

## The Less Fortunates

By Charles C. Martin

Smashwords Edition

For more information and updates please visit www.charlesCmartin.com

The Less Fortunates © 2016 Charles C. Martin

This work of fiction was written by Charles C. Martin and edited by Kathryn W. Martin. Cover artwork and design by Rob Allen. This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, events, establishments, organization, or locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other names, characters, and places, and all dialogue and incidents portrayed in this book are the product of the author's imagination. The Less Fortunates. Copyright 2016 by Charles C Martin. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Isaiah 53:5 o God there is power there. Let it loose. There is a printed copy of this work with ISBN 978-1532854286 The Less Fortunates / Charles C. Martin – 1st ed. 238 pp

### To Agwe

Table of Contents

# 1

They told me when to wake up, what to wear, when to sleep, when to eat, how to act. I felt like a pet, but not the kind that slept on the couch. Like the mangy dog chained to his doghouse, unloved by its owners, and taking up space. Five days a week the owners had me seated at the second desk, last aisle, in classroom number four at the Havana School for Boys. I wasn't even seventeen, but had already spent so much of my life in that place that I had the cracks on my desk and mold patterns on the ceiling memorized, like a useless map of nothing. The air was thick and smelled like hell, but it didn't matter anymore. My dreary day to day was about to be shattered beyond recognition. First was the idea.

The idea was like a gift and always the easy part. But the rest, as one of my foster dads used to say, was what separated the men from the boys. Not to say anything special about him. That guy was a total bastard. But the rest began on a Tuesday morning in that same old room, with those same old people, and same old Mr. Peterson up front and jabbering on about photosynthesis.

Big Peterson looked like he barely made it out of bed that morning. He didn't want to be there anymore than we did, but at least he got paid. I could handle the time a little easier than most. The rest of the room was filled with lifeless expressions fighting sleep - all of 'em. It sucked because if you fell asleep in big Peterson's class, he crept toward you and kicked your desk hard enough to give himself a hernia. Then you got an F for the day and two additional hours of after school detention with the same dick.

I could cope though, and I did it by drifting. At least that's what I called it. Mentally escaping a less fortunate physical reality. I learned how to drift a long time ago, and drifting was the reason I could hear my heart pumping that late morning in May. The idea that had been stirring in my head for months was now a plan. The plan was the reason that in the crowd of mostly brown haired, pale face boys, there was only one who was smiling.

I popped my knuckles and thought about the boat, the ocean, the freedom. I could smell it, taste it, almost feel it. The pen in my hand slowly transformed into an old, salty rope while I watched the sun move from behind a cloud. I squinted from the sharp glare on the water and took a deep breath. Then a sudden and loud groan from the back of the class snapped me off the boat. "UGGHHHHHH!" It sounded like someone dying.

Big Peterson spiked his chalk to the floor like an underpaid athlete, and we watched it break into several pieces and roll to the wall.

"Forest, was that you? Young man, was that you?"

All eyes turned toward the back of the class. Forest, a tall seventeen year old with wide shoulders, scars on his fists, and disorderly red hair stared at the wall behind big Peterson and slowly shook his head. I smirked. The hell it wasn't. Everyone knew it was Forest.

"Only one more strike, son."

Big Peterson's eyeballs were about to pop out, freak. He held up a trembling finger and said softly and slowly, "Just. One. More."

Staredown. We could hear the sound of some kids talking outside, it was that quiet. The same old shit was getting old though. It had been happening almost weekly. Big Peterson taunting Forest to do something, anything that might get him expelled.

He was down to his last strike. During the silence my mind drifted back to the other two strikes. It was a test day and the room was silent, with the exception of big Peterson blowing his nose every two or three minutes. Then papers suddenly flew through the air, and Forest just bolted out of class. It was funny afterwards, but in the moment we were all like, what the hell?

But after I thought about it, that wasn't even a strike. Strike one was the first and last time the teacher fell asleep at his desk, thanks to Forest. My smile faded when I thought about strike number two. Unfortunately, it involved me. Forest overheard me say his sister, Becca, was smoking hot. He got in my face, and things escalated unbelievably fast. I didn't see what was so wrong with what I said. It wasn't an insult. I wished I was smoking hot. If some girl called me smoking hot, it'd make my week. No, my year.

I did get a punch in, the first one, but it all went downhill from there. No one would pull him off of me. I had a concussion. Sat in the hospital for four days. That was six months earlier, I still had these squiggly lines that passed across my right eye, and my jaw clicked when I yawned. I threw the punch because I knew it was going to go down anyway. I could see it in his eyes.

"Watch him boys, I need witnesses," said big Peterson. "Just one more. C'mon you know you want to."

Forest began wiggling his middle finger.

"There! You saw it. Raise your hand if you saw it. He flipped me off!" No one raised their hand. No surprise there.

"Joey." Mr. Peterson and a few others turned their attention my way.

"Shit," I whispered.

Ever since the fight he thought I had good rat potential.

"You saw him, didn't you? Look now. He's flipping me off."

Forest continued to stare down big Peterson stone faced. Thumb, index and middle finger open across his temple. "Look!" shouted Mr. Peterson.

Forest wiggled his middle finger again.

"Joey, what do you call that?"

I tried to drift.

"Joey!" Impossible.

"I have no idea," I responded. Just leave me alone man, I screamed in my head and hoped I communicated it with my eyes. He turned his attention back to Forest.

The bell rang. Thank God. Everyone stood up and it quickly put an end to the awkward stalemate. For half a second Forest dropped his other fingers leaving the middle exposed. "There!" yelled Mr. Peterson, but we were already pushing our way out of class, including Forest.

Just outside of classroom number four I made my way through the crowd of boys in green shirts and khaki shorts, to the old window that looked down to the yard. I leaned up against the window frame and felt chips of white paint fall to the floor. It looked like it did every other day, same time. Some of the guys started playing basketball, and others gathered into groups in the yard. There was no grass, just concrete and dirt. A few weeds would try to spring up but were mashed down to the earth before they had a chance. I watched my group form and wondered how they would react. It was an idea and a damn good one. I was ready.

Once downstairs I pushed open the rusty double doors leading to the yard.

"What's up Joey?" said a kid from class dribbling a basketball. I nodded and joined my friends on the other side of the court. The five of them stood in a disjointed circle with Forest just outside of it. He leaned with his back against the concrete wall and casually looked out at the yard, uninterested in the conversation. I threw my backpack against the wall. Luke was rambling on about motorcycle engines again, c90 this, c90 that. No one cared. No one even acted like they cared. It was as good a time as any to bring up my plan.

"I'm out of here next month, for good," I said.

Luke rolled his eyes and Chris said, "Here we go again."

"No man. This is it. You guys too. We're sailing the hell out of here."

Chris gave me a bullshit look.

"Dude, just because you took a few sailing lessons from that kids wish charity doesn't make you a sailor. You probably hadn't even been on a canoe before that."

"That's actually true, but it doesn't matter," I replied. "Just listen. There's a guy named Sam there that runs the marina and teaches the lessons. Big guy, laid back, takes a lot of naps. So, here's the thing. People pay this marina to keep their boats parked in the water at the dock. I asked Sam and he said some of the boats sit there for months, even years without moving. This is what you aren't going to believe, but I swear to God it's true. You know what keeps these boats from sailing out into the ocean and never coming back?"

Luke shrugged.

"Ropes. Ropes with knots."

Luke looked confused. "But you can cut ropes."

"Yeah. I checked them all and there must be hundreds. They are all tied to the dock with ropes."

"That doesn't make any sense. No ones that stupid. What about the motor?" asked Luke.

"On a sailboat there's a small motor on the back. No key. It starts just like a lawn mower. Seriously. You untie the boat, get on it, pull the rope to start the motor, and off you go. That's it."

Luke squinted and rubbed the back of his neck. "That just can't be right, man. There must be really heavy security."

I laughed. "Yeah, Joe. He's heavy, looks like he could be big Peterson's brother."

Luke thought about it, "Okay so let's say you steal one of these boats and sail off into the ocean. Where the hell are you going?"

"I'll tell you exactly where we're going."

"You're," said Luke.

"Last weekend I was in Sam's office, supposed to be doing homework. He had a map on his desk. I picked it up, and it hit me. Less than a hundred miles out. The Bahamas. The Bahamas! Hundreds of islands to get lost in. It's not a world away man. I mean, shit - one hundred miles."

"Psh! There's a lot of sharks out there too," said Chris.

I threw my hands in the air, "There's a lot of crackheads down the street with guns."

"I like the train idea better," said Luke.

Chris laughed. "Yeah, no sharks, but guaranteed Luke gets humped by a bum."

"We can pull this off, man," I snapped. "We just need a month, maybe two to prepare. Let's take a shot."

Luke shook his head. A quick look around and it was obvious the rest of them thought the idea was crazy.

"Sorry, Joey. You can die of thirst or get eaten by yourself. You're on your own, man," said Chris.

"No you aren't."

The sudden and unusual voice of Forest caught our attention. He set his stone like eyes on me. The situation eerily reminded me of the moments before the fight, and I felt my spine tingle. For a second I thought I heard the faint sounds of the chaos while my head hit the floor over and over.

"We have to leave tonight," he said.

Oh shit. They all turned to me, wondering how in the hell I was going to respond to Forest. I needed the bell to ring, but it was at least five minutes away. I mean, yeah I wanted to break outta there and make a run for the Bahamas, but a hundred miles on a sailboat with Forest, hell no! I wasn't even saying that because we weren't friends. I'd look at him wrong, and the dude would push me off the boat in the middle of the ocean. No exaggeration - guaranteed.

Luke and Chris looked like they felt sorry for me. The seconds ticked by. I had to say something.

"Forest, we have a bit of a history man," I responded.

He shook his head, "No we don't. That's done."

"I think I made it sound too easy," I said more softly than I wanted to.

Chris chimed in, "Yeah, no shit, like you're selling a timeshare or something."

I didn't know what the hell a timeshare was, but I nodded in agreement. Chris was just trying to help me get out of it, but I still had to say something.

"Tonight's impossible. It's at least a hundred miles, but if the wind is coming out of the east then we have to like zig zag to get there and that could turn into two hundred miles, maybe more. Top speed is seven miles an hour and we will probably average more like two or three, zero if there's no wind. We have to figure out food, water, all that. It's going to take a lot of time to prepare."

Forest shook his head. "No, man. Tomorrow these creeps are picking up my sister. It has to be tonight. We leave with her, tonight."

He mentioned his sister, and I got a little uneasy and looked away for a second.

What the hell was this onslaught of craziness? She was why I saw these squiggly lines every thirty seconds in my right eye. He thought we we're going to all live on a sailboat and I would be able to keep from looking at his sister 24/7. Psh. I may as well have shot myself in the head to got it over with quickly. It was time to back out.

"There's just no way to leave tonight."

Forest didn't buy it. "I'm leaving tonight with Becca. Come with us if you want."

He couldn't be serious. "Dude, this is my idea."

The group was dead silent while they listened to the rare and awkward conversation between me and Forest.

"I know, Joey. But I have to make a go of it tonight. No choice. The people adopting Becca, the dude's a creep. She's my only family. This is my shot. Tonight at lights out I need directions to the marina. I need to know everything you know about sailboats."

"Damn it," I whispered. Forest was being somewhat cool and I would look like a bitch if I didn't help him. I sure as hell wasn't ready for round two either. "Alright man. I'll tell you what I can."

It sucked. But at least I wasn't going to get pushed off a boat in the middle of the ocean.

Forest turned his attention to the group, "Everyone else, this is important. They'll ask where I went. Tell them to the Amtrak Station on 37th. That I snuck on a train. Tell them I'm heading west. Say to Los Angeles. Luke you say Burbank."

"Burbank?" asked Luke.

"It's just outside of L.A." said Forest. "Make sure you say Burbank. Then they will believe the story."

Throughout the day I couldn't think of anything else. My favorite daydream was officially dead. Daydreams helped the days go by faster there and made the environment somewhat tolerable. I was pissed and depressed. An odd set of circumstances and now Forest, the one who beat the shit out of me, and his hot as hell sister were going in my place. It just didn't seem right. It wasn't right.

# 2

Night fell and the bell sounded, like a dying whale, as it always had. Then came the sound of the dorm door being locked twice. There was a faint click from the outside, and instant pitch black swarmed the room. Time ticked along, and I had trouble going to sleep that night. The room was filled with twenty six sets of bunk beds side by side. There was little to no chatter. They sucked away our spirit for such things. It wasn't summer camp.

With my head on my pillow I wondered if Forest would actually do it. A big fat ass cockroach slowly moved across the ceiling, stopping every six inches to feel around with its antennas. Just then I heard soft footsteps approaching. The sound of someone climbing the ladder to my bunk creeped me out. Forest's head popped up by my feet. This was reaching an entire new level of awkward. I had the greatest urge to heel stomp his face. But my luck, the kick wouldn't knock him out, and it'd take the overweight nightwatch five minutes to get in here. I'd be dead by then.

"Joey!" said Forest in a loud whisper. I sat up.

"I need the info," he said.

"Dude, this is awkward. I just want to go to sleep." I pulled the covers over my face.

This was so messed up. Now what in the hell were the guys in the bunks around me thinking. Life sucked. Such bullshit.

"I need your help, man. Joey!" I felt him shake my foot, and I shot up.

"Dude, don't freaking touch me!"

"Joey, I have to get out of here tonight with Becca. I need your help."

I took a deep, pissed breath, "Okay." I motioned for him to come onto my bunk. We both sat cross legged, facing each other. It was so damn bizarre.

He wasn't a friend, not even close. The only way I knew him was from the time he stomped my head into the floor like he was trying to break it open. Now he was sitting across from me, in my bunk wanting to learn about sailboats.

I looked around the room and noticed a kid a few bunks over staring at us. I motioned for him to turn around. "Alright. There are a lot of details I don't remember, but these are the basics. A sailboat has a weighted fin on the bottom called a keel. It keeps the boat from tipping too far over when the wind hits the sails. Then you have a mast."

"The pole?" asked Forest.

"Yeah."

"The sail attaches to the mast at the bottom. There's a rope that goes from the boat to the top of the mast. It has a clip on it. Clip it to the sail, pull the rope, and the sail goes up."

"What about wind direction?" asked Forest.

"As long as the wind isn't blowing in your face, the boat will move forward. There are ropes in the back that control the angle of the sail. Move it around until you find the right spot to make the boat go faster. Ummm. And don't put the sail up until you motor away from the dock. To start the motor it's just like a lawmower. It has to be in neutral to start. You use the lever to go in reverse or forward."

"Is it hard to steer?"

"Not really, but it's backwards. Pull the tiller left it goes right. Push it right, the boat goes left."

"How do we get to the marina?" asked Forest.

"Hit 72nd until you get to Old Cut. Go south half a mile. Can't remember the name of the road, but on the corner there's a gas station and this shop that sells pink flamingos, like the kind people stick in their yard. You can't miss it. Turn left, and it dead ends at the marina. I know you're sneaking out tonight, but if you actually make it to the dock, don't untie the boat until the sun starts to come up. You need the light."

"What boat?" asked Forest.

"You'll see four long docks labeled A through D. Go to the C dock. All the way at the end on the right hand side is an old twenty seven foot O'Day. There's a faded orange trim line all the way around it. It's one of the boats that never goes out. There are a lot of nicer boats there, but I think if you take that one, no one will notice, at least for a while."

"Now how do we get to the Bahamas?"

"There won't be a GPS or anything like that. The boat might have a compass, might not. If it does, just head east. Sooner or later you will hit an island. If not, remember the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Sail toward where the sun rises and away from where it sets. At night I found out the moon rises in the Northeast this time of year. Head toward the right of it. To make sure though, look for Orion in the stars. That's due east."

Forest handed me a small notepad and pencil he had with him. "Can you draw Orion?" he asked.

"Yeah."

I drew three dots representing Orion's waist and the rest to form the warrior with his bow.

"When will you leave?" I asked.

"Two AM. Need you do one thing?" asked Forest.

"What?"

"The fire alarm on the wall behind your bunk. When I whistle, pull it."

Damn. Forest knew there was no way to sneak out at night through a window or door. They were all locked and barred. An event would be needed to get everyone outside. Setting off the fire alarm made sense. There would be chaos, and that was always the perfect time to go missing. I wasn't worried about getting caught pulling it. There was an unwritten rule at Havana - no one rats. It had nothing to do with ethics and more to do with minding your own business unless you wanted to get the hell beat out of you. I had always wanted to pull that fire alarm anyway.

"Yeah, I'll do it," I said. That was only in an hour and a half. Forest nodded and crept out of my bunk.

In my bunk, I stared at the fuzzy looking white spikes on the ceiling. Usually I could turn the drab scene into a sunny adventure in the Bahamas. Not anymore. No daydreams. Instead I felt a dark cloud move over my thoughts as they shifted to childhood drama. Nothing was worse at the Havana School for Boys than lost hope, no matter how small.

Maybe I was lucky? It was a good plan, but when I really thought about it, a ridiculous amount of major shit could happen. Not the kind of shit where I go to sleep at night and wake up and everything's okay. Starving, dehydration, diarrhea, throwing up, disease, sharks, that kind of shit. Adding Forest to that list of shit made it over the top.

I wondered if he was actually just talk and was already asleep. My doubt only increased, and my eyes grew heavy. Then suddenly I heard a whistle, and they shot wide open. Forest was standing about fory feet away with a backpack on. Damn, he was dead serious.

I rubbed my eyes hard to help me wake up and glanced at the fire alarm on the wall. I would just jump out of bed, yank it, and jump right back. Simple. But I wasn't moving and didn't know why. Forest whistled again. I could feel my heart pumping. All I had to do was pull a fire alarm. How hard was that? Why wasn't I doing it? This wasn't like me to punk out or something. No, no way man. I willed myself out of bed, took two quick steps to the little red box, and got ready to ignite one big Two AM freakout.

I looked at Forest and could make out his faded shape in the dark. He nodded. I felt fear trying to kick my ass again. No way. I stopped thinking and pulled. Clink. Again, Clink. The handle came off, fell to the floor, and two screws rolled by, waking up Stevie.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" yelled Stevie still half asleep.

"Shut Up," I whispered. Those cheap slackers. There are like forty kids asleep in a locked room and the fire alarm doesn't work?

This was a deal breaker for Forest, at least for the night. It wasn't like he could jump out of a window. It would be at least a twenty or thirty foot drop after he figured out how to rip off the bars. Plus the door to the hall was locked, and it had an alarm anyway. Down two flights of stairs was another locked door and security. It was already over. Forest looked at me and put his hands in the air. I shrugged and pointed at the fire alarm on the floor. I tried. He looked aggravated, oh well. I climbed back into my bunk to get some sleep.

Before I could close my eyes I heard the sound of metal scratching the floor. My eyes widened when I realized Forest was pushing a bunk over with two guys sleeping in it. The bunk slammed to the ground and Forest screamed, "Fire!"

I was stunned and felt like I was watching a movie. Everyone in the room jumped out of bed like they were being shot at, and most of them ran into each other. It was total chaos. Forest tipped over another bunk. There was screaming and half the guys started pounding on the door to be let out.

To my surprise the door opened rather quickly. The security guard looked like he had spilled coffee on his shirt and motioned us out.

"Go! Go! Outside now!" he yelled. Forest was toward the back of the pack, and I was right behind him. We all squeezed through the narrow stairway and a few of the smaller kids almost got crushed. Another security guard was holding the front door open.

"Line up outside! Now!"

Forest got lucky. It was the two fat guys. There was no way in hell they could catch him on foot. I doubted they would even try.

We entered the yard, lit up by two halogen spotlights meant to deter thieves from breaking in and stealing some outdated computers. The boys in front of me all stopped and turned around to canvass the building for flames. Forest kept on running right through the crowd toward the woods across the street. I saw Chris and Luke standing next to the old fountain.

"Joey, over here!" shouted Chris. Something happened in that moment that I couldn't and would never be able to explain. I gave them a quick glance, said, "See y'all later," and kept running, right behind Forest. As we crossed the street a driver slammed on their horn, and we flew into the woods like wild cats.

We couldn't see shit. Forest quickly turned north toward the girls' school. Again, for some reason, I just stayed with him. Twigs snapped while we dodged pine trees and tripped over small logs. What really sucked was the small branches that I could spot during the day, I couldn't see at all at night, and I kept getting whiplashed across my face.

We made it a few hundred yards and Forest stopped. I crashed into him and we both fell to the ground.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked Forest.

"I guess I'm going with you, man."

For the first time ever I saw Forest smile. Don't get me wrong, the corner of his mouth went up about a centimeter, but to me it was a sign he was human. In that moment I actually felt a bond, though small, had formed. Something unusual, like the kind of bond that can only be formed when two people share an extraordinary experience together.

Forest stood up, and we changed to a slower pace as we neared the girls' school. We approached a large Banyan tree behind a point across the street from the girls' dorm and hid behind it. The girls' school was similar to ours. Three stories high with dilapidated windows, but a better paint job. We watched two female security guards pace around the outside of the building on their Walkie Talkies. They kind of reminded me of overgrown girl scouts.

"They have to let them out, man. It's their protocol," I said.

"Unless they already know it's a fake alarm," said Forest.

A few minutes ticked by and nothing. Forest's eyes were fixed on the front door.

I heard a voice and looked behind us. The woods were thick but there were small hole like windows where we could spot action on the street. I saw what looked like two men walking up the street with flashlights. A glimpse of that ugly ass navy hat and I knew who it was.

"Cops," I pointed.

They already know we were missing. That was fast. The two female security guards walked up the street. "What's the deal?" shouted one of the ladies. A cop with a mustache lifted his right hand to the side of his mouth, "False alarm. Two boys on foot."

Shit.

"Tell the girls to get back in their beds," said one of the guards to the other.

Forest clinched his fist and bit his knuckle. The cops turned back to our building. They didn't seem like they were in much of a hurry. They wouldn't be able find us in these woods at night, at least not without dogs. The dogs were probably all out drug sniffing on 79th.

Forest looked as intense as I had ever seen him, and that was saying something.

"I've got a knife," said Forest.

"What?"

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a black bowie knife.

"A big one," he said. The blade was at least eight inches long. It made me wonder how he managed to keep that knife hidden at school. I also didn't see how it helped us now.

"Nice knife," I said.

Forest put his backpack down and gripped the knife like he was getting ready to stab something. He moved his head around, peering through the trees at Becca's building. For the first time I noticed a long scar that ran underneath his jaw line. It seemed like an odd place for a scar like that.

He looked at me for a moment then back at the building and said, "In fifteen minutes we bang on the door. I'm gonna knock out whichever one opens it. I'm gonna put my knife to the throat of the second one. As soon as I do, grab the taser from the one on the ground. Shoot the lady I have the knife on. Then tase the one on the ground too. I'm gonna run upstairs and get Becca. Just keep tasing both of them. We'll tie em up and get out of here."

What the hell?

# 3

"Chris said their tasers don't even work," I replied in disbelief at his plan.

"Then I'll stab them," said Forest.

"We're on foot, man. If you do that then everyone's looking for us. We both end up in jail and so does Becca."

He kept his eyes on the door of the building, "One way or another I'm getting her out. Help if you want."

"Let's think of something else, less extreme," I said.

Forest's eyes looked misty while he stared at the locked front door of the building. Not like he was about to cry or anything, but I could see the emotion.

"She's all that matters to me. I don't care about extreme."

We waited there for a few minutes, and I tried to think up an alternative. Nothing. Then Forest suddenly walked from behind the tree toward the building. He started to cross the street, knife in hand.

Ah damn.

"Forest!"

He kept walking.

"I have a plan!" I shouted.

Forest stopped and turned back toward the Banyan tree. But I didn't have a plan. I had absolutely nothing.

He came back and crouched next to me. A pair of headlights belonging to an old truck drove by slowly.

"What. What is it?" he asked.

I coughed and spit at some bushes. "Okay. There are two security guards."

Forest nodded.

"Becca's upstairs right?"

"Yeah."

"Toward the front of the room or back?"

"Back I think."

"She's got a backpack, right?"

Forest nodded and looked a little agitated. I had no idea where I was going with my quesions.

"So the two security guards locked the door."

"Yeah."

"She's getting picked up today?"

"Yeah, man. C'mon. Spit it out."

I looked away for a second. "What time?"

"This morning. Early, first thing," said Forest.

"Okay - we wait here."

Forest threw his hands up in the air, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"In a few hours she'll be coming out that front door anyway. We'll get her then," I said.

Forest seemed to like the sudden idea I just had which technically made sense.

"Yeah. May not even have to kill the foster parents, and we can take their car," said Forest. He eased his grip on the knife. A drop of sweat poured over my temple, and I sat with my back up against the tree. It was a little eery in those woods, even though we were near the road. The branches formed into the shapes of men and monsters. My imagination was on overload. A rustling in the leaves, strange squeak, twig snapping, were all signs of imminent danger.

I hadn't thought about stealing a car but always wondered what it would be like. A somewhat cool wind blew through the trees, and every few minutes a car or truck would ease by. Early May in Miami was awesome. It seemed like it was always in the low 70s and sunny. Cops passed by and randomly shined a flashlight out the window of their patrol car. The woods were way too thick to spot us, and I figured they were just killing time before their shift ended. I looked up at the sky and noticed the deep black becoming a shade lighter. Sunrise was getting close, and I could feel my nerves reaching my extremities. I bit off what little remaining fingernails I had and tried to stop my knee from bouncing up and down.

"Forest, you awake?"

"Of course."

"You know how to drive?" I asked.

He took a little while to respond. "Probably," he said.

Probably? My thoughts shifted to visions of flying through a windshield or driving off a bridge into Biscayne Bay. That was the end of the car theft idea, at least for me. Most kids had parents that taught them how to drive after school and shit like that. I knew that wasn't the case with any of us. That was why I asked, and I was glad I did.

"I think we're better off on foot. Slower, but easier to hide. We can keep a low profile," I said.

"That's fine. I don't care as long as we get Becca."

I propped my backpack up against the tree, rested my head on it, and looked up at the fading stars. I imagined what it would be like in the dark on a sailboat. Nothing but the ocean and night sky around me. I bet it would be pretty damn awesome. I snapped myself out of it. Too much needed to be done to get to that point. Instead I thought back to the sailboat lessons with Sam. Prepare to tack, man overboard drill, red right return, prepare to jibe, batten down. My thoughts got stuck on batten down, the term used to prepare for heavy weather.

Sam wouldn't be with me, and for all I knew Forest and Becca couldn't even swim. That boat could be slowly sinking for all we knew. So much was going to go wrong. We had hardly any food, no supplies. We were such idiots.

"Forest, if we actually pull this off, we have to figure out food and water."

"Let's just get Becca, get on the boat, and get out of here. We'll figure it out."

"Figure out what? We'll be on a boat in the middle of the ocean."

"I brought some food," said Forest.

"What?"

"About a hundred rolls from the cafeteria."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah. Stole 'em. Smashed them into a big ball. Hid them in my pants before we went upstairs."

"But they're in a plastic bag, right?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Anything else?" I asked.

"That's it. You?"

"Some Starbursts. I didn't plan on coming. You got any money to buy food?" I asked.

"Nope. You?"

"No. So a hundred cafeteria rolls mushed together in a big doughy ball and some starbursts."

"Yep," said Forest.

"We're going to have to get a lot of water somehow."

"They have a hose at the dock?" asked Forest.

"Yeah."

"Buckets?" asked Forest.

"Yeah, sure, scattered all over."

"We'll fill up some buckets. Done," said Forest.

I raised my eyebrows and envisioned walking down below and tripping over the last bucket of water. The look on Forest's face as it splashed all over the cabin floor. Screaming, cursing. I'd last about an hour treading water in the waves and drown somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic. Or maybe a shark would eat me first because I got stabbed on my way into the water.

I knew I should just ditch the program and hop under an eighteen wheeler or atop a train. But the ocean propelled my desperation and ruined my logic. I had lived within a hundred miles of the beach all my life, and those sailing lessons were the first time I had actually touched saltwater. Something had happened, and it was a part of me now. I had to go back.

It was sunrise, and traffic was starting to pick up. Reality check - I was already hungry and thirsty. I actually wanted to eat the couple of starbursts I had in my pocket, and that was technically my only food. Surely, this couldn't work. It would be impossible to be any less prepared than we were.

"Look!" Forest pointed to a dated Ford Taurus as it pulled in front of the girls' building. It parked no more than fifty yards from us. A woman stepped out of the passenger side. She was easily 350 pounds, heavy makeup, and really curly hair. Not normal curly. Forced curly, with whatever tools and chemicals it takes to pull that shit off. I squinted through the branches. And noticed some funky ass eyelashes I could see all the way from the woods. She looked annoyed. The man opened the driver side door and stepped out. He tucked in his shirt, but missed the back left corner. He was thin, with glasses, bald on top with a comb over, and a patchy beard. Thrift shop outfit.

They walked up the sidewalk to the main entrance of the building.

"That's them," said Forest.

# 4

I looked at Forest, then at his fingers as they tightened around the handle of the big knife. It looked like he was killing those people with his eyes. Less than a minute passed, and the large front door suddenly swung open. Out walked the odd couple and Becca behind them. It was impossible not to stare at Becca. Even in a school uniform, with no makeup, it didn't matter. She was a bombshell, at least to me. Dirty blonde hair cut just below her shoulders, narrow green eyes, and freckles. She ran track, and her body fit the sport. Whenever I saw her she had on the same tennis shoes and no socks. They were more attractive on her than high heels on other girls.

I never saw her smile, but I wasn't around her that much. I had only heard her speak three times, and never to me. There was nothing special about her voice other than the fact that it always caught my attention.

"Hold on, Joey. Wait till he opens the car door. A few more seconds."

I quickly snapped out of it, as I realized what was about to go down.

"Forest!"

He put his hand up. "Shutup, on the count of three. One."

I grabbed his shirt. "Listen!"

He pushed me hard, and I fell back. "Just stay here. I don't care," said Forest.

I got up, "Just yell her name."

Forest looked pissed. "What!" he snapped.

I peered through the branches and noticed Becca looking around. I put two fingers to my lips and whistled loudly. Forest was pissed.

The group all stopped and looked in our direction. Becca then immediately bolted toward us.

"Yes," whispered Forest.

The man yelled "Stop!" in a raspy voice and gave chase. Forest popped out of the woods like a tiger and sprinted directly for him. Damn. The look on that man's face when he saw Forest running at him with a big knife. It was like he suddenly turned into a scared boy and almost tripped he turned around so fast. The man bolted back to his car with a surprising amount of youthful agility. The Girl Scout security guards started freaking out and yelled some nonsense on their walkie talkies. Forest and Becca burst into the woods running, and I quickly fell in behind them.

I ran harder than I ever had in my life. They were both fast as hell, but I managed to keep up. We had about three quarters of a mile until we hit 72nd Street. All we had to do was run toward the rising sun and we would be heading in generally the right direction. We passed through a long patch of tall ferns and mangrove trees. We heard a growl to our left and saw a stray dog running away from us. We got to within a hundred feet of the highway and stopped. Becca was breathing hard, and I felt like I had knives in my stomach.

"You alright?" asked Forest. Becca nodded.

"What's he doing here?" she asked.

"He's coming with us," replied Forest.

"Isn't that the guy you beat up?"

"That's over," said Forest."

I slowly caught my breath and stood up straight. For a moment I looked up at the canopy and clouds behind it while another squiggly line passed over my vision.

"Did you bring any food?" asked Forest.

"No, just clothes. Where are we going?" she asked.

"To the Bahamas," said Forest.

"How?"

"We're sailing there," he replied.

Becca raised her left eyebrow.

"Who has a sailboat?" she asked.

"We're taking one. Joey knows about a marina down the road."

"Oook, are we sure we don't want to try something else?"

Forest nodded, "We can do it."

"We need to be able to catch fish, right?" she asked. Becca turned her attention toward me and the moment I saw her eyes, I looked away at the highway we had to cross.

"You know how to fish?" asked Forest.

"Probably," I said.

"Have you ever caught one?" he asked.

"No, but it looks easy. You?"

Forest shook his head.

If we actually managed to sail into the Atlantic, we would be so screwed. Becca didn't belong with us. It was like a purebred running around with some mutts in the woods. I kind of got me and Forest, but someone like her should have had some better options.

Forest continued walking through the woods toward the clearing, and we followed from behind. He held up his knife, "I can make a spear with this. We can spear fish from the boat."

I wasn't positive, but I was pretty sure that wouldn't work, but whatever. I felt like to win was to simply try. To give it a shot. I was sure we would be picked up by the police any minute and there was no chance in hell that we would actually find ourselves on a stolen sailboat in the middle of the ocean.

We stopped just before the clearing, and Forest got down to his knees and opened up his backpack. He pulled out a ripped out page from a street atlas that showed Southeast Miami.

"No shit," I said.

"What?" asked Forest.

"I'm just surprised one of us has a map."

Forest pointed to the patch of woods we just ran through. "Look at these back streets off 72nd," said Forest. "Less chance of being spotted."

"We have to split up," said Becca.

"No. Why?" asked Forest.

"They'll be looking for three of us. Together we stick out. We need to split up and meet somewhere."

She was right. Forest scratched his chin and nodded.

"Joey, meet us at the marina." said Forest.

"Okay," I answered. "It's Matthews Marina off of Old Cut. Wait under the pavilion. If anyone asks what you're doing just tell them you're waiting for your uncle. The most important thing though is to look like you belong there and no one should mess with you."

Forest and Becca left the cover of the woods and crossed a grass median littered with paper and Styrofoam cups. Before they had even taken five steps across the road, a patrol car pulled up behind them and flashed a blue light. Damn. They froze and watched the cop step out of his car. Clean shaven, head cocked back, sunglasses and chewing gum. His right hand rested on the baton that was fastened to his belt. He looked like a total dick. He also looked like he would be useless on foot with his tight pants and hangover belly.

"Shit, Forest don't stab him," I whispered.

