Pirates

Lanie spotted the blip just as the first alarm went off; something approaching rapidly from the southeast. “There’s no radio contact.  No one’s trying to hail us.  I don’t think they’re friendly,” she said.

“Sea scavs,” said Kyle.  Lanie frowned slightly.

“You mean pirates.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“People that do whatever they want and know they won’t get caught,” said Triss.  Kyle could see how scared she was and turned to her, holding her thin shoulders. 

“It’s only the beginning.  There won’t be anything like organized authorities or government or even primitive society for years.  Gangs, pirates, thieves, scavs now rule the earth—at least until the machines start rounding up the survivors.”  Kyle paused a moment, lost in thought, then said, “anyway, you are trained for situations like this, just remember to stay focused; you have to think of it like a job to be done.”

“A job where my life depends on it, I know,” Triss said. John, overhearing, could tell she was not reassured, but there was no help for it.  He moved close to her.

Kyle checked everyone’s weapons; hand guns tucked into their clothing, rifles within reach, loaded and ready to fire as they took up positions. Mano and Lanie stayed in the main cabin with John and Triss. Sarah steered a straight course while the unknown threat closed on them. Kyle stood on the foredeck. His eyes scanned the horizon behind them intently. It occurred to her in the quiet as the boat rode the swells that this was the first time since they had killed the Terminator that they were getting ready to fight side by side. She watched him standing with one hand on the rigging to steady himself; the muscles in his forearm looked lean and hard. She saw his body tense and looked back to see a large utility boat and the silhouettes of at least three men. There was no pretense; the outlines of automatic weapons were clearly visible. “Stop your engine!” One of the men fired a round into the air as the boat pulled along side. Sarah complied, raising her hands. Kyle took it as a good sign the men hadn’t shot at anyone yet. Three of the strangers immediately jumped aboard and soon had run lines tying the two boats together. A fourth remained on the rusty cutter, partially hidden behind the wheelhouse. The first man pointed his rifle at Kyle while the other two ran aft covering Sarah. “Don’t move,” he said. “Gideon, check below. McCall, watch her.” The youngest man ducked into the main cabin.

“What do you want?” Sarah asked McCall as the boats rolled and bumped together. Lanie and the others listened carefully from below.  “John,” said Mano quietly for the third time, “Don’t forget, if you shoot, shoot to kill, no matter what.”  John pondered why Mano said this to only him, and not the women.

“There’s three—two on board and one on the other boat,” said Lanie. She was inching carefully under one of the sections of window, trying to follow what was happening. It was impossible to see clearly with the lack of outside light while the one small lamp on in the saloon afforded whoever was on deck a clear view into the main cabin. “No wait, there’s another—“ Lanie started to say before Gideon jumped down the companionway. Everyone froze, and then slowly raised their hands as he shouted to the other men.

“Prasad! Four down here!”  He motioned for them to sit on the stowed fold-out bed.

Lanie turned slightly as if to comply, but raised the automatic and fired three times before the man could react. 

The first shot hit Gideon’s hand causing him to simultaneously lose his grip on the rifle and involuntarily squeeze the trigger. Bullets smashed through the roof of the cabin. In the split second everyone on deck reacted to the sound, Kyle rushed the nearest pirate, jerking his weapon up and shoving the man overboard.  He landed, yelling, in the water between the two boats.  Kyle fired his pistol twice as the man resurfaced sputtering for air, turning away even before the man sank into the shadows under the Sarah-Elena’s hull. Immediately, the fourth man, still aboard the utility craft, began spraying the deck of the Sarah-Elena with automatic machine gun fire.  Glass exploded downward into the saloon as Sarah and Kyle threw them selves onto the deck, taking cover.  Sarah crouched low and snapped off four quick shots, taking out the second man on deck.  McCall sat down hard, partly supported by the railing and tried to raise his weapon, but Sarah fired again and he went limp.  She stretched out to take his rifle, rebuffed as bits of wood and plastic splintered around her.  She ducked back into the cockpit. Kyle could now clearly see the man on the cutter silhouetted against the horizon, foolishly standing straight up in the open to get a clear shot at Sarah. Kyle fired over and over, struggling to aim, yelling in frustration as the two boats rolled and thudded against each other and his shots went wild. He could see the bullets punching into the deck all around Sarah pinning her into a small corner next to the tiller. Finally, the man grunted, stunned, as a bullet slammed into his neck. He dropped the gun, clapping one hand against the pain under his jaw.

