Morgan Rice - Destined

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing. She tried to gather her thoughts, to direct them at this man.

You will let us on the boat , she willed. You will do it without our paying you.

Caitlin opened her eyes and expected him to be standing there, offering her passage. But, to her chagrin, he wasn’t. He was still ignoring her, untying the last of the ropes.

It wasn’t working. Either she had lost her mind control powers, or they hadn’t fully come back yet. Or maybe she was just too frazzled, wasn’t centered enough.

She suddenly remembered something. Her pockets. She quickly searched them, wondering what, if anything, she had brought back from the 21st century. She found something, and was relieved to see it was a $20 bill.

“Here,” she said, handing it to him.

He took it, crumpled it, and held it up, examining it.

“What is this?” he asked. “I don’t know this.”

“It’s a $20 bill,” Caitlin explain, realizing, even as she explained it, how stupid she sounded. Of course. Why would he recognize it? It was American. And it wouldn’t exist for another two hundred years.

With a pang of fear, Caitlin suddenly realize that all of the money she had on her would be useless.

“Garbage,” he said, shoving it back into her hand.

Caitlin looked over and saw with a pang of fear that they were undoing the ropes, that the boat was preparing to depart. She thought quick, reached again into her pockets, and pulled out some change. She looked down, found a quarter, and reached out and handed it to him.

He took it, more interested, and held it up to the light. Still, though, he wasn’t convinced.

He pushed it back into her palm.

“Come back with real money,” he said; he also looked at Rose, and added, “and no dogs.”

Caitlin’s mind turned to Caleb. Maybe he was there, just out of her reach, on the island of Venice, just a boat ride away. She felt furious that this man was keeping her from him. She had the money – just not his money. Plus, the boat barely looked seaworthy, and it held hundreds of people. Did one more ticket really make such a big difference? It just wasn’t fair.

As he stuck the money into Caitlin’s palm, he suddenly clasped his big, sweaty hand over hers, and grabbed her wrist. He leered down and broke into a big, crooked smile, revealing several missing teeth. She could smell his bad breath.

“If you have no money, you pay me in other ways,” he said, broadening his creepy smile, and as he did, he reached up with his other hand and touched her cheek.

Caitlin’s reflexes kicked in, and she automatically reached up and swatted his hand away, hard, and extracted her wrist from his grasp. She was surprised by her own strength.

He looked back at her, apparently shocked that such a small girl would have such force, and his smile turned to an indignant scowl. He hocked up something from his throat, and then spit right at her feet. Caitlin looked down and saw it land on her shoes, and was revolted.

“You lucky I no cut you up,” he grunted at her, then abruptly turned his back and went back to untying the ropes.

Caitlin felt her cheeks redden, as the rage overcame her. Were men the same everywhere? In every time and age? Was this a preview of what she could expect for the treatment of women in this time and place? She thought of all the other women out there, of everything that they must have had to put up with in this time, and she felt her anger grow. She felt like she needed to stand up for all of them.

He was still bent over, untying the ropes, and she quickly leaned back and kicked the brute hard, right on his butt. The kick sent him flying over the peer, head first, right into the water, fifteen feet below. He landed with a loud splash.

Caitlin quickly ran up the rope ramp, Rose by her side, and pushed her way onto the huge sailing ship, packed with people.

It had happened so fast, no one, she hoped, had seen it. That seemed to be the case, as the crew pulled in the roped walkway, and the ship began to set sail.

Caitlin hurried to the edge and looked down: she could see him splashing in the water, bobbing his head up, as he raised a fist up at the boat.

“Stop boat! Stop boat!” the man screamed.

His cries were drowned out, though, as hundreds of excited passengers cheered at the boat’s finally setting sail.

One of the crew noticed him, though, and ran over to the side of the boat, following the man’s finger, as he pointed towards Caitlin.

Caitlin didn’t wait to see what happened. She quickly ducked into the thick of the crowd, Rose at her side, ducking and weaving this way and that, until she was deep in the center of the boat, in the thick of the masses. She pushed deeper, and kept moving. There were hundreds of people crammed together, and she hoped they wouldn’t spot her, or Rose.

Within minutes, the boat was gaining speed. After a while, Caitlin finally breathed deep. She realized that no one was coming after her, or, as far as she could tell, even searching for her.

She began to cut her way through the crowd more calmly, Rose beside her, heading towards the far side of the boat. She finally made it, squeezed her way beside the crowded railing, and leaned over and looked.

In the distance, the brute was still bobbing in the water, pulling himself up onto the dock – but by now he was just a dot on the horizon. Caitlin smiled. Served him right.

She turned the other way and saw that Venice loomed straight ahead.

She smiled wider, leaning over and feeling the cool seawater pushing back her hair. It was a warm day in May, and the temperature was perfect, and the salt air refreshing. Rose jumped up beside her, pressing her paws on the edge of the railing, and looked out and smelled the air, too.

Caitlin had always loved boats. She had never visited an authentic, historic sailing ship – much less, sailed on one. She smiled and corrected herself: this was no longer a historic ship. It was a modern one. It was 1790 after all. She almost laughed aloud at the thought.

She looked up at the tall wooden masts, rising into the sky. She watched as the sailors all lined up and heaved on the thick ropes; as they did, yard and yards of heavy canvas were raised, and she could heard the flapping of the material. It looked heavy, and the sailors sweated in the sun, yanking the ropes with all they had just to raise the canvas a few inches.

So this was how it was done. Caitlin was impressed by the efficiency of it all, by how seamlessly it worked. She couldn’t believe how fast this huge, crowded boat was moving, especially without the benefit of modern engines. She wondered what the captain of the ship would do if she told him about 21st century engines, about how much faster he could go. He’d probably think she was crazy.

She looked down and saw, about twenty feet below, the water rushing by her, small waves lapping against the side of the boat. The water was so light, so blue, it was magical.

All around her, people squeezed in, all trying to make their way to the railing and look out. She looked around and realized how simply most of them were dressed, many in tunics and sandals, and some barefoot. Others, though, were dressed elegantly, and seemed to try to keep away from the masses. A few people wore elaborate masks, with a long, beaked nose. They laughed and jostled each other, and seemed drunk.

In fact, as she looked, she noticed that a good portion of the passengers were swigging from bottles of wine and seemed drunk, even in the early morning. The entire boat, now that she noticed it, had a festive, rowdy atmosphere, as if they were all on their way to a giant party.

Caitlin pushed her way along the railing, through the crowd, past parents holding up children, and slowly but surely made her way to the front. Finally, she had the view she wanted. She leaned over the edge, and watched as the boat bore down directly on Venice.