He moved to take the wheel, where Ellen was trying to eat with one hand hold her plate and hang on to the wheel with the other. He reached down and tightened the knob for the steering. “I got this, seeing as mine isn’t ready yet.” For a few seconds his eyes scanned the horizon. Apparently seeing the same nothing Ellen had seen, he relaxed on to the captain’s seat. “She’s doing well don’t you think?”

  “Yes she is,” Ellen agreed putting the last of her toast in her mouth. “Give her a little time, and she will surprise you. I think she is going to be okay.” The jib started to luff without wind to fill it. The water had barely a ripple on the surface. The Annie-C was coasting; soon she would be dead in the water.

  “Well crap…this is not what we need right now. She yawned so hard they both heard her jaw crack. I am going to lie down for a while. Wake me if there is a change.” She started through the door and stopped, turning to face him, “Watch for the channel guides. There should be some soon. The lights won’t be flashing, but there is one with a horn. Don’t know if it works or not. The wind may not be moving us, but the current is. You see anything, you wake me. Please, keep your eye peeled for other boats. We don’t want anyone sneaking up on us. If we don’t pick up some wind in the next two hours, wake me and we’ll have to drop anchor. I don’t want us drifting with the current or we’ll never find the Tortugas.”

  Day Six the Journal

  I pulled an all-nighter and I am truly on my ass right now. I let the kids sleep hoping that they would have an easier time watching today. I don’t know why, but in my mind they are kids. Alan is actually twenty-two and in so many ways he is fourteen going on sixty. Hannah has to be at least, taking in my ability to under-age people, 19 or 20? I need to find out. Why, I have no idea. I mean, is it really important how old a person is in year value? How they act should be their defining worth.

  As much as I hate to think about it, this is the day I need to teach them the art of self-defense as I see it. Hannah has the ability to fire a gun, and possibly according to her, hit a target. Alan thinks he knows how to handle a long gun, but shooting at another person is not the same as hitting a deer. I know he has the mental fortitude to kill another person, but, even though he hasn’t mentioned it, I see him sometimes thinking about it. Hopefully, we will never have to fire at a living sole, but I fear self-preservation is going to escalate to the top of our survival list.

  I am not sure of the distance, maybe 2 or 3 miles away, I saw what I think was two boats on fire. With no lightening last night, I can only assume they did it to each other. Had they been sitting out here, just bobbing around? It had to be a chance meeting, with no power to their engines. Were they fishermen making their way home? Or friends travelling tandem? It has only been six days. Surely they weren’t killing each other off after so little time. I don’t understand why others can’t see the value in creating a cohesive unit. Everyone contributes and all survive as a whole.

  If anarchy has come to the open water, I cannot imagine how it must be unfolding on land. I have to tell you that I am so fortunate to have Hannah and Alan on the boat with me. I think doing this alone, and don’t think I wouldn’t do it, but having them around makes me feel as if there will be something to go on for.

  When people realize there is not going to be a quick fix from the government, all hell is likely to break loose. I should add that if it hasn’t already I would be surprised.

  I try to imagine myself as a parent with hungry children to feed. What would I do to fill their tummies? Would I kill for food? Would I steal? It is hard for me to imagine because of being raised like I was. Even alone, I have my heirloom seeds, and a ready supply of food. I think I would take my family to the most defendable place I could find, and as far from whatever civilization there was. The first order of business would be to build some kind of shelter, get a garden planted, hunt and wood cut for winter. Probably in that order, but it would depend on where I was.

  Okay, so if you know me at all you know I am laughing right now. This is exactly what I am doing. I have a new family and we are headed home. I ask myself how far I will go to get there and keep us all safe. Still laughing. I will do anything or die trying. Did that sound a little evasive? Anything can be a gigantic word if used correctly. I hope it doesn’t come down to killing or stealing, I like the idea of defending and providing for my family.

  The way I am going, I will have to find a bigger boat somewhere, if the family keeps growing.