He came within a few feet of them, and I almost wanted to close my eyes.

"So," said the cop and suddenly Forest and Becca took off running across the street. The sudden movement made the cop jump like a cat, and his gum flew out of his mouth. He raced as best he could back to his car and fumbled for a second or two opening the door. By the time he put it in drive Forest and Becca had already made it across the street and jumped a wooden fence into someone's back yard.

The cop got stuck behind some cars at a light and laid on his horn. He managed to pull through a gap as the drivers slowly made an opening for him. He did a U turn and flew down the neighborhood street with his siren blaring. Then they were all gone, and within minutes the scene in front of me returned to normal. I was kind of paranoid now about leaving the woods. That shit happened quick.

I figured for sure they would get caught, which would put an end to the plan. It wouldn't have worked anyway. I didn't really know what to do next. I couldn't go back, wouldn't go back. The sky was clear and the sun had risen. The image of the beach near the marina stuck out in my thoughts.

The thought of being left alone all day at that beach. No bells, teachers, desks, just me and the ocean. Hell yeah. I would try and make it there and think about what to do next if I made it that far. Once I got caught, whatever punishment they dished out would be worth it. I had to make it there. Had to be smart.

I decided to wait a few minutes before I ventured out. I could see 72nd street in the distance. I would follow the back streets, and if I got spotted, hide. It was time. I took a few deep breaths and left the woods, crossed the median, and headed east. There were a lot of cars on the road but no one seemed to take much notice of me. So far I was having better luck than Forest and Becca and hoped it would hold out.

I felt a surge of freedom and almost started whistling. Maybe it was what most people felt every day, maybe not. I, on the other hand, was sick of being shuffled around, told where I had to be and at what time. There was nothing like being in control of my own life, even if only for a day. Within minutes I crossed 72nd and continued down a narrow side street filled with big houses, palm trees, and some bad ass cars. A black suburban with tinted windows drove by slowly. The bass was hitting hard, so I knew it wasn't a cop. I kept walking without looking in their direction.

I didn't like my odds walking in a neighborhood. In the slums you had to worry about getting mugged, and I was always broke. In a nice neighborhood the problem was cops. I was hoping for something in between and a little more on the run down side.

A car came from behind, and I could tell it was slowing. I tilted my head slightly to catch a glimpse of it. Cop. Damn it. I looked toward my right at a large house that resembled an orange castle. If the cop was like that last one I might have a chance. There was a fence I could jump over. I needed to see him first. The cop flashed his lights and stopped beside me with his passenger window down. I gave him a look over. My luck had run out. Shaved head, muscular, thin. I wouldn't even make it to the fence. Damn it, I really wanted to see the beach.

"Where you headin', son?"

"To my uncle's house up the road."

"How far?" he asked.

"A few miles."

"Hop in. I'll give you a lift."

Psh, straight back to his office. Maybe he was serious? I only had one option as I saw it.

"Cool. Thanks a lot." I got in the front seat and clicked my seatbelt. It smelled like a locker room. Like there were a bunch of sweaty dudes in the back seat or something. There was a big, old school, laptop to his right. The bars behind my head freaked me out, and it felt like I should be on the other side.

"What street?" he asked.

Think Joey, think quick. "He actually lives on a boat. Matthews Marina off of Old Cut. Wherever you drop me off is fine though. I can walk the rest of the way." Shit, why did I say the marina?

"The one next to the state park? You aren't walking there, it's ten miles."

"Yes sir, it usually takes me about an hour and a half."

"Why aren't you in school?"

"I homeschool."

"Why aren't you in homeschool?"

"I don't have class until tonight. My mom got called into work."

He nodded and seemed satisfied with my answer.

A voice came over his radio. "135. Three juveniles on foot. Two white males, one white female. Fled Havana School this morning."

Well damn, that was it.

The cop picked up the radio, "10-4, on lookout."

"You didn't run away from the Havana School, did you?"

I laughed, "No sir. Is that where they keep the orphan kids?"

"Right. It's really just a step before juvenile hall. State program."

He knew. He had to. This cop was screwing with my head. I glanced at the door handle and wondered if I should pull it at the next stop light. No. Tackled and tased, guaranteed.

"Hey, kid I'll let you off at the corner of Old Cut."

"That would be great. Thanks."

"You walking back?"

"No my Mom will pick me up when she gets off."

No shit. He actually might drop me off. That surprised me, because he looked so impressive, like a cop from a movie or a crime show. The big houses flew by, and I felt oddly lucky not to be walking all that way. We drove past an intersection and quick movement to my right caught my attention. Damn! Forest and Becca. The cop looked dead ahead and didn't notice the two teenagers on the moped zip by one street over. They looked ridiculous. I wasn't sure if it was a moped or what. Whatever it was, it was tiny but pushing them along pretty damn fast.

The dispatch sounded off, "Stolen Scooter reported at Florida Grocery on 101st Street." We eased up to a stoplight. The cop looked around for a moment then to his phone.

The light turned green, and we pulled into a gas station.

"You can get out here. The marina is a half mile up the road."

"Thank you, sir!" I got out and shut the door behind me.

The cop nodded and drove out of the tight parking lot.

# 5

The station was rundown. Their pumps were rusty, and their sign looked like shit. There was only one other car pumping gas. A woman behind the counter gave me a quick, unpleasant look through a window covered with dust and dead bugs. I didn't pay any attention and went on my way down a wooded road with rows of evergreen shrubs. The smell of salt was in the air. That and the realization that I was at least ten miles away from the Havana School for Boys brought a smile to my face. I doubted they would search outside a five mile radius for at least the first few days. My mind drifted to the interior of the cop car and the large computer he had in front of the dash.

I wondered what they did with it. Probably printed out tickets, sent information back and forth to their headquarters. Pictures. That wasn't good. That cop was definitely going to see my picture. When? Havana was run by the state. Our info was in their computers. They would send out an alert, email names and photos to the police headquarters, which would trickle to street cops like that guy. It would have to be soon.

I stopped for a moment and slowly looked back at the gas station, which was now almost a quarter of a mile away. It looked clear. There was an eighteen wheeler, no cops. I was about to continue walking but waited just a little longer.

A bright, blue flash. Damn. Instantly, I sprinted to the nearest bush and dove in. Something sharp went into my bad eye and it gushed tears. I took the bottom of my t-shirt and pressed it against my eye. Sirens blared. The sound grew louder. I watched the blue lights approach from an opening in the branches. The cop car flew by. It was him of course.

Why'd I say the marina? I could have said anywhere. Stupid. I poked my head out and and watched him cruise down the road, brake lights flashed. I ducked back into the bushes. A sudden flash of blue lights, and he flew by again, heading back toward the gas station.

"What the hell?" I whispered. He didn't even go to the marina. It didn't make any sense. It made me wonder. He could have thought that I lied. Yeah, that would make sense because why would I tell him where I was actually going? That would be stupid. Really, really stupid. He'd be even more stupid to believe me. They were probably going to look for me back on 72nd. I bet he wouldn't say shit. How embarrassing would that be for him if he told his bosses that he picked me up and dropped me off ten miles away? He would probably get fired for doing something like that. It wasn't like they were supposed to be a free taxi service. Screw it, I kept walking.

Within minutes, I heard an odd, high pitched sound approaching. Like the sound of a thousand bees. I turned around and saw Forest and Becca on the scooter flying down the road toward the marina. They passed by, and Forest gave me a thumbs up. He didn't look at me or slow down. Becca didn't either. But there wasn't space for me anyway.

The double gates at Matthews Marina were rusty and always open. It felt good to be there. I walked through the entrance and looked toward the C Dock. The mast of the 27 foot O'Day stood tall and slowly rocked with the breeze. Sam said it had been sitting there for over a year now without moving. I looked up at the palm branches to determine wind speed and direction. It looked like we had a strong north wind. That would get us moving at four knots, at least. In a few hours we could be ten miles offshore. At that point we would be tough to find, another speck in the ocean. It suddenly hit me that the shit was dangerously close to actually going down. Each second that went by without us getting caught made the plan seem less and less impossible.

Around the back of the main office there was a large window overlooking the docks. The shades were all the way down. I peeked through one of the cracks and saw Sam right where I knew he would be, leaned back in his chair with his hands folded over his stomach. His snoring was drowning out the sound of the TV. When I turned around a streak of blond hair in the sunlight caught my attention. Becca.

Forest was trying to pry the license plate off the scooter. The two of them were under a pavilion that looked more like a shack without walls. There was a metal roof and rusty picnic table, and on it was an ashtray full of cigarette butts. The place was deserted. We were lucky.

"Long ass walk. You knew a shortcut?" asked Forest.

"No I got a ride."

"With who?" he asked.

"A cop."

"Bullshit," said Becca.

Her first word to me was bullshit.

She may have said it with a smile, but I didn't look. Forest managed to rip off the small metal license plate, and I took a closer look at the scooter. It was tan and glittery. There was a basket in front of the handle bars with a wide ass seat and armrests.

"Dude. It's for old people. You stole an old people scooter," I said.

"It's fast," said Forest.

I shook my head, "That's like stealing a wheelchair or something. You're wrong for that. Now if we get caught everyone's gonna hate us."

Forest seemed to be ignoring me anyway.

"So you got it from Florida Grocery, get any food there?"

Forest shook his head no.

"How did you know that?" asked Becca.

"It came over the radio in the cop car."

"You seriously got dropped off by a cop. How?" asked Becca.

"Well, the cop that chased you. This cop could have kicked his ass. But he was really naive."

"Who cares, which boat?" asked Forest.

"Over here." We strolled across the gravel driveway like we had been there a hundred times before. The boats looked lonely and restless on C Dock. It reminded me of how I felt at school. We walked over creaking deck boards, seagull shit, and the occasional bent over nail. The bay in front of us was blue, mysterious, and beautiful. The wind pushed the smell of salt into my nostrils, like a long lost friend that just gave me a big hug. Before we reached the O'Day we heard the sound of tires on gravel and turned around to see a nice Cadillac pull into the parking lot. Definitely not a cop. An old guy stepped out wearing beach shorts, sunglasses, flip flops and carrying a brown bag over his shoulder.

"One of these boats must be his," I said. He looked our way and I nodded. The man waved slightly and walked toward B dock.

As we approached the 1986, 27' Oday it was an Oh Shit This is Getting Real moment. The old boat was beautiful, with sharp edges and straight lines. It hadn't received much attention at all, that was for damn sure. The cabin door was made of two slats of wood that had rotted in some places, enough to form holes the size of silver dollars. It definitely leaked. The deck looked like a seagull dumping ground and had what looked like bubbles under the surface of the fiberglass that were soft to the touch. Not sure exactly what those were, but it didn't look good.

The mast looked fine and so did the cables stretching down to the deck. The ropes were stiff and looked like they lost their whitish color years ago. We stood quietly for a few moments surveying the old boat. She was sad as hell. It was like that boat was screaming, "C'mon, let's do this!"

"It's ugly," said Becca.

"Nah. It's a good boat. Strong hull. She can get us to the Bahamas, " I replied and tried to hide the fact that I was agitated at the rude comment.

Becca looked around and said, "We're not on a budget. There are better boats here. You picked the worst one."

I bent down and pulled the rope attached from the boat to the dock to get it close enough to step onto.

"She hasn't moved in a year. Probably worth less than five grand. They won't flip out when it's gone."

"It looks really bad. Really bad," said Becca.

"Yeah, but look." I slapped the bottom of the boat. "The hull, mast, sail, all look fine. Technically that's all we need. It can get us there, and we'll have to sink it anyway," I replied.

"What?" asked Becca.

"Cover our tracks," said Forest.

"Yeah," I replied. "Sooner or later they'll look for the boat. If they find it at the bottom of the ocean, then it's a cold case and three missing teenagers considered dead. I don't have anyone that would keep looking for me. You guys?" I asked.

"Nope," said Forest, and Becca shook her head.

"Besides," I said while mesmerized by the old boat. "They'll just stick her in a boat graveyard. It'll get covered in weeds, a home for rats and snakes. We bury it in the ocean instead. That's where she belongs. One last run then make it a reef for the fish."

I could see Becca giving me an odd look out of the corner of my eye. I cleared my throat, took hold of a cable connecting the mast to the boat, and pulled myself on board. This was real, and it felt so damn good. I reached down and lowered the small outboard motor into the water. So far so good. From what I remembered you just pulled the rope. I gave it a good yank. Nothing happened. The outboard looked pretty old, but not quite as old as the boat. I gave it another yank. Nothing.

"Trouble," said Becca. I thought she was talking about the motor, but she wasn't.

I looked over my shoulder and saw Sunglasses walking our way.

"Give me the paddle," said Forest. I reached for it and almost handed it to him.

"Wait, why?" I asked.

"What do you think? I'm going to knock him out and throw him in the bay."

"That's killing him, dumbass," I said.

"Don't ever call me that again."

"Ok," I replied.

"Paddle," said Forest.

"Hang on. For all we know he wants to borrow sunscreen. Just chill for a second," I said.

Forest sat down on the dock with his feet hanging over the side. He stared at Sunglasses as he drew closer to us.

I waved at him, "Excuse me, sir. Do you have the time?"

He walked a few more steps toward us and pulled out his phone. "11:30. Are you guys heading out?"

"Not really. My uncle just wants to take the boat out in the bay and run the motor for an hour or two. Can't get it started though." He lifted up his sunglasses and peered over the dock at the small motor.

"Well, you don't have the choke out," he said.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks."

Have gave us all a look over. "Have a good one," he said and walked away.

I took a deep breath and pulled the choke lever all the way out. Please... I tried starting the motor again. Nothing. I gave it another yank with everything I had, and the motor came to life.

"Yes!" I shouted.

"He's coming back," said Becca.

Sunglasses was walking toward us again with his phone to his ear. "Okay, I'll take care of it," he said and put his phone in his pocket.

"Hey! I just talked to Bob's sister and she said no one should be taking the boat out. She also said Bob has one nephew and he lives in Russia. Russia! I'm calling the police!"

I tossed the paddle to Forest.

"No! No!" yelled sunglasses. Forest jumped toward him, and the man took off running. The two sprinted down C dock while seagulls squawked and flew off the dock pilings in a panic. Forest would normally catch him immediately but he was running slower with a large wooden paddle up in the air. Becca and I stared silently at the unusual scene. He got close and swung, but Sunglasses was surprisingly fast and just out of his reach. He took a quick turn on A dock and yelled, "Help! Help!" Forest swung again but just barely missed his head and hit the man's shoulder. The sound reverberated throughout the marina.

"Ow!" he screamed.

The chase was nearing the end of A dock, where it was sure to finish with untold drama. But instead of turning around and confronting Forest, Sunglasses just jumped off the end of the dock and dove into the bay. He lost his sunglasses, his phone, and swam in a panic straight out into open water. Forest stopped and looked our way. He shrugged.

"That will work! Let's go!" I shouted.

"We have to untie the ropes!" I told Becca.

The two of us started scrambling around the deck to free the O'Day. I forgot about the scooter. I jumped off the boat and put the scooter in neutral. I rolled it right off the edge of the dock.

"Wait!" Forest screamed from the dock across from us. The thunderous splash soaked me with saltwater and got Becca's hair wet.

Forest stood like a statue with his hands on his face, which looked unusually red, even from a distance.

"He wanted to keep that," said Becca.

"The scooter?" I asked.

"Like really, really wanted to keep that," she said.

I put my hands in the air wondering what the big deal was.

"Well what the hell did you do that for?" he shouted.

Forest charged toward me, and I wondered if I should join Sunglasses.

"There's nowhere to put that big ass, old people scooter on a sailboat," I said.

"The hell there isn't! Freaking tie it to the front or something," said Forest. He took the paddle and threw it as hard as he could at the O'Day.

"Go get it man!" he shouted pointing at where the scooter went in.

"It's gone," I said.

Forest pointed at the water that was still slightly swirling from the thunderous splash.

"Oh you're gonna get it," said Forest while he gritted his teeth.

I leaned over and of course couldn't see anything. It was probably 20 feet to the bottom and being inspected by fish already.

"Joey's right," said Becca. "It will get in the way."

Forest shook his head and threw his shoes into the boat. My heartbeat started to slow back to normal. I looked back at the marina one last time and realized we were actually going to do this. I turned my attention to the East. The horizon looked clear, and Sunglasses was still swimming directly out into the bay. The clock was ticking, but I bet we had at least an hour or two before they started searching for us on the water. We could get at least six miles offshore in that time if the motor didn't crap out on us. They would focus their search on Biscayne Bay. There was no way they would think we headed out into the Atlantic.

I moved the tiller back and forth to get used to the feel.

"Are we untied?" I asked.

They looked around the boat, and Forest nodded. The parking was close quarters and there were nice boats on either side of the O'day, separated by no more than five feet.

"Go to hell, Havana School for Boys. So long Sam," I whispered and put the motor in forward gear. I sat back with my hand on the long wooden tiller. Forest and Becca stood on the opposite side of me toward the front. The boat moved forward, and it felt like I had a thousand butterflies in my chest.

Forest pointed to his left, "You're gonna hit that boat, Joey."

I pushed the tiller hard right and rammed directly into the side of a yacht. The impact threw Becca to the deck and she busted her lip on the metal plate under the mast.

"Damn it!" she yelled.

"What the hell? You just steered right into it!" shouted Forest.

"I forgot it's backwards, man. Pull it left it goes right, push it right and it goes left."

I quickly pulled the tiller to the left and eased by the yacht where there was now a jagged hole and enormous crack that ran along the starboard side.

"It's wood," said Forest.

"Yeah. Weird," I replied.

"That's what they get for having a wooden boat. Idiots," said Forest.

"Is ours' good?" I asked.

Forest moved to the bow of the O'Day and leaned over the side.

"Yeah, looks fine," said Forest.

"I'm sorry." I told Becca. The bleeding had slowed and she nodded. But now her lip was swollen, and she looked pissed.

We pulled out of the marina and into the open water of Biscayne Bay. It felt like it should not be happening. Sunglasses was still swimming and nearing a small wooded island. He must have thought we were chasing him. I put the motor on full throttle, and it pushed us along quite well. I guessed seven miles an hour, maybe a little less. Forest stood at the bow of the boat. He looked back at me and Becca and threw both of his arms up in the air,

"Hell yes!" he said. I smiled and Becca laughed.

"Next stop Bahamas, bitches!" said Becca.

I couldn't help but laugh, but deep down I knew playtime was officially over. They didn't seem to share the sentiment. Maybe it was because I was the only one who had at least a slight mental grasp of what we were attempting to do with pretty much zero planning and experience.

# 6

I kept a lookout behind us. There were hardly any other boats out on the water, at least none close by. Before I knew it, we were rounding the southern tip of Key Biscayne. The Cape Florida lighthouse looked to be less than a mile away. Once we passed that point, we would be officially sailing in the Atlantic ocean. There was already a chop on the water. They weren't large waves, but enough to move the boat up and down a foot or so while we motored.

Sunglasses was sure to report us within a few hours, but the further we pushed into the Atlantic, the harder we would be to find. The thought of sailing into the open ocean made me nervous as hell. Especially since I would be looked at as the sailor guy. But I didn't remember half of what Sam said, maybe more than half. We only went out a few times, never more than a mile from the marina. Now we were already a few miles away and I felt like I was in over my head. I watched the standing rigging that held the mast. Several of the cables looked a little slack and needed to be tighter.

"Forest, can you check the rigging on the starboard side and make sure it's tight?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"The cables on the right side of the boat," I replied.

"Why did you say Starburst?" asked Forest.

"Starboard. I don't know, man. They have all these code words you are supposed to use. The front of the boat is the bow, back is the stern, left side is port, right is starboard. These cables are called the standing rigging. That's the mast."

I pointed to the large metal pole in the center of the boat.

Forest shook his head and started pointing around the boat. "Let's cut the crap. Front, back, left, right, pole, and cables."

"Fine with me," I said.

The engine suddenly coughed. We all looked back at it and hoped it meant nothing. It was still going but coughed again. A puff of smoke and the engine stopped. I quickly pulled the choke out and yanked on the rope. Nothing.

"Where's the gas tank?" asked Forest.

"Check that line. Probably under the seat."

Forest pulled up the hatch where there was a small five gallon red, plastic tank. He lifted it up a few inches.

"Empty. Shit," he said.

Something else had to go wrong. Forest and I looked around for any other gas tanks while Becca opened the door and poked her head inside the cabin.

"Is it supposed to look like this?" she asked.

I took the two steps below to find the interior had been gutted.

"No," I said, which was followed by an echo. She walked out, and I looked around for anything useful. There was one small cabinet without a door, some raised fiberglass platforms that were supposed to be beds but no cushions. Where the sink and toilet used to be there were empty spaces and plugged holes. At the front of the cabin was a large raised fiberglass platform in the shape of a piece of pie. No cushions, blankets, nothing.

I popped my head back out of the cabin and was greeted by Becca's bad ass legs. She was standing at the center of the boat tugging at the long bag at the base of the mast that stored the sail.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Putting up the sail, right? Isn't that what you do now?"

Technically it was, but it kind of shocked me that she just started doing it.

"Yeah."

"It won't unzip. It's all rusty," said Becca.

Forest pulled out his knife and sliced open the large bag to free the sail.

"How's it look?" I asked. Becca shrugged.

I got up on the deck and looked it over. Terrible. It was flaky and almost brown. It seemed to almost be stuck together in some places.

"It's really old," I said.

"Will it work?" asked Forest.

I attached the clip on the rope to the top of the sail. "Probably for a while." I began hoisting the sail up the mast. Within moments the faded white fabric had reached the top of the mast, the sail immediately filled with wind, and it flapped furiously.

"It works!" said Becca.

Wait. Shit. I was forgetting something important.

In an instant the large metal boom that should have been locked into place beforehand, swung violently toward me. I felt my left thigh throb with pain and found myself swimming in the bay before I even knew what had happened. I came to the surface, and the O'Day was already ten feet away from me.

"What do we do, man?" yelled Forest, with his hands in the air.

"Turn around!" I screamed.

The gap between me and the boat was now 30 feet away, even though I was frantically swimming after it. It was no use. I gurgled, coughed, and screamed again.

"Turn the damn boat around!"

"Stupid boom vang thing," I slapped the water. The boom vang locked the sail into place so that the boom, which was an eight foot long horizontal metal beam, wouldn't suddenly and violently swing to the other side of the boat.

I tried to catch my breath and tread water for a second. I couldn't catch up to the O'Day. It was now at least fifty yards away. I watched them scramble. Becca was ducking to avoid the boom and Forest pushed the tiller back and forth in a vain attempt to turn around while he fought the wind and momentum of the boat.

The nearest land was the Cape Florida Lighthouse, but I knew I couldn't make that swim because of one huge problem - the current. It was swift and taking me straight out to sea. No boat could spot me, and there were hardly any on the horizon.

I slowly treaded water and let the current carry my body. The O'Day was sailing off to the south. Even if by some miracle Forest and Becca managed to turn around, it would be nearly impossible to locate me. I felt tears trying to well up and then a slight sting behind my eyes when I prevented them from appearing.

What was drowning like? I had no idea. It might be one of the worst ways to go. Too much shit to remember on a sailboat.

I felt a strange sense of peace come over me, which probably had something to do with the shock. Now my face was the only part of my body exposed to the air, and I slowly moved my arms and legs back and forth. With my ears submerged it almost felt like I was in another world. A calm world in between this life and whatever was next. The nagging thought of toothy sea creatures below me, perhaps watching me, gave me chills.

It was going on at least twenty minutes since I went over. My muscles ached and my throat was dry. The reality was sinking in. I thought about death and was beginning to feel at least a little at peace with it. Just a little. I could have died in the foster home on Elwin Road when it burned down. I should have died when I was 3 and left alone in the woods. Besides, after Havana I probably would have ended up on the streets like most of them. No one lasted long out there anyway.

There was a small shape on the Horizon that I thought could be the O'Day. Saltwater filled my mouth for a moment. I coughed and spat out the salty water. I saw orange. A big white floating thing with an orange diamond on it was in focus about 50 yards from me.

A buoy! I remembered Sam talking about them. They told boaters shit.

I was headed directly toward it, or at least close to it. It was anchored to the ocean floor or something because it wasn't moving. A sudden burst of energy came over me.

I was getting closer, closer, within ten yards. I violently swam toward it, surely attracting every shark and big fish within a quarter mile of me. The water was swirling in front of the buoy. It started to push me to the side, but I quickly latched onto a big wide lip all the way around it, and with everything I had left tried to pull myself out of the water. The awkward shape made it impossible. But my luck hadn't run out yet. The current was pretty damn strong, and I had to hold onto that thing tight, really tight. If I let go that was it, for sure, game over. It was a big floating orange thing, but it felt like one last angel that happened to be out in the ocean waiting for me. I centered my body on it while the current pushed against my back, pressing me onto the buoy. I was able to slightly relax my arms. The upper half of my body was now exposed and I figured I had a solid chance at being spotted by another boat.

It felt incredible for the tide to turn and escape the fear of drowning. I thought about Forest and Becca and wondered if they would make it by themselves to the Bahamas. I hoped so. I knew the show was over for me. It was bittersweet but I was glad that I had made it that far.

In the distance there was a school of dolphin chasing baitfish. Their fins surfacing and then sinking in a circular motion. I thought back to being on the boat with Sam and yelling for him to grab a gun because I saw a shark coming for us. He thought it was hilarious. But I was glad he explained the difference, especially then.

My shoulders and arms were running out of strength when I heard the sound of an engine. On the horizon there was a small boat headed my direction. I frantically waved, not knowing when I would get another chance. A faded white boat with busted metal rails drew close to me and slowed down. There was an old man standing up in the center of the boat smoking a cigarette. He wore a floppy hat, and his skin looked like a belt could be made out of it. He put the boat in neutral so that it drifted slowly toward me. He left the steering wheel and flicked his cigarette into the water. He began rummaging around his boat.

"Grab on!" he shouted as he reached toward me with a long pole that had a big ass sharp hook on the end of it. It was freaky, like something out of a horror movie. It made me wonder if I should tell him I would wait for the next boat. Instead I grabbed it carefully.

"Don't touch the point!"

It seemed obvious, but I nodded, and he pulled me to the side of the boat. I lifted my right hand up and he tried to heave me aboard.

"You're a big boy," he said without managing to get me high enough so that I could grab the side and pull myself into the little boat.

He motioned for me to swim to the back. "Climb up the motor, son."

I struggled to swim to the back of the boat while trying to avoid the hull crashing down on my head. There was a small ledge where I could put my foot. I managed to pull myself aboard and then flopped to the deck like a big fish.

Then it dawned on me. I thought I'd be picked up by the coast guard. Now I might still have a chance to find Forest and Becca if I could convince him to help me find the O'Day. I struggled to catch my breath.

"Thank you sir." I looked to my right and saw some old, rotten squid, or something sloshing around and quickly got to my feet.

"Thanks a lot," I said.

The old man coughed up a big loogie and spit it overboard. "How'd you end up there?"

"I fell off my friend's sailboat. They should be south or southeast of here, less than a mile. Any chance you can help me find them?"

"You know what I heard on the radio? No more than five, ten minutes ago."

"No sir."

"Some kids escaped from a detention center a few miles from here. You know anything about that?"

I was too tired to lie, and my brain went totally blank. The old man could see it and he slowly turned the boat toward Miami. "I used to do stupid things too. Well, still do I reckon. But I need to bring you on back, son. You won't make it out here." He pushed the throttle, and we started ramping the small waves off Key Biscayne, headed back home.

"You grow up here, sir?" I asked.

"All my life."

"My friends and I have lived all over. On the street. In foster homes. In sheds. We don't have families. If we go back, it only gets worse for us."

"Sorry about your draw. But stick with a foster home. The ocean can be cruel. Next time you might not be so lucky," he said.

I held up my right arm so he could see the scar on the inside of my bicep from a box cutter.

The old man slowed his boat and took his eyes off the Horizon to look me over. Hell, I had a couple more. I started to lift my shirt up and the old man held out his hand for me to stop. He shifted the boat back to neutral.

"Where were you boys heading in a sailboat anyway?" he asked.

"The Bahamas," I said. The old man started coughing and laughed.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes sir. Up until now it looked like we may have a shot."

The old man pulled out a pack of cigarettes from a pocket on his chest. He took one out for himself and handed me one.

"Thanks," I said.

The old man nodded. He lit mine, and I took a drag while the boat slowly rocked in the middle of the bay.

"What are we doing now?" I asked.

"Thinking," he said.

I watched a flock of pelicans fly south in a formation that made them look more like fighter jets. Then a small shape caught my attention as I squinted. It was a sail. The O'Day.

"That's it!" I pointed to the sailboat about a quarter mile or more from us.

"You sure?" asked the old man.

"Positive."

The old man could barely make out the sailboat on the horizon. He seemed to be biting his lip, and I could tell he was dealing with some inner turmoil of his own.

"You were sixteen once. Sir, help us."

Suddenly he throttled forward and turned the steering wheel 180 degrees. I almost flew into the bay again. We were headed toward the O'day. I couldn't help but yell, "Woooooo!"

"I'm just dropping you off at your boat. You never saw me, got it?" asked the old man.

"Yes, sir."

We neared the old sailboat. Forest and Becca were scrambling around the deck trying to figure out how to control which way they were going.

I waved my right arm wildly in the air. Forest seemed to squint, and Becca immediately waved.

"What should we do?" I asked the old man.

"They have to stop the boat. Do they know how?"

I shook my head as I walked to the front of the fishing boat and yelled, "Stop the boat! Stop the boat!"

Forest threw his hands in the air.

"Take the sail down!" I yelled. Forest couldn't hear me and put his hand over his right ear.

I made the motion of pulling the rope down from the pole. He nodded then quickly ran to the mast.

The old man positioned his boat to the side of the O"Day.

"What's your name, sir?" I asked.

"They call me Bobby Bones."

"Thank you Mr. Bones."

He smiled, revealing some missing teeth. "Grab on, son."

Right before the boats came together I grabbed the rail of the O'Day and jumped over. Becca stood directly in front of me. I felt like I should hug her but knew that would be awkward. Then I thought maybe a high five. Still awkward. So I just said, "Hey."

"You made it," she said and I nodded.

"Your motor work?" shouted Mr. Bones.

"No sir. Ran out of gas an hour ago," I answered.

Mr. Bones walked to the back of his boat and opened up a hatch. He pulled out a small red gas can. "Here. There's about 3 gallons in it. You know how to fish?" he asked.

"No." said Forest.

"That cabin must be stocked with food," said the old man.

"Some cafeteria roles," said Forest.

"Good Lord almighty, what do we have here?" asked Mr. Bones as he blew smoke from his cigarette.

He rummaged through his boat again and pulled out two fishing rods and a plastic box. "Here. These are my backups. Take 'em."

"Thanks!" I said.

"Now you look at me. All of you." The three of us stopped what we were doing and faced the old man, who blew out some smoke and lowered his cigarette.

"You don't know about the ocean. It's okay. I told my grandaddy I don't know how to drive an automobile. He said well you about to learn, cause you're fixin to drive me to the hospital. When we drove off that bridge, the last thing he said to me was, 'Bobby you done good. You tried.' The ocean and this boat is about to teach you in the same way. Don't be stupid or proud. The ocean isn't kind to such people. You know you don't have any business being out here, but I respect you. You know why?"

We shook our heads.

"Because you aren't afraid to jump on the bull and hold on. So work together, stay positive. Who knows? You might make it. Crazier things have happened before. But remember, things usually go wrong on boats. On this boat you can count on that. You may be bobbing around out there for God knows how long and end up who knows where. Keep the sail down until you get offshore. It's too easy to spot. That should be enough gas to get you ten miles out or so. No one will be looking for you out there. Put up the sail and head east. Don't go southeast. Cuba is a different animal. Watch Miami. Once you can't see the buildings anymore, you're about fifteen miles offshore. It's time to take out one of those rods and throw a bait behind the boat. You need to eat. Good luck to ya."

"How do we fish with these rods?" asked Becca.

Mr. Bones pointed to me and Forest. "They will know how to use them."

We both awkwardly looked at each other.

"Oh Lord," said Mr. Bones. "Tie one of those lures to the end of the line. Flip that switch and let the bait out behind the boat. Let it go for about fifty yards. You will know when a fish hits it. When it does, reel it in but not too fast. You don't want the line to break. Hopefully you pull up a fish we call Mahi Mahi. You will know. It will look like you're reeling in a rainbow. Best fish you will ever eat. Push hard and try to find one of the less crowded islands. Eleuthera, Exuma, some place like that. But it will be a journey to get that far. You get caught, don't mention me. I've had enough problems with the law."

Mr. Bones pushed his boat away from the O'Day and headed back toward Miami.

# 7

"I thought you may already be dead," said Forest.

"Almost."

Becca was already pouring gas into the tank.

I searched the boat looking for a compass, but found nothing. For now it was easy though, pick a tall building on land and head directly away from it. The motor started, and we turned out into the Atlantic, away from the Cape Florida Lighthouse. We saw a shrimp boat in the distance and not much else. The scene in front of us was huge, beautiful, and overwhelming. The waves started to get large enough to rock the O'Day around. I had control of the tiller and sat on the left bench seat. Becca sat across from me. Even in the midst of the intensity and uncertainty I kept getting distracted by her legs. I wanted to slap myself a few times, but it was hard not to look. Forest stood on the front of the boat and held fast to the cable that stretched from the top of the mast to the bow. He looked different. Forest had always carried this blank, intense expression like a dog ready to bite. He seemed much more calm out there than at school.

I thought about the dangers ahead. There was a sense among us that we were fast approaching that place where we couldn't turn back. Did we really want to do this? No one asked that question, because everyone knew the answer. We knew we were about to get the hell kicked out of us. Back home we would too, just in a different way. We hadn't been hardened by the sea, but we had been hardened by life. The difference was now it was on us, just us. There was no one staging our shitty environment and shuffling us around. We were focused.

