by Zack Finley
As soon as Joel released us, Razor peeled away from the mother ship headed downstream. We planned to go alongside the towboat and capture or kill the crew. After that, I wasn’t sure if we would drive it off, set it adrift, or leave it tied up.
Razor slammed the throttles down, and the patrol boat surged forward at an astonishing high speed. He didn’t want to give those in the towboat a chance to drill us.
It also meant our ability to shoot anyone else was negligible.
We zipped under the bridge and kicked up a substantial wake as we turned toward the parked towboat. I had to brace myself to keep from falling over. No way could I shoot accurately as long as we were maneuvering. I just hoped those on the towboat would have a tough time zeroing in on us. Even a bad shot might hit our boat and potentially sink us.
I barely heard the crack of a sniper rifle from behind us as the glass in the towboat wheelhouse shattered.
“Get ready, I’m bringing us alongside on our starboard side. Get on the towboat and secure it. I’ll be along as soon as I can tie us up,” Razor radioed.
I was on the wrong side of the boat and struggled to keep off my knees as I nearly crawled to the stern, giving up the struggle to stay upright.
“Brace for impact,” Razor radioed.
It was good I got the warning because the combination of throwing the engines in reverse and striking the towboat hull was extremely violent. As the boat settled down, I got control of my body and lurched upright. Our boat was starting to separate from the barge, and I was still on the patrol boat. That spurred me to action. I was up on the side and across to the towboat in moments.
I was pleased to see Tom and Ben already crouched down on the deck of the towboat.
“Craig, do you know where the other crew is?” I radioed.
“Negative. The pilot was preparing to shoot when I drilled him. He was my only visible target,” Craig responded.
“Razor, tie up the patrol boat and join us, we need to locate anyone else on board,” I radioed.
Razor was already maneuvering alongside the towboat. With the current, tying the front of the boat made the most sense and Razor tossed Tom the rope with a clip on the end to secure the patrol boat’s bow. Tom had to lie flat on the towboat deck to do the deed, but once it was in place, Razor killed his engines.
“Razor, tell those on the towboat to come out with their hands up, or we’ll shoot them,” I radioed.
For whatever reason, the new boat was called the Jersey Girl.
“Those on the Jersey Girl, come out with your hands up or we’ll come in and get you,” Razor spoke using the patrol boat’s loudspeaker.
“We’d rather not kill you, but if you have a weapon, we will shoot you. Come out with your hand’s up.”
Razor waited a few moments, before joining us on the deck of the Jersey Girl.
The Jersey Girl was a bit bigger than the Cumberland, but the layout was similar. It had two engines and three decks. It floated higher in the water than the Cumberland but seemed to be deeper, too.
Our intel suggested there was only one other crewman on board, but one couldn’t rely on that. The most logical place for the crewman was near the engine room.
I threw open the door to the engine room, careful to stay out of the line of fire.
“Come on out, or I’ll toss a grenade in there and sort out the pieces later,” I shouted.
“I’ll come out, please don’t shoot me. I don’t have a gun, please don’t shoot. I’m just an engine man. Please,” came a faint voice from the depths of the engine room. The panic in the voice gave me the confidence to wait.
“Come out where I can see you, keep your hands above your head,” I demanded.
A thin white-haired man came into the brighter area cast by the open doorway. He had his hands up and didn’t appear to be a threat.
“Come up here,” I commanded, gesturing with my rifle.
“Please don’t shoot,” he quavered. “I’m not armed.”
Razor secured the man’s hands behind him and searched quickly for weapons. The man hadn’t lied, he was unarmed. Razor eased the man to his knees.
“What is your name?” I asked.
“Floyd,” he answered.
“Floyd, how many people are onboard the Jersey Girl?” I asked.
“Just Charlie and me,” Floyd responded.
“Where is Charlie?” I asked.
“Probably in the wheelhouse,” Floyd answered.
I sent Razor and Tom to search the rest of the vessel.
“My name is Jeremy,” I said. “We don’t want to hurt you, we just are very curious why your people attacked us without warning?”
“Can you tell me about that?” I asked.
“I’m just the engineman,” Floyd said. “I just keep the Jersey Girl engines going. I don’t have anything to do with the rest.”
“What is ‘the rest’?” I asked.
“We just pick up stray barges,” Floyd said. “We had a lot of them after the crash, not so many now, though.”
“What about towboats?” I asked.
“A bunch came through the first few weeks after the lights went off,” Floyd said. “Captain Ellis let all them go. But, if they stayed around, they had to join up. A lot joined up with Captain Ellis. We captured any stray barges. Parked the full ones and used some of the empty ones to build this barrier.”
“What happened to those who didn’t want to stay?” I asked.
“Most just wanted to get home. Everyone got a call from their offices on that Sunday morning telling us to leave our barges and come home,” Floyd said.
