Voyage After the Collapse (The Pulse Series Book 3) Page 3

  The catamaran was still wearing dull gray primer as a topcoat everywhere above the waterline, since there had been no time to paint her when they launched in Culebra for their voyage to New Orleans. Appearance was the last thing on Larry's mind at the time and Artie knew it would be a long time before the Casey Nicole was finished to her full glory, if ever. The important thing was making ready to sail so they could get her as far away from the United States mainland as possible. Although they were relatively safe anchored at Cat Island, as compared to being right off the coast, there was still too much proximity to all that madness for anyone's comfort. Everyone in their crew had seen more than enough of the aftermath of the collapse, and no one wanted a repeat of their recent experiences.

  How long had it actually been? Artie tried to think back. Three weeks? Almost a month? It sure seemed a lot longer. So much had happened in such a short time, it was hard to fathom. He hoped the worst of it was over, at least for the six of them. It would be hard to imagine anything worse than the feeling of not knowing if his daughter was alive or dead. Now that he was reunited with Casey, Artie felt that no matter what happened next, it had to be better than the pain he'd gone through during those dark days of wondering if he was ever going to see her again.

  Casey and her roommate Jessica were fortunate to escape the nightmare that New Orleans quickly became after the solar flares destroyed the power and communications grid and rendered most automobiles useless. Both had gotten out unscathed, at least physically, but Artie was certain that Casey's experience with the deranged kidnapper who took her captive on the Bogue Chitto River would trouble her later, especially considering how that episode ended. At least for now though, she seemed to be able to put it out of her thoughts or to hide it well if not.

  Artie knew that if not for Grant Dyer, the young grad-student that his daughter had befriended long before all this happened, it was unlikely that either of the girls would have gotten out of the dying city before it was too late. But even if not for all the risks this young man took to get his daughter and her friend to safety, Artie would have liked Grant if he had met him before. He was an interesting person to talk to despite being so young, partly because he had already traveled far more than most men twice his age.

  Artie knew he owed a lot to Grant for all he had done, but every single one of them had Larry to be thankful for most of all. If not for this 36-foot catamaran that Larry had built before he ever dreamed something like this could happen, Artie had no idea where any of them would be today or what they would do. The catamaran was a magic carpet that had brought him here, back to the U.S. after the solar flare’s devastating pulse left him stranded on his vacation in the islands. It was a rare event when Artie even got a vacation, and fortunately for him, he’d chosen to spend this one sailing with his resourceful brother in the Eastern Caribbean. He’d merely wanted to get away from his duties at the hospital for a few days to see how his carefree younger brother lived. Little did he know that while he was there, the world was about to change with a flashing of lights in the night sky.

  Because of Larry's boat, Artie had the means to get back to New Orleans to find his daughter when otherwise he would have remained stranded in St. Thomas indefinitely. The passage from the islands had been difficult and dangerous, but with the help of Larry’s Rastafarian friend, Scully; they made it there relatively quickly, only to find that Casey and her roommate Jessica were already gone. If not for the note Casey had left for Artie in his parked car at the New Orleans airport, it would have been impossible to ever find the girls.

  But fortunately they had, and now, because of Larry's catamaran, all of them could leave the violence that had consumed the mainland behind them for good. They could set sail and even cross entire oceans if necessary to get someplace where life might be normal again. Or even if not normal, perhaps at least someplace where they would not have to literally fight for survival every day. Artie hoped he would never have to wield a firearm against his fellow man again, but he now knew that he could and that he would if he had to.

  Where they were going was still uncertain. They discussed the alternatives at length, but in the end Artie knew it was ultimately Larry's decision. Larry was the one with the most experience in such matters, having lived an ocean-wandering life as a professional yacht delivery skipper for the past 15 years. Larry had been just about everywhere it was possible for a sailboat to go in the Caribbean Basin and the Atlantic coast, as well as many ports on the other side of that ocean. He had some ideas where they might find safe refuge, all with trade-offs, of course, but most far better than remaining in North America and especially the United States. The problem in such highly developed nations was that the total failure of the grid led to almost immediate panic. With no trucks running to deliver food and other essentials in a complex supply chain that was only three days from failure anyway, practically everything was in short supply or gone before most citizens realized what was happening. Very few people were prepared to weather such an interruption and it was more than most could handle. When they couldn't go and buy what they needed to survive, many of them quickly began taking what they could from anyone who had it, using whatever force was necessary. It was a complete reversion to savagery unlike any Artie had ever imagined possible.

  He didn’t want to see it again, so he reached for a fresh sheet of sandpaper to put on his block so he could get back to work. But just before he knelt on the deck to get to it, he glanced to the north one more time and was startled by what he saw. A good-sized sailboat had rounded the point on the other side of the island, and was now heeled over in the afternoon breeze as it headed straight his way on a beam reach. Artie was sure it was one of the two boats they knew were anchored around on the other side. They’d seen them when they first arrived, but had not made contact. Now, it looked as though they were about to meet the crew of at least one of them after all.