"Joey!"

I snapped out of it and looked up at Forest. "What?"

"What are you staring at, bitch?" Forest walked toward the back of the boat.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

He pointed to Becca. "You're about to drool on my sister."

I shook my head and waved my hands in the air.

"No, man. I do that all the time. I start thinking about something and just stare off. Seriously, one time in class I stared at some guys ass for like five minutes. Serious."

Forest walked toward me and Becca stood up, "We don't have time for this," she said.

"The hell we don't," said Forest.

I looked around for something sharp. Nothing. I was having flashbacks of getting my head pounded in six months ago and Mr. Peterson screaming like the world was ending. I stood to my feet and wrapped my left hand around a cable and held my right hand in the air.

He stopped six inches from me. I could feel his breath. He was stone faced, and his eyes looked cold.

"Gonna tell you right now. Out here she's just one of us. If I were you, I'd get it out of your system."

"Deal," I said.

Forest walked back to the front of the boat, and things settled over the next few minutes.

"Psst," I tried to get Becca's attention. She looked at me and I whispered, "If you notice me looking at you again can you throw something at me? I don't mean to." Becca nodded and very slightly smiled in a way that made her look like she felt sorry for me.

"Seriously, throw some water in my face. I don't care," I whispered.

"Where is the water? I'm thirsty," she said.

"Oh shit," I replied.

Forest overheard me, "What?" he asked.

I put my hands on my head and let out a loud groan, "Waaattteeerrr."

Forest stomped on the boat, "Nooooo!" he yelled.

"We don't have water?" asked Becca.

I held my mouth open and slowly shook my head. I just couldn't believe it. Of all things, we forgot, water. Before, I was about 50% sure we were gonna die, now it was like 99%.

The motor started coughing again. A tiny cloud of smoke appeared, and it shut down.

"Damn it," said Forest. I pulled the hatch open. It was out of gas. I hopped to the center of the boat and held onto the mast while I looked for land.

"No way. We must be fifteen miles offshore now. Do you guys see Miami?" I asked.

We all started turning around in circles on the deck. Nothing. Just endless water in all directions. That was when the shit suddenly felt very real.

After a few minutes of eerie silence, Forest spoke. "Alone, on the ocean in an old boat. No motor. No water."

I let out a deep breath and nodded. "And some shitty cafeteria rolls," I added.

"And some shitty cafeteria rolls," said Forest.

"How many days can you go without water?" asked Becca.

"Like five or something," I said.

Forest shook his head, "No like two or three."

"How long does it take to get to the Bahamas?" she asked.

"It depends on the wind and if we manage to head in the right direction. Anywhere from two days to a week or more. Even then it's not like someone's gonna meet us with a jug of gatorade. We'll be on our own with nothing. We could easily land on a deserted island that won't even have water. There are hundreds of islands in the Bahamas."

"Coconuts," said Becca.

"I guess," I replied.

Becca grabbed the rope in the center of the boat and began hoisting up the sail. She was right. There was nothing to talk about, and sitting there pondering the massive amount of shit we were in made no sense. We were all in. I locked the boom vang into place. Guaranteed I would never make that mistake again for the rest of my sailing life, no matter how short.

The wind was strong as the O'Day plowed through the growing waves.

"What time is it?" asked Becca.

Forest shrugged.

"We don't have a watch?" she asked.

I shook my head. "We don't need one. Where do we have to be? All that matters now is day and night. That's it."

The day was bright and beautiful, with scattered clouds floating by. Forest ran his fingers along the cable wires and inspected the rigging that descended from the mast. Occasionally he would turn his attention to a spot on the deck and get down on his knees to clean it off with his knife and spit. The sun was a few hours from setting, but close enough to the horizon that I could make out a broad easterly direction, very broad. Over the next hour or so not a damn thing happened. It was bliss. Near silence. No engine noise, talking, nothing. There was just the sound of the wind and boat easing into each wave. There was nothing like it. I fell under the ocean's spell and hopelessly in love with sailing.

I would catch quick glimpses of Becca and freeze those images in my mind like pictures. It could last for several minutes while I looked at something else. Truly, I wished I wasn't attracted to her. At school we would have these god awful plays and bullshit assemblies. The only positive thing was they combined both campuses. In a room with hundreds of girls, guys, fat old people, movement in every direction, and everyone talking over each other, I could somehow always find her. I wasn't a freak or anything. At least I didn't think I was. I wouldn't just sit there and stare, but I knew where she was, and my eyes always drifted back to Becca.

And now she was so damn close. Becca continued to sit on the bench across from me. Leaned back with her right hand resting on the stern rail. Between her, the escape, and the likelihood of death, everything had violently shifted from mundane to freakishly exciting. I felt like I could hardly think straight. The scene that unrolled in front of us was remarkable. In that moment it made sense that a sailboat in the middle of the ocean was the most amazing place on earth to watch a sunset. Damn.

My mind drifted, and I pulled the tiller a few inches closer to me to return our course to due east, or at least what I assumed was due east. It was close quarters and Becca's foot was suddenly touching mine. I noticed it immediately. The sensation surged through my body, and I started getting goose bumps on my forearms. I felt like such an idiot. She quickly moved her foot away as if it was an accident or annoyance. Probably both. Her foot touched mine for no more than two seconds. It made me wonder. How could I experience so much exhilaration from something as small as our feet touching and her experience nothing at all? I already knew the answer. Life. Most of the time it just plain sucked.

The unmistakable sound of thunder rumbled in the distance.

Forest pointed east with his eyebrows raised. The cool blend of colors was shifting to grey and going dark. It was a big storm. The clouds were growing into stone gray mountains, and the air had a new chill.

"Ever sailed in a storm?" asked Becca without looking at me.

"No."

"We just go straight through it," shouted Forest.

I nodded and clenched my fist around the tiller. What else could we do?

Lightning struck the water a mile or two off of our port bow.

"Son of a bitch! Did you see that?" yelled Forest. The storm was getting loud and intense. The base from the thunder was pulsating across the surface of the ocean, and I felt the O'Day rattle. We had a mile or two to go before we would be in the thick of it. Beautiful and intense lightning bolts repeatedly struck the water.

"Wait!" shouted Forest.

"What?" I asked.

"There's a fifty foot tall metal pole on our boat," said Forest.

"Yeah, sucks," I replied.

"What are we supposed to do?" asked Becca.

"Pray. Shit I don't know," I responded.

"I'll tell you what we do," said Forest. Oh no.

"Lower this big ass pole!" he shouted with his finger in the air.

I looked up at the towering mast in the center of the O'Day. It was a mysterious thing, like a skyscraper on our boat. Instinctively I knew it wanted to be left alone.

"You can't do that," I replied loud enough for Forest to hear me from the bow.

"The hell you can't. Look, the cables unhook."

I asked Becca to take the rudder while I stumbled to the bow where Forest stood. The good thing about the O'Day was there were wires and rails everywhere. White caps caught my attention on the surface of the water. That's what Sam called them anyway. When the wind picked up the sea enough to make the waves slightly break at their highest point.

"See," he pointed to an odd looking metal contraption. There was a clip on the end where each cable that held the mast upright could unhook.

"You unhook the cables and it lowers to the back of the boat," said Forest.

I scratched my head. "Yeah. But man, I don't think you are supposed to do that, at least not out here. Look how tall it is. It must be heavy as all hell," I said.

Forest knocked on it and a high pitched sound followed, "It's hollow. Can't be that bad. Of course you lower it. We're about to be surrounded by lightning with a huge metal pole sticking straight up in the air and not a damn thing around us for miles. Why the hell would lightning strike the water when it could strike that?" Forest pointed to the top of the mast that looked like it could almost touch a cloud.

"We don't lower it, and this boat goes down in flames with us in it," said Forest.

"Is that what happens?" asked Becca. Her bangs blew over her face, but she didn't seem to care.

"I have no idea," I replied.

Forest was done talking. He grabbed the rope running down the mast and lowered the sail.

Forest unhooked one of the cables from the starboard side of the boat. It swung wildly in the wind and would have whipped me in the face had I not ducked.

"Those," said Forest. Becca nodded and unhooked the cables on the port side. There were now two left that prevented the mast from coming down like the last swing of an axe at the base of a huge tree. The difference was, we couldn't run away when someone yelled 'timber'. I sure as hell wasn't going to jump in the ocean. He unhooked the cable connecting the mast to the stern and left one remaining at the bow.

The storm was getting close. It looked like we were about to sail into a black hole. Big raindrops were falling. We were running out of time.

"Now what?" asked Becca.

"Go to the front," shouted Forest as the wind, waves, and rain added to the chaos. There were less cables for us to hang onto now as the three of us made our way to the bow. We held onto the rail at tip of the O'Day while trying not to bust our asses from the intense rocking.

"We hang onto this last one and lower it down slow," said Forest.

I looked up at the towering mast that now seemed really unstable. Screwing the mast up was not an option, there was no other way to move the boat forward.

"This doesn't seem right," I said.

Just then we felt the deck rattle from a series of pounding thunder and our faces brighten from a lightning bolt that touched the water in the shape of a spider web.

"Shit that was close," said Forest.

"Let's lower it," said Becca.

# 8

The boat slid down a large wave. The mast was attached to a bracket that would only allow it to come down to the rear of the boat. As soon as the tip of the O'day was pointing down he unhooked the bow cable that kept it from falling backwards. Oh hell.

"Hold on!" he shouted.

I noticed Forest wrapping the end of the cable around his right hand.

"Dude," but before I could say another word, the O'day started to climb the next wave. I didn't even see the mast come down it happened so fast. The cable immediately ripped out of my hand and I saw Forest's flip flops flying through the air.

The mast broke through the stern rail and created a hole where the outboard motor used to be.

"Forest!" Becca screamed.

"Oh shit!" I yelled. It was like he just disappeared. Becca frantically looked over both sides.

"No, no, no!"

I raced to the back, looking for the cable that was connected to the bow while I scanned the water. Movement caught my eye.

There was splashing about twenty yards behind the O'Day. Becca quickly dove in where Forest surfaced. The cable was still wrapped around his wrist, and I started pulling him in.

"No!" shouted Forest as he waved at me with his left hand.

"What?!"

"My arm is jacked! Don't pull it!"

Becca could swim really well. She helped him get the cable off his right hand and gave me a thumbs up. I slowly dragged them both back to the O'Day.

They came on board and we all collapsed amidst a tangled mess of ropes and cables. We were at the edge of the storm now, and the rain was starting to come down hard. Then it dawned on me. We had lost all ability to control the boat in the waves. We were just bobbing around like a coke bottle. I wasn't positive, but it made sense to me that we would likely take on too much water and could even sink.

"Damn," I whispered, while staring up at the dark sky occasionally lit up by strong flashes of lightning. We were all soaked. Them a bit more than me, and we didn't have a single towel on board. My teeth were starting to chatter, which made me wonder how much of an issue the cold would be at night.

"Come on," I said. "We need to go into the cabin."

I opened the hatch and Forest and Becca followed. He stumbled in holding his right arm stiff. Thunder rolled, and the boat rocked wildly back and forth. It felt like a shady ride at a local carnival with no seatbelts. I sat on the fiberglass bench in the center of the cabin. Forest and Becca crawled to the bow where there was a large raised platform in the shape of a V.

"How's your arm?" I asked.

"Dislocated my shoulder." Forest leaned back and pushed out his stomach. He moved his upper body to the left and slowly leaned forward to push it back into place. It looked painful as hell.

"Man when you unhooked that cable. A second later you just vanished," I motioned with my fingers. "Like poof."

Becca held onto a latch on the cabin ceiling to brace herself. Amazingly none of us were getting seasick.

"I sure as hell didn't disappear. Shit, I flew like superman," said Forest.

"Rain," said Becca. We both looked at her a little confused.

"We need to catch it," she said.

"Oh yeah."

We quickly crawled around the boat looking for something that would hold water. A plastic bag, container, anything. What must have been a sizeable wave hit us broad sided and the boat almost turned completely on its side.

"Can a sailboat flip over?" asked Becca.

I shook my head. "Sam said it's rare. They have like a thousand pounds of weight in the bottom so when it leans over it should right itself."

"Can it sink?" asked Becca.

"Psh. Like a rock," I replied.

I poked my head through an opening in the back of the boat and found a large storage compartment.

"A sail," I shouted.

I pulled out the old sail. It smelled like twenty year old mildew, but we were lucky as hell to have it.

"I bet this holds water. We can cut a big piece out of it and set it up on deck," I said.

"Don't cut it," replied Becca. "We may need it."

I agreed. "Yeah good point. We need to hang it somewhere on deck."

Forest pointed, "Right in the back where it dips down."

"That's where we walk though," I said.

"Under the seats," said Becca. "Open the lid and lay the sail inside, like a liner. It will catch water."

"Yeah, that's good," I replied. I noticed Becca starting to shiver.

Forest and I opened the cabin hatch and crawled onto the deck.

Outside it was a total downpour with heavy winds and zero visibility. The wind blew salt spray into my eyes while I struggled not to slip. There were ropes and cables everywhere. It was impossible to see them. We could only feel around for them like blind men. Thunder exploded, followed by flashes that gave us temporary vision. I grabbed the stern rail and held on. Forest opened the right bench seat, and we laid the sail inside of it.

"That's good!" I shouted.

Thunder roared as I followed Forest back into the cabin and closed the hatch. The chaotic sounds were quickly muted. "Did it work?" asked Becca. We could hear her teeth chattering.

"Yes. You're cold," said Forest. He took an old shirt out of his backpack.

"Take your shirt off and put this one on," said Forest. I immediately turned my back toward Becca. Forest handed me a glob of cafeteria rolls and Becca went to the front to change her shirt. The unsightly mass of dough was pretty good, but damn near impossible to swallow with my dry mouth. I chewed slowly and watched one of the cabin windows blink from the flashes of lightning. Becca hung up her wet shirt and bra near the window.

The boat rocked like hell, and it took constant effort not to roll all over the cabin floor. The continual sound of Becca's teeth chattering unnerved me more than the sound of the rain, thunder, and waves. She was muscular, but small and needed more fat.

"She's too cold, man," I said. Forest didn't reply, neither did she.

"We can sandwich her between us. My back facing her," I said.

"Okay. Yeah, cmon'," said Forest.

I stumbled to the front V berth and crawled in next to them. Becca was curled up into a ball and had her arms, face and knees inside Forest's shirt. Forest had his arm around her. I laid down on the other side of Becca with my back pressed tightly against hers.

Within a few minutes the chattering lessened, and we were left with only the sounds of a creaking old boat, rain, and occasional thunder.

Nobody was sleeping. It was pretty much like lying down on a table. We were wet and salty, with no pillows or blankets. We were fine though. It seemed stupid, but hope kept us warm. The thought that we might actually sail that old boat all the way to the Bahamas and never have to put on that uniform again, file in and file out again, live with creeps again. It kept us going. I hoped we could get that mast back up. Otherwise it was game over. It was a good thing that rail was there. It seemed to absorb a lot of the impact, and the hole in the boat was only about six inches deep up top.

"How far will we drift off course?" asked Becca softly. It was strange hearing her voice so close to my ears. She was something else. I hadn't even thought about that.

"I'm not sure," I answered. "There's a current offshore called the Gulf Stream. Sam said it pushes north at three or four miles per hour. But I don't know if we have made it to that current yet or not. The wind was out of the north west. Worst case is we get pushed thirty miles north by daylight. I think."

"Did you guys think we would make it this far?" she asked.

"Yeah," said Forest in an unusually soft voice that was void of confrontation.

"Of course not," I whispered. For some reason Becca laughed at my answer.

"Hey, we've obviously got this sailing shit figured out, man," said Forest. Becca cracked up, and I did too. Truthfully, I liked Forest. There were still a few hard feelings because of that jacked up fight and the sucky squiggly lines that strolled into my vision, but he was cool.

"We're alive," I said. "And dude, you just rode the slingshot from hell."

Just then, amidst our laughter, the boat slid down a large wave and I nearly rolled on top of them.

"At least none of us gets seasick," I said.

"I didn't think we would," replied Forest. "We were on the ocean all the time when we were little."

"Really?"

"Yeah, our dad ran product from Cuba to Miami. Fast boats," said Forest.

"What kind of product?"

"Drugs," said Forest.

"I didn't know you knew your Dad. You knew your mom too?" I asked.

"No, she was a prostitute," said Becca.

"We don't know that for sure," said Forest.

"What happened to your dad?"

"Arrested. Killed in prison," said Forest.

"How old were you?"

"I was six, she was four."

"And he took you on drug runs?"

"Yeah, but we were also going to visit our grandparents. I don't remember much. I remember when they took him away, he told me it was my job now to take care of my little sister. Not much else."

"I don't remember him at all," said Becca.

"How many foster homes?" I asked.

"Seven," said Forest.

"That rumor about you shooting one of your foster parents when you were ten. All bullshit?" I asked.

The two of them went quiet. "I don't even know how that got around," said Forest.

"Is it true?" I asked.

"I was nine. He used to touch Becca. Shot him in the face while he was watching football. They still don't know who did it. Don't bring it up again."

"Alright."

"How about you?" asked Becca.

"How many foster homes?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Only four," I answered. "They said they couldn't place me again."

"Same with us," said Becca. "What'd you do?"

"Nothing."

"Really what?" she asked.

The boat turned to its side for a moment as a wave hit us broadside. The rain continued to pour but the thunder was turning to a low distant rumble.

"What?" asked Becca.

"I was at that house for three years. There was a kid there named Timothy. My best friend."

"How old?" asked Becca.

"Timothy? Now he would be ten."

"You're fifteen?" she asked.

"No sixteen."

"So he was five and you were eleven. And he was your best friend?" asked Becca.

"Yeah, we looked out for each other," I replied. "Anyway, long story short. They were fighting in the kitchen. Timothy tried to stop the man from hitting the woman. I didn't care until the man went after Timothy. All I did was hold my hands up and stay in between them. That's it."

"Why'd you get kicked out?" she asked.

"The next morning they told the state I was inappropriately touching Timothy. They picked me up same day."

"That sucks," said Forest.

"Yeah."

"Parents?" asked Becca.

"Never knew them. The state picked me up from a meth lab when I was a baby."

We rocked back and forth, and I wondered when the boat would capsize. Inside the cabin felt like a safe cocoon from the chaos outside. I liked it. The platform we slept on was rock hard, old fiberglass. I tried to use my arm as a pillow, but that caused it to fall asleep and go numb every ten minutes or so. A cushion would have been awesome, but I had slept in worse places before. My clothes were starting to dry and my eyes grew heavy.

"Are you still cold?" I asked.

"No, I'm fine," said Becca.

Forest began to snore. It was a sound that I was very familiar with in foster homes and in the dorm at Havana. The sporadic sound had the opposite effect on me that it seemed to have on most people. Within minutes I was asleep.

# 9

Dawn came, and I opened my eyes. We were still floating. I looked to my left and Forest was squinting. We stared awkwardly at each other for a few seconds. I noticed the crust in his eyes and perhaps he noticed mine. "Where the hell is Becca?" he asked.

"No idea. I just woke up." My mouth felt like a desert in Africa and could feel a headache coming on strong.

Forest jumped out of the V berth, stumbled through the cabin, and popped his head out of the open hatch. He stepped out on deck, and I followed behind. There was a sucky crick in my neck that I tried to rub while I walked.

Cool, salt air rushed onto my face. I turned to the bow. I was speechless. Becca was sitting at the very tip of the boat, holding onto the rail with her feet dangling over the side. In front of her the sun, almost halfway exposed, caused a gold glow in her hair and shades of orange, pink, and blue projected across the sky. The water was calm with a gentle breeze out of the north. I didn't even want to blink, the scene was so damn beautiful.

The silence was broken. "Becca," said Forest. "Where's my coffee and sausage biscuit?"

She turned around and gave him a 'what the hell did you just say to me' look. Forest threw his head back and laughed. It was strange hearing Forest laugh like that when it was so calm and quiet. The echo across the water must have scared every bird around for miles.

"Think it's time you lifted up that big ass pole boys," said Becca without taking her eyes off the sunrise.

I let out a deep breath, "Yeaep."

Forest and I started stretching.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Let's do this."

We braced ourselves under the pole, got it to about chest high, and struggled to lift it over our heads. Becca ran to us to help give it an extra push.

"Once we get it upright, Becca run to the front and latch that cable back on," said Forest.

She got in front of me and started pushing up with her legs. Instinctively I stared at her butt and caught myself in a flash, then turned my attention to the sunrise. I had to shake this. The dude shot some guy in the face. I didn't think we were going to get it up, but Becca added just the amount of extra push we needed.

"Shit! We're never lowering this pole again." shouted Forest.

The mast went upright, and Becca ran to the front to secure the cable that attached it to the deck.

"Got it!" she shouted. We secured the other cables and admired the fact that we managed to get that huge mast back up, and in place.

I hoisted the sail and watched it fill with the wind coming out of the north.

"Forest, see the rope right there attached to that winch?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Pull it until I tell you to stop."

Forest slowly pulled the rope that trimmed the sail so that it was almost parallel to north. We immediately picked up speed and started slicing through the calm water.

"Oh," said Forest. "I get it."

"Yeah. It's pretty cool," I replied.

"I can steer," said Forest.

"Alright. Just point us at the sun." I double checked the boom vang while we sailed along at what was probably four miles per hour. There were no boats on the horizon for as far as I could see in any direction. We were so alone, but it was a good alone. The kind of alone that reminded me that there was no one there to control us anymore. Freedom.

"Did you guys get water yet?" asked Becca.

"No," I replied. "I hope we see an island up ahead soon or we'll be dead."

Becca pointed to the back.

"Oh yeah! Did it work?" I asked.

Forest had forgotten too and quickly opened the bench seat.

"Hell yes!" he shouted.

I looked down and couldn't believe it. There was at least ten gallons of clear, fresh water in a sail made reservoir under the starboard bench seat.

"Becca you are bad ass!" I shouted.

I reached down with both hands and formed a bowl. It was the best water I had ever tasted in my life. I could feel the cold water splash all the way to my stomach. Forest reached for his bag and pulled out the glob of dough. It was even more unsightly than yesterday and now hard on the edges and crumbly.

"We're gonna make it," he said, chewing.

It looked like half of the glob was gone, maybe more.

"That's not going to last long," said Becca. I shook my head.

"Who wants to start fishing?" asked Forest while he held the tiller tight and kept us pointed to the right of the rising sun.

Becca looked at me.

"I guess I will," I said.

I wasn't looking forward to fishing and knew I would look like a total ass. The first time I had ever held a fishing pole was the day before when that old man handed me one. Becca pulled out one of the fishing poles and gave it to me. I reviewed the machine like part of the pole that held the line. It was a little intimidating. I turned with my back facing Forest and Becca so I could study it some more without looking like a dumbass in front of them. I kind of understood how it worked.

I opened the small plastic box that Mr. Bones had given us. An array of bright, flashy feathers surprised me. Inside was what looked like small toys in the shapes of fish and other sea creatures that had hooks attached to them. I picked out an octopus looking thing that had a bunch of bright red feathers and two large hooks

"Why that one?" asked Becca.

I looked down at the odd bunch of feathers and hooks in my hands.

"This is a quaza bait. They work good in the ocean."

Forest looked at me like I was an idiot and Becca wasn't amused.

I smiled, "Shit, I don't know. But it's red. So it must look like it's bleeding. That should be good."

I strung the thick line through a series of small hoops in the pole. At the top of the red octopus was an eyelet that I assumed I was supposed to tie the line onto. I tied on a big knot, looping the string back and through ten times.

"Looks ready," said Forest.

"The old man said to throw it behind the boat," said Becca.

I tossed the plastic red octopus overboard and grabbed the pole. Everything seemed to be working. I watched line rapidly leaving the reel and wondered when it would stop.

"All your line's gone. Shit Joey, all your line's gone!" shouted Forest.

I couldn't believe it. "That's such bullshit. It never stopped," I replied.

"Well there goes our only quaza," said Becca.

We both looked at her.

"Let's hold the line with our hands instead," she said. That appealed to me and seemed way less complicated. I started taking the line off of the other fishing rod. I wrapped it loosely around my arm like a spool.

Becca picked out a similar looking bait that had a silver head and purple feathers.

"Try this," she said.

She tied it on and tossed it overboard. As soon as it touched the water I noticed streaks of light reflecting from the sun hitting the bait.

I pointed my arm straight out and let it go about 100 feet behind the boat. I held onto the line with my hand and had the rest of it wrapped around my arm. There was some heavy pressure just from dragging the large bait in the water.

"I might tie the line to the rail," I said.

"I'll take a turn when you're tired," said Forest.

Becca stood on the port side of the boat holding onto one of the cables and admiring the ocean. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. The light behind her made her glow like some kind of a damn sun goddess or something. It was torture. I stared. It was impossible not to.

"What do you think the Bahamas will be like?" she said.

I watched her infectious smile.

"Beautiful," I replied just slow enough to make it awkward. Damn it.

She quickly looked away and Forest turned toward me.

Oh shit, she wasn't even talking to me.

Smash!

My face rammed straight into the back rail, and I almost fell overboard. I was suddenly being squeezed under the rail and was preparing myself to swim. Forest grabbed onto my legs.

"What the hell!" he shouted.

My left arm was fully extended, and it felt like it was about to be pulled off.

"Fish!" I yelled.

"Let some of the line go." yelled Becca. Of course. I couldn't think.

I straightened my arm to let the line reel off and ease the tension, "Ugh, damn this hurts." The line made a strange high pitch sound while it scraped across my forearm. Small drops of blood began to appear as it cut into my skin. In the distance we saw a large silver fish leap into the air with our plastic purple octopus thing in its mouth.

"He's pissed," said Forest.

The fish looked easily five feet long. The line was peeling out of my hands so fast it caused cuts to form on my palms. "Lower the sail and someone give me a shirt."

Forest whipped off his old smelly t-shirt and handed it to me. I used it like a pair of gloves to hold onto the line. Becca quickly got to work bringing the sail down.

Over the next few minutes I got a crash course in fighting a big fish. It would take line out and I would bring some in, over and over. Gradually it came closer to the boat.

"That fish almost drowned you," said Forest.

"From now on," said Becca. "No one is wrapping any line around their hand. Cut that shit out."

"It's getting closer, man hang on," said Forest.

I could feel the big fish tiring. There was no way to tell time, but I was sure that I had been fighting the fish for at least thirty minutes. He made one last jump about ten feet from the boat.

"Whoa!" said Becca.

It was dead tired now, floating on the surface.

"C'mon help me pull him in the boat."

I grabbed the line tightly. Forest held onto my shoulders.

"One, two, three!" We all went backwards, and the big silver fish came over the side.

"Yeah!" shouted Forest and we gave each other high fives.

"Shit! Teeth!" I screamed, and we flew out of the cockpit and onto the center deck. The fish flopped around like a wild freak, snapping its mouth, causing complete havoc.

"My rolls!" shouted Forest as we watched the fish kick what was left of the glob into the water.

"It bit me," said Becca.

"What?" Forest and I were in a bit of a daze and looked at her.

"My shirt," she said. She held out the bottom of her shirt and there was now a six inch log rip running down the side of it. The fish finally settled down to die on the deck of the boat, while we caught our breath. We stared at the large fish with big eyes and teeth. It looked mean as hell. There was no better way to describe it. It was a long and silver, with gray and black patches on its body.

"It's got wolf teeth," said Forest.

We couldn't stop staring at the teeth. There were rows of them about two inches long, but not like shark teeth. It looked like the mouth of a dog or wolf.

"He looked almost dead when he came up to the boat," I said.

Forest shook his head. "Not when he came into the boat. He went out guns blazing. You are one bad ass fish."

"Now what?" asked Becca.

"We eat it. We lost the glob," I said.

"How do we eat that?" she asked.

Good point. We paused for a bit longer, not sure exactly what to do next.

Forest opened up the cabin hatch and got his knife. He crept toward the fish and poked it a few times in the back.

"I think it's dead," he said.

There was hardly any wind, and the sea was calm. Becca had raised the sail again, but we were barely moving.

"If we can't cook it, how do we eat it?" asked Becca.

"Raw," said Forest.

"You're insane," she said.

"No, he's right," I responded. "That's all sushi is. Raw fish. People pay a lot of money for sushi. It doesn't get any fresher than this."

"Yeah," said Forest.

Becca looked really skeptical.

Forest pointed at the fish with his knife. "I'll cut off the head and tail. The rest we can eat."

"Alright," I said.

Forest straddled the fish and started sawing. He cut off the large tail first and threw it into the water. It took him a bit longer to cut off the head. Then he took the giant fish carcass and held it up in the air while it rested on his biceps, "All you can eat sushi," he said with a grin.

"Ugh," said Becca.

"Oh shit," I replied as blood and guts started dripping down Forest's legs. He dropped the fish carcass immediately, and it hit the deck with a big thud.

"Someone needs to get all that shit out," said Forest while he pointed to the bloody goop that was now dripping onto the deck of the O'Day.

"It's your knife and you already got blood all over you," I replied.

Forest looked agitated, "Oh really?" he said.

"And I reeled it in. You're turn man."

"Next time I'm reeling it in," said Forest.

Forest poked at the fish and looked in through its chest cavity.

"One of us needs to hold it over the boat and the other one needs to cut open its stomach," he said.

I picked the fish up by the end and let the other half hang over the remaining stern rail.

"Please don't drop it," said Becca.

I was hungry as hell, and evidently so was she. Those little globs of dough just didn't go very far out there. I pressed my fingernails like a cat into that fish. I wasn't letting go.

Forest took his knife and made a slit down the stomach. All sorts of nastiness poured out from the fish, and he helped it along with his knife and fingers. After we splashed saltwater on the carcass there was still a little blood, but what was left actually looked pretty clean. Forest took his knife and cut away three small pieces of flesh from the big silver fish carcass.

"You first, Joey," said Forest.

"That's fine," I said and studied the morsel before me. The silver skin was still attached, and the meat had a dull pinkish color. There wasn't much of a scent, and that made me think the taste would be okay. I didn't want to look like a punk in front of Becca, so I popped the whole thing in my mouth and started chewing. Then stopped chewing almost instantly.

"Awesome?" asked Forest.

"Yaaaack! Don't eat it, don't eat it," I said while coughing and spitting the pieces into the ocean. Forest just touched the tip of his tongue to it and tried to keep from wincing.

"We have to eat it though," said Forest. I leaned over the side to rinse my mouth with saltwater.

"Maybe if we get really, really hungry," said Becca.

I was swishing my mouth with saltwater and spittting, again and again.

"I don't know man," I said. "It's really, really bad. Like oily or something. My mouth was filled with fish gases and shit."

"Sushi is raw fish," sad Forest. "This is raw fish. It doesn't get any fresher. What the hell?"

"Maybe you take the skin off?" I asked. "Try just chewing a tiny piece of the skin and see for yourself."

"Well what do we do with it now?" asked Becca.

"It will rot in a day or two. We may as well force it down," said Forest.

"Can it cook in the sun?" asked Becca.

"Like in thin strips?" I asked.

"I guess," she said.

"It might. Let's try," I replied.

"Yeah, may as well," said Forest.

# 10

Forest began cutting off small strips of the fish while Becca and I strung each one through some of the fishing line we had. It was pretty time consuming, and the more we strung from rail to rail, the freakier it made the boat look. It reminded me of Christmas ornaments, but instead, dangling pieces of flesh. We were the boat of death now.

I wanted to talk to Becca so badly. I was sitting right next to her and couldn't think of a damn thing to say. Any ideas I had were corny, forced, and obviously trying to start a conversation. It was better to just keep quiet. I felt so nervous around her. I wished she would feel nervous around me, but that was way more than wishful thinking. It was pretty obvious that me sitting next to her was irrelevant. Damn. We neared the end of the pile and both reached for the same strip.

"Sorry," I said and released it. So did Becca.

"No, you take it," she said.

"No, no. Go ahead. Please."

"You're being weird," she said.

"No I'm not. You are."

I stood up and acted like I had something important to do like check on the rigging to make sure it was still tight. What a dumbass thing to say. It was the only thing that came to me. I wished she was just some dude, and then it would be way, way easier to talk to her. But she wasn't a dude. She was a girl. A cool and really beautiful girl. It was just different. No way to get around it or pretend it didn't exist. We finished with over a hundred strips of whatever fish it was tied between the bow rails.

The wind picked up and continued out of the north. I looked up at the sun and figured it was early afternoon. We had been on the boat for over twenty four hours now, and the O'Day was sailing along at near top speed in small one to two foot waves. I gave Forest a break at the tiller and struggled to guess the correct direction with the sun directly overhead. It would be easier once the moon rose.

The heat of midday and the ocean had lulled Becca to sleep. She lay on the bench across from me with her left arm over her face. I could hear her stomach groaning every few minutes. I hoped the fish would dry and be at least somewhat edible so she wouldn't be so hungry.

"What the hell is that?" Forest shouted from the bow with his finger pointed at the water below. Becca awkwardly woke up and stumbled to her feet.

"There!" he pointed just off the port side.

I tried to get a glimpse from the back of the boat, but couldn't see anything and didn't want to leave the rudder.

"What?" I asked.

"It's huge," said Forest. "It's stalking us. Look."

Becca's mouth dropped open.

"Shark?" I asked.

"Monster," said Becca.

"Octopus, whale, what is it?" I asked.

"No man," replied Forest. It's wider than the boat. Wings and horns. Like it's flying under the water. Tail like a dragon."

"Somebody take over so I can see."

Becca came to the cockpit and took control of the tiller.

I held onto one of the port side cables and immediately took notice of the unusual shape. The creature was beautiful. Massive and flying through the water like a pterodactyl.

"Beautiful. It's a ray. Manta ray or Eagle ray," I said.

"Is it dangerous?" asked Forest.

"No, no I don't think so."

"It smells our fish," he said.

"Probably not."

We watched it slowly swim down to greater depths.

"Freaking amazing," said Forest while it slowly disappeared from view.

