“Come on Alan; let’s get her back to the boat. Has she said anything to you?”

  “It’s all pretty disjointed but if I put it together right, I think that boat is her mothers.” He whispered, “She fell asleep a little while ago. What are we going to do with her Ellen?”

  “Right now, we are going to get to the boat and get her cleaned up. Then you and I are going to have a little talk, Doctor Boone.” His puzzled expression said that he didn’t have any idea what she was talking about.

  The girl never even so much as stirred on the trip to the Annie-C. It looked as if Ellen was going to have to give up her V-berth. The Annie-C only has so much sleeping area and turning the salon into an infirmary wasn’t an option as far as she could see. Alan could sleep in the cockpit and she would make up a bed on the settee in the salon. Ellen still couldn’t believe anyone would do such a horrendous thing to another person. She wondered how three individuals of such low moral character were able to find each other in the first place?

  Alan came out carrying the stained bloody sheet she had been wrapped in, “What should I do with this?” he asked holding it out in front of him. His face wore a shell shocked expression, and the hand that held the sheet was shaking.

  “It will have to be washed, there’s a plastic bucket I use for washing the boat in the lazarette and bleach is in the aft cabin. The large gallon of bleach is for water purification, so make sure to use the scented stuff. There should be a couple of half gallons. Dip water from the bay.” He was still standing with the sheet held out in front of him, as if he expected her to do the washing.

  “Don’t look at me. You found her and you can take care of her. Washing that,” she pointed with her chin her nose wrinkled in distaste, “is all a part of it.”

  “But Ellen, I think she is going to need your help. I can do the doctoring, but she might need to talk to someone. She’s a girl and so are you.”

  “Wow, thank you for noticing. I don’t know what I can say to her that would be of any help, but maybe you’re right. I still can’t wrap my head around why they did this to her. Has she said anything else?”

  “They took her from the docks in Sarasota Bay the afternoon the day after this all started as near as I can figure. She heard them cussing and she thought they were working on the boat, then they came down here. She didn’t even know there was anything bad going on. Her mother owns the trawler and she was staying on it for a couple of weeks. Her Mom is in Boston on a business trip. One of the guys was her mother’s so called boyfriend. He brought one of the other guys to the boat, knowing the mother wouldn’t be home.” He had started to visibly shake all over and his face had drained of color. A gentle push from Ellen sat him on the settee.

  “Get it together. I don’t need you to fall apart. I’ll put the sheet to soak and you worry about the doctoring. There’s a fully stocked medical kit in the head. You should find most everything you need. Go play doctor and when you are done, we’re going to talk.”

  She scooped the sheet from the floor where he had dropped it, and soon had it soaking in a bucket of bay water and bleach. Tomorrow would be soon enough to finish it. The soft murmur of two voices told her that the girl must be awake and talking. She really hoped the girl had somewhere safe they could take her. If her Mother was in Boston when the lights went out, chances are, she wouldn’t be coming home any time soon. Unless she has somewhere close to go, the Annie-C may have gained a new crew member whether she needed one or not.

  In the cockpit, Ellen sat down to think. There had to be a solution somewhere. Then it struck her. How could the other boats have gotten there? Dan and his bunch all had sailboats and it is feasible they sailed, but what about the power boats? The trawler, for sure came after the catastrophe started. It had to have had a working diesel motor.

  If someone had the forethought that she did, it could have run. It wouldn’t take long for someone with mechanical knowledge to change out the electronic parts…if they had access to them. And if that is the case, it confirmed that her engine could be capable of running too. She would bet her last dollar that one, or both of them ran on diesel. They wouldn’t have to go anywhere to find diesel, it has been provided right here. All she needed was a hose and empty fuel jugs. She had always siphoned her diesel from the full jugs to her tank because she hated the new un-functioning fuel spouts. First, she needed to transfer the diesel from her full fuel jugs to her tanks. Then she could use the same hose and empty jugs for a little five finger discount shopping.

  By the time she had completed siphoning the fuel into her tanks, Alan had finished with his doctoring. As he climbed the ladder he said, his voice sounding tired, “She’s asleep, finally. I did what I could for the rope burns on her wrists and ankles, they’ll probably heal fine. But the cigarette burns will probably all leave scars. My God, I can’t believe what she must have gone through. The emotional scars…there’s just no telling. I guess time will tell. I found a bottle of sleeping pills in your kit and gave her two. She should be out for a long while”

  “Good, because you and I are not done yet.” She grabbed the bow-line to pull the dinghy within reach, “Grab those empty jugs and follow me.” Hose and a couple of rags in hand she climbed down. Soon Ellen was rowing across the small bay to the trawler. Alan, lost somewhere in his thoughts hadn’t even asked where they were going.

  With the dinghy held close to the swim platform, boarding the trawler was easy. She had Alan climb out first and tie them off. Next she handed him up the fuel jugs, hose and rags, which he lined up on the platform.

  Ellen confirmed for herself that the trawler was empty and then found the door for the engine room.

  As she had thought, the trawler had a diesel engine, it was a Perkins and it looked pretty well cared for. Nevertheless, the brand new alternator and starter in their newness stood out like sore thumbs and confirmed her earlier suspicions. Someone had changed them out. Unfortunately, neither of the new parts would fit her engine. However, she was pretty sure they could use the electronic fuel pump. From a toolbox on a shelf she pulled out a screwdriver, crescent wrench and pliers and handed them to Alan.

  He looked at the tools in her hand with a bewildered expression. “Huh, what am I doing with those?”

  “Take this off and be careful, it’s probably full of diesel,” She told him patting the fuel pump.

  He stared where her hand had stilled, showing him exactly which part she wanted. “Take it off? How?” he asked, as he looked from the tools in his hand to the pump.

