.”

  Nate flopped cross-legged onto the garage floor and examined his father’s left-handed scrawl. Flipping the envelope, he slowly unsealed it and pulled out the card. “Happy 15th Birthday” was preprinted above a drawing of a birthday cake. Inside, his father had written: “May the ocean be calm and the sky blue. Looking forward to celebrating your birthday at sea. Love, Dad.”

  He closed the card and stared at it.

  “Well?” Mike asked at last.

  “He’s looking forward to celebrating my birthday at sea. ’Course, he won’t be there, but hey.”

  “You gonna take it?” Mike asked at last.

  “Her. You always refer to a boat as a ‘her’ not an ‘it.’”

  “Okay, are you going to take her?”

  Nate shoved the card into the envelope. “I have to think.” He leapt up and raced into the house.

  Nate threw himself down on the family room couch and covered his eyes with a forearm. “Oh, man,” he said as he felt Mike plop beside him, “this is getting harder by the minute.”

  “Your dad just gave you a ticket to smoother sailing,” Mike said. “What’s the problem?”

  “You think I should take her?”

  “You were going to take the old one.”

  “My birthday isn’t for two weeks.”

  “So?”

  Nate thought about how the new boat would skim the water, its shiny hull reacting instantly to each paddle stroke. If he was going to take this trip, he needed to stop being spineless about every little thing.

  Yeah, it was wrong to fool his parents, but they weren’t exactly looking out for him either. Besides, Nate had come to think of this trip as a test. If he could kayak solo through the Gulf Islands, he could do anything. Right? He could look after himself. He practically did already. Yes, damn it, he was going to take the new boat.

  He would be safer, for one. She was more seaworthy. Taking her would be more responsible. His parents would want him to take her.

  Nate stood, more determined than ever. He needed to pack, then he would concentrate on how to get his fully loaded kayak to the ferry, onto it, and off on the other side.

  “I don’t get it. Why do they call boats shes, anyway?” Mike asked.

  Nate jumped. He’d been so lost in his own head, he’d forgotten about his friend. He thought of the beautiful boat. “Because they’re graceful and beautiful.”

  Mike rolled his eyes. “Not all girls or boats fit that description.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Nate said, distracted. His mind was forming plans.

  “Geez, I gotta go,” Mike said, checking his watch. “I’ll come by in the morning. See if I can help with anything else.”

  “Hey, think Eric wants to make some serious gas money the day after tomorrow? That would be a big help.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Driving me and my kayak to the ferry.”

  “What should I say to him? That you’re running away and need a ride? Shit, he’s practically an adult, Nate. He might tell.”

  “Say I’m going to Mathew Perry’s cabin. Say that my dad has to work this weekend, so he’s gonna meet me over there. Say the money’s from my dad and that Eric’ll be doing him a big favor.”

  Mike stared at the ground. “I might polish things up a little for my parents, but I don’t usually lie to my brother.” He glanced a moment at Nate. “Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “What, now you’re gonna turn on me? Well, I don’t want to put you in a bad place or anything,” Nate said. “After all, it’s my decision. I shouldn’t involve you.”

  Mike rolled up his hands in the bottom of his T-shirt, like he always did when he was nervous.

  “Shut up, will ya,” he said. “Let me think about it for a minute. Maybe I can ask him in my own way.”

  “Okay, but I really don’t wanna get you into a bunch of trouble.”

  Mike unrolled his shirt. “I can take care of my own trouble. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Through the front window, Nate watched Mike sprint down the block. It was nice to be around a friend again. A real friend. Especially one who would help him even if he didn’t entirely agree with the plan.

  Nate wondered where Sam was. He had always made Nate a little uneasy because Nate was never quite sure whether Sam was trying to help or get him into trouble. The big question was always, “What’s in it for Sam?”

  There had to be something this time too. Would Nate’s vanishing act take the heat off Sam’s own disappearance? By now, Sam might be somewhere between the New York smog and the California party scene. Their ideas of escape were different. And so were their ideas of friendship. Sam would probably forget Nate long before Sam’s feet hit the beach.

