Seeking Safe Harbor: Suddenly Everything Changed (The Seeking Series)

by Albert Correia

  She was right-handed, and if she shot the way she usually did, she would have to go all the way out from her cover or raise her head, shoulders, and part of her upper body over the cabin. Either would be more dangerous than leaning around the corner and shooting left handed.

  Ever so slowly, she brought her rifle around and positioned the butt against her left shoulder. It would be a little awkward shooting that way, but her father was a thorough man and he had them all practice from both sides. Besides, she reasoned, it was the same person aiming.

  She was an excellent shot and one bullet would normally do the trick. However, with the light shining so brightly, she couldn’t be sure of the exact spot it was coming from. What was more, the wind driven waves were rocking the boat enough to make a single shot chancy. She left the weapon on automatic. She knew it tended to kick up and to the right when fired, so she aimed at the lower left of where she thought the light was emanating. She squeezed the trigger gently.

  Her shots couldn’t be heard over the sound of all those coming from the powerboat, but the bullets ripping into the boat all around them told the shooters that someone was firing back. She didn’t hit the powerful flashlight, but her shots caused the holder to shift, giving her a better idea of where the light was coming from. She re-aimed and squeezed the trigger again.

  She shattered the light with her second volley, but that gave the men aboard the boat a fix on where the return fire was coming from. Two of them shifted their target area to the front of the sailboat and blasted it. Bullets flew around her, and she ducked frantically back behind the cabin. In the excitement of the moment, she didn’t feel anything hit her, but noticed blood on her arm. She looked to see a three-inch long slit on her lower arm. It wasn’t deep and only a quarter of an inch wide. She looked at it in wonder. She had never been wounded before but instinctively knew that a bullet nicked her.

  She was a thirteen-year-old girl. Two days before, her most serious considerations were coping with the changes in becoming a teenager and going from elementary to high school. In the last half hour, she provided cover fire against a pack of thieves, killed a man, and was wounded in a battle for their lives. There were bullets hitting all around her, and she could hear a boat full of men bearing down on them, intent on killing her and her family.

  Life had changed.

  Chapter 18

  “WHAT’S happening up there?” Zach yelled from the cockpit. “Who knocked out their light?”

  “It was Denise, Dad!” Glen answered from below in the main cabin.

  “Denise?” cried Stacey from the side of the cabin. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay, Mom,” Denise called out. “I shot out their light!”

  “Good job! Stay down,” her mother said, not knowing what else to advise a girl who had the courage to shoot a man who was attacking her and then shoot out the light that was making them easy targets.

  Zach crawled over to look down into the cabin. “What are you doing down there, son?” It was unlikely anyone from the other boat could hear them over the noise of the gunfire, but Zach was a careful man and had lowered his voice to an audible whisper.

  “Looking for the dynamite,” Glen responded in the same tone.

  “Great thinking! Wow… keeping a cool head and coming up with this good an idea under stress are a couple of abilities few people have, he thought. “Glen, this idea could give us the edge we need. The dynamite is up here in the cockpit storage bin. Come on up, but keep your head down.”

  He slid back toward the rear of the cockpit so his son could climb up into the space between the cabin doorway and the wheel. While Glen was getting settled, his father lifted the lid of the storage bin, keeping his head below the top of the cockpit where bullets were flying. He reached in and felt around for the dynamite. His hand felt what he was looking for, and he brought up a stick.

  After checking the fuse, he again reached into the bin. “This fuse is six inches long,” he told Glen. It’ll take too long to burn down to the dynamite.” He pulled up a knife. “I’ll cut it to just over two inches.”

  Glen whistled. “That’ll burn down fast,”

  “It has to be fast. I figure eight seconds.” Zach raised his voice slightly. “Stacey, George, can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” both replied in loud whispers.

  “Me too,” said Aunt Millie.

  “Sorry, Millie, of course you too. Denise, can you hear me up there?”