  Can’t keep my eyes open anymore, so until next time.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Ellen? Ellen you have to wake up. Alan needs you.” Hannah whispered. Her hand was on Ellen’s shoulder shaking her.

  “What? Why are you whispering? Weren’t you trying to wake me?”

  “Hush,” she said. “There is a boat really close to us. Alan said to wake you but tell you to be quiet, so I was.”

  Ellen was immediately awake, and realized it was dark. She was going to say something about sleeping so long when she grasped what Hannah had said. She slid her arm under her pillow fingers searching for her 357. Feeling warm metal, she pulled it out. The smell of fresh gun oil reminded her what it could be used for.

  Hannah saw what she was holding and silently asked, “Me too?” as she pointed to herself.

  Ellen shook her head no. She didn’t want to put Hannah in a position to have to use one. Finger to her lips, she lifted the edge of the settee cushion, “If something goes wrong, there is a shot gun under here. Don’t use it unless there is no other option.”

  Hannah, nodded she understood and Ellen crept up the ladder. She could see Alan hunkered down in the foot well, peering over the gunnels. He acknowledged Ellen with a nod and scrambled back out of sight.

  “They are just drifting around over there. I haven’t seen anyone on deck or heard any sounds either. Take a look.”

  Ellen squeezed by him and poked her head up. It took a minute to make out the shape of a modern trawler type boat. It looked to be about 38-40 feet long and silent. She had no anchor down and appeared to be just floating along, much like they were. There was not as much as a ripple on the water.

  “What do you make of it?” Alan asked. He had crawled up beside her to look.

  “I think we will do whatever we have to do to get away from it without drawing attention to ourselves. It’s pretty obvious they haven’t noticed us yet or we would know about it.”

  “How? Get in the water and push.” He chuckled softly, believing he had made a joke.

  “Not quite but close. Let’s see how quietly we can lower the dinghy,” she answered and crawled to the back of the boat. This is one time she wished she had towed the dinghy. She released the lines and let one end down at a time, alternating between them until with an inaudible splash it hit the water. Ellen pulled the tether that was permanently fixed to the bow and pulled the rubber boat tight to the stern. She climbed in and released the carabineers, which held it in the lifting harness. She handed the towline to Alan.

  “Pull me up the port side so they can’t see me and grab one of the dock lines.”

  “You’re kidding right? We’re going to tow her? With the dinghy?”

  “Alan, please we don’t have time for this. Get the dock line, cleat it off and throw me the bitter end.” She was trying to be as quiet as possible, but with him taking her words as a joke was frustrating.

  There was no way she wanted to get into another battle. For each of them in their own way the previous days had brought grief. One day, Ellen figured that grief would manifest itself in a way that would complicate their lives. Alan, with killing the guy, accidental or not and Hannah with her imprisonment and rape, and her with the guilt she was going to be carrying for not doing enough to help others. She hadn’t had to actually defend herself yet, she wasn’t going to count hitting the idiot with her oar, but she knew the day was coming.

  The line sailed her way followed by Alan saying, “Sorry I thought you were ready.” In his quiet voice.

  Ellen tied the bitter end to the D-rings in the dinghy transom, and slowly sank the oars in the water. She thought if she could just get her moving, the towing would get easier. First she had to get them moving. Long slow strokes, blades sank well under the surface; she thought it was going to work.

  So slowly she could barely see it, the Annie-C began to turn and follow. Once she had some forward momentum, the rowing got easier. Ellen wanted to shout with joy, but under the circumstances she managed to refrain.

  On deck, Alan gave her a thumbs up sign. She rested the oars and mimicked putting up the main sail. It took several demonstrations, but finally he caught on to what she wanted. A breeze was starting to come up and she would use it to put some distance between the two boats. She was grateful to see that Alan had apparently tightened the sail down to prevent it flapping in the insufficient wind.