  5

  Nate slept restlessly and woke early. Padding into the kitchen in his underwear, he reached into the pantry for a can of Coke, one of the few things he and his dad both liked. After filling a cup with ice cubes from the freezer, he opened the refrigerator and rooted around for milk, thinking about a bowl of cereal. There wasn’t any. No milk, no eggs, not a stick of butter. Empty but clean, just like the rest of the house.

  Nate did find a Ziploc bag of chocolate chip cookies, though. He bit into one and tossed the rest onto the kitchen table along with a pile of plastic freezer bags and a few boxes of crackers and other edibles from the pantry.

  Cookie and Coke in hand, Nate wandered down the hall to his father’s study. It was the only room here that felt lived in. There were papers scattered across the huge captain’s desk and stacks of books on the rug beside the ash-filled fireplace. Nate crossed to the bookshelf that covered an entire wall and ran his finger along the spines of the middle row.

  It took less than a minute to find the blue dust jacket with the large yellow print: Your Complete Guide to Sea Kayaking. He’d read it from cover to cover only a year ago and knew it would be his bible for his tour of the islands.

  Plunking down in his father’s armchair, he flipped to the packing section. “Kayaking offers the adventurer unlimited possibilities.” Good, Nate thought. That was exactly what he was after, unlimited possibilities.

  The doorbell and Nate’s cell phone rang at the same time. He grabbed the phone, his empty stomach jumping until he saw Sam’s name appear on the pad. “Hang on,” he said into the phone as he made his way to the front door. Through the peephole he saw Mike reach for the bell again. “Shit,” he muttered, fumbling with the lock. He opened the door as the bell chimed again.

  “Still sleeping?” Mike asked.

  Realizing he was standing in full view of the neighbors in his underwear, Nate ducked behind the door.

  “Nah, I’ve been up for hours. Too busy to get dressed,” he said. He glanced across the street at Mr. Briggs’ house and thought he saw the curtains move. Grabbing Mike by the front of his shirt, Nate pulled him into the house. “I swear, that nosy old geezer has nothing better to do than spy on all his neighbors,” he said, quickly closing the door and locking it.

  Whistling sounds followed by a bunch of swear words drifted up from the phone in Nate’s hand. He put it back to his ear.

  “Sorry.”

  “Yeah, whatever, but this is on my card.”

  “You mean your mother’s card.”

  “Don’t get all technical on me. I was just calling to see how you were, make sure you hadn’t chickened out.” And with that, Sam made loud squawking and clucking noises.

  Nate held the phone away from his ear. “I’m busy packing. Where are you? In your usual stinking smoke pit?”

  “Well, I do declare,” Sam said slipping back into his favorite Southern accent, “you
done gone and hurt my feelings. I’ve been sitting on this bus for the last thirty-eight hours all concerned about your homecoming.”

  “Bored to death, are you?”

  “Pretty much,” Sam said in his usual voice. “Bored enough to call you, at least, but I won’t be much longer. Surf, sand, and sun are just a few hundred miles ahead.”

  “Yeah, well, check in when you have some real news, like you’re playing in the surf with a couple of famous beach babes or you’ve been caught and sent home.”

  “Nate, I think the past year has made a cynic out of you. I’m proud to welcome you to the New York chapter . . . Ooh, baby, I didn’t see you sitting there. Gotta go, Natey. I’ve spotted myself a pretty little distraction.”

  The phone went dead in Nate’s hand. Shaking his head, he tossed it onto the hall table. “Jerk.”

  Mike eyed him in amusement. “Good friend?”

  “Only kind New York has. At least where I live.” Nate headed for his bedroom. “Make yourself at home,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll be out in a second.”

  When Nate returned to the kitchen fully clothed, Mike was at the table with the bag of chocolate chip cookies in his lap. Nate grabbed it and sealed it up.