"This," said Forest.

"What?" asked Becca.

"This. This is what I want to do for the rest of my life."

"Sail?" I asked.

Forest looked up at the mainsail, fully drawn and pushing our boat toward the setting sun, in almost dead silence.

"Yeah. Sail."

"Yeah. Yeah, me too," I replied.

The O'Day sliced through the waves effortlessly while the sun began to set and darkness approached like a mysterious friend. Navigation was simple now. Sail away from the setting sun and toward the rising moon. I figured we were probably pointed southeast at midday. If not exactly southeast, at least east, or maybe northeast.

The only time Forest sat was when he was manning the tiller. The rest of the time he stood at the bow looking out, always looking, even then he was on his feet most of the time. It made me wonder where he was getting the energy. Our water supply was diminishing, and Becca and I looked hungover. Night had fallen, and we hadn't eaten since early that morning. Some sucky cafeteria rolls at that.

Forest was finally lying down at the front of the boat with his feet resting on the rail. The contrast was stark from the chaos of the night before.

"I can take over for a while," said Becca.

"Sure, you see those three stars in a line and the bright one underneath?

"Yes."

"Head to the one underneath."

Becca sat in my place and took control of the tiller. I sat on the bench across from her.

"It's backwards," she said.

"I know. Weird, isn't it?"

"Now I see why you hit that boat," she said. I quietly laughed.

"You can go get some sleep," said Becca.

"I'm good."

I wondered if me sitting there made her feel awkward. If she wanted me to go, I should go. It was too quiet. I felt awkward. Did she feel awkward? Oh this was such bullshit. I should just say something, and it wouldn't be weird. Once again, I couldn't think of a damn thing to say. I felt like I was in a room filled with filing cabinets, frantically opening each one with nothing in it.

"Do you like sports?" I asked.

What the hell was I doing? What a loser, sappy question to ask. Anything else would have been better. Are you hungry? thirsty? All better. Shit.

"No, not really," she said softly.

I nodded and looked away toward the rolling waves that were now lit up by the moon.

"So why did you and Forest get in a fight?" she asked.

On no man, not that.

"Um. I said something that he kind of took out of context."

"What?"

Ugh.

"I said you were hot."

"What?"

"I said you were smokin' hot. Sorry."

She politely laughed, "Well, you seem nice. But I'm not interested."

"Oh yeah. No, I know that. It's cool," I quickly replied.

It was nice of her to say that, and being direct was just her style. Honestly, my feelings weren't even hurt. I never really considered the possibility of her being interested in me. She was more like a sunset or something, nice to admire from a distance. But, I sure as hell didn't want to annoy her. Somehow her comment made me a bit more at ease.

"I did manage to get a punch in."

"Nice," she smiled.

"Yeah, it was a good one." I said jokingly, and looked back toward the water, figuring our brief conversation was over.

"He actually has a soft side," she said. Her odd comment caught my attention and made me curious.

I shook my head. "I'm not so sure I believe that."

"He does. When we were little he would steal chocolates for me every Saturday."

"Hm." It was kind of weird that his soft side involved stealing, but whatever.

"How far do you think we've gone?" she asked.

"I don't know how much we got thrown off last night. But I bet we've sailed at least for twenty hours."

"So, maybe a hundred miles," she said.

"I guess."

"How far to the closest island?" she asked.

"Bimini. It's only fifty or sixty miles away from Miami."

"So we missed that one completely," she said.

"Yeah, it's really small. We didn't really have a chance. But the largest island is about 100 miles long and it's 140 miles out from Miami. That's where I hope we end up."

"What's it called?"

"Andros," I said.

Becca smiled, "Let's name the boat Andros."

"Hell yeah. Forest!"

He looked back at us from the front of the boat.

"Andros. Her name is Andros," I shouted patting the side of the O'Day.

"I like it," he said.

Andros sailed beautifully through the midnight waters. The wind had dropped off slightly, but she still maintained good speed. The gentle sounds almost made me high. No traffic noise, school bells, old people spewing out facts from text books. Sailing that night was the most peaceful experience of my life. Other than the gnawing hunger, life felt sublime in those moments. I also felt a sense of belonging in that awkward family at sea. But it was a family that we chose, and that somehow made it special. I wasn't sure if they felt the same. Part of me feared if we made it to the Bahamas they would say 'see ya later, Joey'.

"You stink," said Becca.

I lifted up my arm and winced. It was pretty awful. I didn't have deodorant, a hairbrush, toothbrush, nothing. Forest came to the back and sat with us.

"Sorry. Trust me I'd fix that if I could," I said.

"Fix what?" asked Forest.

"Becca said I stink."

"I'm sure she does too," said Forest.

"Shutup, Forest," she said with a laugh.

"Let's take the sail down. Jump in and take a saltwater bath," said Forest.

"Now?" I asked.

"Yeah, why not," he said.

Becca and I looked over the side. The blue water was black at night like a mysterious dream that could abruptly turn into a nightmare.

"I bet there's a whole lot of wild shit down there," I said.

"Like that fish," said Becca.

"Yeah. Imagine that thing biting you in the ass."

"I'm jumping in," said Forest. He was already on center deck pulling the rope to lower the sail.

"Let's keep going. You don't know what's down there," said Becca.

"I know it's a big ocean and we're a dot in it. Something may bite me. But probably not."

"Joey, tell him not to do it," Becca whispered.

"This ain't no swimming pool man. Out this far it can get over a thousand feet deep," I said. "It's dark, middle of the ocean, sharks. "

"Damn you two are some old ladies," said Forest as the boat eased to a stop and we slowly rocked back and forth with the small rolling waves.

"Rude. Don't splash around and make noise," said Becca.

Forest stepped over the rail and leaped into the air. Cannon ball. What the hell?

The splash echoed. He surfaced with a smile that reached ear to ear.

"Ahhhhh. Yes!! Woooo!" he shouted and lifted a fist in the air. It was really damn infectious. I laughed and took off my shirt.

"You too?" she asked. "I swear I'm in a jaws movie right now."

I hit the water feet first, and it felt incredible. All the grime washed away and I felt a surge of energy.

It was also spooky as hell. One second I was having the time of my life, and the next second I wondered if a shark was circling me underwater. It was impossible to know. The not knowing was trippy because my mind could almost make it a reality. At the same time I was certain that this was the greatest experience of my life. There I was suspended in the middle of the ocean, the only lights were stars, and beneath me hundreds maybe thousands of feet of water to the ocean floor. Shit.

Becca stood at the bow and started to take off her shirt. I wanted to look so unbelievably bad, but I made a promise to Forest and turned around. It was hard as hell though, like my head almost involuntarily locked into place.

"Turn around," she said. Forest noticed I already had and seemed pleased with that. But my imagination was shooting fireworks. I heard her splash and turned back around. I quickly glanced and noticed the dual pale stripes beside her neck and tight shoulders.

"Awesome," she said. Becca slowly glided through the water on her back while looking at the stars. Though I was only sixteen, I had accumulated a lot of bad memories in that brief amount of time. This was something I would never forget, and I wondered if memories like this would help wash away the ugly ones.

Fortunately, we weren't in a Jaws movie, and nothing bit our asses. We could only tread water so long, and before I knew it we were back underway. It was probably past midnight by now, and we all wanted to go to sleep. We decided to take shifts of a few hours each on the tiller. There was no way to tell the time, so we just had to guess how long we had been steering. Instead of sleeping in the cabin, we all spread out in the cockpit. I had first watch while Becca and Forest lay down on the benches. The night remained calm and peaceful. We cruised along at three to four miles per hour in a soft breeze.

"Seems like something should go wrong," said Becca.

I thought she was asleep. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

"How did we make it this far?" she asked.

"I have no idea. Baffles me. We just kept going. I didn't even think we would make it out of those woods."

"I thought we would make it to the marina," said Becca while looking up at the stars. "Then get picked up. When that didn't happen, I was sure we would sink in that storm."

"Oh yeah. Several times I thought I would probably die or go to jail," I replied. I couldn't see her face too well in the dark, but I thought she smiled.

"I can't wait to see the Bahamas. Do you think we will actually make it there?" she asked.

I scratched my head, "I mean, yesterday I would have said no way. Now though, it may even be likely. Still it's hard to say because we don't really know what we are doing or exactly where we are going. With all of the currents we could land in Columbia or right now we could be on course for Iceland. If that's the case, then we won't ever see land again."

"I didn't sign up for Iceland," said Becca, and I laughed.

"In the Bahamas are you going your own way or are we staying together?" she asked.

"I think staying together would be good," I replied.

"Me too," she said. "I hope we don't have to steal. I want a job or something."

"I bet there is some way we can make money," I replied.

"How?"

"Fishing. We could catch fish and sell them. We know how to catch fish now."

"Psh," Becca laughed.

"We'll figure out something," I said.

The night carried on, and Becca took a long shift, followed by Forest. Dawn was approaching, and I was out like a drunken sailor. We had been sailing for almost thirty-five hours straight now. When I was asleep I didn't dream. But I thought about the boat, the ocean, and Becca while I was still conscious. The deep black was growing into lighter shades when Forest scared the hell out of us.

# 11

"Look at that shit!" yelled Forest. I staggered up from the bench, and Becca followed from the other. Forest was standing on the back rail with his foot on the rudder. He had his left hand clutched onto a cable and his right pointed out to sea.

"Land! Shit, I think that's land," shouted Forest.

"No way in hell," I said, and rushed to the bow. Becca laughed with excitement. There was a long sliver on the horizon that appeared to have a whitish, green hue. That is if we weren't seeing things. We all wondered if there were mirages at sea like we heard about in the desert.

"It is!" shouted Becca. "Do you think it's the Bahamas?"

"I think it has to be," I replied. "The only other option is Cuba, but that's 200 miles south of Miami. I know we haven't been going south, and we couldn't have made it that far by now."

"Wooooo!!!" Forest yelled with his fist in the air again.

Becca squeezed my shoulder, and it felt like electricity went through my body. I felt like such a freak. I couldn't shake the fascination and infatuation, but I was trying my damned hardest.

We were within a mile of the land. There were no large buildings that we could see, but the land mass was huge.

"Andros," I said.

"To Andros," replied Forest.

Then I remembered. "You know we can't keep her."

"What?" asked Becca.

"We can't keep Andros," I replied.

Forest looked pissed. "Dude, I'm still mad about my scooter. I'd shut up if I were you."

"Look, by now they all know we took this boat. This exact boat. They're probably searching near Miami right now and sooner or later word will travel here. We'll get caught in no time," I said.

"Then what are you thinking?" asked Becca. Forest looked angry and had his eyes on the approaching land. But I could tell he was still listening.

"We don't have to sink it. We point Andros back southeast, jump off and swim to land. They'll find it out in the Atlantic somewhere. We were lost at sea. Case closed."

I knew it was the right thing to do, and I hoped they did to. This wasn't a vacation. It was the start of a new life.

"I loved this boat," said Forest.

"I hear you," I replied.

"More than that scooter. Way more. Shit," he said.

"Yeah."

"I'm going to get another one. One day," he said.

"I'll go in on it with you," I replied.

"Me too," said Becca.

The color of the water was changing to a beautiful turquoise I had only seen in magazines. We forced down some partially dried fish that wasn't near as bad as the day before and drank the remaining water under the seat hatch. As the Andros drew to within a few hundred yards of land, we could see fish thirty feet or so below us on the ocean floor.

"Damn, it's so clear," said Forest.

I was shocked at the difference between the water color compared to the coast of Florida, and I thought Florida was beautiful. As we drew close, we could make out tall pine and palm trees that lined the beach. l knew it was time.

"It's gorgeous," said Becca. "How shallow is that?"

"Hard to tell," I replied. The water was so clear I wasn't sure if it was ten feet deep or a hundred. Forest had his knife and backpack ready. I had myself and the stinky ass clothes I had been wearing for the last few days at sea. We pushed the tiller all the way forward, which caused the boat to slowly do a 180 degree turn and the sail to switch sides. The boat picked up more speed now that it was headed southeast, and we quickly took a rope to tie the tiller in place.

"Go!" shouted Forest. The three of us all jumped over the rail, off the back of the boat, and into the crystal clear blue water. It felt like we were just baptized into freedom.

We were at least 200 yards offshore now and immediately started swimming toward land. Once we had made it halfway, we all stopped and treaded water for a moment. The Andros was a ghost ship now, sailing beautifully, next stop Cuba. Maybe there was some family in need of a boat that would find it abandoned. It was possible. I bet they would appreciate that boat just as much as us. In a strange way, I felt like we set it free.

Forest raised his fist in the air. "Sail on Andros."

We swam over coral reefs, where I could make out the blurry movements below that appeared to be fish. Forest and Becca reached water they could stand in just before I did. As we stood in the chest deep water, the scene before us was almost too much to take in. Tall pine trees mixed with palms gently moved with the breeze. White sand and small coral rock formations dotted the beach. There were no buildings or people in sight, which made me wonder if we were in some sort of national park. Forest suddenly let out a huge belly laugh, put his arm around my shoulder, and squeezed me tight. He hugged his sister, and Becca, to my surprise lightly hugged me for almost half a second.

We did it. Kind of. The reality was now sinking in that we were basically drifters in another country. We had nothing but a backpack, some scraggly clothes, and a knife. Not a quarter between us and no source of food or water. We had no support contacts in the U.S. and sure as hell didn't have any in the Bahamas. We were Bohemian bums. But we were brave, free, and hopeful.

"Gorgeous," said Forest.

We waded up to the beach. It was like paradise, no better way to describe it. I looked out into the open water and could still make out the Andros, perhaps a mile offshore now. She was the token of our freedom. Regardless of what would happen next, I would forever love that boat. I watched Andros for a few last seconds and wondered if a sailboat is alone in the ocean, does it come to life?

Becca sat down on the sand in inch deep water. Forest and I sat on opposite sides of her. "I can't believe we pulled this shit off," said Forest. I nodded.

"Yeah, so what now?" asked Becca.

Silence followed. This was a daydream. Something to get me by during the nauseatingly dull days at Havana. I figured I'd take a stab at it some time and get caught. The daydream always ended here. I never imagined I'd actually, physically be sitting on some beach, on some island, in the Bahamas. Really, had it not been for Forest, I would have probably quit at some point back in Miami. Like when the guy at the dock called the owner of the boat. Forest was relentless. He had a strong will, and I hoped it rubbed off on me.

"Are we going to live in the woods?" asked Becca as she turned around and viewed the palm trees and thick overgrowth.

"We aren't gonna live on a boat," said Forest, watching the Andros as it became a dot on the horizon.

"What about bugs?" she asked.

"They may not be so bad," I replied.

Forest shook his head, "I bet we get our asses eaten up. Think about Miami in the evening. Has to be worse here. We'll make it."

"We can sleep in the sand," said Becca. "Like pile up sand on top of us."

That seemed kind of reasonable. Forest stood up.

"Where are you going?" asked Becca.

"To find something," said Forest.

"Like what?" she asked. Forest shrugged.

"Yeah," I replied. "Some kind of shelter. We'll need food and water really soon."

"Alright," said Forest. "Let's stay low key. Maybe we can find where some people are and blend in."

"Which way?" asked Becca. There were only two choices, and they both looked the same. We could walk north on the beach or south. We sure as hell weren't wandering into the bush.

"Joey?" asked Forest. I shrugged.

"Let's go this way," said Becca. "South."

"Sounds good," I replied.

We walked in half inch deep water that ran over our toes every few steps while we breathed clean salt air. It was like time stood still out there. No cars, people, or asphalt. The only reminder of civilization was a plastic bag or bottle that had washed up on shore. The morning was cloudy, and it caused interesting shades of dark blue and light green on the surface of the water.

Driftwood was scattered all over the beach. We passed one piece that was longer than a car and looked like a dragon pointing at the sea. I wished I could keep it. A flock of sandpipers stayed out in front of us, prancing around the shallow waters looking for fish and crabs. Each time we would get close they would fly another fifty yards down the beach.

"Mr. Peterson's rambling on right now," I said.

Forest laughed. "Don't jinx us man. This may be a dream."

"Wouldn't that be some shit," I replied. "To fall asleep in his class, dream you're here, think it's real, then wake up back there?"

"Ugh," said Forest. "He's lucky, man. Always trying to get me kicked out. You can bet your ass strike three would have ended with him in the hospital."

"I had a big test that was going to take all day today," said Becca.

I laughed, "Really?"

"Yeah at a new school. I'm never going back."

Forest shook his head. "We stole a boat and left the country. That's a big deal. If we go back, it's going to be to prison or juvenile hall."

"Plus stole a scooter and the guy at the dock. You think that was attempted murder?" I asked.

Forest shook his head, "Nah, I don't think so. I'm not sure what they would call that. It would depend on the judge."

"Let's just not get caught," said Becca.

"We need to talk about that, about getting caught," replied Forest.

"What about it?" I asked.

"We can't get caught," said Forest. "No matter what that means or what we have to do."

"Alright," I answered. I figured with Becca and I around he wouldn't do anything too crazy.

"Up ahead," said Forest. We had only been walking for a half hour when we noticed an inlet. As we neared, we saw what looked like a narrow, shallow river that flowed between thick green vines and palm trees. The river was shallow and looked like an easy walk. At some point I figured we would have to leave the beach and see what we could find further inland.

"Should we go down this?" asked Forest.

"Do you remember this island on a map, Joey?" asked Becca.

"A little. It's big. I remember that."

"Do you remember anything else?" asked Forest.

"I'm not positive, but I think I remember there were towns on the eastern side of the island."

"And this is the western side?" asked Becca.

"Right."

"Okay, let's do it then," she said.

We left the beach and began walking down the narrow, shallow river. The water barely reached our ankles in most places, but occasionally we would hit a deep pocket and sink to our waists. I kept noticing these little brown crabs. When we approached they would hold up their claws like two pistols and scatter away quickly, then disappear into the sand. They were everywhere, and I thought about trying to catch one to eat. It seemed like it would be a frustrating ordeal though.

We reached a fork in the river and slowly came to a stop.

"Well?" asked Forest.

"I think we're pretty much wandering at this point," I replied.

Forest nodded and went right.

The water grew deeper and changed to a milky green color. One side of the river was now lined with these thick, large bushes that had exposed roots that reached into the saltwater. It felt like we were in more of a jungle now, and at one point I saw the tail of a large lime green iguana disappear into the bush.

"What's that?" asked Becca.

"What?" asked Forest. "Look," she said pointing to a tree that had a long vine wrapped around it. On the vine were purple berries the size of ping pong balls. We approached and saw that the vine was filled with them. Some were green and others dark purple.

Forest held one up and asked, "Can you eat this?"

"How the hell should I know?" I replied.

We each pulled off one of the large mysterious berries. Someone had to try it. We were hungry and needed to know whether these were poisonous or not.

"Joey, your turn," said Forest.

"What the hell do you mean my turn? When was it your turn?"

"I cleaned the fish."

"I took the first bite and it tasted like shit. If it's anyone's turn, it's yours."

"It's my turn," said Becca.

Before we could stop her, she took a small bite of the berry in her hand.

"How is it?" I asked. She chewed a little while and gave a thumbs up.

"It's really good. Sweet," she said.

Very true. It was soft and sweet, unlike any fruit I had ever eaten before.

"Damn!" said Forest. We quickly began ravaging the tree, stuffing what we could into our mouth and throwing the rest in Forest's backpack. We piled so many in there we could hardly zip it shut. The large sea grapes, as we called them, were a game changer for us.

With the edge off our hunger, we strolled down the turquoise river and Forest intermittently sang Bob Marley. "Everything's gonna be alright now, everything's gonna be alright."

We had walked for what felt like four or five hours, taking a short break every hour or so. The river seemed to continue east, but would sometimes head what felt like north, before returning to an easterly direction. It was widening, and parts in the middle were getting deep. For the first time we started noticing footprints. Shoes, boots, and sometimes bare feet. The tracks made us walk slowly and keep an eye out for people, but so far we were alone.

The river turned almost ninety degrees as we entered what looked like a large shallow lake. It was as clear as glass, and I noticed a silver fish chasing minnows twenty yards from us. It actually looked like a tiny version of the same fish we caught on the Andros. Becca seemed to be tiring out, and my calves were starting to cramp up. I felt like we should stop for the day.

"Look at all of those birds," she said. "If I had more energy I would run through them."

Becca pointed to a flock of at least 200 resting seagulls on the other side of the lake.

Becca groaned.

"What?" asked Forest.

"Blisters," she said. Forest took a look around.

"It will be night soon. Let's find a place to camp."

Becca sat in the sand and took off her shoes. "I don't think I even needed these. But I was afraid a crab or something would bite my toes."

"Yeah," I replied. "I kept wondering if something was going to jump out of the bushes."

Becca laughed. "That's why you had that stick. I wondered," she said.

"What could jump out of the bushes, alligators?" she asked.

"I have no idea. But it felt like I was in a movie and something crazy was about to happen."

Becca took off her shoes. There were large blisters on both heels. The skin on the left one was torn off, revealing bright pink on the inside.

"Sorry, Becca," I said.

"Hurts. Should I put them in the saltwater you think?"

I stood up, "I don't know. I'll look around and see if I can find something that might help."

I walked the small strip of sand that separated the overgrowth and vegetation from the water. The lake was serene, and it somehow made me feel calm. Further east we could barely make out what looked like small buildings. Forest was scouting around, perhaps exploring or searching for something, I wasn't sure. I turned my attention toward the variety of plants. I noticed some large palm like bushes that were a few feet high. The leaves came to a point, but the body of the leaf felt soft to the touch. I started ripping of branches and brought a pile of them back to Becca.

I placed them on the ground next to her.

"There isn't much, but you can prop your feet up on these. We can probably figure out a way to make a bandage out of them, too."

Forest walked up as I was talking.

"To help with her blisters," I said.

"That shit isn't gonna work," he said. "I need to scout out that road. Those houses in the distance. I can find something there."

"Alright. I can stay with Becca," I said.

"No," Becca replied. "Go with Forest and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"No, he needs to stay with you," said Forest. "I'll be back in an hour or two."

She looked tired and didn't seem to have the energy to fight him on it. I was happy to hang out with her and chill for a little while. My calves felt like hell. Forest walked across the lake and took an inlet that headed southeast. He turned a corner and disappeared into the brush. For the first time it was just the two of us.

"Where are we supposed to use the bathroom?" she asked.

I looked over my shoulder and around. Not sure what I was looking for. "I guess anywhere. I think you're supposed to dig a hole."

"No way. Uggghhh," she groaned and stood to her feet.

She walked down a path between palm trees with a slight limp. Her white t shirt was soaked at the bottom with brown and green stains. I watched her and realized she didn't belong out here. Not to say she wasn't tough enough to handle it, she just didn't fit. I would expect to see her at a club, on a bench wearing nice clothes talking to her friends, presenting something, I don't know. It just didn't seem right at all.

I felt my stomach turn. I must have eaten one too many of those sea grapes and could tell I was going to have to take one volcanic shit soon. I tried to take my mind off of it. I dug a small hole in the sand and watched it fill with water. I started building small dunes around the hole and pretended it was a village of tiny people that drove stick cars. Suddenly, a sea monster came up from the notorious lake of death and swallowed four of the houses within seconds, which left the rest of the village in a state of fear and panic.

"What are you doing?" asked Becca. She made me jump.

"Digging for clams," I said.

Becca sat back down. She let out a deep breath and put her face in her palms.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I feel so nasty," she said in an agitated voice.

I felt a little nervous and started biting one of my fingernails. I looked up at the sky for rain and then around us for signs of Forest.

"C'mon, let's go swim," I said standing up.

Becca looked up, "Good idea."

She stood up and started to take her shirt off then looked at me.

"Not looking." I turned away from her and walked out into the clear green saltwater lake with Becca behind me. I heard her wince when the open blister entered the saltwater.

With the exception of the footprints, it felt like we were in a hidden world. A place unaccustomed to everyday bullshit. The only sounds were birds. The air was warm, but not hot. Nightfall was approaching but still at least an hour away. Seagulls flew back and forth alongside an occasional heron or green bodied parrot. It was awesome.

# 12

Once I got to about waist deep, I stopped and submerged my whole body underwater. Becca, about twenty feet from me, did the same. Now she looked like she belonged. Her hair slicked back just below her shoulders with her eyes closed.

"Better?" I asked.

"Yeah. How bad does my hair look?" she asked. "Like on a scale of one to ten, ten being like Medusa and one just bad."

I looked at her confused. There wasn't anything wrong with her hair.

"It looks great."

She looked at me like I was a freak. It made me realize she didn't appreciate her beauty. Maybe that or she just didn't realize it. I was unsure. We made our way back to the small beach in front of the lake. Forest had left a large pile of sea grapes at the base of a palm tree.

"Want one?" I asked pointing to the pile.

"Nooooo. At least not now," she said.

We sat for a while without speaking while the sun began to disappear over the horizon.

"In one of our first foster homes," said Becca. "They had a hill behind their house. Forest and I used to watch every sunset together on that hill. I loved it."

"Sounds like they were nice," I said.

"We weren't allowed in the house until bed time. It was crowded enough inside with their own kids."

"Oh," I replied. "I can relate to that. Remember my best friend I told you about?"

"Timothy?" she asked.

"Yeah. We would do the same thing. But it was in a field, and we didn't want to be inside."

At the same time we both heard the sound of footsteps approaching around the corner.

Becca quickly turned around and stood up. "Forest," she said.

"Well, now what do we have here," came a strange, deep, raspy voice. I stood up next to Becca.

Two men turned the corner. Where I grew up you learned to spot trouble pretty damn quick. It was all in the facial expressions. Their faces would light up a little, almost like they were friendly, but really they were just excited about taking something.

They looked to be in their twenties or maybe thirties, both with long dreadlocks. They were muscular and over six feet tall. The one on the left had skin the color of charcoal, the one on the right had lighter skin and carried a machete. They wore dark faded vests with no undershirt and baggy pants. The pants had loose threads at the bottom that dragged in the water.

"Whatsup," I said. They didn't even look at me when I spoke. They confidently approached Becca.

"How are you feeling today, beautiful?" asked the dark skinned man.

"Becca," I whispered. "Run!"

We sprinted toward the overgrowth, and I heard Becca scream. I quickly stopped and turned around. She hadn't even made it three steps before one of them had tackled her. The dark skinned one had his hand on top of her head pushing the side of her face into the sand and his knee on her back.

I rushed back. "Don't touch her!" I shouted.

The one pushing Becca's head into the sand stared at me and tilted his head sideways.

The other one with the machete laughed and locked his eyes on mine. He smiled and casually walked my way. The veins on his forearm were pulsating from the grip he had on the long blade. I could feel my heart pumping like a freight train. My palms were sweating and my throat was locking up. I hated to admit it, but I froze like a damned frightened animal. I tried to shake it, but I couldn't.

The dark skinned man stood up and pulled a machete from a sheath on his waist that I hadn't seen before.

"Wait," he said.

The light skinned man stopped about four feet from me. He looked evil as hell. They both did. The dark skinned man held the point of his machete to Becca's head and said, "Stay down," as if talking to a dog. Time seemed to freeze for a moment. I was beginning to get my head straight and thinking again, but there just weren't any options. Couldn't run, couldn't fight. This was it.

"What's your name?" asked the dark skinned man.

"Joey."

"Joey, are you a businessman?" The man was smiling and it freaked me out.

"No."

"Well, you can start now. Business is about choices, making the right ones. I'm going to give you a choice today."

I nodded and tried my best to look calm.

"You can die in fifteen seconds give or take a few. We will use this bitch for a little while then kill her. That's one choice. Do you want to hear the other?"

I nodded and whispered, "Yes," more softly than I wanted to.

"See that tall pine over there?" he asked pointing with his machete.

I turned around and saw a towering pine about 200 yards away through the overgrowth.

"Yes."

"Go there. Sit and wait. We will be done with her in an hour. She will meet you there alive. Ever mention this to anyone and we will find you both, and we will kill you slowly."

I swallowed some spit and looked at Becca. She was turned the other way, and I couldn't see her face. I could tell her body was trembling.

The light skinned man took another step toward me and raised his machete as if to swing. "Ok," I said quietly and held my hand up. I turned around and started walking away.

"Joey," said the dark skinned man. I turned around.

"Remember me well. I gave you life today."

I continued walking and heard the light skinned man say, "You too nice, Monti."

"They are lucky. Now, little bitch, you treat us right."

I couldn't hear birds anymore, just my heartbeat. My mind went blank and dark. The only thing I could manage was robot like steps toward the pine tree.

The sound of a slap. "No!" I heard Becca yell in a trembling voice, and then muffled crying.

I just kept going. One step, another step, another. Then something happened in my chest. Heat. It formed until I felt like I was going to explode. I gritted my teeth so hard I could feel the grain coming off while tears started pouring down my face. Sadness turned into rage. I wanted to fucking kill them.

I turned around, ready to face the fuck out of suicide. I tried to think through the volcano. I walked faster, faster. There were no sticks or rocks. What I would do for that fucking knife.

The world around me was getting smaller. No blue water, no fish, no birds, no palm trees. Only two men, twenty feet away now and closing fast. I bent down quietly and picked up two handfuls of sand without stopping. The last patch of high grass folded down before me. Fucking tiger. There was nothing between us now but air.

Becca was on her back without a shirt, barely moving. The dark skinned man had one hand over her mouth and was using the other to pull off her shorts. His friend watched. He sensed something and began to turn around. The fear was gone. I closed the remaining ten feet like it wasn't even there. He was able to lift his Machete up a few inches before I smothered sand in his eyes. My arms around his body, I drove with my legs like it was a tackling drill. The left side of my face pressed against his side.

I leaned in and bit as hard as my jaws would allow. I felt his blood on my tongue. The man screamed and tripped backwards. We fell into the sand. Groin. Groin. It was like the word was a fucking billboard in my head. I released my left hand and struck the area three times then felt for whatever lump of meat I could get my hand on. Pressure, squeeze, twist. He convulsed into a ball, coughing. I reached for the machete and pulled just hard enough to free it from his hands. Blood ran down my fingers.

There was no time to stand. I bear crawled to Becca in a storm of flying sand. The dark skinned man punched her in the side of the head and grabbed his Machete. He tried to stand, but I swung first. The blade went halfway through his left forearm. A splash of blood flew into the air like spraypaint. I swung again and pulled the blade out. A streak of silver flew below me. Pain started on my left side and shot through my body. His machete turned red. I felt blood gushing over my stomach and thigh. I swung a second time and hit his skull. His face was now covered in blood. The dark skinned man was moving slowly. I should have stopped. Instead I swung again and again and again. He was motionless. I was empty of everything but adrenaline and rage.

I lifted the machete over my head again. My right arm stopped in midair, and the handle was forced out of my grip. The light skinned man threw me to the ground. Becca latched onto his leg, and he kicked her in the face. I was running out of life and luck. This was it. He quickly raised the blade. I put my arm over my face and watched him from one eye. The man's head tilted way back like it was being pulled from behind. A knife quickly appeared in front of his neck. It made a deep slice across his throat.

The man collapsed. Forest stood there with his fingers wrapped tightly around his blood-soaked knife. There was momentary silence. Wind blew over some palm trees, rustling the branches together. Becca cried uncontrollably. Forest dropped his knife and went to his knees to hold her. My head crashed to the sand. My mouth was dry with a mixture of sand and blood that reached down to my throat. I didn't move, only stared at the same group of stars. Orion.

Becca put her bra back on.

"Here," Forest handed her shirt to her.

"See if Joey's okay," she cried.

Forest approached me. Both men lay dead in the sand, one at my feet, the other above me. I knew I may be dying, but I couldn't believe I was still breathing and that they were dead, not me.

I felt lightheaded, cold, and wanted to go sleep.

"You're cut bad man, really bad," said Forest. "There's some caves about a mile that way. Can you walk at all? We gotta get out of here."

"We have to stop the blood first," said Becca while tears still flowed down her face.

Instead of putting her shirt on she ripped it down the middle. "Lift your arm Joey," she said.

Becca pulled the shirt tight around the large gash that ran along the base of my ribs. She fastened it around my side in a large knot. The adrenaline was starting to wear off. The cut felt like someone was holding a flame onto my skin.

I was able to stand up, but not sure how long I could walk. There was no way in hell I could go a whole mile. Becca spit on the man that tried to rape her. That was the last time I looked at him. Five minutes before he was full of so much life and confidence. I knew that face would haunt me.

"We have to move them," said Forest. He grabbed the ankles of the dark-skinned man and drug him into the nearby bush. He did the same with the other man then kicked away his foot prints.

"Let's go," said Forest. "Joey, tell me if you need help."

"We have to bring Joey to a hospital, not a cave," she snapped.

Forest didn't say anything. Instead he looked at me to see how I would respond.

I shook my head, "No," I said.

"Joey, you could die," said Becca.

"It's ok. Let's go to the cave," I answered.

"No," said Becca.

"He's right," said Forest. "We're fugitives from another country that just killed two people. They won't believe a damn thing we say. We'll be old and gray by the time they release us from whatever cage they lock us up in."

It was dark out. The moon was covered and only revealing a tiny slice of light. The wind had calmed down, but it still blew enough to keep most of the bugs away. Every step hurt. I had some kind of stinging rash between my legs but I hardly noticed it because of the burning in my side.

"Walk in the water," said Forest. "It will be harder to track."

My head hung low while I kept pressure on the wound. My shoulders slumped. I tried to enter a trance by focusing on the monotony of my feet in the water.

"Who were they?" asked Forest.

"I don't know," said Becca softly. "They walked up on us and tried to rape me."

"They tried to kill Joey first?" asked Forest.

"No," she said. "They said he could live if he walked away. And they would rape me and let me go when they were finished. Or they would kill us both."

"Did he walk away?" asked Forest.

"Yes."

"Then what the hell was all that?"

"He came back," she said.

"To fight?" asked Forest.

"Yes."

"Without a weapon, just his hands?" he asked.

"Yes."

