LeRoy Clary - Humanaty's Blight

Steve said, “The fog is thick but before long we’ll see the nearest boat. We don’t wait for them to open fire. Take your time and use the scope, if you can. They will probably be large motor cruisers, so aim for the higher decks where the helm might be. I’ll do the same. And load both shotguns with slugs. Put them between us.”

“What if they are not after us?” I asked since the idea of shooting first was still something that seemed unfair.

He hesitated, then said as if speaking to a child who was slow to learn, “The fog will probably lift in an hour or two. Friendlies would wait until then to approach and they’d use the radio to warn us and ask permission. These two boats didn’t know we have radar and are trying to sneak up on us. Good people wouldn’t do that.”

I knelt to brace the scope and watched ahead on the left side of the boat. Steve took the right as he steered to go right between them.

A blurry image, a vague shape, darker than the fog, jittered into view and then I lost it in the shifting swirls. “I caught a glimpse of it.”

He remained silent, then a shot rang out from one of the other boats. I still couldn’t find the boat in my scope and looked over the top with both eyes. I’d been watching the wrong one. A white boat that blended into the white fog was heading right for us, and it was a lot closer than the other.

I got it centered in the scope and fired two shots at where I thought the wheel would be, which was one deck above the main deck, and I shot at the right side, thinking the driver would be there. The scope revealed no damage.

Our boat was bouncing as it drove forward, and it swayed left to right with swells in the water. It came closer, even as I evaluated my first two shots and realized the scope might not be adjusted properly or had been knocked out of alignment at the bottom of the aluminum boat. I fired three more shots as I heard Steve shooting.

My fingers fumbled for more bullets and before I finished loading, Steve fired again. I looked up to see the nearer boat clearly in the scope. Five, possibly six men were on the main deck, most with pistols that were too far away to fire. They were a few hundred yards away and closing fast.

The men were massed together on the open rear of the main deck, and I could only see them because the boat came at a slight angle. I aimed for the mass of them and squeezed off all five shots. I hit one man. The group ducked out of sight, not so brave anymore.

The double-barreled shotgun found my hand. I broke it open and loaded two green slugs. The shots boomed. I think I missed with both, but they might think there were more of us because of the different sounds.

I reloaded and listened to Steve fire at them more slowly with his rifle, taking a second or two to aim between each shot. The nearer boat was going to pass directly ahead of us, and I waited before firing my rifle, but pulled my nine-millimeter and emptied the magazine at the other boat that was now speeding away. I saw the driver was a deck higher than I’d been shooting, out in the open.

My rifle came to my shoulder and I fired five spaced shots at the figure. Steve was firing again, and one of us must have hit the man at the wheel. The boat made a sharp turn and looked like it was going to roll over, it turned so fast, the engine still running at full speed.

It went too far away to hit anything, but I looked for the other boat and didn’t see it in the mist. A look at the radar screen showed it was rapidly pulling away from us. The first boat, the one that had been turning at full speed, pulled to a stop as if someone had managed to get to the throttle. Winks of orange and yellow told us they were shooting at us before we heard the sounds of several guns. None of the shells came close enough to hit us or to see where they hit the water.

They were using handguns, as far as I could see, a silly thing since we had rifles that were accurate for twice the distance. I reloaded and timed the rocking of the boat with my shots.

Steve spun the wheel and shouted at Sue, “Let me steer.”

Sue rushed up the stairs and reached for the bullets in the bowls. “Can I load the guns?”

We went away from the boat firing at us and made a wide circle around it. It remained stationary. As soon as we were lost in the fog, the shooting stopped.

Steve pointed at the radar screen. “It looks like they’d have enough.”

I sat heavily on the seat, my heart pounding.

Steve said to me, “If I had any doubts about your bravery, Cap, they’re over.”

Sue looked at him with the same puzzled expression I must have worn.

He said to her, “He stood up and returned fire with all those bullets flying all around us.”

“What bullets?” I asked.

He started to laugh, then halted. “On their approach, everyone on board was shooting at us.”

“I was reloading, I think. When they pulled away, I saw them shooting at us.”

He shook his head. “No, there must have been a few hundred rounds that came our way, most of them too high. Look at the jib.”

There were five or six new holes in it.

If bullets went through the jib because they were fired from a boat in front of us, those same bullets had passed right by me. I hadn’t known a thing about them. It was good I was sitting, or my knees would have given out and I’d be on the deck.

There were no more boats on the radar and the fog seemed to be thinning. He said, “I’ll be right back.”

He went below while I avoided admiring looks from Sue. It was hard to tell her that I was so scared the bullets had flown past without me knowing. She went below and returned with a cold can of soda, the store brand of a supermarket that can never seem to get the right cola taste of the big two. She also carried two more boxes of ammo. We reloaded in silence.

Steve finally emerged and shut down the engine. The quiet of fog at sea enveloped us, with only a few splashes against the hull, the call of a seagull high overhead, and a metal something that again tapped out a pattern on the metal mast.

He gave us a thumb’s up. “We’ll hang here for a while. I talked to that boat behind us and it is a sailboat. Four people on board, doing the same thing as us, running for a safe place to anchor at an island. I warned them about the blockade.”

“Good,” I muttered.

“Also, they are in touch with another boat they are following, and both are turning around and coming this way.”

Sue said, “How can we trust them?”

“Both are sailing their family boats. They know each other and know how to sail. We can go on without them, but there is safety in numbers. I doubt those last pirates would have attacked three boats. It’s something to think about.”

My reservations were kept to myself. I didn’t like crowds and didn’t trust them. Never in my whole life. I’d been the one made fun of too often. My insecurities were well-founded.

“More good news,” He said. “There is a guy on the south end of the island with a view of the water and a marine radio in his house. He’s going to warn all boats traveling north.”

I wondered if it was the man we’d seen walking his dog on the beach down there. There was a good chance it was. While we waited, the wind and currents carried us closer to the island. We noticed but were a half-mile away and waiting for the first of the other boats to arrive. A splash fifty feet away and a little behind us drew our attention, and then the sound of the gunshot reached us.

Someone on land had taken a shot—and it came far too close. Steve hit the starter for the engine, spun the wheel, and gunned the engine as he took us away from land. Three more shots came our way, each farther away than the last, yet they may have served their purpose. We were not going anywhere near where the maniac who shot at us was located.