by James Sperl
And this is what bothered him most of all. The searing pain of truth in his sister’s psychoanalysis ate at him from the inside like a cancer. He, in fact, had no real life to speak of back in his previous existence. He wasn’t popular, had few friends and even fewer interests. And the thought of returning to such doldrums roused in him such a state of despair the brief consideration of tossing himself overboard into the black water and sinking as far as the fathoms would allow had a certain amount of appeal.
The hatch over the galley behind him slid back with a fiberglass grind as Catherine emerged from the opening, plodding up the narrow stairs. Josh fixed his gaze on the last remaining vestiges of light on the horizon as his mother made her way topside and seated herself beside him.
She sat upright and hugged her legs close to her as she stared off into the impending blackness pretending to be interested in what lay beyond the confines of the ship.
“How’re we doing up here?” she asked.
“Okay, I guess.”
Catherine nodded as if this answer sated her desire for knowledge of Josh’s well being. “I love it out here this time of day. Especially when the sea is calm like it is now. It almost lets me forget about everything else that’s going on.”
“Almost,” Josh said, still glaring seaward.
Catherine leaned back, propping herself up with her arms as she stretched out her legs underneath the lifelines, her feet extending beyond the toe rail and dangling over the ocean.
“You know, it’s okay if you want to be furious with me, Josh. It’s the least I’d expect from all of you.”
“I’m not sure furious is the word I’d choose to use.”
“Then what word would you use?”
“There are several. Like betrayed. Deceived. Disrespected. Shit on.” Josh leaned forward, throwing his forearms around his knees in a pseudo-fetal position. He lowered his chin onto his patella.
“I just came from tucking your sisters in,” Catherine said as she edged forward and resumed her original position beside Josh. “Abby, of course, is feeling a bit under the weather so didn’t have too much to say about the matter, but I get the impression she’s dealing with it in her own way. But your sister Tamara, you know what she said? She asked me, ‘Is daddy okay?’ Is daddy okay,” Catherine repeated intentionally. “That’s what was troubling her. Not pride about not being let in on a secret or anger at having been excluded, but concern. Was her daddy all right.”
Catherine rotated herself around to better see Josh. “And if there’s anything I hope you can take away from all of this it’s that that was the one thing—the only thing—at the forefront of your father’s mind: would my family be okay.”
Josh turned suddenly, startling Catherine as he shifted. “But why couldn’t you tell us? Why all the secrets and lies? It’s not like we were going to go out and broadcast to the neighborhood ‘Hey, look at us! Our dad works for a super secret branch of the government that no one’s ever heard of.’ We’re part of the family, too.”
“You’re absolutely right. You are. And I can tell you in all honesty your father and I debated long and hard on whether or not to tell you all. But in the end it was the safest thing to do.”
“But what could happen?” Josh asked irritated. “Would someone come bust in our house or something just ‘cause they found out what dad did?”
“For all of the scenarios I could give you for what could happen, it’s the ones where we had no idea that pushed us to keep quiet. Remember, Josh, even though you feel you may’ve been able to keep silent about it, there are your sisters to consider. And I’m not laying the burden of our decision at their feet, but I know how girls are and how they love to chat and gossip, and all it would’ve taken from any of you is just one slip of the tongue and we would’ve had to live out every day since under the notion that your father had been compromised. You’ve got to understand, honey, that your father wasn’t punching a clock and making donuts. And because of that we decided the less you all knew, the less chance there’d be for anyone to ever find out. It’s not that we didn’t trust you, of course we did. It’s just that sometimes people make honest mistakes and on this particular thing an honest mistake just couldn’t be risked.”
Josh stared at the deck as if he were actually considering his mother’s words. To Catherine’s surprise, he glanced over at her. His posture appeared less rigid and his face even seemed to register a modicum of empathy.
“What about you?” he said.
“What about me?
“Well, I mean, you had to carry around dad’s secret this entire time. Weren’t you ever worried that you’d accidentally tell someone?”
“Worried? Sweetie, I was petrified. Everything we’re doing now originated on that day. From the code words to the boat to the food stores, all of it. I remember coming home from that first meeting with your dad, walking in the door and crawling into my bathtub and crying my eyes out. It was an enormous responsibility and one I’m thankful you and your sisters were never forced to carry. The only regret I do have is that I didn’t tell you all about this sooner once we were onboard. And for that I am sorry.”
Josh nodded then looked up, searching the sky.
“Mom?” he said.
“Yeah?”
“What do you think happened?”
“I don’t have a clue, kiddo. I really don’t.”
Josh nodded slightly then craned his neck, searching over the sky. Catherine mimicked him unsure of what they were supposed to be finding.
“Where is the North Star?” Josh asked.
“You see where the Little Dipper is?”
Josh twisted his head and pointed. “Yeah. Right there.”
“Now follow the handle all the way to the end. That tiny, unassuming little pinprick of light is your way home.”
