Come Alive Ch. 34

"Good sandwiches, Pete," Henry groaned, though smiling calmly. "Better go below and wake everyone up. Better tell 'em we're gonna be in for a little shit-show."

Rupert looked at Henry when he heard that, and right then and there he knew he couldn't sail anywhere without Taggart. It was plain as day now and just as simple as that. He caught a flicker of lightning on the horizon and as his stomach tightened he turned and looked at Henry Taggart.

He was standing behind the wheel now, and smiling like some kind of possessed fiend -- like he was getting ready to spit in Satan's eye -- but it looked to Rupert that Henry Taggart was finding the prospect more than a little amusing.

Part V

Sitting next to Edith for ten hours hadn't been the worst thing he'd ever endured, but Anton thought the experience would make his top ten list of most uncomfortable times ever. First, she'd wanted the window seat, then the aisle, and when their flight attendant brought champagne it was too warm. There was too much salt on her salmon, her salad dressing too much vinegar, and on and on it went.

Mike Lacy was sitting across the aisle from them so was spared most of her irritating display, but every now and then he leaned over and made eye contact with Anton. They'd share a brief nod -- a kind of soggy commiseration, given the circumstances -- before Mike would lean back again and try to refocus on the in-flight entertainment screen. 'What a wicked wretch,' he thought as he tried to ignore her screeching litany of misery, and more than once he thought everyone would have been better served if they'd just dumped her face down in a ditch somewhere out in the weeds.

She got up to go to the head about every half hour, too, although Mike handled these chores, following her to the entry/cockpit alcove upfront and making sure she didn't try to bang on the cockpit door or otherwise create some kind of a stink with airline personnel. She'd glower at Mike as she came out of the little toilet compartment, then he'd follow her back to her seat and make sure she got buckled-in, again, then sit down and wait for the next trip.

So when the fasten seat belt lights chimed and the pilots announced their flight was on final approach into LAX, Mike was more than a little relieved. So was Anton. But Mike had just noticed a little quirk on their tickets, and though he had to assume Henry had done this on purpose, he was a little surprised. Henry had scheduled a five-day layover for them. Five days in LA, and vouchers for a four-night stay at the Grand Californian at Disneyland, and when Mike leaned over and pointed this out to Anton, the Russian had gone ballistic -- and just about out of his mind.

"Mountains of Space?" Anton shouted. "Really! Caribbean Pirates? Oh my God! Thanks you, Genry!"

"So," Mike sighed, "I take it that means you want to go to Disneyland?"

"YES, I want wery much go to Disneylands."

"Well, shit," Mike sighed -- just under his breath, "this ought to be fun."

But Edith heard this exchange and leaned over to speak to Mike. "Would you two like me to join you? I'd be happy to show you around."

And just like that...like someone had flipped a switch...Edith became the genteel hostess once again, but Mike simply couldn't resist the impulse to see how far she'd take this, and what her motives might really be.

"Why certainly, Edith. That would be just lovely," Mike said, smiling as sincerely as he dared.

"Wonderful," she said as she clapped her hands excitedly, kind of like a five-year-old might.

"You go Disneyland with Genry many times. This right?" Anton asked.

"Many times, Anton. Many, many times."

"My grandchildren dream to ride Caribbean Pirates, so this I must do."

"And I'd love to go with you, Anton," Edith said, now putting on her best prom queen aires.

'And I'd love to go pick some lint out of my belly button,' Mike sighed -- as he leaned back and closed his eyes...

+++++

Rolf and Dina were sitting at the big table in the saloon, each reading through the dense notes that Henry had left them on their laptops. There were three-ring-binders too, crammed with warranty data and other vital papers necessary for an easy transfer of ownership to Rolf. Tracy sat at the chart table reading her notebook, and as these were Henry's last words to her she was taking everything kind of hard.

Then, a ping from a timer in the galley and Dina's cinnamon rolls were finally ready; she iced them then fixed coffee, carrying bowls of fresh melon to the table when everything was ready. And there sat little Clyde, beside Rolf now -- as he always had been since Christmas day, sitting close to Rolf while quietly taking everything in.

Yet the funny thing about this quiet attentiveness was that, if Rolf or Dina, or even Tracy had cared enough to look over this strange little pup, to look him over a little more closely than they had, perhaps one of them might have noticed the pinkish tinge deep within the pups eyes.

