LeRoy Clary - Humanaty's Blight

My anger riled and my reaction was to point the bow right at where the shots came from, leap over the side into the water, wade ashore, and hunt him down. I picked up the rifle again and used the scope to search the beach. If I saw someone, I’d return fire, because those are my new rules. In the past, I’d have wanted to do the same. Now, I would.

When Steve turned the engine off, Sue asked, “What is wrong with people? Are they all trying to kill everyone else, so they are the last left alive?”

That was an interesting thought in a couple of ways. One way of looking at it was what she intended. Another was to do something about it. People were scared. Most probably hadn’t figured out that no more were getting sick. The danger from the flu, or blight as it was becoming known, seemed over.

If there was a way to tell everyone and pull them together to put things in order, I’d be willing to do my part. My eyes went to where the CB and marine radios were. Beside them was the short wave.

Steve went below. A few moments later, he returned with three cold beers, the last of our stash. Sue handed her’s back and went for a soda. He looked my way as he popped the top of his can and took a long drink. “Good news. We have another boat joining us.”

“We can’t save everyone,” I said, again thinking of a crowd of people around us where I’d feel lost and out of place. The comment hadn’t meant to be said but came out anyway. Sometimes I think there is more than a little Tourette syndrome in my makeup. My mouth says things without thinking and I can’t seem to stop the words from spilling out. I put on a face that hopefully said I was serious.

“But they might save us. Think of it that way. Four boats traveling together. Well-armed. Traveling as a force. Not many would dare attack us.”

He was right. I’d felt naked in the boat when I was alone with Sue. My temper was rising again, for no reason. After reaching the islands, we could go our separate ways. But that didn’t cool my anger. I said, “Don’t you think that’s the way every band of idiots on land is thinking? Surround themselves with as many guns as possible to protect themselves?”

He nodded and added, “Maybe it is not a case that all of them are wrong and you are right. It could be they are right. Our world changed and our thinking has to change also. If you want me to ask you before doing things, just say so, Cap. You’re in charge of this boat and all that goes on in it. Just think about it and if you want us to sail on alone, we will.”

I did not want to be in charge. I didn’t want anyone else to be, either. He was right. I needed to think about it and get my head straight. I couldn’t have things both ways. “I will. Sorry.”

Sue came back outside. I suspected she had been listening at the door and waiting. Steve went into the cabin as she took a seat beside me. “Anybody else shooting at us, or racing speed boats in our direction this morning?”

“Is it me, or am I getting jumpy and paranoid at the same time?” I asked.

She raised her soda can in a salute. “Both… and more. I used to think school made me stress out. A history paper due or an upcoming math quiz put me into a sweat. How are those things compared to what we face daily? I need some time to put it all in order inside my head. Like a month on a tropical beach, maybe.”

Her words were my thoughts.

Two of the boatsarrived within sight at the same time. They were sailboats, both ten feet smaller in length than the Truant , both gleamed white with fresh paint as if they were painted at the same time. The condition of each was immaculate at first glance, although with closer inspection, there were signs of aging around rusted fittings that had been painted over, a few dents and dings, corrosion on metal, and other clues the boats were not new.

What that meant was that they were well cared for by owners who cared. The people traveling on them remained outside in plain sight, without obvious weapons, although I was sure they had them nearby. It was a trust issue. They were showing us they came in peace. I put my rifle aside and raised empty hands. Their postures relaxed.

The man at the wheel of the nearest boat called, “Can we toss a rope and all of us get together instead of broadcasting our plans all over the air on a radio?”

“Cap?” Steve hissed from the side of his mouth after the question was shouted. “They’re waiting for you to answer.”

“What do I say?” I asked, not sure of the nautical terms that were appropriate.

“How about, ‘sounds good’ or ‘come on over?’”

My scowl at his caustic reply caused Steve to smile. I turned away and called, “That sounds good.”

Steve said, “Cap, I’ll get the rope and handle tying us up while you invite them to come aboard since we’re much larger.”

That was twice he called me Cap in the last few moments, and he’d asked my opinion both times. Now that he was treating me as a captain, as I’d wished. It was uncomfortable.

My attention was torn away from introspection as I saw the other passengers. A woman of about thirty with a girl that looked so much like her it had to be her daughter—and the girl also shared features with the man at the wheel. A boy, younger, seemed to look like all three.

A survival family? Four people in the same family were unaffected by the flu?

The second boat was pulling close and with a nod in my direction. A man in the stern called out, “Permission to come alongside?”

I gave him permission as if I was in charge of things and knew what I was doing.

Steve caught the rope for the next boat that was tossed to him and pulled it closer. He tied the sterns of each boat to either side of Truant and helped them to climb over with an outstretched hand. Unlike the first boat, the second held two men and a woman, none of whom looked related. Soon, they were all aboard and introductions were made.

It quickly became obvious the second owner and his two passengers were both unrelated and strangers to each other. They were three survivors, which was to be expected. However, the captain of the second boat was familiar with the family on the first. That was a puzzle that added to how an entire family had made it past the blight, along with a friend.

What were the odds of that?

Or did they know something that allowed them to live when so many others had died? I chastised myself for being so suspicious as the others talked excitedly among themselves. The radio had an almost steady stream of conversation and Sue remained seated there where she could speak.

Steve came to my side and said, “Now that the flu has run its course, people are coming out of their holes. Boats are a natural conclusion.”

“Like for us,” I muttered.

“Everyone has the same idea. Those islands up north are going to get crowded.”

Being a loner, that didn’t sound good. Neither did having seven strangers on my boat. Yes, my boat. Uncomfortable. I didn’t bother to learn their names. My eyes kept track of their hands, possible places they might conceal weapons, and furtive movements. I saw none.

I was correct in my summation that the family of four survived together, along with the man who owned the second boat. The family had been on vacation at an isolated ski cabin in the Cascades near Stevens Pass when they heard about the outbreak. Instead of rushing home and chancing infection, they remained up there and shunned any visitors. That choice probably saved the lives of the family.