  With a grunt, she strained against the oars, moving the Annie-C that much farther away.

  Alan had the main raised and the white sail seemed to glow in the dark, practically screaming look at me. The sail was giving her a little help moving her boat, but before she even had time to get Alan’s attention to drop it back down she heard a shout from the power boat.

  “Hey you!” Come over here, we need help here.”

  Alan was staring at her from the deck with his hands spread out as if asking her what she wanted to do. Shaking her head to say no, she continued to pull the Annie-C away. She was about to tell him to drop the sail when a flare from the power boat shot into the air directly at them. Fortunately, it passed harmlessly over the bow. Ellen continued rowing, sweat ran down her forehead into her eyes blinding her but she didn’t take the time to clear them. She had to get the boat a safe distance and even pausing for a second could prove fatal.

  People who genuinely wanted a hand did not shoot flares at you. Seconds turned in to minutes and Ellen thought she was safe, until another flare lit up the sky. This one hit the mainsail and instantly it caught fire. Alan began pulling it down to no avail. The fire spread so quickly, and splatters of liquid sail rained down on deck. Hannah ran on deck with the fire extinguisher but it was too late to save it. She was smart enough to put out the smaller fires before they could do any damage. Within minutes the fire was out, the remainder of the sail lay around the mast mostly a blackened pile of Dacron cloth.

  Ellen didn’t stop rowing until she was sure the men with their flare gun could not reach them. Ellen stared for a few seconds at Alan and Hannah standing on deck and wished she had told Hannah to use the shot gun.

  Ripples had now turned into choppy waves as the wind had finally begun to blow. They had two choices as she could see it. They flee or fight, but it would take more than a burnt mainsail to make it worth fighting for.

  If they had not been stopped by lack of wind, they would never have had an encounter with whoever was on that boat. She had to get the electronics replaced as soon as possible and to do that she needed to be in a safe place. “Getting to Garden Key was paramount to their survival,” she thought. Suddenly she looked up from her rowing because she could see that Alan had had the forethought to pull out the jib. The Annie-C was slowly getting closer. If she did not get aboard soon, she would be dragged along beside her.

  Alan had taken the cleated line and was hauling her back to the stern of the boat. She saw curls of white water along the bow of the Annie-C and realized how much the wind had picked up. Once again, she was glad to have brought him along. He was proving his worth daily.

  Back on board and the dinghy suspended in the davits, she looked back at the other boat. She didn’t see it at first. Then it was just a vague outline on the water.

  “I’m sorry Ellen,” Alan said. “Hannah and I were talking and I didn’t see the boat until it was right there.”

  “Why are people being like this? Why did he shoot the flare gun at us if he wanted our help?” Hannah asked.

  “To be honest, I have no idea. The way they see it, they could have thought we were sneaking up on them. Shooting at us with the flare gun wasn’t the right thing to do, but maybe they were afraid just as we were and it was nothing more than a gut reaction."

  “I didn't think of it like that. I guess they were on the shoot first and ask questions later mind set. I hope they know they just blew their last hope of getting to shore. What do think will happen to them?”

  Alan was still looking in the direction of the other boat.

  “The fact is, once we had put some distance between us, I planned on hailing them. I just didn’t want to do it without knowing what their intentions would be. Now we know, so let them either swim to shore or rot out here, I don’t care one way or the other.”

  Ellen sat and rubbed her shoulders. The act of doing it reminded her how sore her arms and back were. Its hell getting old, she thought, and stared at the destroyed sail.

  She wanted to cry. To just sit down and have a sole cleansing, nose running, cry fest. Not just for the sail, but everything that had already happened to them. Poor Hannah acting as if she hadn't been held prisoner and raped; Alan having at some time to deal with the fact he had killed a man. So far he had only brought it up the one time, but Ellen knew by the way he drifted off sometimes lost in thought, that it had to be on his mind. Ellen was hoping that she was doing the right thing. When she took the time to think about it, it seemed like an impossible journey.