Josh stared intensely upward, his eyes fixed on the region in the sky where the Little Dipper lay. Any previous sign of anger seemed to be erased from his demeanor. But Catherine, no stranger to severe and sudden mood shifts among her children, chose not to push the apparent movement towards forgiveness and instead basked in the tranquility and relative peacefulness that a mother should share with her only son.
“It’s called Polaris,” Catherine offered, as if by providing a more proper name she would somehow increase Josh’s interest beyond what had already clearly captivated him.
Josh turned away from the glints of light and faced his mother. “How’d you do it?”
“How’d I do what?”
“How’d you manage to, you know, do all of this right under our noses and keep us from suspecting a thing?”
“Do you remember a little over five years ago when Aunt Kelly came to stay with you guys while your father and I went on a cruise?”
“Yeah,” Josh recalled. “To Mexico, right?”
“That’s what we told you, yes.”
Josh’s eyebrows raised in curious arcs as he cocked his head slightly.
“While we did cruise, it was nowhere near Mexico,” Catherine said as she outstretched her arms. “And that was my first introduction to the Four Star Retreat.”
Josh snorted, but the upturn of his lips indicated the incredulity was not to be taken personally. He looked to the deck, the smallest of smiles breaking on his face. Catherine seized the opportunity to empty her closet of more skeletons now that she had interpreted an agreeable reception to her words.
“And remember the long weekend we took in Phoenix? Or the week in New York? Or dad’s business trips? Or all the other alleged getaways we claimed to have enjoyed over the years?”
Josh snapped his head up. He shook his head and leaned back onto the deck adjusting the ratty, salt-stained baseball cap he always wore over his face.
“Oh, man,” he uttered. “Dad always said I needed to get my head out of my ass. Guess he was right.”
Catherine slapped his shoulder playfully. “Why do you think I was so excited to go to Europe?” she asked. “That would’ve been
my first actual vacation in almost six years!”
“So what did you guys do on all those vacations, then, if you weren’t, you know, having fun and stuff?”
“Fake-ations, you mean. That’s what I chose to call them after a while since there was nothing ever relaxing or enjoyable about them. And what did we do? Oh, God, just about everything that had to do with survival. Uh, preferable food stores, how to pack for different durations of time away from food and water sources, evacuation routes, family collection scenarios, um, let’s see...the boat, of course. Lots and lots of training with that and all that came with it. He even had me learn the different types of fuel-efficient vehicles that were introduced each year so if it came to an escape by way of car, we could maximize our mileage by knowing which cars to steal if ours should conk out. Why do you think we traded in cars every couple of years?”
Josh pulled his hat back from his face and looked over at Catherine.
“Your father thought of everything. And I’ll be honest with you: it was hard. At first I went along with it because he had me so scared the world could end at any minute I just felt I needed to be prepared. But as time went on and I had more opportunity to think about things, I started to feel the idea of all these doomsday scenarios came across as not only farfetched but, really, hokey. But I loved your father and that’s what he needed me to do to help him do what he needed to do. So I did.” Catherine stared off into the dark water. “Your father liked to think of us as a modern day nuclear family like the ones in the fifties when people were building bomb shelters in their backyard. Only instead of a hole in the earth...”
Catherine trailed off, her voice cracking with emotion as she wiped forming tears from her eyes. She hadn’t cried in weeks and it felt good to be reaffirmed of her humanity.
“You miss him, huh?” Josh said, sitting up. “Me too.”
“Every day, buddy. Every day.”
“You think he’s all right?”
“That is about the only question I can answer for you with certainty. And that answer is yes.”
Josh nodded with his entire body, Catherine’s answer seeming to put to rest one less misgiving in his life. He had asked the question before—they all had—but tonight it felt especially meaningful.
He stared back out into the blackness, the horizon having long since dissolved into the sky creating a pitch black abyss made all the more dark by the lack of moonlight. He particularly loved nights when there was a new moon, when the stars would shimmer vibrantly and radiate with such brilliance he felt as if he could reach out and physically touch them.
The boat listed calmly, almost hypnotically. Josh closed his eyes and, for the moment, became one with the boat allowing himself to sway and drift as if he himself were floating in the water. He knew the day was fast approaching when he would have to leave this ship and it wasn’t one to which he was looking forward. He had grown to love sailing and life at sea and wondered how he would ever—
Josh’s eyes popped open.
He sat up quickly and scanned the water. Catherine saw this, following his gaze out into the dark. “What is it?”
Josh hopped to his feet, clutching the lifelines at the stanchion with both hands. He located the invisible horizon using the disparity between stars and sea as a focal point. Had he seen what he thought he had? Even on moonless nights there could be enough light to play tricks and with a low haze day like they’d had the stars always seemed to shine that much more incandescently come nightfall.
“Josh, what is it?” Catherine said as she climbed to her feet. She moved beside him. “What do you see?”
“I’m not sure. I thought I saw...”
And there it was. Not obvious at first, but once his pupils adjusted and were able to fixate it was unmistakable. Catherine noticed it even before Josh could speak.
A light.