  “Barely, but I can.”

  “Good, because I can’t chance speaking louder. I can hear them getting closer. They don’t know our capabilities, so they will be cautious, but they have to try to board us. We need to let them get close. When they’re ten feet away, I’ll yell ‘now’ and everyone start shooting. Which of you three are closest to the bow?”

  “Me,” said Millie.

  “Okay, Millie, crawl to the forward part of the cabin. You and Denise will be shooting from that area. Stacey and George, go toward the stern as far as you can and still have protection from the aft cabin. We can’t have anyone shooting from here, because Glen will be here with the dynamite, and I’ll be at the wheel.”

  “When I give the word, and they start giving cover fire, light the fuse, Glen. Wait five seconds. I will count out loud to five so you don’t have to. I’ve listened to the gunfire from their boat. I know they have an automatic weapon, but it sounds like they only have one. It doesn’t sound like they have many men, or weapons. You four use your automatic weapons to keep them pinned down during those five seconds. Glen, when you hear me say five, throw the dynamite into their cockpit. It has to hit the cockpit, because if it hits the deck, it may roll off. As you throw the dynamite, I’m going to hit the throttle hard and turn away from the powerboat. I figure we will have three seconds to get away from the blast. Is everyone set?”

  When all had responded, Zach added, “Okay, now I’ll slow down to let them get closer.”

  “That’s the most precise and optimistic plan I’ve ever heard in such a short span of time,” George commented doubtfully.

  “Yes, it is. But I made plans like this before when I was in the army.”

  “Did they work?”

  “Yes, for the same reason this one will.”

  “Which is?”

  “Because it has to.”

  * * * * *

  The clouds had again partially covered the moon, cutting visibility. With their powerful flashlight no longer functioning and natural light suddenly limited, the men on the powerboat could no longer get a good bead on their targets. They stopped firing, and their leader, a gruff looking man with sunken eyes, told the man at the helm to keep moving, but don't go alongside yet.

  He looked skeptically at the sailboat when it slowed down and ordered his man to slow down, too. He wasn’t about to let them call the shots. He saw guns aboard the sailboat before everyone hid, but he didn’t know how many or what kinds. One, he knew from the bursts that knocked out their light, was an automatic weapon. That was near the front of the boat. If they had one, they might have others.

  As long as its crew stayed hidden, the sailboat looked like a ghost ship, and he didn’t know what to expect. However, he’d seen their boat clearly in the light, knew where everything was, and knew they had weapons. He wouldn’t blunder in not expecting resistance. That worked yesterday, but these people seemed more alert.

  However, they knew nothing about his boat or about how many men or weapons they had. He hadn’t fired his own automatic, so they wouldn’t know they’d be up against two. He and his men were aggressive, which was a big advantage, and their boat was faster. And, they had an even bigger advantage. They’d lost everything and had nothing more to lose.

  He stationed one man with an automatic weapon, along with one with a single shot rifle, at the front of the boat. He instructed them where their target was at the front of the sailboat and where to board it when they moved in close. He had a third man, this one with a single shot rifle, take cover in
the stern. He joined him with his own automatic weapon. Their target was the cockpit and aft cabin, and they would board the sailboat ahead of where they saw the barrels. The man at the wheel of the powerboat was unarmed.

  A sixth man was below, nursing two gunshot wounds he received when he was holding the flashlight. Denise’s shots hit the arm holding the light in two places. Neither wound was life threatening, but there wasn’t a fifth weapon, so he saw no point in remaining on deck and in harm’s way.

  “Okay,” the leader said when they were all in place, “It’s time. Let's move in. When we’re close, I’ll yell ‘now’ as the signal to open fire. Pin them down, and be ready to board when we’re alongside.”

  The powerboat moved relentlessly in on the slow moving sailboat that seemingly had no one in control.