Down in the saloon, the wounded stranger regained his grip and trained his weapon on Mano. The scav was young and barefoot, maybe twenty, unshaven and dressed in the remains of a filthy dress shirt, and wearing stained shorts.

Lanie had slipped to the other side of the cabin.  John and Triss stood frozen with hands raised near the aft companionway. “Put the gun on the table,” the man said, motioning for Mano to join Lanie. His hand was bleeding badly, but he continued to hold the weapon steady, now pointed at Triss and John.  As he approached them, John shifted, trying to keep Triss behind him.  “Move and I’ll kill you,” the man said, pocketing Lanie’s gun. He reached around John, taking Triss’s arm pulling her away as he slung the machine gun over his back and unsheathed an assault knife.  The blade looked huge against Triss’s slender, tanned neck.  John looked from the knife to the man’s eyes, to Triss’s face.  He saw the fear there and her shaking hands held awkwardly at her sides. A bloom of anger flooded through him as a tiny rivulet of blood snaked down from the knife tip held against her skin.

The gunfire on deck had ceased.  No one moved. “Joe!” the man called up the companionway.  “Prasad!”  There was no answer.  

Above, Kyle lay flat in the litter of broken glass, without a clear shot, but afraid to move for fear of making any sound. Sarah stood aft at the top of the companionway leading into the main cabin, unable to see anything but Gideon’s back and the top of Triss’s head over his shoulder.

“What kind of man are you?” she heard Mano say.  “Let the girl go.”

“All of you move back.” John and Mano and Lanie crowded against the wall as Kyle watched the man take Triss toward the stairs. Kyle also caught the tiny movement as Triss looked at Lanie and John and Mano one by one and then flicked her eyes toward where he lay above them. Sharp girl; she had seen him and now she had told the others.  Gideon turned sideways to start up the stairs.  He was not turning his back on the people in the main cabin nor leaving himself exposed to whoever might be on deck.  Triss grabbed at his hand, pretending to stumble and in that split second of distraction, Mano lunged.  The knife jerked through her fingers, slicing deeply into her palm as Gideon shoved her at Mano.  She screamed, darting around the corner as Mano fired and Gideon fell to the deck in an awkward heap. Sarah came down the stairs in one jump, shoving the man’s body over with her foot, and quickly stripped the young pirate of weapons.  Mano gathered his daughter into his arms, crushing her face against his chest.  “I’m ok dad,” she said in a wavering voice. She could feel the rage tensing the muscles of his arms. “Mano,” Kyle leaned carefully through the shot out window. “Is she all right?”  Mano looked up and nodded, then released her to Lanie. John grasped Triss’s hand as Lanie pulled her into fierce hug and turned it over to see the cut. He flipped a towel off the counter and pressed it hard against the palm. 

“Ow!”  Triss winced and tried to pull her hand away.  “Take it easy, John!”

“Sorry.  Here, you hold it.”  He opened the first aid cabinet and snatched up a gauze packet, some tape and peroxide.

Kyle crabbed his way off the foredeck, keeping as much of the rigging and the main cabin top between him and the other boat as possible. He crouched, brushing off glass shards with one hand while evaluating the situation. The man on the cutter was no longer visible in the fading light, there was no movement on deck and the engine wasn’t running.

Silently, Kyle jumped across onto the other deck and flattened himself against the wheelhouse wall, listening. The man with the bullet in his neck was face down on the deck. Kyle checked him. There was a lot of blood. No pulse.

There was no one else. Kyle and Mano heaved the two bodies off the Sarah-Elena and then searched the cutter. Together they salvaged a few crates of food and some ammunition.  Mano checked a box stowed under one of the seats. 

“Hello,” he said. “Shit, Reese, look at this.” 

“Forty millimeter grenades,” Kyle started searching through the other storage bins. “Where’s the launcher?”  .

“Try not to look so happy,” Mano sighed.

Sarah grimly washed the knife at the sink, dried it and added it to the pile as Lanie and John sat Triss between them at the table. Triss was shaking and trying unsuccessfully not to cry as Lanie gently began to blot at the slash across her palm. “I’m sorry sweetheart,” Lanie said.  “I can’t put anything on it until I get it cleaned.”

“No,” Triss said, her throat clogged with tears.  “It doesn’t hurt much. I’m just scared.” 