+++++

"Pete?" Henry said to his tactician. "I think I see a steaming light between us and that squall line. Pull up the radar and see if you can get a range and bearing for me, would you?"

"Got it, Hank."

"Rupert," Henry added, "where'd my binoculars run off to?"

"Oh, sorry, I'll get 'em."

Once Henry had his Steiner's up to his eyes he scanned the flickering horizon but quickly spotted the other sailboat's steaming light, the small light casting a feeble glow on the other boat's spinnaker. He pushed a button and illuminated the binos internal compass and took a bearing, then waited for Pete...

"Intermittent contact at 243 degrees, range 3.2 miles, but it's a sketchy contact at best, like they aren't flying a radar reflector..."

Henry nodded. "Some idiots take 'em down after the start to decrease windage. You got a distance to the leading edge of the squall line?"

"It's indistinct, Hank, but call it 12 to 15 miles, so call it 20 minutes max until contact."

"Okay. Rupert, rig the little storm trysail in the slot, and let's get ready to douse the main, at least until we know how deep this cell is, but tie in a deep reef for now..."

"Right!" Rupert got his deck-apes forward and it took four of them to bring in the heavy air gennie, but they wrestled it down below while Rupert and another ape reefed the main. Then Rupert looked ahead and now he could just see the other sailboat up ahead -- and he saw they were still flying a huge tri-radial spinnaker, one designed for sailing on a close reach...but if that squall line hit them while such a huge sail was flying, well, he wasn't a pro at this whole sailing thing but he knew there would be some real trouble on that boat tonight. "Henry? See that spinnaker?" he yelled back to Taggart.

"Everyone must be asleep," Henry replied, shaking his head. "Pete? Give 'em a shout on 16 and see if anyone's awake over there?" He looked at their own boat speed, falling rapidly now that the sails were changed, then he looked at the apparent wind speed -- 24 to 28 knots, still on a close reach but way too much to be flying such a large sail -- yet the seas were still modest -- and he guessed wave heights were four to seven or eight feet -- but that would change fast if this was a deep cell...

He flipped on the loud-hailer and hit five short blasts, then he looked through his Steiner's to see if there was any reaction...

Nothing.

He hit the horn again, and those five short blasts pierced the night, and still no reaction, so he altered course a little to starboard to close on the other sailboat...

Rupert came down into the aft cockpit, while the deck apes huddled in the midships cockpit. "Okay, I checked every one of them. Okay with harness and everyone's hooked-in..."

Henry nodded as he looked at the other boat. "They must be on autopilot. That sail is luffing like crazy now, but if the wind hits while that fucker is up they're gonna lose their mast..."

"Hank!" Pete yelled up from the chart table. "I got someone. Everyone's racked-out below, some kind of dysentery, everyone's sick as shit..."

"Tell 'em to get their sails down -- NOW," Henry cried, "or they're going to be swimming the rest of the way to Maui!"

"Jesus, Henry...what the fuck..." Rupert began...

...just as lightning slammed into the sea a few hundred yards ahead of the other sailboat.

"Pete!" Henry screamed now. "Lightning! Isolate the electronics -- NOW! And use the handheld"

He could see two people on the other boat now, running forward to get the spinnaker down, one of them stopping suddenly before falling to the deck and getting sick, and then lightning slammed into the sea again -- but this time between his Swan and the other boat...

"Oh fucking hell," he moaned. There was nothing, nothing at all more terrifying than being on a sailboat at sea during a lightning storm, and that bolt had been too close...

Then the thunder hit -- a sharp splitting of the air within the scudding clouds just darkness just overhead, and everyone instinctively ducked...

And Rupert looked at Henry, still amazed that his friend was showing no outward signs of fear at all. Well, Henry was the de facto captain on this trip, and like any well-trained pilot understands after one day of training, showing outward signs of panic just burns energy and keeps you from focusing on the things that need the most attention...

"FUCK!" someone screamed, just after lightning slammed into the water a hundred yards off their starboard beam, and a couple of the deck apes ducked down the forward companionway and slammed the hatch shut behind them. Then -- CRACK! -- as another ripping wave of thunder tore through the scudding clouds...

"You know all that shit you were saying about sailing to Tahiti?" Rupert growled. "Well, fuck that shit, Amigo. Once this fucking tub gets to Maui I'm getting on an airplane, and as far away from this goddamn death trap as I can get! We're in the middle of the goddamn ocean, Henry, riding on a fucking lightning rod!"