It was impossible to tell how far away it was, especially on a moonless night, but it was close enough that Josh could detect a slight bob in its behavior. And the light source’s visibility would alternate between intense and diminished, this most likely caused by the parallax view of the their vantage point as the distant source rose and fell in the crests and troughs of deep sea waves.
“Pirates?” Josh asked.
Catherine eyed the drifting light curiously. “I don’t know. If they are, why would they have a light on to advertise themselves?”
Catherine and Josh looked at each other as each came to the same conclusion: They don’t see us yet.
As if set off by a starter’s pistol, each sprang to various parts of the ship dousing topside lights. Once finished they charged below.
This was worse than death, Abby thought. How could she still, after all this time on board, be so sick? Everyone else was fine, having gotten over the initial green period in the first few days of the voyage. But she had clung to the sour, gut-twisting agony of nausea much in the same way she had clung to the toilet seat from which she expelled said nausea on an almost daily basis. It didn’t make any sense.
Abby glanced over at Tamara sleeping soundly in the top bunk across from her and couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept so soundly and had grown accustomed to sleeping in fits and starts, never really logging more than six or so hours in a given night. This was the most egregious of the shipboard insults, especially in light of her previous, land-given ability to reign as queen of the ten-hour nap. And she felt especially tired today what with the emotional conversation held during dinner. If only her body could stave off another stomach-wrenching attack, she might find the inside of her eyelids soon enough.
But whatever happy place she sought for respite was soon vanquished by the sounds of muted slamming and banging from the salon. Probably Josh, she thought, still acting like a big baby and having one of his teenie-boy tantrums. Begrudgingly, she pried herself from her bunk, which was mercifully the lower one, and forced herself to her feet. The initial meeting with gravity threatened to be unkind, but a few seconds and a couple of deep breaths and Abby felt willing and able to rip her brother a new one. She staggered unevenly to the door that separated the sleeping quarters from the salon and galley and pushed it open.
As the door rotated outward she found Josh immediately. “Think you could make any more noise, asshead?” Abby proclaimed. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”
Josh ignored her, casting not even so much as a scornful, sideways glance as he shut a cover over a porthole with authority, promptly moving to another and another, repeating the procedure in turn.
Abby stepped into the room, now taking note of her mother as she extinguished several lights in the galley leaving only enough illuminated to provide what would be considered more ambient than useful lighting.
“What’s going on?” Abby questioned, the hurried motions of her brother and mother striking a chord of anxiety in her already tremulous belly.
“Pirates,” Josh answered curtly.
Catherine stepped in front of Josh to intercept Abby’s gaze. “We don’t know that yet. We’re just taking precautions, sweetie.”
“There’re pirates?” a small, sleepy voice said from behind Abby.
Catherine moved up to Tamara as she clutched Sniffles the elephant, her eyes wide with the commotion. “We’re not sure yet, honey. There’s a light way off in the distance. We’re just trying to hide in the dark a little just in case.”
Tamara nodded unconvincingly as Abby moved beside her and laid a consoling arm around her slender shoulders. “Where is it?” Abby asked.
Josh pointed. “Directly off the starboard side. Not sure how far yet.” He turned to Catherine as he finished closing off the last window. “Mom, I need the keys.”
Catherine turned and faced him. “The keys to what?”
“You know what,” he responded. “I know you don’t like it, but we need to be ready. Just in case.”
Josh couldn’t have been more accurate in his assessment of Catherine’s
feelings. She not only didn’t like what it was he was requesting, she downright abhorred it. But they lived in a different world now with a completely new set of rules and she would be a fool not to assume the worst. She unclipped an aluminum carabiner from the denim belt loop of her jeans and tossed it along with the handful of keys attached to it, over to Josh.
Josh snatched it out of the air, then whirled in place as he crouched in front of a low, wood paneled wall, which separated the galley from the dining area and served as the backside to the oven and several cabinet drawers. He fumbled through the various keys, selecting a green tinted one and slid it into a concealed lock that aligned itself perfectly within the blackened groove of the paneling, rendering it virtually invisible to the untrained eye. A quick twist and he had it open, pulling a section of the paneling and the door to which it was affixed ajar. He reached inside and withdrew a nine-millimeter Magnum Baby Eagle. Carefully checking the chamber he placed the weapon on the countertop as he reached back into the hold to retrieve the stock end of a Henry U.S. Survival rifle.
Catherine watched with a bizarre mix of discomfort and gratitude as Josh gingerly removed the end cap from the silver stock and withdrew a slender barrel and Teflon coated, fully assembled receiver from its confines. Fumbling at first, he affixed the receiver to the stock, then slid the barrel into place and tightened it into position with the barrel nut. He inspected each of two magazines then selected one and jammed it into the magazine well, slamming his hand on the underside to assure its locked status.
Josh tucked the stock under his arm making sure the barrel pointed toward the floor. He knelt back down in front of the gun locker and withdrew another magazine, this one considerably longer. He looked over at his mother who forced an uneasy smile as he gently grabbed the Magnum from the countertop.