  “Stay out of my rations.”

  Mike picked up a hand full of Ziploc freezer bags. “What’s with the bags? You going to put all your stuff into them?”

  “I can fit a whole bunch more into my kayak without the boxes. Besides, box corners can tear holes in dry bags.”

  “What are dry bags?”

  “Exactly what they sound like, dodo. Bags that keep your stuff dry. They’re waterproof.”

  “Makes sense,” Mike said, tossing the bags back onto the table and putting up his feet next to them.

  “Okay, what’s up?” Nate knocked Mike’s feet to the floor. “You never wear that shit-eating grin unless you’re hiding something.”

  Mike’s self-satisfied grin widened as he deliberately placed his feet back on the table.

  “You gonna be ready to go tomorrow morning?” he asked.

  “More or less. Why?”

  “If you can be ready by ten, Eric will give you a ride to the ferry. But it’s gonna cost you.”

  “How much?”

  “Forty bucks.”

  “I take it Eric is in on the plan?”

  “Not officially. I told him your story about going over to friends and that he’d be helping your dad out and all. But I kinda said it so he could read between the lines.”

  “How do you know he figured it out?”

  “First, he asked me if I thought you were going to do anything dangerous, and I told him no. Then he asked who wrote the letter giving him permission to pick you up at the airport. I knew your mother really wrote it so I swore she had. That was good enough. He said he’d give you a ride for forty bucks.”

  “I don’t get how you two communicate. I’ll take your word for it, but forty bucks? That’s more than a taxi would cost.”

  “Yeah, I said that to Eric, but he pointed out that you’d have a hard time trying to fit your kayak into a taxi.”

  “He knows he’s got me. Man, I’m gonna have to scramble. I haven’t even checked the ferry schedule.”

  Mike leapt up. “Snap to it, buddy. I’m here to help.”

  Nate picked up the book and turned to a page that showed a drawing of a packed kayak. As they headed for the garage, he showed it to Mike.

  “See, you’re supposed to lay out all of your gear beside the kayak first. Then you start by packing the smallest things in the smallest places, which would be way up in the bow and back in the stern. That’s the best way to get in everything that you need. Plus you have the things you’ll need the most handy.”

  For the next two hours Nate and Mike worked methodically, following the directions in the book. They laid out each item beside the kayak and then stuffed the things that needed to stay dry into dry bags. As Mike read off each item, Nate placed it where it needed to go. First in was a spare gas cylinder for the camp stove. Nate tucked it carefully up into the tip of the bow. Next came his tent bag with his fishing pole slipped tightly beside. Two small dry boxes holding the first aid kit, batteries, a flashlight, and fishing gear, along with a blank trip journal and a Swiss army knife, went next. Nate slid in two half-empty dry bags of food.

  “That’s it for the bow,” Mike said as Nate slipped a full container of water into place. “For the stern, it says to pack the tent awning first.”

  “I don’t have a tent awning.”

  “Just take one of these plastic tarps your dad’s got all over. You can use it as a ground sheet or rig it as an awning.”

  “Good idea.” Nate rolled a white tarp as tightly as he could then stuffed it as far as it would go into the stern cavity of the boat.

  Mike read off the next item on the list: “Dry bag containing pillow and sleeping bag, then clothes bag on one side and kitchen gear on the other. One collapsible canvas bucket; two more two-and-a-half-gallon containers of water.”

  Nate held his hands out in a halting gesture. “Slow down, Mike; you’re way ahead of me. And I don’t have any more water containers.”

  “Well, this guy was packing for a month of total isolation, right? You can refill your water bottles at campgrounds along the way, can’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Besides, the heavier we make the kayak, the harder it’s gonna be to move,” Mike said.

  “I know. I have a few ideas about that, but let’s finish packing first.”

  Mike looked back at the list. “Do you have any flares?”

  “Yes,” Nate said, tucking them into the side of the kayak.

  “How about a bailing bucket?”