  She felt a hand on her back; gently it rubbed in small circles releasing the tension in her body. She sighed and turned to Hannah, “Thank you.”

  Hannah simply smiled back as if she knew how much repair such a simple gesture could bring. “I’m going to make us some tea,” she announced, and went down the ladder.

  With the simple gesture from Hannah she knew; she would do this for them. If she could make even the smallest difference in their lives it would suffice.

  “What do we do with this?” Alan asked. He had bundled up the remnants of the sail and tied it up with a length of line. “It’s not good for much, but I can take off the hardware. Maybe we can reuse it.”

  “Lash it to the mast, maybe we can salvage some of it. You never know when we might need a patch for something else. The battens will probably be okay and like you said, the hardware too. There’s a storm jib in the forward locker in that blue sail bag. If you get it, we’ll hang it. We might as well make the most of the wind while we have it.”

  The wind had been nudging them in the direction they actually wanted to go. With no one at the helm she was just bobbling along. Ellen went and sat behind the wheel and steered them back on to their 208-degree heading. She had no idea how long she had slept or how far they had drifted in the current. Until they spotted a marker of some kind they would just keep to the heading.

  Hannah climbed the ladder balancing a tray, with her came the aroma of fresh baked something. Ellen’s mouth began to water in anticipation.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I thought you could use something to cheer you up.” She handed Ellen a plate with warm funnel cake topped with syrup.

  “Funnel cake? You made funnel cake? I love this stuff. How did you make it?” Ellen, using fingers alone tore off pieces of the delicious morsel and ate.

  Hannah was embarrassed by Ellen’s reaction. “It’s mostly flour, sugar, oil and a few other ingredients and you had everything. I just mixed it up. Mom called it comfort food.” Her eyes went glassy with unshed tears at the mention of her mother. “Oh and here’s your tea.” She added in a choked voice, handing the cup to Ellen and then fled back down the ladder.

  The Journal Day Nine

  Well, all my plans to get the kids ready to defend us fell through. I should really know better than to plan anything. They let me sleep late, drifted almost into another boat and before we could get away the assholes shot a flare through the mainsail.

  Yes, I am shaking my head at the stupidity on all of our parts. I guess I need to explain to them what is exactly involved with being on watch. You don’t let some assholes get close enough to inflict damage. You watch for out things like that…

  But never mind, it’s my own fault. Had I been alone the very same thing could have happened. Having them here, and I do mean Hannah and Alan, are far more valuable than a sail.

  She made me funnel cake today! Funnel cake is the only reason I go to county fairs. Well, let me rephrase that; the only reason I used to go to them. Don’t think there will be any for a long time. I wonder how I never thought to make funnel cake at home.

  Speaking of home, I am starting to wonder if it is even possible. What if it wasn’t an EMP? What if instead it was a solar flare of a magnitude to knock out electronics worldwide? Is that even possible? I wish I had spent more time reading up on that crap. But how could I prepare for every catastrophe? I mean my God; how many ways are there for our world to change overnight?

  Not wanting to sound paranoid here, but what if our own government brought this on? I mean it could be possible…couldn’t it? The great cleansing of 2016…you have to admit it does have a nice ring. Turn out the lights and let the people show their true colors. In a year or two from now, they turn them back on, do a little clean up and start over. For sure it would put an end to the welfare and entitlement programs. The prisons would be empty, no need for Medicare or social security. How’s that for paranoid?

  To be fair, I still don't know what happened for sure and so I will quit speculating until I do know.

  We’ve been making 5.2 knots with only the jib up, but Alan got the storm jib ready to go. It is not a big sail, but if we need it, it is ready. We have a little wave action with the seas running six to eight feet about six seconds. With any luck, come morning we should be somewhere close to the Dry Tortugas. My first order of business is to try to get the motor running. I can’t imagine how we would have a chance of getting home without it.