“Charlie and our crew thought it was some kind of joke until we found out we weren’t the only one getting those instructions,” Floyd said. “The power going down didn’t do much to us. We noticed that the towns were in trouble, but our biggest problem was the GPS, radio and cell phones.”
I lowered my weapon and urged Floyd to continue. He seemed happy for the opportunity.
“The Jersey Girl is out of Memphis, this is our home port. We were up near Cairo when we got the call. We were pushing a raft of empties, planning to drop them off up the Ohio River. We started to believe when the Corps refused to open the lock for us. They told us the river was closed,” Floyd said. “Not something I’d ever heard of except in floods and droughts.”
“Then what?” I asked.
“We pushed our barges up onto the mud and left them. A lot of the crew have family here, they wanted to get home,” Floyd said. “Charlie and me, we don’t have any other family, so we didn’t really care.”
I interrupted. “I want to hear all of this, but I really have to insist, why did your group shoot at us without any warning?”
“Who knows, they were probably just stir crazy,” Floyd said. “Nothing of interest has come our way for a week.”
“Tell me about Captain Ellis?” I demanded.
“He’s the captain of one of the steamboats. I’m told he organized a bunch of river guys to take control of the harbor area once the power crashed,” Floyd said. “He’s running the place now.”
“What about the people in Memphis?” I asked.
“They try to break in, but so far we’ve been able to chase them off,” Floyd said. “Things really got bad after people realized the bridges were blocked and the people in Memphis weren’t welcome in Arkansas. Then people tried to get out any way they could. I wasn’t here when that happened, but I heard enough. It was awful. They overloaded boats; shot each other. I heard it was horrible. A lot of desperate people and families.”
“Tell me more about Captain Ellis and your group,” I coaxed.
“He was in charge by the time the Jersey Girl got here,” Floyd said. “The whole river community is behind him, defending the harbor, securing loose barges. Creating a new order for things. Not everyone was from the waterside, but most in powerful positions were. He had people tow the marina docks into the harbor to tie up the small boats we picked up. Some people live on
their boats, others live in trailers or RVs or in industrial buildings. The leadership lives on Captain Ellis’ steamboat. Our crew got off as soon as we got here. None has come back. After they left, Charlie and I joined up with Captain Ellis.”
“All clear,” Tom radioed. “Allie, come on through.”
“Should be there in five,” Allie radioed. “Craig, should we pick you up?”
“We’ll be on the barge next to the bridge support,” Craig radioed. “I’ll wave.”
“I’ll have to pin the push knees against the barge,” Allie radioed, “due to the current. It may be more than a love tap.”
“Once you are satisfied with your contact, let us know, Craig radioed. “Joel we may need a hand with the ninjas.”
“Kurt and I will be there,” Joel radioed.
“What happened to Charlie,” Floyd demanded, dragging my attention back to him.
“He raised a rifle at our boat,” I said.
“He wouldn’t have shot anybody,” Floyd insisted. “You could have taken him prisoner.”
“Your people shouldn’t have shot at us first,” I said. “Your friend made the wrong choice. We couldn’t afford the risk; he was only fooling.”
“What did you guys do with those you intercepted?” I asked. “Did you just let them through without challenge?”
“We didn’t just shoot them,” Floyd said, glaring at me and straining against the zip-ties holding him. It was good he’d been forced to his knees, or I’m sure he’d have attempted something foolish.
“None of your people shot anyone?” I asked, letting the skepticism seep into my voice.
“Charlie and I never did,” Floyd maintained.
“How were we to differentiate between those pointing their weapons at us who are trying to kill us and those who are only fooling?” I asked. “The barrel of a rifle looks the same. I assure you if you aim a weapon at any of us, you won’t live to see another day.”
“That’s good,” radioed Craig. “Keep that location, and we can get on board.”
“Will do,” radioed Allie. “Hurry anyway, just in case.”
Razor joined me on deck, we moved away from Floyd far enough to converse but not far enough he’d be tempted to make a move.
“Can we operate this boat?” I asked.
Razor seemed surprised by the question, but answered quickly, “Don’t see why not. They have the generator running so the engines should start. Most of us can drive one of these now, so that shouldn’t be a problem. Won’t that split us up too much?”
“See what you can learn from Floyd,” I said. “As soon as Craig’s fireteam gets on board the Cumberland, I’m inclined to continue downriver. If we need to abandon this rig we can always jump into the patrol boat and bug out.”
“I’ll put Floyd in a maintenance closet I prepared for him and take a look at the engines. You and Tom can standby to start the engines and unhook us,” Razor said. “This thing has nearly a full tank of diesel, according to the gauges in the wheelhouse. You might toss Charlie overboard after I get Floyd out of sight.”