Henry grinned. "Yeah, ain't life grand?"

"You mean...you're enjoying this shit?"

Henry nodded. "We're alive, Rupert, out here in the middle of the Pacific Ocean on a sailboat. Would you really rather be sitting at a desk in an air-conditioned office somewhere? Really?"

Rupert nodded. "I hear you, but..."

"Oh, fuck-a-doodle-do..." Henry sighed, now looking at a wall of white spume engulfing the sailboat ahead of them, still about a mile away, and still with their spinnaker flying.

As Rupert turned to see what had captured Taggart's attention, he too saw the other boat swallowed up by the advancing storm. "Oh dear God in Heaven," he mumbled.

"About two minutes!" Henry called out to everyone left on deck. "Double-check your harnesses and grab onto to something solid like a grab rail before this thing hits!" Henry looked at Rupert before he spoke next. "Come over here and clip onto the binnacle, get ready to help with the wheel in case something happens to me."

"Something happens?" Rupert cried. "Like what?!"

"Get the main all the way down now!" Henry called out to the deck apes, who wrestled the remaining sail down and got it lashed to the boom just as Henry turned the Swan almost directly into the wind.

Thirty seconds after the last deck ape jumped back down into the midship's cockpit, the white squall hit.

Part VI

The wind tore into the Swan, pushing her bow to port despite Henry's trying to keep her dead into the wind. Yet even as she fell off the wind he began to feel her rolling -- and he saw that sudden, all-consuming panic in Rupert's eyes. He ignored all his own fear now as he looked at the apparent wind speed gauge -- which was pegged at 110 knots, the maximum the gauge could display, and his intuition said to turn back into the wind, yet he knew that as the boat rolled the rudder would become less and less effective, so he turned to port, hard to the left, and the Swan began to settle down on her lines again -- and to pick up boat speed, too.

Fifteen seconds later the wind speed dropped to 30 knots, then to 25, and he pinched up as best he could, turning back to their baseline course -- and into a very confused sea...

...then he saw the other boat, still about a half-mile away...

Her keel had snapped off and she was sinking, her crew flailing in water surrounded by debris.

It was against race rules to use the engine for anything but battery charging, but right now the rules didn't matter. He reached for the ignition switch and preheated the engine, then hit the starter.

"Henry!" Rupert cried. "What the hell are you doing!"

"Pete!" Henry called out, ignoring Rupert. "Get on the SSB and put out a Mayday, advise we are coming to the aid of a sinking vessel and that there are people in the water!"

"Got it, Hank."

"Sheesh. Test pilots. Nothing seems to excite them," Henry muttered. "Rupert, stand-by the Life-Slings and get somebody on the bow to point out people in the water."

"Right!"

He waited for the engine to warm a little then pushed it to the redline, but even so, he guesstimated it would take the Swan about 15 minutes to get to the debris field...and to all the people there.

"Rupert! Get the main up, one reef, and the high-clewed yankee...get that up too...!"

"Got it! Come on, people! Let's MOVE!"

Henry saw the other boat's hull slip under the waves and he checked his boat speed against the ten-foot waves she was powering through, and he immediately realized it was gonna be a close thing...probably too close.

Then he saw a tall black dorsal fin slicing through the water, and then the eye of his friend looking up at him from the sea right beneath the cockpit.

"Rupert! Get back here and take the wheel!" Henry called out to the foredeck -- just before he set the autopilot and jumped into the sea...

+++++

Edith met them in the lobby of the Grand Californian and they walked directly into the park from the hotel, then she took them over to the 33 Club for lunch -- Monte Cristo sandwiches and mint juleps were the order of the day -- and Mike was astonished by the change that had come over this fire-breathing hell-bitch. Unabashedly genteel and genuinely helpful now, she apparently wanted nothing more than to see to it that Anton had the time of his life.

And Anton, for his part, was more than happy to go right along for the ride.

It hadn't even been four months since he'd been piloting a Sukhoi over the North Sea, locked in mortal combat with an American F-15...and then, in an instant...his entire world had disappeared...vanishing inside the heartbeat of the last world war the earth would ever know.

Then he'd been drifting towards the sea, a little boat fleeing Rotterdam below his dangling feet, then a surreal rescue by Henry Taggart -- and that whale of his.