  Chapter 19

  THE moon slid out from behind a cloud as the powerboat neared the La Sirena. A whitecap broke between them, but the frothing wave didn’t alter either boat’s course as the space between them narrowed to twenty feet, then to fifteen. As they drew closer, everyone in both boats became more nervous.

  Those on the sailboat felt great fear. Bullets had careened around them for several minutes and they knew what it felt like to be sitting targets.

  Those on the powerboat felt the confidence of men in control… yet they couldn’t help but wonder what still lay ahead when they reached that sailboat. They hadn’t anticipated such resistance from the small group. They had no doubt that they would get what they were after, but they also knew that they were going to have to fight for it.

  When the shooting had stopped, Zach peeked over the top of the cockpit to see where the powerboat was. No one shot at him, so he continued his vigil. At first, he saw little more than a dark shape. But when the clouds moved away from the moon, he was able to pick out general characteristics of the boat.

  It appeared a little longer than their own, maybe forty-five feet. As with most of those boats, the front three-quarters was for cabins and storage, and the back section was the cockpit, with controls at the forward part of that section, attached to the rear of the cabin section. The fuel tanks would be below. A stick of dynamite going off on the deck back there would blow the tanks.

  His eyes swept back and forth, trying to pick up signs of life. There was one man in the open, sitting on a port side seat at the controls of the vessel. It seemed strange to Zach that one man would be so open and vulnerable while everyone else was obviously hiding, but he quickly decided the reason had no bearing on what was about to occur.

  It was time to act.

  “Now,” he commanded. He didn’t think he was overly loud, but it sounded like the word echoed across the water. Undeterred, he began counting.

  Stacey and George rose up above the aft cabin and began firing at the stern area of the powerboat, and Millie rose up above the forward cabin and started shooting. Denise, when she saw the bow of the powerboat move up even with their own bow, slid on her stomach along the front of the cabin, edging toward where Millie was. When Zach gave the order, she opened fire, too, shooting as she inched backward.

  To their dismay, four men on the powerboat, two behind their own forward cabin, and two in the aft cockpit, also lifted up and began firing at the sailboat. Those on the sailboat had assumed that by opening fire with automatic weapons, the shooters on the other boat would stay under cover. That might have been the case, but it happened that the powerboat’s leader yelled “now” at the same time Zach did, so both sides opened fire simultaneously.

  In less than a second, it had become a fierce firefight. Bullets ripped into the fiberglass around Denise; she stopped edging and started scrambling to get behind the cover of the port side of the forward cabin. The others stayed as low as they could, but never stopped firing.

  Glen lit the fuse when Zach gave his command. At the count of one, he raised up to get a bead on his target. He saw the powerboat’s cockpit a little behind where he was. That would be an easy throw. He raised up and cocked his arm, ready to throw. At that instant, a bullet hit the shoulder of his throwing arm.

  He spun around, but knew he had to get rid of the dynamite. The count had not yet reached three when, with what strength he had left, he threw the dynamite at the powerboat.

  It landed on the other boat, but on the deck ahead of and above the cockpit.

  The man nearest it, the one at the wheel, saw the boy throw something at his boat. When it landed a little ahead of him and to his left, he saw what it was and immediately recognized that he and the boat were in serious danger. He jumped up to grab the dynamite.

  Zach was at the wheel, in front of Glen, and didn’t see his son get hit. He looked off to his right from where the opposing gunfire was coming. He was shocked to see the dynamite land at the wrong place… and much too soon. His count had barely hit three.

  My God, he thought… that guy is going to throw it back at us!

  Chapter 20

  THERE wasn’t enough time to get out of throwing distance, but Zach knew he had to try. He pushed the throttle full ahead and cranked the wheel hard to port, away from the powerboat. “Grab handholds, everyone,” he yelled. He had no time to determine if anyone aboard heard him.