“Good, check the engines and if things look okay, we’ll get underway,” I answered.
“We have everyone aboard,” Allie radioed. “What is our plan?”
“We are taking this vessel with us,” I radioed. “Standby until we can join you.”
I went to the wheelhouse to help Tom with Charlies’ body. Razor disappeared into the main cabin with Floyd but came out within moments, alone.
“Ben and I are checking out the engine room,” Razor radioed.
I helped Tom wipe down the helm chair in the wheelhouse. I dragged the body down the stairs. The stairs were steep, and I struggled to maintain my balance backing down them while pulling the body behind me. Charlie was a big man, and his limp body made the process taxing. I changed tactics for the next level, allowing gravity to help me.
When I dropped the body to the lower deck, it didn’t reach the river as I’d hoped. It hung up partially draped over the vessel handrail. While I struggled to upend the body over the side, Tom, Ben, and Razor got the engines started.
The body disappeared beneath the muddy river for a few moments, before bobbing back to the surface. I assumed once its clothing became waterlogged, it would sink again. My hands were bloody, and I had blood on my front and on one leg.
There wasn’t time to clean up, so I went to the front of the Jersey Girl to set her free. Tom already had the vessel in gear, moving into the current and pushing softly against the barge we were tied to. The mooring rope was just looped over a cleat, and once the line was no longer taut, I set us free without leaving the Jersey Girl.
“Tom, you can pull us back now,” I radioed. “We are free.” Within seconds I could feel the shudder on the deck under my feet, grabbing onto the boat to avoid getting knocked down. The front of the Jersey Girl swung around. I was glad I was still hanging on when Tom put the engines back into forward. We surged downriver to meet up with the Cumberland.
“Tom, you should stay to my port side and back a few boat lengths, just in case I need to slow down or maneuver,” Allie radioed. “No need to practice ramming.”
“Wilco,” Tom radioed.
I went into the main cabin area, found a bathroom and cleaned up quickly. I didn’t want to be distracted by the sticky feel of blood, not to mention the various diseases spread that way. I still had stains on my jacket and pants, but not much I could do about that today.
I joined Tom in the wheelhouse. He’d already swept up the glass and was seated at the helm. The pooled blood was still tacky on the floor. The main windscreen was still intact, a little smeared from a quick wipe. The glass in the portside door was missing, and the air swirled inside, taxing the heater.
Tom handed me the pair of binoculars he found at the helm, and I scoured the horizon. Downstream I spotted a series of river docks, with hundreds of barges tied to them. Some were probably loaded with food, some with coal, and several carried gasoline or diesel. Nearly all were covered and left me guessing about what they contained.
Looking back toward the bridge revealed a blackened set of petroleum tanks, still smoldering at a dock not far from the bridge. It was impossible to tell whether the vessels were torched or if they ignited accidentally. The intense heat of the flames buckled the tank roofs and surrounding structures. Stains on the bank suggested some of the burning fluid reached the river at some point.
We were forced closer to the Memphis shore on this side than I would have preferred, due to the finger dikes all along the Arkansas side of the river. We saw an occasional green or red buoy, but they were too few to rely upon.
Based on the chart I estimated, we were near the harbor bottleneck where the river rats set up roadblocks to keep the rest of Memphis out. The riverside was wooded for about a half mile before abruptly changing to a large cleared area covered with mounds of gravel and sand, ranging in color from dark gray to light tan. This was where the rafts of barges were tied up.
I could see a few people onshore, they were all staring at us, not taking any action. I thought one man was speaking into a radio, but he was too far away to be sure.
It took more than a half hour for the river channel to swing toward the Arkansas shore. There were no barges tied up to the grain docks of West Memphis. There were a few flat barges tied up to another gravel site, but no one seemed active there.
There was some kind of RV or trailer park in the bend. Some people were fishing from the shore. While they were probably armed, no one raised a weapon. Smoke billowed from several campfires, but all seemed peaceful.
We passed several more docks and grain silos but didn’t spot any other people. As the river channel swung southward, it also narrowed, and the current picked up slightly. Razor joined us in the wheelhouse.
“I didn’t learn much more from Floyd except this Captain Ellis keeps most of his assets in the harbor area. I’m not sure what that means to us,” Razor said.
I handed him one
of the paper charts we found in the wheelhouse and showed him where we were on the river.
Razor pointed at mile marker 724 and said, “If they are going to react, that is where they will come in. They probably know we got past their small group of pirates so they may come in force. Don’t know if they know we have their towboat.”
“They probably know,” I said. “I thought I saw someone on a radio at the dock not far downstream from the bridge.”
“They’ve had at least an hour to prepare, so I bet they will send something to catch us,” Razor said. “How do you want to play this?”
“Let’s talk with the rest of our team,” I said.