And now here he was, inside one of the most exclusive reserves of the American über-wealthy, with a most attractive American female while enjoying food that had heretofore been something beyond his wildest imaginings. And because of Henry Taggart, he was himself now more than a little wealthy, too.

"What strange world," Anton sighed as his mind roamed.

"Oh?" Edith said. "How so?"

"I think of Genry. How he save me with whale, how whale is friend. And now here with most amazing beautiful American girl, in place where grandchildren dream of come -- of coming to. I am sad, but happy also. Sad for grandchildren. All the grandchildren who never know this place. Happy see this with own eyes so tell when see in heaven."

"They call this the happiest place on earth," Edith added. "Maybe there's a reason for that happiness, Anton?"

Anton nodded. Mike, however, looked out over New Orleans Square and tried to imagine the cash flow.

"When was the last time you and Henry came here, Edith?" Mike asked.

She fell into the trap, she was quite helpless not to, really. "Henry and I? Oh, that was many, many years ago -- so many I can't remember when exactly," she lied -- but despite the evasion, she thought back to the last time they'd sat up here in this very same dining room, her emotions now, as then, framed by the very same elegant French hardwood paneling on the walls, and all the doors open to the same square below...then to that afternoon when she had told him about all her little murders -- and how he had run away from her then...and how he had never really stopped running from her, not once -- and certainly not even now.

Part VII

He was holding onto the orca's dorsal fin now, trying to streamline his body as they sliced through the sea, but seemingly within just a minute or two they were in the debris field, surrounded by thrashing bodies and shredded tatters of sail. They surfaced next to a pale girl in a yellow jacket and Henry reached for her; too stunned to comprehend the sight of a man riding a killer whale, she grabbed his hand and they went to the next closest human.

And then he noticed that his orca's pod was with them, too. And that without being told a thing, the other orcas were swimming up to the humans in the sea and offering their dorsals. Too stunned to know what else to do, the drowning sailors clung to the whales while Henry's orca appeared to orchestrate the pod's movements, and by then Rupert drove the Swan into the scene and everyone -- in the sea and on the Swan -- seemed to realize what was going on out there in the darkness.

"Don't just stand there, goddammit!" Henry screamed. "Head to the swim platform and let's start pulling people on board!"

There were eleven humans in the water, and it didn't take long to get everyone situated. Soon all the survivors of the doomed boat were below, drying off and being fed warm soup, while Henry returned to the cockpit. A friend of Rupert's along for the race, a retired emergency room physician, started IVs on the sickest, while Pete made contact with the Coast Guard and informed them that there were eleven survivors aboard and everyone was accounted for. The Coast Guard advised that a cutter was outbound from Pearl Harbor to take the survivors from them and to keep them updated with position fixes.

"You wanna tell me what the fuck just happened?" Rupert said as he handed Henry an oversized beach towel to wrap himself in.

"If I knew, Amigo, I'd be happy to."

"Henry? Has that whale been following us?"

"Yup."

"For how long?"

"Since we left The Empress."

"Henry...this is insane..."

"Like you're telling me something I don't already know? Rupert? You tell me what the fuck's going on, 'cause really, man, I got no clue!"

"But Henry! You dove in like you knew exactly what you were doing!"

Henry looked down at the wheel, then he looked back into the sea, into the orca's eyes. "It was you, wasn't it?" he said quietly a moment later. "You were telling me what to do, weren't you? Just like you were telling all the other members of your pod..."

"Henry? Do you know what you're saying?"

But Henry wasn't listening now. His eyes were locked on the orca's -- and Rupert thought it looked just like they were communing -- until Henry threw off his towel and dove back into the sea.

Yet it wasn't long before everyone on deck was standing at the rails, gaping in disbelief -- and then all the sailors on the Swan gathered and watched a pod of killer whales surround their friend in the sea. Yet when they saw what happened next everyone fell silent and watched -- not sure what was happening.

+++++

As he settled into the little boat like thing, with Edith by his side and Mike just climbing in, the incessantly playing music kept rattling through Anton's mind --

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.

We pillage and plunder, we rifle and loot.

Stand up me hearties, yo ho.

Sitting in the front row of the little boat, the ride launched them into a twilit bayou, with fireflies dancing among hanging Spanish moss off to their left and a restaurant to their right, and still the music played --