  The boat didn’t react as fast as he liked – it seemed like minutes to him – but it was actually a quick movement in the water and that created a three-foot wave at the starboard stern. The wave moved toward the front of the boat, where another wave approached from the opposite direction. The two crashed into one another between the two boats, creating a huge comber that shot upward.

  It raised the La Sirena’s stern ten feet in the air and almost capsized the powerboat. The powerboat rode it out, but the port side rose so high that the round stick of dynamite started rolling around the deck at a rapid pace. It rolled right under the grasping hand of the diving helmsman and off the higher level into the cockpit. It continued rolling until it hit the foot of the group’s leader, who was trying to keep upright by holding onto a fishing chair attached to the deck toward the back of the cockpit. He was occupied with trying to stay on his feet and neither saw the dynamite, nor felt it hit his foot.

  The helmsman turned frantically and saw the dynamite was more than fifteen feet away. Its blazing fuse was burning with unrelenting progress toward the packed explosive. He didn’t know much about sticks of dynamite but knew enough to realize that that this one was about to blow. He also didn’t know what the fates might hold for him in the roiling waters below, but it couldn’t be worse than what awaited him if he stayed where he was for another second. He dove into the churning sea between the boats and disappeared under the swirling waters.

  There were two explosions. Not one second after the helmsman hit the water, the fuse burned to the end and the dynamite went off. That first explosion blasted the powerboat’s aft section apart. That sent the fishing chair, the helmsman’s chair, all the equipment that had been there, and the two gunmen high into the air. It also ripped open the top of the fuel tanks.

  Sparks hit the highly flammable fuel, and since it was an older, gasoline-powered boat, they ignited a second explosion. That one was massive. It lifted the broken, shredded boat skyward and shot pieces of it in all directions. The two men who had been shooting from the front of the boat were killed instantly as shrapnel ripped through their bodies.

  The eruption caused a voluminous hole where the powerboat had been, the escaping water rolling out in giant waves in a full three-hundred-and-sixty degree circle. It hit the La Sirena almost instantly.

  The sailboat’s stern had returned to the ocean’s general level moments before, but it was lifted again, this time more than twenty feet. That caused the bow to plunge downward. Everyone had heard Zach’s warning and grabbed handholds, so no one was thrown overboard. Everyone was holding onto rails, wheels, or lockers. Their hands stayed where they had handholds, but when the bow began to nose-dive, their bodies swung downward.

  Instead of moving through the wave, the sailboat, its
prop now out of the water and screeching in the open air, was carried on top of the huge swell for a few moments before moving with the water downward. The crew could do nothing but hang on, their feet dangling toward the bow, which was pointed toward the bottom of the sea.

  Everyone except Denise had secured their weapons by slipping their arms through the straps. Denise had still been rushing backward toward the port side of the boat to be next to Millie when she heard her father yell out. She used the extra second to get to where she was heading instead of slinging her rifle before she grabbed onto the handrail on top of the cabin. To secure the weapon, she rolled on top of it. When the sudden movement caused her body to fall away from the deck, it freed the weapon from under her weight. The boat was still in the pull of the swell, but the wave began to flatten out a little. The angle of the deck went from forty-five degrees to less than thirty degrees.

  At that angle, the gun didn’t rush away from her, but instead slid at a tantalizing speed toward the bow – and the ocean below it. She was holding on to a handrail on top of the cabin with both hands, but removed one so she could grab for the weapon. In the last half hour, she grew attached to it – it saved her life, after all – and she didn’t want to lose it. It slipped under her hand and continued on its way toward the bow. She let go with her other hand and again grabbed for the rifle. It was still out of reach.

  A wave hit the port side of the boat, which was still riding the swell, and shoved the bow several feet to starboard. The rifle changed directions, and began to slide toward the side of the boat. Denise went after it. She slid on the wet deck, heading for the teak rail on that side of the boat. It was a sturdy, solid teak rail, but there was ample room between the stanchions for a rifle – or a scrambling, sliding girl – to fall right through.

  Chapter 21