  “Hey Larry! You’d better get up here!” Artie knew it didn’t pay to assume anything these days. Everyone they met was a threat until proven otherwise. He yelled across the anchorage as loud as he could to Casey and her friends, and then dashed below to get Larry’s portable air horn. He had to let them know to get back to the boat before the strangers arrived.

  FIVE

  CASEY DRAGER COULD TELL from the tone in her dad’s shouts that it was urgent they get back to the boat. She and Jessica and Grant had first heard three short blasts from the air horn her Uncle Larry kept in the nav station of the Casey Nicole. The air horn was the prearranged signal to get back right now, and they had turned around and started that way as fast as they could move through the dense thickets of Cat Island’s wooded interior. Her dad was still calling her name as they broke out of the trees onto the open beach, and she could immediately see why. Another sailing vessel was entering the shallow cove where the Casey Nicole and the old fishing boat, the Miss Lucy, were rafted together at anchor.

  Casey could see that her dad, her uncle, and Scully were all armed with rifles as they intently watched the approaching sailboat maneuver closer. Larry was carrying on a shouted conversation with a woman at the helm of the strange boat, but they were too far away for Casey and her friends to make out what was being said. The three of them rushed on to the water’s edge to try and see what was going on as they readied the two kayaks to return to their ship. Whoever this was on the sailboat, Uncle Larry apparently trusted her enough to let her come close enough to talk. She knew that if the stranger did anything to appear threatening, the three men on the Casey Nicole wouldn’t hesitate to open fire. They had been through enough lately to harden their resolve against any sign of an encounter. All of them had seen enough of those that Casey sincerely hoped it was not about to happen again.

  She and Jessica hopped into Larry’s double kayak as Grant shoved off on the smaller red plastic sit-on-top that he’d found when he reached the end of the Pearl River and needed a boat in which to cross to Cat Island. As they paddled, she heard Larry telling the woman on
the other boat where she could drop her anchor and warning her that it was too shallow to get any closer. The woman yelled for someone else and Casey saw Larry and the others tense up when another person emerged from the cabin of the sailboat. She was relieved to see that it was only a young girl though, who looked to be barely a teenager, if that. The woman, who Casey assumed was the girl’s mother, was calling for her to take the helm for a minute so she could drop the anchor. The girl did as she was told, but didn’t seem happy about it.

  The three of them reached the starboard hull of the Casey Nicole and tied off the kayaks to a cleat on the end of one of the crossbeams. Grant was up onto the deck first, reaching down to Casey and Jessica in turn and giving them a hand.

  “What does she want, Dad?”

  “Something about helping her friends in another boat that went aground in the storm last night.”

  “She came from the other side of the island didn’t she? That boat looks like one of the two we saw there.”

  “Yes, it is. The other one is the one that’s aground.”

  “Damn!” Larry said, under his breath as he watched the proceedings. The young girl was holding the wheel, keeping the bow of their boat pointed into the breeze, while the woman scampered quickly to the foredeck. She was working quickly; pulling down the jib sail that was attached to the forestay in the traditional way rather than on a roller furler, before letting loose the anchor at the bow. But Casey knew it wasn’t her sailing skills alone that elicited her uncle’s reaction. The blonde woman was wearing a tank top and white shorts that revealed a perfectly proportioned feminine figure that moved with athletic grace as she performed her tasks. When she was finished and stood to smile back at them and wave, Casey saw that her face was as pretty as the rest of her, and a glance at her grinning uncle told her that they were likely going to be helping this woman with whatever it was she was asking for.

  Ten minutes, later, Tara Hancock and her daughter, Rebecca were siting with them in the cockpit of the Casey Nicole. Tara told them her story of her experiences in the aftermath of the blackout, which seemed to be almost everyone’s story, except that the thirty-six year old woman had not had to kill anyone, at least not yet. Her parents’ yacht, the Sarah J., was a lovely vessel and her Uncle Larry said it was a great boat. He told Tara that he’d delivered a Tartan 37 just like it from Halifax to Tortola, by way of Bermuda, and that it was a solid and seaworthy design.

  Her uncle’s immediate interest in their newest acquaintance was hard to disguise, and Casey had to admit that Tara looked as good or better up close than she had at a distance. Petit, natural blonde and a bit athletic, she had an outgoing personality that added to her attractiveness. Her daughter, Rebecca however, had little to say and seemed completely detached from the conversation and the world around her. Casey assumed it was the trauma of recent events, combined with her age. She knew those early teen years were a difficult phase of life for most girls, even those who had not lost a parent to an accident the way she lost her mom when she was that age.

  “We’ll get them pulled off, one way or the other,” Larry assured Tara as she described in detail how the Owens’ yacht was grounded and the methods she’d attempted to help them, which had all failed. “High tide will be coming in just after dark this evening, so if we can get in position with the Miss Lucy and coincide our efforts with when it’s up, I’m sure we’ll get it done. That ole tub has got a good, strong Perkins in her bilge.”

  “I was sure of it when I saw it go by. I just wasn’t sure what kind of people you guys were and whether you would care, but I had to come ask. It was the least I could do. I just couldn’t leave that sweet old couple stuck there like that.”