My knees betrayed me. I went down on all fours. The taste of sand and saltwater filled my mouth and made me cough, which hurt like all hell.

"Forest!" shouted Becca. They rushed toward me.

"C'mon, brother. Only a little further," said Forest. I was still somewhat conscious, and it felt strange hearing him call me brother. He grabbed hold of my right hand and draped it over his shoulders. We continued down the trail through dark waters and high grass. I tried my best to stay awake and lighten his load with my feet.

"Are we close?" asked Becca.

"Those big rocks up ahead," said Forest.

With my head down I rolled my eyes up enough to make out the large shapes. They looked close, very close. The tough part was knowing that up ahead was nothing more than a place to hide. It would be cold, hard, with nothing to sleep on but rocks and sand. No food, water, or blanket. Nothing. Before I didn't give a shit. Now my body felt like pure hell. But the point of no return was a long ass time ago. We had to keep pushing on.

# 13

As we approached the rock wall, we saw an opening the size of a car twenty or thirty feet from the water's edge. In the dark it looked like a whale that was hoping to swallow us.

"There," said Forest, breathing heavily. Smelling his breath made me feel guilty. Maybe I could have pushed myself more the last few minutes and not been such a burden. I pulled my arm away from him and managed the last few steps to the entrance of the cave on my own. The floor was dry, cool sand. The rock walls were dark with condensation, and small streams of water formed in different places.

"Right here," said Forest. The sound of thunder rumbled in the distance and was moving closer. Instantly I collapsed, hitting the ground so hard it caused my ribs to convulse in a throbbing pain that I could feel to the tips of my fingers.

"Roll over on your side, Joey," said Becca. Her voice was sweet, but I just wanted to be left alone. I shut my eyes and shook my head. There would be no sweet dreams tonight, only the faces of death and lost hope, like air being let out of a balloon.

"Joey," she said.

"Shhh," I snapped.

I felt Becca's hand on my shoulder. There were no blankets, sheets, pillows or medicine, but her hand felt pretty awesome.

"We need you to roll over, Joey," said Becca.

I tightened my face and gritted my teeth. My body throbbed like a migraine. I just wanted to sleep or die. That was it.

I felt her inspecting the ratty shirt tied around my ribs.

"Should we take this off?" asked Becca. "We have to clean his wound."

"I can't see shit." said Forest. "Is he still bleeding?"

Becca ran her hand along my side. "I think so," she said.

"Wait, I got a half roll of toilet paper," said Forest, who started rummaging through his backpack.

"Okay. Anything else?" asked Becca.

"A couple of water bottles. That's it."

"Water?" she asked.

"No," said Forest. "But I saw some pools in the rock above us. Has to be fresh."

"Go get some," said Becca.

"I can't see anything. It will be morning soon," said Forest.

Becca looked like she was about to slap him. He nodded and stood up.

"Joey," said Becca. "I'm going to untie this."

Man, what I would have done for her to just leave me alone. She pushed me over slightly, and it felt like a hundred needles shooting into my side.

"Let me just cut it," said Forest.

Forest pulled out his knife to cut the shirt tied around my chest.

Becca slapped his hand, "Clean your knife, fool!" she said in a loud whisper. I caught a glimpse of the blade. It looked like it had been soaked in red paint that had partially dried.

Forest walked out of the cave.

He popped back in and said, "Saltwater,"

"What about it?"

"To put on his wounds," he said.

"Hell no," I grunted.

"I don't know," she said. "Let's wait. Right now we need to get the bleeding to stop. Get him some water."

Becca took the toilet paper and gently brushed my wound.

"What's it look like?" I whispered.

"A long gash, deep," she said.

"How long, how deep?"

"A foot long, two inches deep. I think. Maybe just an inch deep."

I could feel Becca covering the wound with the toilet paper. I knew it was still bleeding from the drops streaming across my lower back and stomach.

"Im going to keep my arm on it to apply pressure," she said.

"Ok."

Becca laid down behind me and I felt her left arm wrapped around my ribs. My eyes grew heavy as I watched what I first thought was a giant spider, but was actually some kind of crab, crawl along a crack in the cave wall.

"Joey," Becca whispered from behind me.

"Hm."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Ok."

Throughout the night Becca would occasionally wake me up and place a water bottle at my mouth. I drank, and it tasted fresh. Thunder cracked repeatedly, but we felt removed from the storm inside the cave. We were lucky to have a shelter. My body remained in agony, but I was so exhausted that I didn't have any problem sleeping. I wished I could have stayed asleep. The entire night Becca kept her arm around my ribs. Occasionally I would open my eyes, half wondering if I was dead and half if I would spot another creature crawling on the cave wall.

The next morning I woke up to the sound of gentle waves and seagulls squawking. I immediately noticed I was alone. "Shit," I whispered.

My head was pounding, and my body felt like it had been through a blender the day before. I lifted myself up slightly to look around, hoping there was some sign of Forest and Becca. Nothing. They could've left me, figured me for dead. Becca wouldn't, but I didn't know about Forest. He was a tough one to read.

I would die here. I tried to go back to sleep while I watched the enchanting blue water out of the opening in the cave. My mind started to believe it was a painting. It looked so bright out there. I closed my eyes, and the dark face taunted me. The image of the machete slicing halfway through his forearm. The knife on the man's throat. I opened my eyes and watched a few drops of water forming on the cave ceiling ten feet above me. Why couldn't they have left us alone?

Before I fell back asleep I heard footsteps and tried to turn my head to see. Becca was entering the cave with palm branches.

"This will be your bed," she said. "I want to get you off the sand."

She tore off the sharp edges and matted the palms down into a thick mat.

"Thanks," I whispered in a scratchy voice. I thought they had assumed I would be dead by morning and left. I was glad I was wrong. Becca was wearing one of Forest's black t-shirts with the sleeves cut off and her hair tied back. She looked focused on making the bed. I marveled at the beauty and mystery of that girl. I was glad I fought, even if I did die.

My mind frequently drifted back to the blood. I knew I didn't have to kill him. The dark skinned man's deal was ruthless, but he did spare my life when he had the chance to kill me. If I could have started over without the rage, I would have hacked once or twice at his arms and let him run off. But seeing Becca on the ground like that had made it impossible. She didn't belong there in the sand, in that position. Fuck them.

"Joey, can you roll over on your back?" asked Becca. She had pressed the bed of palm branches up underneath me. I nodded and started to slowly roll backwards, very slowly. It felt like I had acid eating away at my skin.

I moaned and truthfully wanted to cry like a baby it hurt so bad.

"I'm going to change out your bandage," said Becca.

"You mean toilet paper," I replied. She laughed, but I suppressed the urge to join her. If I did it would feel like my chest was about to explode.

She held a water bottle to my mouth, and I drank.

"Do we have much water?" I asked.

"It's everywhere on the rocks. Where the waves don't splash."

"Where's Forest?"

"Looking for food."

Becca grabbed a sea grape from a pile they had made on a rock. She tried to hand me one, but I didn't want to eat anything.

"Here," she said.

I shook my head. "You have to eat, Joey."

"No."

Becca sighed and held up the sea grape between us. I looked at it and her blonde silhouette in the background. "Eat," she whispered. I shook my head.

"Shhhhhh," she said gently and slowly put the seagrape up to my mouth. I ate it out of her hand. As much as I didn't want to eat, that was impossible to resist. I slowly chewed, and the sound of the waves and her presence lulled me back to sleep.

When I awoke again, I saw Forest bent down with his face close to a pile of sticks and a cigarette lighter in his hand. He was blowing into the bottom of the sticks, and I could see smoke rising slowly from the pile. It looked like it was evening, which seemed odd.

"Is it night again?" I asked. Forest turned to me.

"Becca! Joey's up." shouted Forest.

Becca came into my field of vision with something in her hand. A crab.

"One more," she said and threw the crab in a bucket next to Forest.

Becca put the water bottle to my mouth, and I drank.

"Here," she put a handful of sea grapes into my hand. I wished she would feed them to me. I still wasn't hungry but ate two of them.

"Joey, check this out," said Forest. He reached his hand out into the bucket and pulled out what looked like a big lobster.

"Damn," I whispered. Forest laughed.

"How?" I asked.

"There's a rock ledge out there in chest deep water. I could see its antennas sticking out."

It almost looked like a giant bug the size of someone's head. It had the body of a lobster, but no claws. Instead there were two long antennas that had rows of spikes on them. It was like a medieval lobster.

Night began to fall, and the site of the small fire brought me comfort. Forest had ripped the tail off of the lobster and was roasting it over the fire with a stick. Becca was doing the same with two crabs. I hadn't moved and was constantly in and out of sleep, mostly in.

"How do you feel, Joey?" asked Becca.

I shook my head. Not much to say. Like hell. Dying. I didn't know.

Forest looked at me. "Try and hang on," he said. "We have water, meat, and fruit now."

Becca took a palm branch and made a plate. She put a small handful of lobster and crab meat in a pile with five or six seagrapes to the side. She placed the plate in front of me.

I reached out with my left hand and ate a piece of the lobster. It was delicious, but I just wasn't hungry.

Becca and Forest sat on opposite sides of the fire, eating.

"Should we stay here?" asked Becca.

"We have to," said Forest. "Joey needs time. We have food, water, shelter. When the police find out, if they haven't already, they will be scrambling all over the island. We have to keep our heads down."

I hated to tell them that I wasn't getting any better. The more time passed, the worse I felt. My body felt hot and the wound even hotter. My eyes grew heavy again, and I welcomed more sleep. It felt like I was being slowly drained of life. Each time I drifted off, I wondered if it was my last.

I felt a deep sting along my wound, and it caused me to slowly come out of the blackness and open my eyes.

"Joey!" said Becca.

"Yes," I whispered.

"You've been asleep all night and day. You have to eat."

"What are you doing?" I mumbled.

"Checking your wound," said Becca.

I gnashed my teeth as she pulled away strips of toilet paper. I could hear Becca exhale loudly. "Forest, look," she said.

"What is that? Is it better?" he asked.

"No, it's infected," she said.

"Shit," said Forest.

"Joey," she said with her hand on my shoulder. "We have to take you to a doctor."

"No," I groaned and got up a bit more strength, "No!" I shouted.

I faded again into the dark. Time passed, but I didn't know how much. Becca would occasionally pour water into my mouth, but at times I thought it was only prolonging my agony. I was losing my will to live and just wanted to sleep with the hope that I wouldn't wake up.

I opened my eyes and felt piss dripping down my legs. I noticed Becca and it freaked me out, embarrassed. She had a bucket of water and was wiping it off me.

"Becca," I grumbled. "No. I'm sorry. No, you don't need to."

"Shhhh," she whispered.

I lacked the strength to fight her, and I faded out again. The smile of the dark skinned man turned to blood and haunted me in my dreams.

Hours or days later, something jolted me out of a deep sleep, and I opened my eyes to see the cave wall above me. I was still here, still breathing. I heard crying. I tilted my head to the side to look. It was Becca, sitting in the sand and leaned up against the cave wall. Her eyes closed, tears streaming down her face.

"What's wrong?" I whispered.

She looked at me. Even, in my daze I still marveled at her. She possessed so much beauty, toughness, and compassion. Damn.

"I'm afraid you're dying. You stopped drinking water. You won't let us take you to a doctor," she said.

"No."

"Why?" she asked.

"You and your brother still have a chance. Just let me sleep. You don't need to help me anymore."

I put my head back and started to close my eyes.

"Joey," whispered Becca. She seemed close.

I opened my eyes and saw her silhouette now above me. The brightness from the outer layers of her blonde hair glowing in the sun made me squint. Her face was slowly getting closer to mine. What the hell was she doing? She was getting closer, closer, closer.

I felt her lips on mine, and electricity surged through my body. For a moment I was frozen in shock. Then instinct took over, and I started moving my lips the same way she moved hers. The tip of her tongue reached to mine, and my eyes shot wide open. I couldn't die now, no way in hell.

It was the first time I had ever kissed a girl. I didn't remember how long we kissed. We had left time behind. In the cave I was even less conscious of it. Surely it was an hour or more. I knew I might still die, but now I would die fighting. Afterwards, she made me drink water. We didn't talk. Talk felt cheap. A light wind blew from the south, a smile eased over my face, and I fell asleep.

I wasn't sure how long I slept, but I was awakened by Becca's smooth lips once again. I opened my eyes and could tell it was early morning. We had been in the cave for days, maybe even a week. I wasn't sure.

Becca took her lips away and said, "You need to eat."

"Ok, I'll try."

"Can you sit up?" she asked.

I was sure that I couldn't. "I'll try."

I lifted my head and chest forward and pushed myself up with my right elbow. The pain shot like thousands of arrows inside of my body. My face tightened, and I shrieked. I collapsed back down to the bed of palms, breathed deeply, and waited for the pain to subside. I could see Becca from the corner of my eye. She had both her hands through her hair, pressed against her head.

She leaned over me and said, "We'll try again later."

She bent down and kissed me for a third time. Nothing could take my mind away from the pain like her lips. It was like another world that I wanted to stay in, but the sound of footsteps rattled me, and my eyes shot open. Becca continued kissing me. Oh shit, it was Forest.

"What are you doing?" he asked. I knew this wouldn't be good.

Becca sat up and turned toward him.

"I'm kissing Joey. Is that a problem?" she snapped.

Forest rested his makeshift spear on the wall of the cave.

"No. No it's not," he answered.

"How is he?" he asked.

"He's hanging in there," she said.

Forest looked me over. "He looks really bad, Becca."

She turned to me and back to him. I could see her eyes tearing up.

"Can you try and find medicine? Anything that might help him, anything?" asked Becca.

"Ok. Now?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Becca.

Forest took a sip of water from his jug and left the cave. I drifted off to sleep. My dreams started changing from the dark skinned man to beautiful Becca. She was all I could think about. So smooth, so sweet. Hell, I looked forward to waking up. That soft, wet sensation on my hard, dry lips dulled the pain and sometimes almost made it disappear. I waited for her to gently pull me out of unconsciousness. Instead, I heard the unwelcome sound of a native voice.

"What have we here? Hello. Hello in there."

I opened my eyes, it was around midday. Becca was across from me sleeping and starting to stir. Suddenly she shot up. I moved my head enough to see the wide entrance to the cave. There stood a man. He had on ragged shorts and no shirt. He had the darkest skin I had ever seen in my life. It made the white of his eyes look like light bulbs. He was old, maybe sixty or seventy, with long unkept dreadlocks and a missing front tooth. It looked like one of his cheekbones wasn't there or was sunken into his face. Becca lunged for the knife that Forest had left at our camp. She tightened her right hand around the handle and stood between the two of us like a tiger ready to pounce. The old man raised up his hand.

"Is everything okay, miss?"

"Get the hell out of here," she snapped.

He took a step back and tilted his head to the side to get a look at me.

"Your friend looks sick."

"He's fine," she said.

He shifted his focus from her and the knife to me.

"Let me have a look at him, please," said the old man. He took a step toward me.

"Do not take one more step," said Becca, holding the knife up in a fighting stance. I could hear the sound of someone approaching. "Forest!" she yelled. The footsteps grew louder and faster.

Forest appeared at the cave entrance and quickly threw the intruder to the ground. The old man stood back up and dusted the sand off his face. Becca handed Forest the knife.

"Who the hell are you?" asked Forest.

"I live on the island. My name is Agwe."

"Well get outta here. If you tell anyone you saw us, we'll kill you."

"But your friend is hurt."

"That's our problem, not yours," said Forest. He pointed out of the cave entrance with his knife. The old man looked me over.

"I need to bring him to a doctor." He stepped toward me. Forest clinched his knife tight.

"Stay back, old man. He doesn't want to go to a doctor."

The old man called Agwe stopped. He looked very small standing next to Forest.

"Ok. Then he can come to my house. I will help him. Young man, he will die here. I am going to help him. He is coming with me." Agwe walked toward me. Forest moved in front of him.

"I swear," said Forest. "You're about to get your throat slit, old man. Joey, it's your call. Just say the word and he's dead."

Agwe bent down next to me. "Hello, Joey," he said in a thick Bohemian accent. I wasn't sure what to do. He was one of the ugliest people I had ever seen. He would probably rat us out or worse. We looked at each other. I didn't know what to make of him, and I didn't understand why he was so damn insistent.

The old man put his elbows on his knees. He smiled and said,

"It's okay. You need help. I don't have much, but it looks like you have even less than me."

I swallowed and slightly coughed. I felt like I should go with him. The only reason was because of his eyes. They were filled with kindness. I nodded, slowly.

"I'll go with you," I whispered.

"He isn't going anywhere without me," said Becca.

"Well you're not going anywhere without me," said Forest.

My eyes grew heavy, and I just wanted to be left alone to sleep. "All of us, please," I whispered.

Agwe turned to Forest and Becca. "You are all welcome, but my home is very small," he said.

"That's okay," said Becca. "Do you have medicine?"

Agwe bent down to inspect my wounds in more detail. "Not the kind you buy in stores," he said.

"Then what?" asked Becca.

"He needs fish and coconut milk. Bugs for the wound," said Agwe.

"What do you mean bugs?" she asked.

He looked at Becca. "Maggots. They will clean it."

"Where do you live?" asked Forest.

"Around the point, two hundred feet past the southern tip. A mile or a little more."

"How do we get there?" asked Becca. "He can't walk. Do you have a boat?"

"Yes," said Agwe. "No motor, but strong oars."

I drifted to sleep but was quickly awoken by the shooting pains that spread across my ribs and my entire body. I opened my eyes for a moment and saw Forest holding both of my feet. Becca and Agwe each had an arm. I saw an old wooden rowboat on the beach in front of us with chipped white paint and aged wooden oars on each side. I continued to drift in and out of consciousness. Several times I opened my eyes to the bright sky, the sound of waves, and a creaking boat.

It was much warmer than the cave. The sun was directly overhead, and I felt the heat all over my body. Becca would occasionally kiss my forehead to get my attention and pour water down my throat. After that, I felt like I was in the land of dreams for a while. Days passed. I would semi-consciously swallow water, fish, fruit and quickly fall back to sleep.

# 14

The next time I awoke there was a thatch roof over my head. My mouth tasted coconuty. I felt a nice breeze and heard a strange sound. It took me awhile to realize what it was, a chicken. Immediately I realized my body felt better, and I may even be able to stand up. At the moment, though, I didn't want to. The bed beneath me was amazingly soft, stuffed with feathers or some shit like that. I sat up in the bed and felt the pain in my ribs, but I could take it. The pain wasn't nearly as intense as I remembered. My wound was ugly, but less puffy, and there were some sort of bugs flying all over it. I remembered what the man called Agwe said and left them alone.

The room was small with sandy concrete floors and cinder block walls. There was a large window without glass that let in the breeze and two doorways, both missing an actual door. The open doors made me feel relieved. I obviously wasn't in jail. One led to another room, and it looked like the other went outside. I slowly stood up. Immediately my legs buckled, and I felt lightheaded, but I didn't faint. I stood still for a moment then took a small step. That step felt glorious. Now I knew that I wouldn't die.

"Hello. Hello!" There was no one in the house, so I slowly stepped toward the doorway that led outside. I rubbed my eyes, still trying to get used to the light. A black chicken walked by. There was no driveway or road. I was in the backyard, but there was no fence. It was a large sandy area with seven large tree stumps around a fire pit. An old shack stood to my left. There were no walls, just four beams and dozens of scraps of tin to make the roof. Under it was a table about waist high where flies were buzzing around something bloody.

"Hello? Forest, Becca?" There was no response. I was alone. I knew the ocean was really close, because I could smell it. Past the firepit was a mixture of thick palms, high grass, and vines that looked like sea grapes. There were two distinct trails, one to my left and one to my right. I wanted to see where they led, but thought it best to find something to drink. A lone seagull flew above me heading west, fighting wind out of the same direction. It was quiet, peaceful.

It kind of felt like I was high up, at least for the Bahamas. I turned around and faced the house. Damn. It looked like a piece of tropical fruit. Lime green on top, lemon yellow on bottom. Thatch and palms formed the roof, with what looked like a few pieces of tin where it must have been leaking. There was an old gate on the left side of the house that was covered in vines. It served no purpose, but in years past I could imagine a walkway there that led around front.

I stepped back into the house to the room where I slept. I walked slowly through the other doorway. To my right there was a short hallway and one other room. Continuing on led to the only other room in the house. There were no decorations, not a single painting, nothing. Whoever lived here didn't spend much time inside. There were a total of six windows in the large room, two on each side. They hadn't been cleaned in a long time. In the far corner of the room I saw another mattress like the one I slept on and Forest's backpack next to it. In the other corner a similar mattress, but fluffier.

There was a front door, but no knob or lock. The other side of the room had a long counter with some cabinets and a sink. Above the sink were two windows that looked out into the backyard and next to it, another doorway that led out. There was an actual door there with chipped white paint and a makeshift handle that looked like a piece of driftwood. There were no switches on the walls. No lights on the ceiling, lamps, TV, or anything electronic.

I walked to the kitchen. There was a pile of peeled coconuts to the right of the sink. Next to them was a hammer and a piece of metal that kind of resembled a screw driver. I grabbed one and pounded the metal through the top of the coconut. Some of the milk splashed out, but I quickly held it over my head and drank.

I tested out the sink, and to my surprise fresh water flowed out of the spicket. There was running water, but no electricity. I looked around. There wasn't a bathroom anywhere.

"Becca," I whispered. I had to find her and make sure she was safe.

I walked out back and took the trail to my right. My movement was slow, probably half speed, but I could manage.

I took a quick look back at the house and noticed a small shack I hadn't seen before. It looked like an outhouse, and there was a hose strung up above the makeshift paneling that looked like it served as a shower. That was good.

I meandered my way along the well worn trail between palm trees, vines, and lot of these yellow flowers that were in groups of five or six. I had never seen them before, and the bright yellow with no spots really stuck out along the trail. In front of me the blue appeared. The gorgeous blue. I stepped out on a large flat rock that overlooked a rocky shoreline. The crystal clear water contained patches of dark blue and light green. There were waves hitting the rocks, but they were small, maybe knee high.

"Hello? Becca!" My voice seemed to echo. No reply. Damn. Where the hell were they? It was a short walk back to the house, but I was moving like one of those giant tortoises. I made my way back and took the trail to the left this time. It was different and steep. There were no flowers, and I was surrounded by high grass all the way down. I turned a corner near the base and the lookout was jaw dropping.

There she was. Becca lying down in the sand, a bathing suit on with some leaves or something covering her eyes. What the hell? Was she tanning?

I lifted my face to the calm blue waters and saw a wooden boat about 500 yards out. A black guy and a white guy. The old man and Forest looked like they were fishing. No way in hell. It was all a lot to take in and quite the shift from what I last remembered. I looked back at Becca. Hot as hell Becca. An open mouth smile appeared on my face. I wanted to run out on that beach like a madman.

Then I felt like I got hit by a ton of bricks. The kissing. It was a dream. Son of a bitch. No. Damn it. I couldn't believe I dreamed that. The smile was gone while I tried to remember. Wait, was it real? Probably not. Damn it, I just couldn't remember. I wanted to go down there and see them, but I had to remember. Shit. I racked my brain so hard. I needed to know, because it would make all the difference in how I approached to her. What if I tried to kiss her, and she knocked me out like I was some creepy lunatic. But it was vivid, like I could recall with crystal clarity the taste of her lips. But it also had a dream-like feeling to it. I had no idea, but logically it would make sense that is was a dream. Shit.

I walked out onto the beach with a slight limp, barely visible I hoped.

"Becca," I said.

She popped up. "No way!" she shouted and ran toward me.

She hugged my neck, "Oh my God. You're walking."

"I feel a lot better. How long have we been here?"

"A few days. You would only open your eyes for seconds at a time, but we could tell your coloring was coming back." I looked at her lips then got nervous and moved my attention to the boat. I was even more unsure than I had been before.

"They're fishing?" I asked.

"Yeah, but it's way different. Agwe knows what he's doing."

Becca held her hands around her mouth, "Forest! Agwe!" she yelled.

They turned their attention toward the beach, and Becca pointed at me. Forest stayed seated, but Agwe raised his hands in the air and started doing some funky dance on the boat. He looked like he was motioning to Forest to pull the lines in. They started rowing toward us. Forest on the oars and Agwe standing on the bow.

"Do you like it here?" I asked.

"Definitely," said Becca.

"Have any police been around?"

"We're really secluded," she said. "His house is almost at the end of the island. He said it's about a mile down the road until you reach the next house and another mile before the first town. We don't know anything else. We haven't been here that long."

"This worked out good," I replied.

"Yeah," she said with a smile.

"Does Agwe know about the guys we killed?" I asked.

Her expression changed to a much more serious one, and she shook her head.

Forest and Agwe neared the beach, and Agwe jumped out into waist deep water. His face lit up with an enormous smile, like I was his long lost cousin or something.

"Joey!" he shouted. I nodded and gave him a slight wave. He reached out to give me a big hug, and I held up my hands to stop him. He remembered my pain and backed away.

"Joey! You are better now, yes?"

I nodded, "Yeah. I think so. Thanks."

"Thank Becca. Your nurse."

I looked at her a little sheepishly and said, "Thank you."

"Have you had something to eat, drink?" asked Agwe.

"Coconut milk."

"Good! Now look," said Agwe standing beside me and pointing to the sky.

"What?"

"See that cloud?"

I took a quick look at the large fluffy white cloud he was pointing to in the distance.

"Mmhm," I mumbled and nodded.

"It's yours Joey. You don't have to buy it, work for it. That is your cloud to enjoy. Let us enjoy it together."

What the hell? Agwe stood next to me, smiling at the sky. I continued looking as it seemed like the polite thing to do, and he had been very kind to us. We stood there quietly, our attention upward.

"It is brilliant, Joey. We take it all for granted. Imagine if you lived your whole life in a box. Ten years old you step out of that box for the first time. Would you be able to stand it? Would you collapse at the sight of that cloud and the unending blue behind it?"

"Yes, I think I would." I liked Agwe immediately.

"Yes, come, let us eat," he said.

"Did you catch any fish?" I asked.

"No," said Agwe. We were not fishing. We were diving for conch. The sea was kind to us. We will have conch and eggs for breakfast."

"Check it out, Joey," said Forest. I walked with him to the old boat. He pointed at five large shells, the kind you would see in a souvenir shop. It was the kind people said you could hold up to your ear and hear the ocean.

"You eat these? How?" I asked. Forest shrugged.

"Agwe said they're awesome."

"Is he a little crazy?" I asked.

"I don't know," said Forest. "Maybe. But if he is, it's the good kind of crazy. Not the kind you have to watch out for."

"Cool."

Back at the house I noticed there were a lot more chickens. They must have been hiding before. At least ten swarmed around Agwe along with a small black and white dog that looked old, and kind of like Agwe.

"He doesn't chase the chickens?" I asked.

"Oh no," said Agwe reaching down to pat the dog's stomach. "He protects them. This is Chico. He welcomes you."

Suddenly I flashed back to the bloody face. The sting from the blade entering my side, the sights, the sounds. I tried to block it out of my mind. I had only been awake for an hour, but the thought of being caught by the local police force was the monkey already on my back. I walked around the side of the house to get a glimpse of the road. It wasn't much of one. There were weeds four feet high in the middle, and even from a distance I could see huge potholes.

"You don't have a car?" I asked.

"Oh no. I enjoy walking to town. I do have an old bike, but it is broken. The fastest way is to take the rowboat around the eastern shore to the marina at Queens Bluff."

We got lucky. We were in a good spot, like a hideout. But I was worried about being blocked in with only one road in and one road out. If the law did come down that road, we would hear them, no doubt about that. It was deathly quiet out there. There were only the sounds of animals, birds, the wind, and waves. Nothing else, nothing. I looked around and eyed the two trails. If we did hear a car, we could hit the trail to the rocks. There would be a million places to hide there.

# 15

Forest held up one of the large shells from his sack. "You sure you eat these?" he asked.

"Ha ha!" laughed Agwe. "Can you eat these?"

Agwe grabbed his knife and cracked the back of the shell. He stuck it in, twisted the blade, and pulled out a large fist sized piece of white meat.

"Wow," I whispered.

He cut off a strip of dark meat from the conch.

"We save this for fish bait. Snapper and Grouper."

He sliced off another dark piece across the top. "This is the head, for the chickens. They will turn it into an egg."

He tossed the meat on the ground and the chickens flocked to it like a school of piranhas.

"We are left with this." He held up a nice piece of meat the size of a small chicken breast.

"Please tell me at least one of you has had conch and eggs for breakfast before?" asked Agwe. We shrugged.

"Ah, well then get ready. This will change your life."

Forest started putting sticks in the firepit like he had done it before. He grabbed what looked like a cotton ball with dead grass and twigs and put it under the sticks. He quickly scraped a piece of flint and steel together to light the cotton.

"I'll get the salt," said Becca.

"And crushed red pepper," said Agwe. "Also an onion on the counter."

"Okay."

I watched her walk through the back doorway into the kitchen. If I could just be alone with her, I could get a sense if it was a dream. But it must have been. She would have held my hand or something. I watched Forest slowly add sticks to the lit flame. They all seemed to be in a natural rhythm, and I felt like the odd guy out.

"Joey," said Agwe. "Let me teach you to clean conch."

I walked over with my slight limp. The table under the metal roof was old and stained with blood. Old fish scales were worn into the wood like tattoos. There were so many cut marks that I couldn't identify them individually.

"See." Agwe took one of the conch and cracked the back of the shell. He handed me another one.

"Now you," he said. I pounded the shell with the butt of the knife in the same place he did.

Agwe took his knife and stuck in in the hole with a twisting motion. He handed me his knife. "Now you." I did the same.

He reached his hand in the front. "Now pull."

I followed his movement, and out came the conch.

"I can do the other two," I said.

"Good," said Agwe.

Agwe cooked ten eggs and the conch together in a large pan over the fire. He mixed in the onions, red pepper, and salt. It smelled pretty damn awesome.

"There's no electricity in the house," I said.

"That's right," replied Agwe.

"So you always cook over fire?" I asked.

"No. The fire for cooking fast, the sun for cooking slow. You can also cook the fish with salt. Brining I think you call it."

"That's cool," I said.

Agwe smiled, "I like it. More flavor."

We were each given a wooden plate with a large portion of conch and eggs, some sort of plums, and coconut milk. He didn't have a table inside or outside. Just these seven tree stumps of different shape and size around the fire pit. That was where we ate. The food was delicious. I felt my strength coming back, and quickly.

"Good?" asked Agwe. "The only sound I hear is chewing. Must be good," he said with a bright smile.

"Awesome," said Forest.

"So. Now that Joey is awake," said Agwe. "I understand you did not want to discuss it before. But I have taken you into my home. So, how is it you find yourself on this island?"

With mouths full of conch, the three of us awkwardly looked at each other. No one wanted to say a damn thing. He saw us in the cave where I almost died from a machete wound. We obviously weren't on vacation with our mom and dad.

"Where are your parents? Your families?" asked Agwe.

Forest wiped his mouth and spoke up.

"Don't have them. We're orphans. We went to the same school in Miami. We took a boat and sailed here on our own."

Agwe's eyes grew wide. "Thank you for your honesty, Forest."

"Now what about that?" Agwe pointed to my ribs.

"I know that cut," said Agwe. "Know it very well. It was a Machete."

Becca and I both turned our attention to Forest.

"Think we'd rather keep that to ourselves," replied Forest.

"You are in my home. I need to know," said Agwe.

"It would be better if we left. What I say will incriminate you."

"You are welcome here, but I need to know."

I knew Forest was about to tell him, because Forest wasn't a bullshitter. It just wasn't his style. Agwe was shooting him straight, and he was about to do the same. I knew it. Shit.

Forest put his plate down and looked up at the sky.

"Hiking through those flats on the other side of the island."

"Along Hawk Creek?" Agwe interrupted.

"Does it open up into a big lake?" asked Forest.

"Yes."

"That's it. Two guys walked up while I was gone. They tried to rape my sister. Joey fought. I heard the screaming, ran to them, and helped fight 'em off. Joey took a bad cut."

"I'm so sorry, Becca," said Agwe with a painful expression. She nodded and looked away.

"What happened to the other two?" he asked.

"They're dead," replied Forest.

Forest kept his face steady toward the horizon, stone-faced.

Agwe took a deep breath. He had his elbows on his knees and his chin rested on his hands, clasped together in a single fist. He said nothing and watched the ants that crawled around the pit searching for crumbs. We did the same. It was eerily quiet. Several minutes passed by, and we could tell he was about to say something, so we turned our attention to him and waited.

"I'm an old man. My memory is not so good. What were we just talking about?" asked Agwe.

"I don't remember either," said Forest.

"No matter," said Agwe. "As I said before, you are welcome here. In this place we don't strive, we live. We hunt, we fish, we trade, tend the animals, pick fruit. We take long naps in the middle of the day."

"I think I belong here," said Forest.

"Perhaps you do. Joey, you need to go easy for a while," said Agwe. I nodded.

Becca smiled. She grabbed her plate and mine.

"No, I've got it," I said and followed her into the house. My eyes always trailed downward when I was behind her. I was trying to break that habit, afraid I looked like a creep. It was one thing to glance, but I kept staring. She put her plate down on the counter next to the sink.

"Where do you sleep?" I asked.

"Over there," she pointed to one corner of the living room.

"Oh. You take the bedroom now. I'm good," I replied.

She acted like she didn't care, but I didn't really pay attention to that, and I moved my things out of the bedroom and to the corner, across from Forest. I put her blanket and small bag of clothes in the bedroom. When I walked out Becca was standing in front of the kitchen window. She had her hands in her hair. She seemed frustrated,` and her eyes looked sad.

"You alright?" I asked.

She put her hands down.

"Yeah. It's just my hair."

"It looks good."

She looked at me like I was full of shit. I remembered that look from the time I called that bait a quaza. Her eyes rolled and her left eyebrow shot straight up.

"But it does," I said.