  Nate picked up an empty bleach bottle he’d cut the bottom out of and tucked it in too. He also tossed in his mask and snorkel.

  “You’re supposed to put snacks in right behind your seat so you can reach them when you’re paddling, and you should tuck a small water bottle in so you can grab it too,” Mike said.

  Nate put the last few things into the kayak—including the book. The floor beside the kayak was now bare except for his life jacket and paddle. He threw his life jacket into the kayak’s seat and began unscrewing the center of the two-bladed paddle. It came apart in the middle, and he tucked both pieces into the boat.

  “Cool,” Mike said, “I never knew they came apart like that.”

  “Yeah. I should tuck in a spare too, but I broke my only other one last year.”

  “What about your dad’s?”

  “Na, his paddle’s too long for me. Besides, this new one’ll be pretty hard to break. The other one was just worn out.”

  Nate stretched and twisted. Straightening up, he asked Mike, “You hungry?”

  “Starved. Let’s get out of here. We can walk to McDonald’s.”

  Nate grabbed his wallet and cell phone off the hall table as they headed for the door. “I’ll buy,” he said, glancing at the phone. “Shit, the twerp called again. I wonder what he wants now. Man, I hope he gets to the beach soon so he stops bugging me!”

  Nate shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight as they walked across the front yard. “What time is it?”

  Mike glanced at his watch. “Two o’clock.”

  “No wonder we’re starved.”

  Mr. Briggs was kneeling on the ground pulling weeds. He sat back on his heels and called out, “That you, Nate?” as he pushed the rim of his hat off the bridge of his nose, the better to squint at them.

  “Yes, Mr. Briggs,” Nate answered. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  Mr. Briggs pulled himself to his feet using his shovel as leverage and moved quickly toward the white picket fence that bordered his yard. “I didn’t figure you’d be home till your dad got back. He’s not back yet is he?” he asked, pushing his hat back even further so he could stare right at the two boys.

  “No, Mr. Briggs,” Nate answered. “He picked up his pace. “He’ll be back in a cou
ple of weeks,” he added as he passed the post at the end of the fence. “Gotta run. See ya,” he called, breaking into a run. Mike ran too, and they didn’t stop until they’d rounded the corner at the end of the block. Winded, they paused to catch their breath.

  “Nosy old coot, isn’t he?” Mike said.

  “We’re gonna have to be really fast getting my kayak loaded into the truck tomorrow or he’ll be around asking more questions. He’s suspicious of everybody, and I always feel like he’s especially out to get me.”

  They continued walking at a more leisurely pace.

  “So, what else do you have to do?” Mike asked.

  “Check what time the ferry leaves. It goes out only once or twice a day.”

  At McDonald’s, Mike wolfed down two fish sandwiches while Nate scoffed two cheeseburgers and an order of fries. “My biggest problem,” Nate said, “is going to be rigging some kind of cart to move the kayak on and off the ferry.”

  “You can figure something out,” Mike said. “You know, something like an oversized skateboard.”

  Nate pulled a pen from his pocket. “Yeah, I think I can build something,” he said. He outlined a cart on his napkin. “The kayak is about twenty-one inches at its widest point and about seventeen feet long,” he said as he drew the shape of the boat on his napkin. “So, if I get a piece of plywood about six feet long and two feet wide, I could balance the kayak on it. Five feet of overhang at either end won’t be a problem.”

  Nate drew the platform underneath the kayak.

  “How will it—I mean she—stay on?” Mike asked.

  “A couple of bungee cords should do the trick.”

  “But how will you steer?”

  “I’ll get some of those caster wheels like the ones on grocery carts. Then I’ll rig some sort of handle.”

  Mike scrutinized the drawing. “You’d better tie a red rag or something to each end of the kayak, though, ’cause of it hanging way over. Better yet, you need a couple of those orange flags on a pole like the one on Freddie’s bike trailer. You know, the one he sits down in when I pull him behind my bike.”