Lanie finished soaking up the blood and sighed. “What?” Triss asked quickly.

“This probably needs stitches—“

“No!”

“Calm down.  This probably needs stitches, but I’ve got some tape here that will have to do.  You’ll have to be really careful for a couple of weeks.” Lanie gently bathed Triss’s hand in antiseptic, turning it this way and that. “Let me try to numb this so I can bandage it right.”  She swabbed her daughter’s hand with an anesthetic and then examined the cut on her neck.

“Is it bad?” Triss asked anxiously.

“It’s ok,” John volunteered. “It’s not even bleeding anymore.” He had smoothed her hair away to see. The feel of Triss’ hair slipping through his fingers was like low voltage electricity. 

“All right, here we go,” said Lanie as she turned her attention back to Triss’s hand. Carefully, Lanie pinched the edges of the cut together and held them as Sarah applied the first bit of tape. Triss winced. John worked both arms around Triss, taking hold of her wrist to steady it and cupping one hand under hers on the table. She pressed into him, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to bury her face against his shoulder. Unconsciously he laid his cheek against her hair. Lanie saw this and shot John a ‘watch yourself’ look as they worked. He glanced up in time to see Sarah raise her eyebrows in a bemused way and felt a rush of embarrassment.

“All done,” said Lanie, securing the ends of the bandage. Triss relaxed and looked at her hand.  John extricated himself.

“Thanks,” said Triss, looking at each of them.

“We need to sink it,” said Kyle as he and Mano stood on deck, looking at the other boat.

“Let me guess how you propose to do that,” said Mano.

“You can do the honors, if you want. But we’ve got to make sure no one is around to see it.” Kyle ducked below to turn on the radar. He looked at Triss sitting at the table staring at her bandaged hand while Sarah and John were putting away the medical supplies. Lanie was sitting next to Triss, offering her a glass of water. Yeah, Mano, Kyle thought, you definitely need to do the honors.

Devastation

Sunken debris was everywhere just beneath the surface, but Mano kept a careful eye on the sonar. Kyle and the others stood speechless on deck, staring at the gray shoreline.  There were no tall buildings left, but mountains of rubble and heaps of broken concrete, flattened trees, telephone poles and billboards.  Here and there were wisps of smoke from campfires.  Everything was blanketed with soot and ash. Acrid clouds of billowing smoke from gas lines, burning houses and every flammable material whipped and swirled over the scorched landscape.  Sarah looked through the binoculars for a while and then handed them to Lanie. 

“Does it look the same?” Sarah turned to Kyle, slipping her arms around his waist and snugging her self against him.  She felt sick.  All the years of waiting and expecting this and now it was a reality.  She thought of all the friends she had grown up with and all the millions who were now dead.  All the normal things in life were now gone.  Electricity, fresh produce, cars, new clothes, steaks, pizza, hamburgers….. After all this time, and knowing, believing it would happen, and it was a crushing truth.  All the wreckage of society would now play itself out.  The looters had finished their business weeks ago and were now finding that what held value before had drastically changed.  DVD players and TVs, computers and jewelry, cars, fancy houses; they all had no meaning now that humans had become the hunted.  Suddenly, the machines were the creatures relentlessly exterminating their competition for the planet.  Now humans were the ones scurrying under trash and filth to escape being stamped out.  “Do you see any H-Ks?” she asked uneasily. 

“No,” Kyle answered, holding the binoculars with one hand, his other arm embracing her. His voice was tender and reassuring.  “But it’s still early. There won’t be many yet.”  She knew he meant in the war.  “The first ones are spreading out from White Sands.  In a few weeks, they’ll be everywhere.”  Sarah buried her face against his side as he continued to survey the horizon and shoreline.  White Sands New Mexico was less than two and a half hours from their old home near Lordsburg and the ranch where John and Triss had been born.  So many years of preparation yes, but also of a life of contentment in a little home built by Kyle’s hands.  Friends in Mano and Lanie and happy children for Beatrice and John to play and grow with.  Friends and mentors in Dennis and Genevieve Klein, the original owners of the ranch.  Years before, when Gen had died of ovarian cancer and Dennis in a car crash, the ranch was left to the Reeses and the Dominguezes.  After Kyle and Sarah revealed their terrible secret, the ranch was sold and the two couples bought the Sarah-Elena.