"Joey, it's a damn freak show. Look."

She put her fingers through her hair and tried to lift them out, but they got stuck.

"Oh what I would do for some shampoo and conditioner. I need a job."

"I'll ask Agwe," I said.

"Trust me, he doesn't have any."

"Is that all you need?" I asked.

"Yeah. Well," she replied.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What?"

"Ugh. Tampons."

"Oh. I might be able to find out something."

"No, just don't worry about it."

Around back Agwe was scratching Chico's belly.

"Hey Agwe," I said softly.

"Yes."

"Becca needs some things."

"What kind of things?" he asked.

"Shampoo."

"Oh. I don't have that."

"Right, but how do we get it?" I asked making sure she wasn't outside yet.

He patted the dog, looked up, and scratched his chin.

"A mile down the road on the left is Mrs. Phoebe's home. She may know something or be willing to trade."

"What's her house look like?" I asked.

"She lives in an old white house with blue shutters. The color of the sky, not the ocean. There are chickens in the yard. She is probably there now, sitting on her porch drinking tea."

"Thanks."

I drank some water from one of the coconuts.

"Where you going?" asked Forest.

"I'm gonna go talk to this lady about making a trade. Becca needs shampoo and stuff."

Forest looked around for a moment. "I guess I'll come along."

We left Agwe's house in search of Mrs. Phoebe. The narrow road was a mixture of rocks, clay, and gravel that was laid ages ago. There were craters that held water from the recent rain. Tall pine and palm trees lined both sides of the road. Thick brush and sago palms that reached overhead made it feel like we were in a tunnel with no breeze. It felt good to walk, even if I was slow. Our pace probably drove Forest crazy, but he didn't say anything. Still, I knew I would be sore as hell in the morning.

"Thanks for coming," I said.

"Yeah. I've been wanting to scope out the island anyway," replied Forest.

"So no one's come asking around?"

"No," said Forest. "Just a matter of time though. Someone will miss them."

"Yeah."

"We might be able to get another boat," said Forest.

"I don't know," I replied. "I think it's different here. Their boats mean more to them. They would notice if one went missing."

"Oh yeah, reminds me," said Forest. "If you're on the boat with Agwe, don't call the bow the front."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's the only time I've seen him annoyed. Bad omen he said. I asked why the different words, and he said boats are different, they earned them. Something to do with respect. I think I understand that now."

"Yeah. I get that. Man, I don't want to steal a boat here," I said.

"I don't either. So do you feel like you're back from the dead or what?" asked Forest.

"Yeah. I dreamed a lot, man."

"About what?" asked Forest.

Shit. Don't say it Joey.

"The fight. Becca."

"Becca?" asked Forest.

Damn it.

"Yeah, don't flip out. I can't even come close to defending myself, and I can't control my dreams. But I dreamed she was kissing me, and it helped me stay alive."

"Psh," said Forest. "You didn't dream that. She was kissing you all the time."

I didn't say a thing as the gravity of what he just said slowly sunk into my brain. Oh hell yes. I made myself keep a poker face, but I wanted to raise my hands and scream.

In the distance we could see what looked like a clearing. As we neared, another chicken ran by. I really didn't expect to encounter so many chickens. There were several shack-like houses on both sides of the road. It was laid back, very laid back. To our right we noticed an elderly dark skinned man without a shirt sitting on his front porch and smoke rising from the wooden pipe in his mouth.

"Where you boys coming from?" he asked.

I pointed behind us. "Agwe's house."

"How you know Agwe?" he asked.

"He's been friends with my grandpa since they were kids," I replied. The old man nodded, satisfied with my answer. "Headed to town?" he asked.

"No sir, trying to find Mrs. Phoebe's house."

"Right there. Go around back," he said pointing a few houses over.

"Thanks."

Forest and I walked up to the old house, which seemed a bit nicer than the other shacks nearby. A ratty looking dog that looked way too furry to live in the Bahamas came from behind the house. He let out one lazy bark and then sat and scratched the back of his head. Forest knocked on the side of the house before we went further.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Phoebe?" I said loudly.

"Who's dat?" she asked.

"Forest and Joey. We're staying at Agwe's house down the road."

"Come on back," she replied.

We walked around and saw a large woman in a rocking chair with a colorful bandana on her head. She had a coffee mug in one hand and an old book in the other. Her backyard was very well kept and had a number of vegetable gardens and fruit trees. There was a large chicken coop, and two big goats were chewing on the brush at the edge of her yard.

"So how can I help you boys?" she asked.

I spoke up. "It's a little strange." Forest looked at me funny.

"Won't bother me," she said.

"We're new here. His sister needs some things like shampoo and tampons, and we don't know where to get them."

"Ah. Hard to come by on this island. They not in Queens Bluff, two towns over, fifteen miles. You need a car. They also more expensive than where you from."

"Do you have any?" I asked.

"I sure do, new box. You looking to buy or trade?"

"Trade," said Forest.

"Do you fish?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am," Forest replied.

"Good. In town I got a shop. I sell bread and jewelry. The tourists pay good money for the jewelry. I need to make more necklaces, but I've run out of the shark teeth. Big sharks swim the edge of the reef at night. Bring me the head of a five or six footer, and I will give you the box and some shampoo."

"Deal," I said.

"Good. When will you have it by?" she asked.

"We'll go out tonight. Hopefully, tomorrow morning," I answered.

She nodded, and we made our way back down the road toward Agwe's house. I waved at the old man on the porch, and he gave me a nod while he blew out smoke from his pipe.

"Alright," said Forest. "So, we have to take that old rowboat out tonight. Catch a big shark, cut of its head, and bring it to this lady for some shampoo and tampons?"

"Yeah," I answered.

"This is some bullshit," said Forest.

"I have to do it for her, man. She's done a lot for me. I can't do it on my own right now."

"Oh I'm going with you. But remember that crazy ass fish we caught that tried to kill us? Andros was way bigger than that little wood boat. If we catch a shark, we put it in there with us? How does that work?"

"I have no idea, man," I said. "I guess we just figure it out on the fly like everything else."

We made it back to Agwe's house and walked around back. Becca heard us coming and came outside. When I saw her my face lit up way too much. It was obvious and awkward.

"Where did you guys go?" she asked.

"Down the road. We wanted to check out the area," said Forest.

"Did you see any cop cars?" she asked.

"No," said Forest. He grabbed the wooden spear he had made that was leaning up against the side of the house. He left for the trail that led to the rocks.

She looked at me. It was like her green eyes could look into my soul. I could never keep up a stare with her. It was too much, and I always looked away.

"How are you feeling?"

"Not bad. But I think I'll chill out for a little while. We're going fishing tonight."

"That's probably not a good idea, Joey."

"Oh, we'll be fine."

"Okay, but remember that last fish we caught?" she asked.

"Yeah," I smiled. "We were just talking about that. We'll be careful."

She turned to go back inside.

"Becca."

She stopped and looked back. "What?" she asked.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Keeping me alive."

She put her fingers to her mouth and slowly blew me a kiss. I wanted to ask her why she kissed me before. Was it just to keep me alive? That would be very noble. Was that all? Could it be that she was actually attracted to me? I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window. Since the escape, I was leaner. That was the only good thing. My hair was hellish, and I noticed dirt under my eyes. I made a note to jump into the ocean more often.

# 16

Night fell, and Forest and I walked down the sandy trail to the coral beach where Agwe kept the rowboat. I thought about Becca a lot. I wanted to move forward but didn't know how. I wanted to take the initiative but just didn't know how. The moon was rising, three quarters full. It was a clear night, and the ocean was calm.

With us we carried a small leather bag that contained three snappers. Agwe called them yellowtails, I assumed because of the obvious bright yellow tails. I wasn't sure what the actual name was for the fish. They were a bit larger than the size of my hand. He told us to hook the fish in the back and slice its throat and stomach open before tossing it into the water.

We threw a large mango and a few small bananas into the boat, as well as a bottle of fresh water. We had two handlines, the kind used for big fish, and a large hook tied to each one. The hooks looked medieval. They were coated in rust but felt strong. Forest grabbed the back of the rowboat and started dragging it to the water's edge. I grabbed hold of the side to help pull, but was of little to no use. Forest knew it and was cool enough to act like he didn't notice.

We got on opposite sides of the boat and led it out into waist deep water. It was different at night. During the day the water was as clear as a swimming pool. At night it was black and mysterious. Forest sat in the stern between the two oars.

"You take the bow," said Forest.

Forest began rowing, and we were soon at least a hundred yards out.

"How deep is it out here?" I asked.

Forest pointed to a patch of water.

"About thirty yards off starboard is where I found the conch. It was about eight, maybe ten feet deep. Thirty-two. thirty-three."

Forest was counting off the number each time he rowed. Agwe said that every twenty-five rows was about a hundred yards in distance. We needed to get out 400-450 yards offshore to reach the edge of the reef where it dropped off to deep water. He said to go at least a hundred rows and at the most a hundred and fifteen.

"I keep expecting to see the police coming down the road," I said.

"Yeah, me too."

"You think Agwe will say anything?" I asked.

"No. I know he won't. Sixty-seven, sixty-eight."

Just then a large fish broke the surface of the water.

"Chasing something," said Forest.

"Man, this boat feels small, eh?"

"It is small," he said. "How long was that sailboat?"

"Twenty-seven feet," I replied.

"This must be like twelve," said Forest.

"If that."

"Agwe loves this boat. Calls it cousin," said Forest.

"Let's not sink it then," I said.

"Yeah, One hundred six, One hundred seven,"

The boat slowed and came to a stop. Forest shook out his arms. "I feel that," he said.

Agwe's house was still visible on the horizon, but not by much. He had his only lantern hanging from a branch to make sure we didn't get turned around at night. I pulled one of the yellowtails out of the bag. There was no smell. It had been caught earlier that day and was still fresh.

I handed Forest the fish, and he quickly sliced its throat and stomach. I pushed the large hook into its back and pulled it out the other side. I tossed the fish out about ten or fifteen feet off the bow and let the current slowly take out more line. It was thick line, the thickest I had ever seen. The spool was like a square board and made of wood. It felt very strong and looked like it had fought many big fish.

It was quiet, dark, and downright spooky. Every movement we made on the boat seemed too noisy. Forest threw out his line. The current was moving us and our baits further out to sea, but at a tired pace. Agwe had told us if a big shark hit, not to panic and not to lose the line. He said that any six footer on a handline would have no problem pulling us out of the boat, so be strong and stay focused. If one of us hooked a shark, the other was to bring his line in and help fight the fish. He showed us how to leverage our body in the boat to battle the shark and keep from going overboard. The last thing he told us was to do well, because grilled shark steaks with lemon and garlic salt should not to be missed.

The moon had risen and mesmerized us. I was taken in by the peacefulness of the world around me. We could see nothing but the moon, stars, the reflection on the water, and the lantern hung by Agwe in the distance. We could hear nothing, and it seemed like all creatures were asleep. I felt a slight breeze and took a deep breath. It was like my soul began to calm. Forest sat with his feet hanging over the side of the boat, slowly letting line out inch by inch.

"Peaceful," said Forest.

"Yeah, I was just thinking that. You probably shouldn't have your feet hanging over the side, man."

"Yeah," Forest scooted back and put his feet on the sides of the old boat.

"What do you know about Agwe?" I asked.

"Not much. He was born in that house."

"No shit?"

"Yeah. You know that trail beside the chicken coop?" asked Forest.

"Yeah."

"It goes down to some rocks. There's a big one he dances on every morning while the sun rises. He sings, softly."

"What's he singing?" I asked.

Forest shrugged. "I don't know. Songs I've never heard."

I felt a tap on my line and wondered if it was a fish or my imagination.

"Locals are gonna wonder about us," I said.

"I don't know. That lady didn't seem to take much notice," said Forest.

"Yeah. Still we should get a story together if we get called in."

"It won't matter, man," said Forest. "Our bloods all over that place, especially yours. It would just take some testing. If they come for us, we're caught. Simple as that"

"Then what?" I asked.

"I don't know about you," said Forest. "But I'm running or fighting. Not rotting in a cell."

"I don't even know where we could go, man," I said.

"What if we keep heading east?" asked Forest.

"Another island in the Bahamas. If we missed that then, shit, Africa."

'Nope," said Forest.

"There's some places southeast of here. Tourist islands I think."

"Northeast?" asked Forest.

"We would freeze our asses off," I replied.

"That's Canada, right?" asked Forest.

"The really, really cold part of Canada. Like Eskimos. Polar bears."

Forest laughed, "That'd be something. Sail past a polar bear. Like damn, turn around."

I laughed, "It'd be a ghost ship. We'd be skeletons by then anyway."

A half hour or so passed with no bite. I wondered about Becca constantly.

"What's Becca usually doing now?" I asked.

"Taking care of you."

"The whole time?" I asked.

Forest pulled his line in to check the bait. It was whole, not a nibble. He tossed his bait back out. I watched the flat surface break with dozens of slowly expanding circles.

"Every five minutes," said Forest. "She was feeding you, cleaning you, checking your pulse. I didn't know she had it in her."

"I need to pay her back."

"I think she sees it the other way around. She's probably enjoying the break. Agwe has a lot of old books. She also writes."

"Writes what?" I asked.

"Poetry."

Poetry. That made sense. I wondered if it would be weird to ask if I could read her poems.

"Hey, the fight we got into at Havana," said Forest.

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry. I don't regret much, but I regret that," he replied.

"It's okay. You were looking out for her."

With only my eyes, and barely any head movement, I shifted to view my far left. Forest watched his line in the moonlight. He did look like he belonged here. I wondered if that was possible, or just head games. To live in a place your entire life but not belong. Then to happen along the place that fits you like a glove.

"Sucks that that night happened," I said. "What are the odds of that?"

"Not too slim. It is what it is. It does suck though. I wish we could just stay here, man. I wouldn't need anything else. Ever," said Forest.

"I hate shit like that when you're minding your own business and some assholes have to mess everything up."

"Dead assholes," said Forest.

"I swear I see that dude's face every ten minutes," I said.

"It will fade," Forest replied.

"And turn into guilt," I responded. The lack of any noise or distraction made it easier to replay that night in my mind.

# 17

"Oh shit!" Forest jumped. I looked over to see the line burning out of his hand like a rocket.

"Here!" I threw him the old towel Agwe had said to wrap our hands with when a fish hit.

"Watch the spool, man!" I yelled, as it almost flew out of the boat. I quickly brought in my bait while the boat rocked wildly and we tried not to freak out.

"You're supposed to man the spool, Joey!" yelled Forest.

I stumbled to the stern of the small boat. It was sudden and total chaos.

"I've got the spool. Dude, it's almost out of line. We have to stop the fish."

Forest had a death grip on the line with both hands. I could make out veins bulging at the front of his biceps as he jerked repeatedly with each thrust of the fish's tail.

"How in the hell?" said Forest.

I watched the line on the spool and figured we only had forty or fifty feet left. The pressure was so intense it was causing the stern to nearly take on water.

"Remember what Agwe said?" I asked. "You're supposed to be on the bow." Forest let out a little more line to make the shift to the front of the boat. It sounded like he was plucking a guitar string each time the line rolled off his finger tips. He slowly eased his way along the port side, the weight of the fish dragging the back of his hands across the wooden rails.

On the bow, he held his ground while the line continued peeling out of his hands. Forest was only losing the battle, not even gaining a centimeter back. The last bit of line was approaching like someone hanging by their fingertips from the edge of a cliff. Thirty seconds, maybe forty-five and that would be it. There would be no fish, no line.

"Forest, this is it, man. We're about to lose the line. Wrap it around your hand. I will too."

"Ah shit," said Forest. The end of the line was now disappearing off the floor of the old boat. I used the base of my tshirt as a towel and wrapped the line three times around my right hand. Forest did the same. This went against all of my instincts, especially after the lessons learned on the Andros. But as I saw the last few feet of line slipping away, I knew we didn't have any other choice. We could lose the fish, but not Agwe's line.

"Joey, hang on for your life, man. This is Jaws' mother."

The boat surged forward. The pressure I felt on my right hand was shocking and probably nothing compared to what Forest was feeling.

"Which way are we going?" yelled Forest. His arms were fully extended while his head hung over the bow. I was on the floor of the boat, putting weight on his legs.

"I don't know. What difference does it make?" I grunted. The pain was starting to shoot from my ribs to the rest of my body.

"This won't work," said Forest. "If he dives we can't do shit but sink the boat and get our fingers ripped off."

"Damn it," I said, and looked around to get an idea of direction. "North I think. He's swimming parallel to the shore."

We were picking up speed and moving about twice as fast as we would be rowing.

Sweat was dripping from Forest like a leaking faucet above me.

"Shampoo and tampons," moaned Forest.

"For Becca," I responded.

"Yeah, for Becca," he whispered.

Forest was leaning further and further over the boat. He started with just his hands over the side. Within a few minutes that had changed to his arms and face. Then his chest was over the dark waters, and his feet were clutched under the seat with my weight on them.

"Dude, you're about to get pulled in," I shouted.

"Can you just make sure you got my feet, man?" Forest mumbled. "I don't want to swim with this thing."

"I got you."

The pulling grew in intensity. The fish wanted him in the water, and I held onto him with the little strength I had. I looked up and watched the stars to try and take my mind off of my body.

"Damn, I'm thirsty," said Forest.

"Me too. Can you see anything?" I asked.

"No, but he's slowing down."

"Still parallel?" I asked.

Forest tried to look around. "I think we are going in circles. The lantern is closer."

"Good. Hang in there, man," I replied.

"Fishing is some crazy shit. Just don't let me go."

"I won't."

The boat was obviously moving slower. It gave us some needed hope that carried a shot of adrenaline with it. We had been fighting the big fish for at least forty minutes.

"Man, I can't pull the line," said Forest.

"What?"

"My muscles aren't working. I can't pull it in. I can only hold it."

"I'd switch with you, but I'm spent too."

"Just don't let me go," said Forest.

"I won't."

"Hey, did you hear that?" asked Forest.

"No."

"That. Laughing," said Forest.

My teeth ground involuntarily together while I lifted myself up to take a look over the side.

"It's Agwe on the beach," I said.

"Hooked one?" shouted Agwe.

"Yeah!" yelled Forest. "Help!"

"What's he doing?" I asked.

Forest slowly turned his head in the direction of the beach.

"Shit. He's dancing," said Forest.

"Damn it."

There were deep red marks appearing on Forest's chest from rubbing against the edge of the rowboat. "Your chest is about to start bleeding, man," I said.

He shook his head, "I'm hurting all over."

It seemed the big fish was ready to endure all night if he had to. I wasn't so sure about us.

"I come around to other side." It was the voice of Agwe, and he sounded close to us.

"He's close," I said. "Where the hell is he?"

I peered just over the edge of the port side while keeping my leg and right arm on Forest. I couldn't see Agwe anywhere.

""Over here, Joey," said Agwe.

I turned my head around and saw his shape in his dugout canoe. He was paddling behind the boat and away from us out to the ocean. "What are you doing?" I shouted.

"We need to push him to the beach," said Agwe.

"How?" groaned Forest.

"You hold on. Don't give up," said Agwe.

He paddled out in front of us to our starboard side some forty or fifty feet away.

"It's big," shouted Forest. "He's going to eat you and that little boat."

"No. We will eat him, Forest. Have faith!" shouted Agwe with a deep laugh.

He took his paddle and started smacking it against the surface of the water. The echo was so loud it almost sounded like a gunshot. The fish turned toward the beach and took us with him.

"Have you ever had Shark steaks over a wood fire, pimento wood that is?" shouted Agwe. "Shark steaks that marinated all day in coconut milk and spices?"

"No," we both said in tired voices.

"It will change your life," said Agwe, as the echo of the paddle smacking the water continued to pulsate through the air. "Do you feel it, Forest?" he asked.

"I feel like shit," said Forest.

"You feel much more than shit," said Agwe.

"What the hell is he talking about?" I asked.

"I'm just trying to ignore him," mumbled Forest.

"The wind on your back!" shouted Agwe. "The power of the fish in your hands. The stars reflecting on the dark water. Watch them! Watch them as they pass slowly under your boat. The smell of salt and the taste of sweat in your mouth. The feeling that you might drown or get eaten. The pain in your muscles and sting in your eyes. The sense of nobility rising in your chest while you grind into the depths of yourself for your sister and your friend. Not shit. Life! Life!"

Agwe smacked the water again like a madman. We were now only sixty or seventy feet from shore, but the shark was swimming parallel now and wouldn't move any further to the shallow water.

"What next?" yelled Forest.

"Jump out of the boat and move to the beach. Pull him onto land," said Agwe.

"That can't be right," I told Forest.

"Then what if he takes out all our line? Then what?" yelled Forest.

"Then you get back in the boat for round two," said Agwe.

"Oh, hell no," I mumbled from the floor.

"It's too deep," yelled Forest.

"No. Not even to your waist there," shouted Agwe.

"Just doesn't seem right to get in the water," I said.

"You can let me go Joey."

I released Forest's legs, and he immediately went face first into the water. Agwe was right. The water didn't even reach his waist. I hopped out, or more like flopped out, and held onto the boat. The rush of the cool salt water felt refreshing.

"Now you can pull with your legs," shouted Agwe. Forest leaned back and slowly moved toward the beach.

The fish made a sudden surge back to deep water and we quickly lost what little ground we had covered. At this point I wasn't doing much. But I stayed with Forest in the dark, waist deep water. We both scanned the horizon in hopes of seeing the fish.

"Fin!" shouted Forest.

"I didn't see it."

"Big fin, man," he said, too exhausted to say more.

"Shark fin?" I asked.

"I have no idea. I guess."

Within seconds Agwe was beside us. He took the spool and let out ten feet of line.

"Joey, grab the end. Now we can pull him on the beach together. Get a strong grip, wrap the line half way on your right hand. One, two, three."

It felt like we were dragging a car out of the ocean. Forest and Agwe were facing the land, but I walked backwards and kept my eye on the dark water around my feet. We slowly made our way to knee deep water. The fish was still at least a hundred feet further out.

"Rest. Count to ten," said Agwe. "Nine, Ten, pull!"

We were almost to the beach. I turned around and could make out a large, dark shape slowly gliding back and forth in the water like a submarine.

# 18

"Don't let him turn to the sea," said Agwe.

"How big do you think he is?" I asked.

"Longer than a man," he replied.

My heart raced like a freight train. I was sure there was less than fifty feet of line out. I had never felt anticipation like this before.

The shark started to reveal itself. It was without a doubt longer than a man. Its head was massive, and I immediately wondered how it could be cut off. The broad gray fin on its back was almost the length of my arm.

"Don't let him turn!" shouted Agwe. "Everything now! No stopping!"

We made one last glorious sprint to the beach. I didn't know how much help I was, and I tripped several times, but it felt so damn alive.

"Good!" shouted Agwe. "Forest, Joey grab his tail!"

The shark splashed violently in water less than a foot deep.

"What?" asked Forest.

"His tail! Pull him backwards out of the water," replied Agwe.

The two of us hesitantly neared the massive shark. To my surprise, I went in for the tail first and wrapped my arms around it like I was putting it in a headlock. Forest grabbed on with both his hands. He pulled, and I pushed as hard as I could. With my back to the shark's teeth I felt vulnerable as hell, imagining it would flip its head around and rip off my ass.

The shark was now on dry land with only his teeth touching the water. I quickly took five steps back and collapsed in the sand on my ass, which was still intact.

"Yes!" shouted Agwe.

Agwe held the wooden paddle over his head and yelled, "Thank you!" to the sky.

"Fine job, Forest and Joey. We will eat well."

It felt good to just sit and stare at the monster in front of us. That shark made us feel like we could do anything. It was at least seven or eight feet long, thick as a barrel. I felt like it was staring at me, wishing it had legs so it could walk over and tear off mine.

"What do we do now?" I asked.

Agwe walked to a large stick protruding out of the sand. He pulled it out, revealing a needle like point on the other end.

"Who?" he asked offering the butt of the spear to either of us. Forest stood up and took the spear out of his hands. Agwe leaned over and pointed to a small area on top of the shark's head.

"Right here. Very hard."

Forest lifted the spear and struck it in the exact spot where Agwe pointed.

The shark's tail flipped hard twice. Its whole body seemed to vibrate for a second, and that was it.

"Good," said Agwe.

"Go up and rest for an hour. Get some water and mangos. Then come back with the saw next to the chicken coop. Saw off his head here on this line. Then make a cut from here down the belly. Pull out the insides and throw them in the water. The tide will carry them over the reef to the delight of its inhabitants. Then we drag the rest up the trail. We skin it, slice it into steaks, and salt it. Good job. Very good job, men."

We staggered up the trail to Agwe's house. The lantern was dimly lit now, and there were a few burning coals on the fire pit. Forest picked up a few pieces of wood from the pile and threw them onto the fire. I pushed open the old door and entered the small house to grab a coconut. Agwe kept fresh ones in a metal box on the makeshift kitchen counter with a wet towel over them. I opened the box and pulled one out. The cool, sweet milk felt awesome on my dry throat.

I wondered if Becca was asleep, so I walked around the corner to take a quick look. There were only two bedrooms in the house, each no more than ten feet wide by ten feet long, maybe a little less. They had nothing in them but a bed and a few scattered things on the floor. Surprisingly, the beds were made of goose feathers that made it feel like sleeping on a cloud. The fine mattresses seemed really out of place in Agwe's house, and I planned to ask him how he got them. There was nothing like lying down on those after a day in the ocean. That combined with the constant breeze that blew quietly through the house at night, made us sleep like babies when we could stop thinking.

I thought I heard something unusual, so I barely cracked Becca's door to look in and make sure she was okay. I heard soft crying. "No," she whispered. She wasn't speaking to me.

I pushed the door open and slowly walked closer. She was asleep. There was a tear running down the right side of her face.

"Becca," I whispered. She continued crying.

"Becca," I gently shook her shoulder. Her eyes shot open. She instantly sat up in bed and took a deep breath.

"Joey," she said.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Bad dream."

"About what?"

"Memories," she said. "Did you go fishing?"

My face lit up with a bright smile. "Yeah, we caught this huge shark!"

"Oh shit!" her face beamed and she put her hand over her mouth.

"It was so crazy! We have to go saw off its head in a little while."

"What?"

"Yeah."

"What are you doing now?" she asked.

"Going to hang out with Forest by the fire. Rest a little."

"Want to hang out with me?" she asked.

"Hell yes."

"I want to see the shark," she said.

"Then come on."

We left the house and walked past the fire pit. Forest was lying down on palm leaves next to the fire.

"You got one!" said Becca.

"All for you, baby sister," replied Forest with his arm over his eyes.

"What?" she asked.

"He's tired. I'm gonna go show her the shark," I said.

"Sounds good," said Forest.

We made our way back down the trail. The wind blew gently from the south. It was cool out, but just cool enough to cross my arms or put my hands in my pockets. It was quiet enough that I could hear Becca's footsteps close behind me. We took a sharp left at the tall grass that waved in the breeze near the base of the trail. There it was like a giant grey submarine, exposed on the beach. I still couldn't believe we managed to pull it in with a handline, on a rowboat at night. I had never even caught a bream before that. My only two fish so far were the shark and that gray wolf on the Andros.

"Whoa!" said Becca.

"I know, right?"

"How did you get that into the boat?"

"We didn't, but it was pure hell. He drug us all over the place. Agwe paddled out and spooked the shark to shore. Then we jumped out and fought it onto the beach."

Becca reached out and stroked its back and top fin.

"It's not smooth," she said.

"I know. Looks smooth, but it isn't."

Being alone with Becca, on a beach, at night, captured my senses. I couldn't think about anything else. This was the moment of truth. I had to know if the kisses were just to keep me alive or more than that. I had to buck up and do this shit. I had just helped catch a huge shark, old school, and I was feeling pretty damn good about myself. My mind raced at what to do next. Should I just initiate a kiss right here, right now? But what if I did and she rejected me and it totally screwed everything up.

Becca and I stood as we both continued looking at the shark. I didn't know what to do next and the situation was turning awkward. How long could we stare at this shark without saying anything? Forget it. I had been through so much. I could do this. It was time to take some cold, hard, I'm gonna-do-whatever-I-want type, of initiative.

I took a few steps back and sat down in the sand with my legs extended and feet crossed. She looked at me and I at her. I patted the sand next to me with my right hand a few times.

"Excuse me," she said.

Ah shit.

I laughed it off, "I'm just playing," I said with a touch of nervousness in my voice. I was never psyching myself up like that again, at least when it came to her.

Becca smirked and sat down next to me. It felt so good. She could have just walked off, and I would have probably got into that boat and rowed away.

"You guys did really good."

"It wasn't a problem."

Becca laughed and pointed to the big shark with blood running down the left side of its face and across several four inch long teeth. "That wasn't a problem?"

"Oh. Yeah, I'm not sure why I said that. It was a pretty damn big problem."

"Hey," said Becca. "Can you do something for me?"

"Of course."

"Just always be yourself," she said.

"I'll try. But you're not just some dude. It makes it kind of hard."

She smiled and looked up at the night sky.

"Well, can you believe we're here right now?" she asked.

"Oh, hell no. I'm shocked."

"What a week," she said.

"Yeah. I think it just goes to show you. Sometimes you just have to be crazy. You never know how things may end up. Like, what if Forest didn't shout 'fire' in the dorm or swing the paddle at the dude on the dock. What if I didn't keep running or ride with that cop. What if you didn't kick that creepy guy in his shin. What if we had all been too afraid to cross the ocean without any water on a shitty boat. We'd be missing this. That's for sure."

"What about us?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind," she said.

Oh hell I should have said something better than that. Now was my opportunity, and it would be slipping fast. I had to say something, no matter how lame.

"I would do anything for you," I said.

Becca looked at me briefly then back at the sky.

"Anything," I said again.

That wasn't too bad. I could have said much, much worse. There was nothing but the sound of the ocean and breeze for a few long seconds.

"What do you want from me?" she asked.

What did I want from her? I thought it best to just answer.

"To be my girlfriend." I couldn't believe I just came out and said that. Now that was lame. I may as well have had a donkey mask on my head, damn it. I couldn't take that one back. Well, why stop now?

"Would you?" I asked. My chest was pounding, and I wasn't thinking very clearly at all. I wasn't sure about how you say those kind of things, but I was positive that I wasn't going about it the right way. I looked at her, but she wasn't looking at me. Her awesome green eyes stayed fixed on the dark water. She tilted her head slightly toward me so that she could just barely see me out of the corner of her eye. She nodded her head and smiled gently, signifying a brief yes.

My jaw freaking dropped, and I instinctively extended my hand. She took it and strung her fingers through mine. Son of a bitch! I loved how crazy she was.

That moment kicked serious ass. It felt almost like electrical impulses all over my fingers. Of course I was imagining it, but it felt real. Within seconds, she took every ounce of initiative and leaned over in front of me. Her lips and tongue quickly met mine.

I had experienced a lot at a young age. Most of it all sucked. I wasn't saying that because I was some whining bitch. It was just the truth. Not this, though. If there was a heaven on earth moment, this was mine. Becca's lips made my whole body feel alive. We kissed for an awesome hour, but it felt like five minutes. I would occasionally open my eyes to the sight of shark blood, dark water, and a starry night. Oh, hell yes. Over and over.

# 19

I heard a thud next to us and looked down at the large saw lying in the sand.

"Fun's over," said Forest. This would be an odd transition. I had never sawed off the head of a shark.

"Good luck," said Becca, giving us a thumbs up as she made her way back to the trail leading up to the house. We did as Agwe instructed and took turns sawing off the shark's head. For some reason I thought it would happen quickly. Not at all. It was bloody and took us at least ten minutes with the dull blade, most of the time spent severing the thick spine. It almost felt like we were sawing through a tree.

The head itself was the size of a big dog.

"Check out these teeth, man," I said, feeling the almost razor-like front edges of one of the teeth.

"I'm going to take one out," said Forest.

"We can't, man. These are for that lady."

"Yeah," said Forest. "That would suck if she said no because it was missing a tooth."

We took Forest's knife and made a slit from the base of its neck to its tail. Pulling out the insides was intense, and it made us a bloody mess. Afterwards, we took our clothes and washed them in the saltwater.The environment was physically harsh at times, but I was getting used to it. I hardly noticed the saltiness in the water anymore.

Forest spun around toward land.

"What was that?" said Forest.

"Sounded like a siren," I replied.

"Oh shit," said Forest.

"Shhh.." I whispered. We continued listening and scoped the outer woods toward the road, looking for the slightest flash, anything unusual.

"There it is again," I said.

Forest let out a deep breath. "It's a bird."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah, man. That's like the fifth time that's happened to me. It's these crazy parrots."

Together we managed to haul the two hundred pound shark carcass up to the house. I was beyond tired. Forest chugged some water and passed out on his goose feather mattress in the corner of the main room. While making my way to my bed, I heard the faint sound of crying again. I tiptoed to Becca's room. The door was shut, and I pressed my ear to it. It sounded like she was in pain or something. I reached for the knob and froze.

It would freak her out if I suddenly showed up in her room. I decided to just barely crack the door and try to see if she was okay.

"Are you okay?" I said in a loud whisper. "Becca, you okay?"

"Joey." I recognized the voice of Forest and poked my head around the corner to the main room.

"Yeah," I said.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Becca, she's crying or something."

"She has nightmares," said Forest.

"About what?" I asked.

"Remember I told you about that guy I shot in the face when I was a kid?"

"Yeah."

"Him."

I nodded. "You think it's okay to wake her up and see if she's alright?" I asked.

Forest shrugged.

I heard her say no again, and I decided to wake her up. I walked about halfway between the door and her bed. God she was beautiful, even when she was sad.

"Becca!" I said a little louder. "Psst!"

She popped her head up with her eyes wide open looking at me.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Why?" she said.

"I think you're having a nightmare."

She looked away from me at the ceiling. "I'm okay," she said.

I nodded and turned back toward the door.

"Joey."

"Yes."

"Will you do something for me?"