  Casey knew that it must have taken some guts for Tara to come around here to this side of the island and ask for their help. She hadn’t seen the violence that any of them had seen, but she’d heard enough to know the potential for it. And she obviously wasn’t stupid. Just the fact that she’d thought to get her daughter to her parents’ yacht and sail out here proved that.

  When Larry asked her how long she was planning to stay here, Tara said she wasn’t. She didn’t know where they’d go, but she knew they should set sail somewhere else soon, because Cat Island was simply too close to the mainland to be safe.

  “I was going to West Ship Island at first, because that’s were we always used to go back when I sailed with mom and dad right after they got the boat. There’s a good anchorage there that’s a lot deeper than any of the waters here, but once we got close enough to see it good, I got nervous. There were quite a few people there; boats at the dock and pulled up to the beach. There were big fires burning and there was something about those people that just didn’t feel right. I decided not to stop there. That’s how we ended up at Cat Island.”

  “Wes’ Ship. Dat’s de island we where we stoppin’ when we first cross de Gulf, right mon?”

  “You got it Scully. That’s the one.”

  “Where we pulled that young guy in the little sailboat off,” Artie said. “What was his name? Those days have all turned into a kind of blur to me. That was before we found Casey. Everything before that was a nightmare.”

  “Craig something or other, I think,” Larry said.

  “Yep. Dat’s what de mon say.”

  “And that was the only boat there at the time. I guess things are changing fast. More survivors making their way out of the cities.”

  “They may have been just refugees like us,” Tara said. “But I still got a bad vibe about the place.”

  “You’re smart to follow your intuition. But I’m glad you didn’t get a bad vibe about us,” Larry said, looking at her with a smile that let her know that beyond a doubt, he was glad she was here.

  Casey noted that Jessica was the only one among them who seemed less than enthusiastic to meet a fellow survivor who was also using a sailboat as a getaway vehicle. It was almost as if she was jealous that Larry had taken such a liking to the woman. No doubt Jessica noticed how attractive she was, and that Larry was captivated not only by her looks but by the fact that she knew how to sail. But why would Jessica care who Larry was looking at? It had been clear for a while that she had developed a crush on Grant, even though Casey had been infatuated with him since long before all this happened; but Larry? He was almost twice her age! Jessica had been acting strange lately for sure, ever since they’d all gotten back together. She had been through a lot too, and the changes and shock of the new reality they were all suddenly thrust into may have been harder on her than any of them. But still, she had no reason to feel threatened by Tara. Casey thought it was kind of nice just to have someone new to talk to, even for a few hours, especially someone outside of their own group who wasn’t trying to kill them or worse. When she thought about it, it was a first, really.

  The world had become dangerous beyond her imagination just days after modern technology for the most part came to a grinding halt. In hindsight, Casey knew she and Jessica were lucky to get out of New Orleans when they did. At the time, she didn’t realize how quickly things would degenerate into anarchy in the Big Easy, but Grant did. He’d been there after Hurricane Katrina and he knew. It was Grant who convinced them to leave and Grant who came up with a plan and a means to do so and made sure he stuck with them until they were out. His plan didn’t work exactly, of course, and they never saw the cabin in the woods where he intended to take them for refuge, but in the end it didn’t matter. The three of them were together and safe. Casey wouldn’t have dreamed her Uncle Larry and his best friend, Scully would have sailed all this way to get her, but she should have known her dad would stop at nothing to find her and make sure she was safe. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, and she felt the same way about him. Thinking about this, she felt sorry for Tara, who was separated from her own parents by more than a thousand miles. Casey knew it was unlikely they would have a miraculous reunion like she and her dad did. It was a sad thought, and Casey knew untold numbers of people wer
e in the same situation. Jessica was another with parents nearly a continent away, but she comforted herself by saying over and over that maybe the effects of the pulse didn’t reach the California coast.

  It was a nice thought, but the more time passed, the more Casey wondered if there was anywhere that was not affected. Surely if other parts of the United States were operating as normal, there would have already been a massive influx of help into the blacked-out regions. The fact that they still knew nothing did not seem promising. Casey and the rest of the crew had discussed it at length. The only thing they were sure of was that they couldn’t count on outside help or a change for the better. What they had to do was work to remain self-sufficient and to avoid trouble at all cost. And all of them agreed that meant getting underway as soon as possible. Tara and Rebecca’s arrival and her request for help for her older friends on the other boat would mean yet another delay, but Casey didn’t see how it could be a long one. Larry and those of the crew who went with him would take the big fishing boat around to the other side of the island to do the towing, and there was no reason why the whole operation should take more than a few hours.

  SIX

  NICK MCGRAW WADED INTO the waist-deep green water off the beach at West Ship Island and climbed onto the trampoline of the Hobie 18. His newest girlfriend, Gina, was already on board, as were Craig and Tim. Some of the others from the camp wanted to go too, but Nick said four was all he was taking on the open beach cat, and he would have made Gina stay behind too, if not for the fact she only weighed 105 pounds. Nick didn’t want the boat loaded to the max, because he hoped they would be coming back to West Ship Island with much more weight than they left with. The Hobie was the fastest boat they had by far, so there was no point in any of the others trying to follow with any of the assorted day sailors and small cruising boats near the fort.