"Anything."

"Will you keep my door open?"

"Yeah."

"And will you sleep on the floor over there so I can see you?"

"Of course. Let me get my mattress."

I entered the main room and went to the corner opposite Forest. I picked up the mattress and the small pile of clothes I had.

"What are you doing?" asked Forest.

"Becca wants me to sleep over there."

"What?"

"Not in her bed. In the hallway so she can see me. Just to help her sleep."

Forest nodded and leaned back over, facing the wall.

I put the mattress down outside of her room and across the doorway. I made sure not to block the door to Agwe's room. He only used his room to keep a few personal things and his books. He would sleep there occasionally, but only if it rained. He preferred to sleep in an old hammock between two palm trees on the south side of his property.

I rolled over facing Becca. She was no more than ten feet away in her bed. I admired her and began to realize it would be obvious to anyone that she was too good for me. We sure as hell didn't match. I wondered if I should start paying more attention to my appearance. I didn't really know if I was considered attractive or not or how I could even tell. I remembered a girl who had a crush on me in the fourth grade. Another one supposedly liked me in the ninth grade. That was about all I had to go on. If I was with Becca, I needed to make some sort of effort on my appearance. How was it she looked passed that? Just then Becca rolled over. Her big green eyes wide open, but downcast. Her face was tear stained. We stared at each other without expression or speaking. Somehow it wasn't awkward at all. We just looked and kept looking. At some point we slowly fell asleep.

The next morning I awoke to the smell of fried eggs. To my left I noticed Becca's bed was empty. I paused for a moment and stared at the thatch roof above me. It was a mix. I couldn't wait to start the day, walk outside, see Becca, the ocean. The flip side of the coin was the constant thought of being caught. Forest was still conked out in the living room. I made my way out back and found Becca sitting on one of the stumps, frying eggs over a fire. I noticed her hair was even more wild. There was a piece that formed a hoop just above her right ear. I didn't care, but I knew she did. She looked beautiful. I was anxious to get the shark head to that lady to make that trade for her.

"Hey, Becca."

She smiled. "Hey, Joey."

I stretched my arms in the air and yawned. "Where's Agwe?"

She pointed to the ground in front of me. There were words sketched in the sand with a stick that said, Agwe out fishing.

"You need anything?" I asked.

She shook her head, "No."

I watched the fire quietly, and suddenly it felt awkward again. It was such bullshit. I kept second guessing what I should say, what I should do. But I remembered what she said the day before. To just be myself. So I asked myself - what do I want to do right now? I wanted to sit next to her, so that's what I would do. I took a few steps toward her and sat against the stump she was sitting on with my right shoulder touching her legs.

I felt her hand on my hair and shoulders. Natural. That's what it felt like.

At the sound of footsteps approaching, I turned my attention toward the trail. Black dreads bounced above the high grass. It was Agwe.

"Oh, you would not believe this fish!" he shouted. There were blood soaked rags around his hands.

Becca put the pan down and stood up, "What happened?" she asked.

"A big fish drug me for three hours. I saw him once. It was a Blue Marlin that came in close to shore. I couldn't believe it. I lost the towel overboard and fought him with my hands."

Becca inspected the wounds. He had deep gashes in both palms from the line. Half of the cloth he had around his hands was bright red.

"And I lost the line," said Agwe. "Haven't lost a line in four and half years now. It was a good line."

Becca took a fresh towel and wrapped both of his hands. "You need to rest," she said.

"I'm okay. I need to eat. Forest, Forest!" said Agwe.

Forest came out the back door squinting. "Yeah?"

"Grab some of the shark steaks from the box."

"Alright."

"Joey! I hope you are hungry," said Agwe.

He had a large cast iron grate that was placed over the fire. He cooked everything on it, from eggs to sliced pineapple to shark steaks. The eggs were ready and staying warm on the far end of the grate. We watched the shark steaks sizzle, releasing the smell of spices and smoke. We always ate on the same wooden plates that we washed in the ocean every afternoon. Agwe only had four, so it was important that we kept up with them.

On my plate there was a thick shark steak, at least a pound, with charcoal black grill lines. To the side were two fried eggs and a mango. Agwe seemed alright. It was obvious the mobility in his fingers and hands were limited, but he didn't seem to take too much notice.

"How long will the shark last in that salt?" I asked.

"About a week," said Agwe.

"We can't eat all that in a week."

"No no. We will give much of it to the people in Queens Bluff. Many of them are too old to fish."

Agwe chewed, closed his eyes, and smiled. He looked up at the sky, still smiling. It was an odd habit. He would often look up at the sky and smile.

"Have you always lived like this, Agwe?" I asked.

"My father and his father yes. When I was young, no."

"What'd you do when you were young?" I asked.

He laughed. "Got into trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" asked Forest.

"All kinds. Mostly drugs. I returned to this life some thirty years ago."

"Were you ever married?" I asked.

"Once. Beautiful woman, but restless. She was always looking."

"Looking?" I asked.

Agwe finished chewing the food in his mouth. "Yes, another house, another man, another island, anything that she didn't have was always better."

"Where is she now?" asked Becca.

"Somewhere in the States I think. She ran off with my friend a long time ago. Lived in Nassau for a while."

"Is she still with your friend?" asked Becca.

"No. That didn't last long at all."

"Do you have kids?" she asked.

"No I don't. A long time ago we planned to. That's the beds you sleep on now. It took many lobsters in a trade to get those beds. It is good to see them being used."

"Sorry to hear about your wife," I said.

"It was a long time ago," said Agwe with an infectious smile that lit up his entire face.

"You don't seem bitter," I said.

"No, no her parents died when she was a little girl. She was afraid to love." Agwe looked at his hands. "We all collect scars, even the fish. Dive down and look closer. You will see tooth marks on their bellies, the reef ripped up by engine propellers and anchors. Walk the trails down to the ocean and notice the seedlings you trample with your feet. Our scars should remind us to be compassionate, not create more hurt for others."

After breakfast Forest and I swatted flies away from the big shark head. The black eyes and blood stained mouth made it look more like a monster than a fish.

"How the hell do we carry this a mile down the road?" asked Forest.

"Hey Agwe," I shouted. He was inside washing his hands in the kitchen.

"Yes?"

"Do you have a wheelbarrow or something?" I asked.

"No. Use rope," he said.

"Drag it?" asked Forest.

"No. Run the rope through it's eyes then hoist it to your back. Use the fire pick to push the rope through."

"Alright," said Forest. "I'll carry it on my back. You can do the rope through eyeball thing."

It took me a solid five, nasty minutes, but I managed tie one end of the rope around the tip of the fire pick and stab it all the way from eye to eye. Forest grabbed hold of the rope, and we both hoisted it up onto his back. "How is it?" I asked.

"Heavy as hell. What do you think this weighs?" he asked.

"Fifty, maybe seventy-five pounds," I replied. "This looks crazy as shit. Imagine walking around in Miami with this on." The shark's nose reached the back of Forest's neck, and the bloody base ran almost all the way to his waist.

"Let's go man," said Forest. "I feel something slimy dripping down my back."

We made our way down the old, beaten dirt road.

"One thing's for sure," I said.

"What's that?" asked Forest, with a strained voice, as he tried to reposition the ropes on his shoulders.

"No one will mess with us. We look like total bad asses right now."

Forest laughed.

We neared the row of shacks and small homes. Two young boys were kicking a soccer ball in the street. They saw the bloody shark head, quickly picked up their ball, and left in the other direction. We walked up the old gravel driveway that led around the side of the old white house with sky blue shutters. I knocked on one of the side panels.

"Mrs. Phoebe, you there?"

"I don't know nuthin'. Go away," she said.

"Ma'am?"

Who that be?" she asked.

"Forest and Joey. We've got your shark head."

"Oh come on back here."

We walked around the corner, and there she was just as if she hadn't moved from the morning before. She was tying small plastic bags that had cookies in them with a red ribbon.

"I thought you was the police badgering me again."

"Police been out here?" asked Forest.

Mrs. Phoebe stood up. "Yeah rumor has it there was a murder on the west side. Now let me see what you have here."

Forest turned around.

"Oh, now that's a nice one there! Ooh yes look at them teeth. Very, very nice teeth indeed. Let me go inside and get your trade."

"Thanks," I replied.

She walked into the house and came back with two small blue boxes and some colorful plastic bottles in a plastic bag.

"Thanks. We'll see you around," I said.

"That sister of yours. Does she cook?" she asked.

"Becca - she's a good cook," said Forest.

"I could use someone to help me bake on Thursday through Saturday in the afternoon. I can pay her with small money and the best bread on the island."

"Okay, we'll tell her. Thanks," said Forest.

"You boys have a fine day. Say hello to Agwe for me."

"Alright."

# 20

We began our hike back to the house.

"I've been missing bread," said Forest.

"Police," I said.

"I know man. Damn," said Forest.

"They must have found the bodies," I said.

"Maybe not. She said there was a rumor. Maybe all they have is some guys missing."

"Then maybe we should go back and at least cover them up with sand or something," I responded.

"That's better than nothing," said Forest. "It's been a while though, man."

"I know. I messed shit up when I got hurt. We should have done it then," I said.

"At least it's sand," said Forest. "Shouldn't be hard to bury a body in sand."

I nodded and felt my ribs. They were sensitive to the touch. It was a constant nagging pain, but nothing like before.

"I keep wanting to forget it happened," I said.

"It happened. We need to go and deal with it. But it might be too late," said Forest.

"Let's go today. Get this shit over with."

"During Agwe's nap," said Forest. "We can take the rowboat around the island and go in the same way we came."

"Night may be better," I said.

"We wouldn't find it," said Forest.

Yeah there was no way in hell we would find that spot at night. During the day I could find that exact pine tree that the dude pointed me to without a problem. That tree was tattooed in my brain. I tried to break my thoughts and looked at the small bottles of shampoo and conditioner in my hands. The shampoo was labeled "Coconut Sunrise". That seemed fitting. I couldn't wait to get them to Becca.

"You mind if I give these to her?" I asked.

Forest shook his head.

We made our way back to the house. Half the day was gone now, and we spotted Agwe asleep in the hammock. I wondered if we would have time take care of the bodies and get back by dark. If not, he might search for us.

I noticed the kitchen window open and saw Becca inside. She smiled at me.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey, we got this for you." I handed the plastic bag to her through the open window.

"No way!" she shouted.

"Wait. You guys have to stop stealing," she said.

I shook my head, "We didn't steal them."

"You didn't just find them," said Becca.

"We traded with a lady."

"You don't have anything to trade," said Becca.

"She wanted the shark head," I replied.

"What are you talking about?" asked Becca.

"There's a lady down the road that Agwe told us about. She has a bakery and sells jewelry to tourists. She makes shark tooth necklaces. She said if we brought her a big shark head she would give us this stuff."

Her face lit up, "Thank you!"

We told Becca about Mrs. Phoebe's job offer, and she said she could bake cookies in her sleep. Forest and I decided not to tell her where we were going that afternoon, but she insisted on going fishing with us, so we had to make an awkward confession about our plans. She didn't like it anymore than we did, but she understood. We had to see if it was still possible to hide the bodies. It could be our only hope of staying on the island together.

"Be careful," she said sharply.

We both nodded and headed down the trail where Agwe's rowboat was beached.

"You remember the way he brought us from the cave?" I asked Forest.

"Yeah, it's easy. I know where we're going. One, maybe two hours tops," said Forest.

Forest and I took turns rowing. I felt soreness all over my body, but I felt like I was getting stronger. The pain felt good. We didn't speak much as we neared the cave where we had set up camp a week before.

"She would fall asleep with her hand on your forehead," said Forest. I rowed and watched the cave entrance ease by. My mind flashed back to the dreams, glowing blonde hair, the taste of her lips.

"Damn it, we didn't bring a shovel," said Forest.

"I don't think Agwe has one," I replied. If it doesn't catch fish, he doesn't have it."

"True."

Forest was becoming my brother, brought together by extraordinary experiences. Had we spent the same amount of time playing video games or watching TV, it wouldn't have meant shit. We relied on each other, and if we had to we would kill for one another.

We made our way up a tidal creek that led to the area of the killings. Forest was rowing, but softly. As the paddles started to hit the sand in the shallow water, we pulled the rowboat into some high grass, got out, and started hiking. I watched my feet hitting the water and the little crabs running sideways with their claws up, ready to fight.

"We should be close now," said Forest.

I was getting flashbacks that spooked the hell out of me. How could a place so peaceful and beautiful be the home of such darkness and chaos?

Suddenly Forest grabbed my shirt collar and yanked me to the ground. Saltwater and sand splashed up my nose. "What the hell?" I said. Forest layed next to me and put his index finger up to his nose. "Shh..." and motioned forward with his eyes. The high grass was moving with the wind, and I couldn't make anything out.

Just then I saw a black hat with a thick red stripe across it bouncing in the distance. The man appeared in my vision. His skin was very dark, and he wore a uniform. He stood a hundred feet away or more but was walking slowly toward our position.

"Did he see us?" I whispered.

"No. I think he heard us," said Forest.

"Police," I said.

"You sure?" asked Forest.

"Yeah, the hat."

"Shit."

The man continued to walk very slowly. I couldn't make out much of his appearance other than a straight, focused face and thick mustache.

"We better run now before he closes this gap," said Forest.

"Then we don't have a chance. He'll radio others and the search will be on for two white boys on the south side of Andros."

The policeman stopped some eighty or ninety feet away from us. All that stood between us was a lone pine tree and sparse patches of waist high grass. He was looking in our general direction, but it was hard to tell exactly where. Suddenly he bolted straight for us and shouted, "You! Stay where you are!"

Forest instantly got in a pushup position as a precursor to an all out sprint. I grabbed his shirt and tugged it to the ground.

"Don't move! Trust me, trust me, don't move at all. Be dead." I whispered.

I let go, and he was still. The policeman charged through the high grass like a water buffalo.

My heart pounded as I watched him get within twenty feet of our position. Then he kept running right passed us. The policeman came so close that Forest got splashed with sand and water as he ran by. We could hear shouting from the other direction. The policeman stopped.

"I thought I heard something!" he yelled with his hand over his mouth.

It was a bluff. I didn't blink as he walked passed us to join the other police that were evidently studying the scene of the crime.

"There's a small channel a hundred yards that way," said Forest. "It will take us to the rowboat. Let's crawl to it and swim."

I lifted my head about a foot to get a better view. The policeman cleared the pine tree and was casually walking back to the others.

"Okay. Try not to hit the high grass," I said.

Forest nodded.

We made our way to the channel and took a half hour swim to make it back to where we had beached the boat. We were already exhausted and still had to row all the way to Agwe's house. We pressed on and kept a lookout for anything unusual.

"You knew he was bluffing?" asked Forest.

"No. I hoped he was. It was our only shot."

I rowed, and Forest sat in the bow facing my back and watching the horizon.

"Let's stay close to home for a while," said Forest.

"Yeah."

"I'm not going to prison, man," he said.

"Me neither."

The sound of air blowing caught our attention.

"Look!" shouted Forest pointing to the port side of the boat.

"What was it?" I asked.

"Dolphin."

We studied the calm blue water looking for movement. It surfaced again.

"Cool!" I shouted. The dolphin swam within arm's length of the boat. It was like the world melted away for a minute, and I wished Agwe was with us. Seeing his reaction to new clouds on the horizon made me wonder how much more a dolphin would excite him. It felt good to be on that old boat and watch such a free creature. He took our minds off of the coming shit storm that was due to hit at any moment.

Back at the cottage we kept quiet about what we had seen. Forest never told me that we should hide the information from Becca, but that was what we did. We just wanted to forget about it and hoped the problem would go away. Becca also seemed to be so damn happy, with the exception of her dreams during the night. The days rolled by. There was talk of a heavy police presence on the island, but none of them made the trip down the long shitty road to Agwe's house.

Becca almost instantly got to know Mrs. Phoebe and started helping her bake for a few hours in the afternoons. When she worked, the three of us would anxiously meet her on the road. She always brought back something tasty. Fresh rum cakes, banana bread, cassava rolls, coconut bread, and the occasional lemon pie or conch fritters. Becca's treats combined with the endless supply of fresh seafood made meal time something to always look forward to. She seemed to really like Mrs. Phoebe. She didn't make much money at all, but Mrs. Phoebe gave her good trades.

# 21

On a Wednesday or Thursday afternoon, about an hour after lunch, Forest was dozing off in an old balsa wood chair we found. He sat next to the firepit, with a straw hat covering his face. Becca and I sat next to each other with our backs against a large piece of driftwood and our shoulders touching. We didn't speak, but occasionally our fingers would play together in the sand, and that felt better than talking. The sound of strong thunder rumbled in the distance, and we could hear footsteps approaching, quickly.

Agwe ran through the camp and startled us.

"Look!" he shouted.

Forest leapt to his feet and pulled out his knife. Becca and I quickly stood up. My heart was pounding. I knew this could be it.

"What?" I asked, and looked toward the grass where he was pointing.

"Higher," said Agwe.

Forest let out a deep breath. "Damn it. C'mon Agwe, are you talking about a cloud again? This is getting old."

"Come with me now! To cousin!" shouted Agwe. He seemed much more serious than I had ever known him to be before.

He took off down the trail that led to the beach and the rowboat he affectionately called cousin. We rushed behind him, and Becca almost tripped on some sliding rocks.

Agwe stepped out onto the beach and pointed at the sky. "There!"

Forest threw his hands up in the air. "You are talkin' about a cloud again, man."

"What do you see?" he asked.

"A big storm," I replied.

"Right! Grab the masks."

"Why?" I asked.

"We are going to the reef. All of us," said Agwe with wide eyes.

"Fishing rods?" asked Forest.

"No."

"Spear?" he asked again.

"No. Not this time. Just the diving masks."

Forest shook his head and tried not to look too annoyed. I grabbed the only two masks we had and put them in the rowboat.

"Let's go," said Agwe. We pushed the boat off the beach, and Agwe took the oars.

The thunder roared so wildly that it cracked. A breeze ten degrees cooler blew in from the east. Lightning was touching the ocean, and we began to feel sprinkles from the approaching storm.

"I'm not afraid or anything," said Forest. "But I think we should be inside right now."

"What a waste that would be," said Agwe.

The sprinkles quickly turned into a downpour. The storm was almost overhead and the wind picked up amazingly fast. The waves quickly tripled in size as we reached the large reef that rested in four to six feet of water.

Agwe tapped me on the shoulder, "Forest and I will go first. Try to keep the boat on top of the reef." Becca had a hand over her brow. I squinted from the rain splashing into my eyes.

"Alright,"" I said.

The storm grew in intensity, and the little boat rocked violently over the white capped waves. Agwe put on the diving mask, as did Forest. They both jumped over the side and stood facing each other in water that reached to their chests.

"Are you ready?" asked Agwe.

"I still don't know what we're doing here. What the hell are we trying to catch?" asked Forest.

"First, you can't think about anything else," said Agwe. "Nothing. Nothing other than that you are here, in this place, right now. Stop thinking about what's for lunch, what about this problem, that problem. How much time do I have for this, for that. What's next? Stop. Be here, right now. That's it. A human being experiencing the earth he has inherited. Can you?"

"Okay," said Forest trying to make sure the boat didn't hit him in the head when it came down from a wave.

"You are here because I want you to see something you have never seen. I want you to see a reef underwater, in the middle of a thunderstorm. Look at the chaos around you now."

Forest took a quick look around. Visibility was little more than twenty feet at that point. It was noisy as hell. Jungle like rain, the sky lighting up, and the kind of thunder that sounded more like an explosion.

"Now to the calm underwater. Hold yourself to the reef and be still. Watch the display the rain makes on the surface and how the color changes when waves go over. The glow from the lightning if you are lucky. You will remember what you see forever, I promise."

Knowing Forest, he was probably pissed at that point, but he really liked Agwe. Enough to go along with crazy shit like this. He just said, "Okay," and they both went under.

I manned the oars, and Becca sat in front of me. She laughed, "He's a little crazy."

"In a good way at least," I replied. I didn't take for granted being able to look at her. It took some discipline not to overdo it though. Her hair was soaking wet, she wore a tan t-shirt and blue jean shorts, and she rocked that tan t-shirt and those blue jean shorts. I lost a little ground and pulled hard twice on the oars to get us back in the area where Agwe and Forest were.

Becca wore tennis shoes, never socks. This somehow mysteriously added to the attraction of her ankles and legs. To be truthful, right then and there I wanted to grab one of her feet and start kissing her ankles. I felt like a freak. Of course I wasn't that stupid, and I knew I would get kicked in the face if I tried to be that presumptuous.

"What are you looking at?" she asked.

"Sorry, your ankles."

"Why?" she asked laughing.

"They're beautiful. Don't you think so?"

Becca looked at her feet. "They look like ankles."

"I was wondering if I could..."

"What?" asked Becca.

"Rub your feet?"

"Psh. No way!"

Why did I just say that? I swear I say some of the of the dumbest shit sometimes. I looked away embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm an idiot."

I rowed several times to keep us on the reef. Suddenly Becca's left foot was on my knee, followed by her right.

"You may proceed," she said.

She had small feet, and I was really excited to touch them. I did my best to do a good job, but I had never rubbed someone's feet before, and I was nervous.

"I really need a pedicure," said Becca.

"What's that?" I asked.

"A place you go to paint your nails."

"They look great to me like this."

"Thanks, Joey."

We returned to silence, and I thought about what Agwe said. The reef sounded intriguing but surely not as much as this. Rubbing Becca's feet in an old wooden rowboat that creaked in the waves, amidst pouring rain and exploding thunder. I felt so damn alive. I could never go back. It would be better to die out here than go back.

Agwe's hands grasped onto the side of the old boat, and he pulled himself on board followed by Forest.

"How was it, Forest?" asked Becca.

He took his mask off and his eyes were red. It almost looked like he had been crying, but if he was he hid it well.

Forest nodded, "It was somethin'."

Agwe smiled brightly at me. "Very special indeed. You two go now. Remember, empty your thoughts. Even the ones you have for each other."

We both went overboard and under the surface. The storm was immediately silenced, which brought a welcomed rush of tranquility. I positioned myself between a large piece of brain coral and two large bright orange pieces of feather coral, as Agwe called them. Above me was an intoxicating scene of rolling water, casting shadows of blue, gray, and white. Instantly I realized this was the first time in my life that I wasn't worried or thinking about something. Even though it was for only seconds, I understood and it made me want to find that place again.

The days on the island were awesome, but nights were tough. I always had an issue with waking up in the middle of the night, thinking up bizarre shit, worrying, and taking an hour or two to get back to sleep. I had a foster mother that called it the witching hour. It was exacerbated by Becca's issues and the thought of the police ramming through the front door. I just wasn't getting much sleep at all, two to three hours at a time, tops.

Agwe came in one night from his hammock and noticed me in Becca's bed. The shit was innocent. Believe me, I didn't want it to be innocent. But some nights she would wake up screaming and ask me to lie down next to her until she went back to sleep. In those moments it took every ounce of my willpower not to reach out my hand, touch her, kiss her. It felt like my body was going to explode some nights.

"Joey," whispered Agwe. "Go back to your bed. There will be plenty of time for that when you two are older."

It looked like Becca was back to sleep. I slowly crept out of her bed. Agwe was in the doorway.

"We aren't doing anything, Agwe. She has nightmares from when she was a kid. I stay there until she goes back to sleep."

Agwe looked to the ground saddened. "I see. Sorry." He reached out and patted me on the shoulder.

"What about you?" he asked.

"What?"

"Do you sleep well?"

"No, I never have."

"You have a strong imagination," he said phrasing it as more of a question.

"I can think up some crazy shit."

"Good," he whispered. "So redirect it. Imagine something like this. There is a strong pole that is miles high, so high that it reaches above the clouds. On the top of the pole is a tiny cabin. Inside is a comfortable bed, a window, and a fireplace. Nothing more. It is warm in the cabin. Climb inside the bed and stay there. As soon as you try to think of other things, quickly stop your mind and put yourself back inside that cabin. You will go to sleep."

"Alright."

"Good. See you in the morning, Joey." Agwe walked back outside.

I tried what he said, and that shit totally worked. I kept bringing my mind to that little bed in the cabin. My brain wanted to think things up like packs of wolves trying to get to me. But they just scraped at the bottom of the pole. Bullets couldn't even reach me. Wherever I put that cabin in my mind, as long as I stayed there in that little bed I would be asleep in minutes.

Becca was happy during the day and would regularly go into town. She had become a proficient baker and spy. Mrs. Phoebe had a small shop in Queens Bluff, and she always needed Becca's help on the weekends. Becca said the town was really small with the type of vendors you'd see at a flea market, but with better stuff. Tourists staying in a hotel down the road would drop in on occasion. It was always scuba divers or fisherman. I wanted to go to town and hang out with her, but I knew that wasn't a good idea.

The police were dropping in and out of Queens Bluff. Someone had started a rumor that the killers lived on the north side of the island. That drew most of them out of our area. We did find out that one of the guys we killed was the nephew of a politician in Nassau. It gave us the feeling that this would go on for a while, but Agwe's house was an easy place to wait. Time stood still out there, and we just got to live our lives. Life in a beautiful place without all the bullshit imposed by other people. That was it. But it did take some toughness. We ran out of things like toilet paper all the time. Agwe swore by pine needles, and Forest came to agree. There must have been a technique or something.

One evening we managed to pull in a big grouper on the edge of the reef. It was almost as long as Becca, and we ate like kings for a couple of days. When Becca told us it was Phoebe's favorite fish to eat, I took a few pounds of filets and hiked out to her house. I walked around back and once again she was in that same old rocking chair.

"What you have for me today?" she asked.

"Grouper."

"Oooooh. Nice! What you want?"

"Nothing. We had extra. Becca said you like grouper."

"No, young man I love grouper. Mmmm. Over pineapples, always over pineapples. How is Becca? Will she be here tomorrow afternoon?"

"I think so. Everything she comes home with is awesome. Those rum cakes, though, are something else."

"I will remember that," she laughed.

I nodded and turned to go back to Agwe's.

"So Joey," she said. I stopped and looked back.

"Yes."

"I have something serious to ask you."

Damn. I looked toward the road for any signs of the police. Nothing.

"Sure, what?"

"What's so good about you?"

"Ma'am?"

"My shop there in Queens Bluff. Cute boys come by there all the time on vacation with their families. They all seem interested in her. Looking at her this way and that. She doesn't give them the time of day. So, what's so good about you, then?"

I watched one of her roosters chasing two chickens in a pen built from pallet boards.

"I don't know. I think it's just one of those things that doesn't make any sense."

She briefly smiled and continued rocking.

Mrs. Phoebe took a sip from her tea. "No. There's a reason," she said.

I didn't like the conversation and didn't see the point in talking about it, but I did anyway.

"Maybe I know how special she is and they don't," I replied looking back at the road.

Mrs. Phoebe rocked and nodded, "Yes, now I understand. Thank you for the fish, Joey. I will make sure to send Becca home with some of those fresh rum cakes you like."

Mrs. Phoebe was cool, and I could understand how she would appeal to Becca. She had a calmness about her. The walk from her house to Agwe's took about twenty minutes. It felt long though. It was quiet, and the scene never changed. Pine trees, thick brush, gravel, it went on for a little over a mile. I was always wondering what that freak sound was in the woods or if the police were driving up behind me. It was too much time to be left alone to my thoughts.

When I made it back to Agwe's, Becca was asleep in the hammock. Forest was down by the rocks diving for lobster. That was his thing. If others were napping, he was diving for something. I thought to go join him, but Agwe came out of the house with a handful of old hooks he had just sharpened.

"Was Phoebe there?" he asked.

"Yeah, I gave her the fish."

"Good. We can cook, but not like her. She will have a feast," said Agwe.

"Think I'll go join Forest," I replied.

"I could use an extra hand on Cousin. I have a feeling there are big snapper at the edge of the reef today."

"Alright. I'll come with you then."

# 22

We made our way to the beach, and pushed the old boat past the ankle deep water, over the patches of seagrass where the minnows took cover. Agwe would always move to the bow to prepare the line and hooks when we fished. That left me or Forest rowing. He was a small man, no more than five and a half feet tall. I was sure his back had rowed that old boat a million times or more. It made us happy to help him.

Agwe never smelled, and I have no idea how. He always wore the same navy blue shorts that were covered in stains. A rope kept them fastened to his thin waist. That was it. I never saw him use soap. He swam all the time in the saltwater, so I guess that took care of it.

I slowed the boat to an area I was used to fishing with him.

"Let's push further today, Joey. About a hundred yards more."

I nodded and kept rowing the old boat. Agwe had three lines ready with fresh strips of grouper threaded onto each hook. He took the meat from the back of the fish where there were too many bones to pick out.

"Good."

I stopped rowing and reached for one of the lines. It was funny how we naturally settled into routines. I had done this many times before over the last few weeks. I would stop rowing and reach for the line. He would toss his bait off the bow. Then I would sit on the back of the old boat with my toes touching the blue water and toss the bait.

"Is Becca working today?" asked Agwe. Our backs were to each other, but could hear fine as the water was calm and the breeze was light.

"Yes. Phoebe said she's going to send her home with some rum cakes."

"Good. Did you ask about a lemon pie?"

I smiled. "I forgot."

Agwe laughed, "But you didn't forget to ask about your rum cakes."

"I'll ask next time."

"Does she like Becca? Is she a good worker?" asked Agwe.

"Yeah. And she tells Becca she's too young to be in love." I slowly let line out, stringing it over my left index finger.

"She's wrong," said Agwe.

"You think so?" I asked.

"Joey, look at me."

I grabbed the rail of the old boat and turned around so I could see Agwe. The sun was bright and overhead so I had to squint.

"She is wrong."

I nodded and turned back to my line.

"Many people love on the surface their entire lives, maybe even most," said Agwe."The two of you have gone to the deep waters. If anyone wants to tell you different, I have some simple advice."

"What?" I asked.

"Don't listen to them."

"Fair enough," I replied.

There were a lot of fish on the reef, but off the reef getting a bite was much harder. When we did get a bite, though, it was always a good fish. I loved being on that old boat fishing with Agwe. I was too old to get adopted or have a new father, but I already considered him like one. I wondered if I got locked up if these memories would make the time easier or harder. My eyes started to glass at the thought of leaving. I also wondered how long Agwe would let us stay. He never talked about it. He never planned anything. It was like he just accepted us as a new part of his life or something. If he wasn't going to bring it up, we sure as hell wouldn't either.

"I saw you dancing this morning," I said.

"Yes," he replied.

"Every morning when the sun comes up. Sounds like you're singing. What are you doing?"

"Worshipping," said Agwe.

"The sun god?" I asked.

Agwe laughed. "No, I worship the one they call Jesus."

I thought to myself about some classes I took last year at Havana.

"Oh," I said.

"You heard of Him?"

"Well, honestly of all the religions we learned about in school, I think that one makes the least sense."

Agwe laughed, "Yes, you are very right."

"I've never seen you go to Church," I said.

"No there are only two on the island," said Agwe while letting more line drift over the bottom.

"What's wrong with those?"

"I was asked to leave."

"It seems like they wouldn't want people to leave."

"Well, they get upset if you smoke before service on Sunday. I only laughed twice, but both times during the sermon."

"You smoke weed?" I asked.

"I did when I was a young man, but not anymore. Well, that's not true. There's a man that lives across from Phoebe. Older than me, his name is Joseph."

"Is that the guy always sits on the porch with the pipe?" I asked.

"Yes, that is him," said Agwe, focusing on the line in his hands. "I usually visit Joseph on Sundays. We talk about this and that. On his anniversary he lifts up a board from his porch and pulls out some very old, fine, weed as you call it. I smoke it with him."

"His wife lives there?" I asked.

"No, she left him a long time ago."

I caught Agwe looking up at the sky and smiling again. Such an odd habit, but I enjoyed our talks. He was the easiest person in the world to talk to. The fish didn't seem to be biting that day, and my mind drifted back to Becca constantly. I wondered if she was up now and what she was doing. We had a few hours before she would have to be at Phoebe's house. If I could convince Agwe to go in, then I might get a chance to hang out with her for a while.

"Doesn't look like they're biting," I said.

"Nonsense. We've only been fishing an hour or less," said Agwe.

"How much longer you think we should stay out?" I asked.

"Ah. Oh, a fisherman can fish unless a pretty girl waits for him on shore. That's what my grandfather used to say. "

"She's more than pretty," I responded.

"What would you say?" asked Agwe.

"I don't know. What are words?" I asked.

"Very true," said Agwe. "Let us bring our lines in so you can see the indescribable girl that you can't stop thinking about."

"No, Agwe. I'm good. I was just checking to see what you wanted to do."

"Compromise?" asked Agwe.

"Sure."

"Another half hour then?" he asked.

"Sounds good."

I pulled my line in to check the bait. When it reached the boat I saw it hadn't been touched. I tossed the baited hook back out and watched the line slowly sink into the warm blue water. The fishing line reminded me of Becca. She floated during the day and at night it was like something slowly pulled her into a deep, unseen place filled with fear and bad memories.

"That thing you told me to do when I sleep," I said.

"Yes, the cabin."

"Right. It works."

"That's good, Joey. Yes it does work, but only if your mind is strong enough to stay inside the cabin. It takes some exercise."

"I wish I could help Becca."

"You are," said Agwe.

"I don't think so."

"You can't fix the past for her. She is healing. It is going to take time. You are helping her heal."

That made sense.

"But anything else you think I could do to help her?" I asked.

"Ah! Had a bite!" shouted Agwe.

"Off?"

"Yes."

Agwe brought in his line and took the largest piece of grouper left for his hook.

"What was it you were asking?"

"Becca. Sometimes she will scream in the night."

He nodded, "Yes, I have heard her."

"Can you think of anything else that will at least help take the edge off?"

"I already told you, you are. Time, Joey."

"I want to do more," I responded and brought in my fishing line.

Agwe let out a deep breath. "Has your past been easy?" Agwe asked.

"No."

"You slept in fields, yes?"

"Sure. Alleys, under bridges, all over."

"But you seem to remember the time in the field fondly," said Agwe.

"Yes."

"What helped you?"

"My friend was with me most of the time."

"Good. Anything else?"

"A stray dog we named Roosevelt. He slept next to us. We snuck him bologna every night."

"Okay," said Agwe. "Find her a dog. There are strays all over Queens Bluff."

"What about Chico?" I asked.

"Chico is old and smelly, like me. Find her a puppy."

I wasn't sure the two of us coming up with something involving Becca was a good idea, but I remembered that little dog that slept next to us. It felt like we were our own family. I would do it.

When we made it back in, I slowly walked up the trail leading to the house. Movement to my right caught my attention, and a large heron flew overhead. I stopped and watched the creature that resembled a small plane or dinosaur more than a bird. It flapped its wings and let the wind carry it out to sea. Life had changed. I would have taken little notice of that bird before. Now I stopped for such things.

When I reached the house Becca was inside washing her hands. I approached the old window above the sink from the outside. She jumped.

"You scared me!" she said.

"You wanna build a sand castle?" I asked.

"Really?"

Her reaction made me wonder if I said something weird.

I shrugged. "Yeah. What's wrong with sand castles?"

She smiled at me. Becca had this magazine-like smile that only appeared when she laughed. The one that I loved, though, was the one that I received just then. Slight, closed lipped, complimenting her eyes.

It was overcast that day. The schools of bright silver Menhaden pushed close to shore, chased by rays and a shark or two. The sand was still wet from a light rain that morning. I sat down cross-legged in the sand, and Becca sat next to me.

"How do you build a sand castle?" she asked.

"I don't know. Never have."

I took two handfuls of wet sand and plopped it in front of me. The sand felt cool in my hands. I brought it to a point at the top and Becca poked holes in the side of it.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Windows."

"I think we each make our own," I replied.

"But I want to live in yours," she said.

"Okay." I moved to the side so that we were facing each other and the sand castle was in between us.

"Lots of windows," said Becca pressing small holes all over the castle. "Lots."

I molded a large round roof with a diagonal pattern forged from a twig that I found next to me. Becca made squiggly lines in the sand next to the castle.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Strawberry gardens."

"I love strawberries."

"Me too," she said.

I began building walls around the castle and gardens.

"What's that?" she asked.

"A great wall."

"Why?"

"All castles have walls. You have to keep out the bad guys."

"There aren't any bad guys in this world," said Becca.

"Well, just in case. I'll build the wall."

Becca grabbed my hand.

"People don't hurt each other here."

"There have to be bad guys. Some of the good guys here, might turn bad. We need to be able to keep them out."

Becca plopped a small piece of sand down away from the castle.

"Here. That can be your lookout tower."

I raised my eyebrow a little. "Fine, but I'm making it bigger."

"You won't need it. Well, maybe we can get married up there," said Becca with a hint of laughter.

We took our fingers and made a river that encircled the castle and weaved around the gardens, out to the ocean. I made a dock of twigs that stretched away from the castle.

"This is where we will keep our boat," I said.

"Andros!" exclaimed Becca.

"Okay, but fixed up. New paint, interior, sails, everything," I replied.

"Yeah, but not too much," she said. I remembered her disdain for the boat on the dock and found her comment odd, but I didn't say anything.

The pattern on the roof was losing its detail from the breeze. I carved out the lines again.

"Where is our room?" I asked.

Becca pointed at the top.

"All we need is a soft bed, lots of windows, and a fireplace," said Becca.

I didn't want to leave that village in the sand. The beach, Becca, our imaginations working together was all I wanted, all I needed. I wished there was a way to just stay there and play. It felt like that should be an option. For us to be together doing what we wanted. But it was scary, liking someone that much. Fear would come up and bite me on the ass all the time. What if she this, what if she that, blah blah blah, it never shut up, never left me alone. One thing I knew though, I had never cared so much about another person and never felt so cared for. I never really felt like I had a reason to live until then, I just went on with my routines for the day and went to sleep. That was it. Never asked questions. Escaping was only a daydream, and had Forest not overheard my plan, it probably would have never happened.

# 23

"I would live with you in this castle," said Becca.

"That would be awesome," I said as we both admired the castle we created in the sand.

I shifted my focus to Becca. She wasn't looking at the castle anymore. Her big green eyes were staring holes through me. I looked away like a coward, than back to her eyes, unmoved. I shifted mine to the ocean. She was too much for me, too good for me. It was like I felt inferior, and the feeling was impossible to shake. I reached one of my screw-it moments and stuck my eyes back on hers.

We sat staring at each other in the sand for like five minutes. There was no sound, unless I blocked it out. I was pretty sure it must have been complete silence, maybe an occasional bird in the distance. In between us was the castle we created. I felt at peace until something unexpected happened. I felt a stinging sensation behind my cheeks, as if I were about to cry. My eyes were watering, and my emotions went from calm to _oh shit_. She would be able to spot the weakness in me now. I took a deep breath and held it, trying to will myself to snap the hell out of it. I knew I couldn't blink. If I did, tears were sure to fall, and I would look like a little bitch.

I had to blink. It was impossible not to. The tear broke over my left eyelid, and I immediately stood up.

"I have to check on something," I said, and quickly wiped my face and headed toward the trail.

"Joey!"

She grabbed my shirt and pulled it toward her. I turned around, exposed like a child.

Before she even had time to look at my pathetic face she pressed her lips and tongue against mine. Tears slowly flowed down my cheeks. Then I realized my tears were joined by hers. Something special that day happened between us. It was like some sort of connection was forged by something invisible, and it was as intense as lightning. I didn't know exactly what or why, but damn, it was powerful.

"I love you," I said. I had never told someone that before. Always figured even if I did love someone I wouldn't say it.

"I love you, too," she said before I could even finish the sentence. What the hell was happening?

Becca had to leave to to go to Mrs. Phoebe's to cook up something for Saturday. Her fingers slipped through mine, and away she went. Instead of going back up to the house, I made my way around the point to the rocks where I could usually find Forest diving or fishing. I ducked my head under the large palm that grew out toward the ocean. At first I didn't see him. Then a head surfaced about fifty yards offshore.

"Forest!" I shouted. His flippers kicked a few times, and he was already back under. He must have heard me, because he quickly resurfaced.

"Hang on, I'm coming in," he said.

There was a rock in a few feet of water that was shaped like a giant nose. Whenever we came in we would go to that rock and sit, and shuffle through our gear before we went back out. I sat and waited for Forest.

He took his mask off and threw it on top of the rock.

"Shit, you didn't bring anything to eat," he said while taking of his flippers.

"Nah."

He pulled himself up on the large rock.

"Let me have your back," he said.

He leaned his back against mine. It was how we ate lunch after fishing or diving. It made it way more comfortable.

"What are you up to?" he asked.

"Want to go with me to Queens Buff?" I asked.

"Cops," he said. "Becca said they've been crawling all over the last couple days."

"We can go slow. Keep an eye out."

"Maybe," he replied. "Why? What's in Queens Bluff?"

"I want to get a puppy for Becca."

Forest looked at me, his eyes squinted almost shut.

"What the hell, Joey? What is it with you and your crazy as hell Becca excursions? Dude if you found money, don't spend it on a dog."

"No. I'm going to find a stray and bring it back here."

He leaned his head back and laughed. "You come up with the craziest shit!"

"It was Agwe's idea. He said she might like a pet. That it could help her at night. I'm going. Just wanted to see if you wanted to come along."

He shook his head. "I guess so, but not to get a dog. I wouldn't mind checking out that marina and taking a quick look at the boats. Becca said there's a small police station right down the road from it. I've wanted to get an idea of the layout of that town anyway." said Forest.

"Alright."

We hugged the shoulder on the way to town, looking, always looking. The woods and ocean were of no concern to us, but town freaked us out. We were outsiders and were sure to get stares, or so we thought. We looked a little too rough and salty to be tourists. We walked past the first row of small houses where Mrs. Phoebe lived and neared the first intersecting road. Another two or three hundred yards and we would be in Queens Bluff. A small, dusty hatchback drove past in the distance. We stopped.

"I'm having second thoughts," said Forest.

"Yeah. What do you think?"

"It doesn't make any sense for a dog," replied Forest.

"I know. You don't have to come."

Forest looked back down the road we had travelled. "The trail we passed back there. It has to go to a beach. Let's walk into town from the beach instead, find that marina. Go slow."

I agreed and gave him a nod.

We backtracked a quarter of a mile or so to a trail through the bush. It wasn't big enough for a car, but wide enough for a four wheeler. The trail was well worn with sharp palmettos lining the sides. I heard movement to my left and saw the tail of an iguana disappear under some palm branches. Within ten minutes we caught a glimpse of blue. We were relieved to discover that the trail led to the beach. When we cleared the brush we saw a ton of footprints and a thatched roof held up by six to eight foot tall pieces of driftwood. There were cut open coconuts and a few beer cans lying around. It looked like it was a place locals came to hang out.

We walked to the water's edge and looked down the beach. No people. We didn't expect any. About a mile in the distance there was a jetty that reached out into the ocean and formed a wall. It looked like there were a few boats there. The beach was gorgeous and such a contrast from the gravel road and pine trees. We walked slowly in the sand that had a thin sheet of water over it. Our feet splashed lightly, and we made sure we didn't walk too slow as to look suspicious.

The marina was only a few hundred yards away and coming into focus. There were five sailboats, there recognizable from the tall masts on the horizon. Forest stopped and pointed to a large rock outcropping ahead of us. "Let's climb it and take a look," he said.

It was only ten or fifteen feet above the beach but gave us a good vantage point of the marina.

"Look at the boat on the end," I pointed.

"Just like Andros, but smaller," said Forest.

"Yeah. I think it's the same make and everything."

We continued on. Every so often we would walk past a house, but that didn't concern us too much. Until we heard the sound of a siren. It only lasted two seconds, but it caught our attention. It was loud and close, very close. We both stopped. A small wave hit my feet, and I watched a group of silver minnows swim away. The sound was coming from an old building near the marina.

Forest took a few steps and looked.

"We should go back," I said.

He shook his head. "Let's see what it is."

We walked silently in the dry sand. Car doors were opening and closing. There was foot traffic, like the sound of walking on a wooden porch. Chatter from radios that we couldn't make out. We inched closer to a large building that overlooked the beach. The palms and overgrowth were so thick we couldn't make out much. It seemed like a large building compared to what we had seen so far on the island. Two stories tall, with a shabby roof. It was turquoise in color with faded patches of white. There were cloudy windows that looked like they hadn't been cleaned in a year.

The siren sounded again, and a car door shut. I felt like we needed to go.

"Let's get closer," said Forest. I took a deep breath to try and slow down the loud pumping in my chest. Forest stopped and pointed to a palmetto up against the back of the building that was wrapped in vines.

"Let's go there," he whispered.

"What for?" I asked.

"It's cops. Let's see if we can listen in on 'em."

I knew it wasn't a good idea, but I nodded. We made our way to the palmetto and knelt behind it. One of the leaves stabbed me through my shirt, and I felt a drop of blood flow down over my belly. I didn't care. I just wanted to go. It felt like something was about to jump out and scare the shit out of us. The more I thought about it, the more stupid it seemed. How fast could we run away in sand? Swim away? If they saw us, we were caught. That would be it. We heard voices. It seemed like we could only make out every tenth word. Drinks, Order, Officer, Call Johanas, Thanks, 3:30. It was definitely some sort of local police headquarters. For over an hour we sat there quietly.

"Let's just get out of here," I whispered. Forest shook his head. He was starting to piss me off. Another hour drifted by, and we heard laughter and talk about soccer. Then another vehicle pulled up. I could have sworn I heard the words "counts," and "murder," but thought it was my mind playing tricks on me.

"When are you leaving?" This man's voice was loud and, carried.

The wind was picking up and knocking the palmetto branches together, making it harder to hear. We were able to make out words from someone talking to the loud man. We heard two cars, shack, end of island, warrant, DNA, almost here, transfer, Nassau, morning.

My heart sank. It was easy to piece together. What the hell would we do? What could we even do? It sounded like we were out of time or at least almost out of it. Forest tapped my shoulder and motioned for us to leave. We slowly made our way back to the beach and walked back south without speaking and staying close to the bush. Once we cleared a few hundred yards between us and the building, we took off running.

I tried to think while I ran, but it was hard. My mind was all over the place. It was like we were shit out of options now, and I couldn't think of a way out of it. We were less than a mile from Agwe's, and Forest came to a stop. I bent down and spit, with my hands on my knees and breathing as hard as I ever had.

"You caught all that?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"How much time do you think we have?" I asked.

Forest looked back from where we came. "Not long. An hour if we're lucky."

"They said morning," I replied.

"No, they said transfer to Nassau in the morning. They're waiting for a second car to show up and coming for us."

"Shit."

"We have to take a boat," said Forest.

"Won't be as easy."

"Where can we go?" asked Forest.

"I don't know, man."

"Past the Bahamas. Further east? Is there anything?" he asked.

We were both still trying to catch our breath.

"Shit. Africa. Europe. I can't think of anything within reach."

"Well, we can't stay here or go back to the U.S." said Forest.

I shook my head. "South I guess. South America. Some place down there."

"Let's tell Agwe," said Forest. "Pack what we can."

"Becca won't be happy," I muttered.

"Becca isn't going," said Forest.

"What?" I faced Forest, our eyes locked.

"And she can't find out we're going either."

I felt my face turning red, and I gnashed my teeth together. Forest looked dead serious, but I didn't care. It didn't make any sense to leave Becca.

"No way in hell, man," I said. "She needs to know, and she'll want to go with us."

"No, Joey. She's not, and you're not gonna say a damn thing. Understand?"

"Fuck you Forest! Bring your shit on, man! Come on!" I stared him down, flexed my arms, and squeezed my fists together so hard my palms hurt.

The thought of leaving Becca was torture. I couldn't go there. Whatever crazy reason he had for doing so didn't matter.

We faced off, standing four or five feet from each other. He didn't move, and neither did I. A few seconds ticked by, and I spoke first. "I love her. I won't leave her. Won't hurt her. That's it."

He looked serious, but his body was way more relaxed than mine.

He finally spoke up. "She's my blood, Joey. When I was a kid, I shot a man in the face for that girl."

"Then why the hell do you want to leave her?" I asked.

"Do you really love her?" asked Forest.

"Yes."

"Then this is what we have to do. We said we'd run or fight. I don't want to kill anybody else man. We run. But this time is different. Getting here was like winning the lottery. We shouldn't have made it. You and I both know that, and we both know our luck probably runs out on a longer trip. Agwe will look after her, I know he will. She can have a good life here. She deserves that. When it gets hard for us, think of Becca. Think of her tanning on the beach. Baking with that lady down the street. If we really love her, then this is what we have to do."

I sat down and took a handful of sand and rubbed it over my head. I felt the grains scratching my temple and forehead.

"Fuck," I whispered.

Everything he said was right, and I knew it.

"We have to tell her goodbye," I said.

"We can't. She'll fight to make us stay or for her to go with us. Becca can't know."

I bit the inside of my lips so hard that I broke the skin and swallowed blood. My eyes and throat started to sting. I forced myself to stand and fought with my mind to try and go blank.

# 24

"We need to tell Agwe and pack," said Forest. Becca should be on the point now, right?"

I looked up at the sun overhead, drifting to the west. It made my eyes burn more. This was when she liked to lay out on the point, a small patch of sand at the southern tip of Agwe's property. "Yeah," I whispered.

"Let's go," said Forest.

We walked side by side in the sand. I could feel my calves starting to cramp. I thought back to the sandcastle. Kissing her only a few hours ago. Tears started running again, and I didn't give a shit. Neither did Forest. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it wasn't knowing I would be without her that caused me so much pain. It was the thought of hurting her that fucking crushed me. I knew at that point falling in love was an actual thing. I had always assumed it was just some bullshit people made up to sell roses and romance novels. I was wrong, very wrong.

"Fishing line," said Forest. "Maybe a mask, coconuts. Those leftover muffins. You think we take that boat on the end, the one like Andros?"

"Yeah, but Agwe is going to tell us not to steal," I replied.

"Let's not mention the boat to Agwe," he said.

I nodded. Forest pointed to the high grass, pine trees, and palms that lined the beach.

"Lots of places to hide," he said.

I didn't feel like talking. Fucking whatever.

"We get our stuff," said Forest. "We find a good hiding spot off the beach and sit out the daylight. About 2 AM we swim up to that boat from the beach, untie it, and drag it out of the marina. Don't need to start the motor. With this wind we can raise the sail and pull out of there silently."

"Alright," I said.

We reached the thatch hut and trail that led back to the old road. I walked toward the trail.

"No," said Forest. "We stay off the road."

I knew that would mean crossing through a long patch of mangrove trees and sharp rock. At least for half a mile until we got to Agwe's beach and the trail up to his house.

"That's gonna take a long time, man. Time we don't have," I replied.

"Better than getting caught on that road," said Forest.

"We can run. Five maybe ten minutes. Through the mangroves could take thirty."

"Yeah, okay," said Forest.

As soon as we hit the packed sand on the trail, we started running. I felt a branch of thorns rip across my right leg. The sting was slight. I quickly looked down and saw dots of blood separated by thin red lines. My throat was completely dry with the exception of blood dripping from the inside of my mouth. The road was just ahead. Forest slowed to a walk and held up his hand to signal me. Part of me expected to look toward Agwe's house and see police cars. We neared the edge of the high grass and cautiously looked to the right toward Queens Bluff and to the left toward Agwe's.

"Clear," said Forest.

He started running toward Agwe's, and I followed behind. My mind flashed back to our sprint through the woods in Miami. The scene was almost the same, minus Becca. Then to the cave where she nursed me back to health. The sight of her face leaning closer and closer to mine until I felt her lips. I would never forget that. The experience was so intense that it seemed like more than a memory. That any time I could go back to that place and feel the same thing, at least I hoped.

Agwe's house was in sight. It would have been smarter to take the ocean side, but this way there was a chance Becca might come back up for a drink or something. Then we would run into her and have to explain ourselves. I hoped. I hoped so bad that I prayed for a God up there to make her leave the point for just a few minutes to get something to eat, go to the bathroom, anything. Then I wondered if our souls were close, so close that I was now coming to her mind. That she sat up with a feeling that something was just wrong. Instincts. "Come back up the house Becca," I whispered over and over.

We reached Agwe's, and I didn't see anyone. We startled a chicken that ran across the backyard. We both walked to the edge of the property where we could see the point.

"Is she there?" asked Forest.

"Yeah." My heart fucking broke. I swear in that moment it was like a part of it went black and died. Maybe more than a part. Becca rested on her belly in the distance. I could tell the strap on her top was untied and she looked peaceful and asleep.

"Come back, Becca," I whispered.

She lay there as if frozen.

"Come back."

I bit my lip harder and tasted the blood. I clinched my fist and shut my eyes tight.

"Joey," said Forest. He was already walking back around the house. I looked at him.

"Come on," he made no sound, but looked like he was shouting.

I knew this was it. The last time I would see Becca, and it fucking tortured me. I watched her for a few last seconds and whispered,

"Don't be mad at me, Becca, please. I love you. Goodbye."

A switch inside of me turned on. Maybe it was a coping switch or something, but I was very familiar with it. My emotions went blank, and I felt more like an animal than human.

Forest and I walked back around to the other side of the house.

"Shit!" said Forest, pointing at the road. We could hear the sound of trucks approaching and saw a faint cloud of dust in the distance pushed up by the tires.

We bolted into the house. "Agwe!" shouted Forest.

He was sprinkling salt on some fish on the counter. Agwe jumped, and the glass jar rolled onto the floor. It smashed into several pieces, and salt showered onto the floor.

"You scared me, Forest!"

"We have to go, Agwe. Now. Take care of Becca. Tell her we're sorry. We don't have a choice," said Forest.

Forest grabbed his blanket and started stuffing shirts into his backpack.

"What do you mean? Where are you going?" asked Agwe.

I grabbed half a dozen coconuts and stuffed them into a mesh sack on the counter. I could feel the numbness and tunnel vision. We just had to get out now. That was all I was thinking about.

"Wait Joey, wait," said Agwe.

"The cops are coming right now!" snapped Forest. "We have thirty seconds, and we're gone."

"No!" shouted Agwe.

Forest stuffed some bread into his backpack and a few large papayas.

"Fishing line," I said rummaging through one of the drawers.

"Shit, we're running out of time," said Forest.

"Forest, Joey, stop!" shouted Agwe.

We couldn't listen. We loved that man but knew we didn't have time to listen. It hurt like hell.

I grabbed a towel that Becca brought me home from Queens Bluff. Agwe ripped it out of my hands.

"Stop!" he shouted again.

I yanked it back. "We don't have time for this, damn it. I'm sorry."

We could hear trucks coming down the road. They were much closer now. In less than a minute there would be a knock on the door, or they would just ram it down. With our bags in hand we bolted to the back door. Agwe jumped in front of us.

"You gotta get out of the way, man!" Forest shouted and pushed Agwe aside. Then he tried to grab my arm and I flung his hand away. The second we stepped outside Agwe shouted,

"They aren't coming for you."

We both froze and looked back at him. His expression unusual and serious.

"They are Agwe," said Forest. "For the killings by the lake."

Agwe shook his head. "I confessed to your crime."

The trucks were coming fast. My mind was thrown into a storm of confusion trying to process what he just said. I knew we were supposed to run, but we just both stood there, stunned.

"Agwe," I said. "What? Why the hell did you do that? Besides it doesn't even matter. They'll run DNA, blood tests. Your blood isn't even there, man."

"You're wrong, Joey," said Agwe.

"What are you talking about?" I snapped.

Agwe lifted his hands revealing his palms.

"What?" I asked softly.

"My scars," said Agwe.

"From the fight with that Blue Marlin," I whispered.

"I didn't go fishing that day, Joey."

We heard the sound of multiple car doors opening.

Forest started to turn to the trail, not knowing what to do.

"We have to go then, Agwe. All of us," said Forest. "Come on."

"No. You're done running," said Agwe.

I suddenly felt like a fucking basket case and didn't know what to do. Forest's eyes were straight bloodshot.

"Agwe," said Forest. "You're the last person on earth that deserves to live in a cell. It can't happen, man. Not while I'm alive."

Forest pulled the knife out of his backpack. "Joey, we fight. To the death. Fuck it."

Agwe approached Forest and grabbed hold of the blade so that it rested against his scars.

Forest immediately released the knife, and Agwe tossed it aside into the high grass.

"Give me a hug instead," said Agwe.

Forest wrapped his arms around Agwe's neck in a tight embrace.

"Forest," whispered Agwe. "Do you see? Your heart is far more powerful than your fists. Use this instead. It will lead you to better places."

"Agwe Manitoba!" shouted a voice from the front of the house.

"I am coming unarmed. I surrender!" shouted Agwe.

Agwe reached out his right hand and placed it on my shoulder. He smiled. Not the big grin that we always saw when he looked up at the sky or swam on the reef. It was different. It was a smile that looked like contentment.

"Goodbye, Joey. I left some notes and a letter for you under my book."

I hugged him before he walked away and disappeared around the side of the house. He never did look back. We couldn't see what was going on out front, we could only hear the sounds of clicking and car doors shutting. Forest and I stood in that backyard like statues. There was the sound of a vehicle peeling out on the gravel road and another followed. It became more and more quiet, until we couldn't hear them anymore. There we stood. The wind was gently blowing the smell of sea salt onto our faces. I could hear the sound of small waves hitting the rocks at the point. I watched a seagull overhead and shifted my focus to the large white cloud behind it.

It was hard to take in what had just happened over the last few minutes. It didn't make sense and sure as hell didn't fit in with my understanding of people and how they act, what they do. Being still seemed like the only thing that felt right. Forest was the first of us to move. He tossed his backpack to the ground. I looked at it then at Forest. He was my brother.

We heard footsteps. I looked over my shoulder to the trail leading to the point. She appeared small beads of sweat on her forehead, a towel wrapped around her waist, her dirty blonde hair tied back in a bun. I didn't know what to say.

We looked at her. Becca stopped. Her eyes bounced back and forth between us.

"I had a feeling something was wrong," she said.

I nodded. "Where's Agwe?" she asked.

"He took the blame for us. The police took him away."

She showed no expression, but her eyes filled with tears.

"Why?" she asked.

It wasn't a question that we could answer, and she knew that. But it needed to be said, and she said it for us. We sat down on the stumps in front of the firepit and said nothing. An hour of silence drifted by.

"What do we do now?" asked Becca.

"I don't know," said Forest. "I guess stay here until we get kicked out."

"Can we? I don't know," I answered. "He mentioned some notes he left."

Forest walked into the house to take a look. I grabbed Becca's hand and strung her fingers through mine. We didn't say anything, just breathed. Forest came out of the house holding some papers.

"What is it?" I asked.

Forest handed me an envelope. "A letter to Joey," he said. I looked at it then folded the envelope and put it in my pocket.

"What's the rest?" I asked.

Forest was shuffling through a dozen or so papers with text and diagrams.

We both looked on over his shoulder. "Wait, what's that?" Forest held up a certificate that had a seal in the top left corner.

"Commonwealth of the Bahamas," I read aloud. "One point eight acres. It has our names on it."

"Something's on the back," said Becca.

We flipped it over and in large, messy handwriting were the words, It's Yours. Live well.

"What the hell," said Forest.

Becca had her hand over her mouth. "Let me see that again." I took the paper and read back over the deed.

"It's ours," I said.

Forest quickly stood up and walked off to the trail that led down to the beach.

"Forest," said Becca.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked.

There was no telling what he was about to do, so we chased him.

"Forest!" I shouted.

We came up to him on the beach. He sat there, in the sand, with his head bowed and hands over the back of his head. It seemed like a crime to see Forest crying, but he wasn't crying, he was sobbing. We sat down next to him in the sand, a small wave pushed water over our feet.

Becca rested her head on his shoulder. I leaned up against him just like we did on the rock.

Forest lifted his head and stared at the blue water.

"This is fucking crazy," said Forest. "Why the hell did he do that? Noone does that, man."

"It is fucking crazy," I answered.

"Love," said Becca.

"That doesn't make any sense," said Forest. "Why would he love us?"

"I don't know," said Becca.

Forest stood up. "I'm going to take his boat out, get alone for a little while, and think. Look. Let's take care of his house, fix it up. I don't care what that paper says. We should consider it his, always. Let's fix it up for him. If he comes back, I want him to be impressed, okay?"

"Yeah, definitely," I replied.

"Let's repaint it," said Becca. "He said he always wanted to but never had the money to buy paint."

Forest nodded and walked down the beach to Agwe's rowboat called Cousin. The boat seemed mysterious and looked lonely now that Agwe was gone. Forest must have sensed the same and felt drawn to comfort the old boat.

"What does the letter say?" asked Becca.

"I don't know yet."

"I think I'm going to the point for a while." She leaned over and kissed me. "I love you," she said.

"Love you."

I watched her walk down the beach toward the point. The ends of her hair danced in the wind and shone in the setting sun. She stopped and turned around.

"Is this really happening?" she asked.

"I think so."

She smiled gently and turned away. I watched her take each step.

"I would die for you," I whispered.

I sat alone on the beach. The letter felt awkward in my pocket, and I pulled it out. I started to tear the top right corner and stopped. I folded it and returned it back to my pocket, unopened. A school of ten small minnows were feeding on something in the sand in front of my feet. I watched them swim closer when a small wave approached and then back when it receded.

The sand felt cool in between my fingers. I formed a large mound like the one me Becca and I had made. There was a twig within reach that I used to poke hundreds of windows in the new castle. After outlining the roof, I made sure there were no walls or lookout towers. Instead a river flowed by it. I sat there until the sun slowly disappeared over the horizon, by myself, building a sand castle.

# 25

Weeks drifted by. Life on the point continued as it had before, but there were already some changes. Becca now worked for four hours every morning with Mrs. Phoebe. She would still bring home treats every day around lunch, but she was also being paid a bit more. Becca was slowly furnishing the house and drove a hard bargain with the merchants in Queens Bluff. We had a set of glass dishes now, a sofa in the living room, a record player with some old Motown albums, a big cooler with no handle, and some beach paintings on the wall.

We ended up trading one of the mattresses for some bikes. It made all the difference when going back and forth into town. Somehow I ended up with the sucky one, though. The chain fell off every five minutes. Forest would laugh and said it was karma for sinking his scooter. I decided to start saving for a better one. We were actually making some nice money on the side and we no longer ran out of essentials like toilet paper.

Forest found out tourists would pay good money for lobsters. He would check around the marina for customers and sometimes the market. The scuba divers weren't usually that interested, I guess they caught their own, but the fishermen almost always were, and they paid cash. Sometimes I would go with him in the morning or with Becca and hang out at the bakery with her and Mrs. Phoebe. I wasn't much help in the kitchen, but I was useful in taking the hot pans out. I could also whisk the dough for longer than they could. We had a competition.

It turned out Mrs. Phoebe was a retired school teacher. When we told her we all dropped out, she insisted on teaching us the remaining high school courses, even if it wasn't official. It was only like an hour a day, and we just sat on her back porch. I didn't mind it one bit. I couldn't even begin to express the difference between her school and Havana. She also had a granddaughter that lived with her in the summer. She and Forest liked to hang out a lot.

Becca had started pulling up the weeds and vines around the old house. I didn't know she loved flowers so much. She planted them all out front and was always on the lookout for native flowers she could uproot and move to our yard. It looked really good. There was color everywhere.

The police presence in Queens Bluff dwindled down to nothing in the days after Agwe's arrest. No one asked us questions, but I could tell they all missed Agwe. We were getting to know his friends. We hung out with Mr. Joseph a few times a week. He had an old board game called Backgammon that was fun as hell. He smoked his pipe and liked to tell stories. Sometimes the same ones, but we always acted like it was the first time we had heard it. He was always asking us if we knew any new jokes. What we knew wasn't even that funny, but he laughed so hard I was afraid he was going to have a heart attack one day while cracking up on his porch.

We thought about Agwe constantly. All we knew was that he was serving a life sentence at a prison in Nassau. Once we had the money, we planned to visit him often. For now, we were saving up for an old Polaroid camera one of the shops had in Queens Bluff. We thought we would use it to send him pictures of us and clouds and things. I wondered at first if that would make the time harder for Agwe. Becca was adamant that it would not and that Agwe would want to see how we are doing.

Becca still had her bad dreams at night. I remembered what Agwe said though, and hoped it was just a matter of time. I did find her a little fat puppy in Queens Bluff, and it seemed to help. We watched almost every sunset together from the point. According to Bohemian law, we couldn't get married until we turned eighteen. That was only two years away for her and less for me. I knew I would propose the day she turned eighteen. I wasn't sure how I would pay for a ring, but there were little shops that sold inexpensive jewelry in town and had some time to figure it out.

I took a deep breath. The point was beautiful on that Sunday afternoon. The sun would be setting soon, and we would get started on supper. It was quiet with little to no wind, and the water was like glass. I could hear footsteps approaching and caught sight of Becca.

"Hey, baby," she said and sat down next to me.

"Hey, how was town?" I asked.

"Quiet. Not many customers. But I got the address."

She held up a paper with an address jotted down,

Agwe Manitoba #389b

Nassau Prison - East Block

CB 3789321 Nassau, Bahamas

It didn't seem real. I stared at the address. The words looked cold and lonely. I couldn't imagine Agwe being there. He shouldn't be there.

"I think about him all the time," I said.

"We should," she said.

"I feel so damn guilty. I don't see how he can make it in a cell. It's impossible," I replied.

"What did his letter say?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I haven't read it."

"What!? Joey it's been over a month."

"I know. But it feels like if I don't open it, then he hasn't said goodbye yet."

Becca slowly exhaled.

"It's time," she said. "Where is it? I'll bring it to you."

I hung my head and watched an ant slowly crawl by in the sand.

"It's under my mattress."

She got up to go get the letter. I thought about Agwe swimming over the reef, fishing on the boat he called Cousin, smiling at the sky, taking his naps in the hammock. The vision of him in a small concrete cell with no windows was haunting and made me sad as hell.

I heard Becca walk up. This time she didn't sit by me. I looked up at her as she opened the envelope. She unfolded the single sheet of notebook paper and handed it to me. Then she walked away. I recognized the handwriting. It looked the same as when he wrote notes in the sand to tell us where he was. My mind flashed back to the message he left that morning, Agwe out fishing. I wiped a bead of sweat off of my forehead and began to read his letter.

My Dear Friend,

Thank you for choosing to leave the cave and come with me. For years I have prayed for the opportunity to truly help someone in my small corner of the world. You have given me that.

Right now you may be overwhelmed and tempted to run away - don't. The property is legally yours. It belongs to the three of you now to do with what you want. Live your life and get to know the marvelous people around you. Remember that all of life is a miracle, Joey. That includes people. Look past their scars, and you will discover their beauty.

Remember to slow yourself down. Your life is an experience, not steps. One of the greatest mistakes you can make is to rush through it. Slow down, and you will find the hidden treasures that people walk by every day.

Please hold Forest close. He is hardened and reacts too quickly. Help him with this. Hold Becca closer. She is more valuable to you than diamonds. Treat her like the ocean. The ocean is a mysterious, wonderful thing. Treat her well, and she will treat you well for the rest of your life.

Lastly, please do not worry yourself about my time in prison. You know how I love the sky, the ocean, and all of the life found there. But know this. I have something that no man can take away from me. The One who created those things is far more beautiful, and He will be with me in my cell. I want to introduce you to my Source.

So I leave you with one request. Find my book, the thick one that sat on this letter. Inside it is separated by smaller books. Turn to the book of Isaiah. There you will see it is divided by chapters and the sentences are numbered. Turn to chapter 53 then to sentence number 5. This is Isaiah 53:5. Remember to read it slowly.

I love you all and will think of you endlessly.

Agwe