  Finally seeing his confusion, she wondered if he had never played with tools or motors before.

  “Unscrew it from the wall with the screw driver. Take the hoses off with the pliers,” she explained, “Undo the wire connections and you’ve got it. It’s simple. We only need the fuel pump.”

  “Sounds simple enough.” He said and added under his breath, “In theory anyhow.”

  Ellen was confident he would figure it out, and went to check out the fuel tanks. Sitting on the aft deck was a large dock box tied down with rope. Its presence and the way it was secured with rope, said it didn’t belong in the picture. Someone had placed it there and tied it down with whatever means they could. A padlock hung from the hasp, and it wasn’t locked.

  “What do we have here?” she asked, removing the lock and lifting the lid. “Well holy crap! Someone is smiling down on us today.”

  The inside was full of miss-matched fuel jugs. As if whoever put them there had gotten them from different sources. There were three seven gallon red ones, three five gallon yellow ones, an orange one, size unknown and two three gallon washed out red ones. As she removed them, she gave each of them a sniff test to make sure they all contained diesel. All but the two small red ones did; they held gasoline. Not needing gas for anything, she set them aside.

  “I got it,” Alan said. He had the fuel pump held out in front of himself showing her his prize. He looked proud of himself and his chest was pushed out as if he had just completed successful brain surgery. “It wasn’t that hard,” he admitted, “once I figured out where to start and it was just like you said.”

  “Good, I knew you could handle it,” she said as an off the hand compliment. The kid will learn, she thought. “Now, we have to load these and get them back to the boat. While you are doing that, I will see what other treasures we can use.”

  He didn’t so much as say a word about having to do the heavy work. He disappeared back down the hatch and returned seconds later with a canvas tool bag. He placed the pump into it, grabbed one of the diesel jugs and began loading the dinghy. “I’m going to have to make more than one trip.” He said as he came back. “Can’t move them all at once. Not enough room.”

  Ellen was already headed down to the galley, “Okay, do what you have to do. Don’t forget to check on your patient.”

  It was unlikely he could forget, but just the same. In the galley area she found black garbage bags setting all over the floor space. Inside them, she found beans, rice, packaged pasta, and a wild assortment of canned goods. Ellen thought that with such an eclectic assortment of brands, they probably had come from different buyers. Each bag held basically the same assortment of staples. These she would take. Up a narrow hall she saw the room where the girl had obviously been held. She thought there would probably be no need to check for anything in that room. Her jailers would have cleared everything out before they locked her in there.

  There was a narrow door on the port side and a slightly wider one on the starboard side. The one on the right, proved to be a washroom, or head. One glance told her there is nothing they needed in there. She pulled the door closed behind her. She found the other door to be locked. She looked but never found a key small enough to open the door.

  The gentle bump from her dinghy hitting the stern told her Alan had returned. She had been so engrossed in the bags of food, she didn’t know if he was on his second trip with the fuel, or if he had come back for her. Without the key, she could use his help to open the door. “Alan? Can you give me a hand down here?”

  “Yup, be right there.” A few bumps and bangs and he was standing in the salon area. What cha need?”

  “For you to help me open this door.”

  His face lit up and he said, “I have just the tool for that.” He turned and went into the engine room. Tools clattered and clanked as if he was digging through them. Triumphant, he came back out with a pry bar. “Will this work?”

  “Let’s try it and see.” Taking the bar from Alan, she wedged it between the outer molding and the door, careful to place it as close to the locking mechanism as she could. She pried, but only succeeded in ripping the molding off.

  Alan stepped up behind her with a large hard rubber hammer, the kind Ellen kept for tapping in plugs. “Let me try it.” He pushed the flat end of the pry bar in the where the door lock and the casing met. A couple of sharp taps and he pulled the bar to him. The door popped open.

  “Holy crap, would you look at this.” Ellen stepped back to survey the room better. There were more guns in this small room, than her Uncle Jerry and Dad had combined.

  “Wow!” was all Alan could say. He knew little about guns except for the Remington 308 he used with his friend and friend’s father while hunting. Some of these guns looked like he thought machine guns would look. There had to be more than a half dozen long guns, and a small duffle, held several more hand guns. On the bed, lay boxes of ammunition of all different calibers. The room smelled of gun oil and Alan found that he liked the smell. A cleaning kit was spread across the side table. Someone had been cleaning them.

  “Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about being armed. Either these guys were well healed or they stole them all. A couple of these would bring in at least a couple grand.”

  Ellen ran her fingertips down the barrel of one appreciating the smoothness of the metal.

  “Some of these would have made Uncle Jerry very happy. He always did like firearms. Did I tell you that I still have his collection?”

  “You didn’t tell me about Uncle Jerry at all. Is he the reason we are going to Washington?” He could see that his asking had brought a frown to Ellen’s face. Her shoulders slumped, and she looked sad. “Sorry, I take it he is no longer here.”

  “No…he’s been gone a while, but I still miss him. Sometimes I miss his being around more than my father. Uncle Jerry put aside the fact that I am a girl, and tried to teach me everything. Dad, I think from Mom’s influence, tried to remember I am female. I think he would have been more like Uncle Jerry, if not for my Mom. She was always disappointed I wasn’t much of a girlie girl. But, it doesn’t matter. I am what I am and grateful for what each of them taught me.”

  “I can tell you this, you were fortunate to have them. I wish I had known my Mom. But, I didn’t and I never wasted time crying about it. You can’t miss what you never had. Dad did his best, or at least the best he knew how. If he hadn’t started drinking…but never mind. What are we going to do with them?” Allen asked sweeping his arm around the small room.

  She looked at him blankly and said, “We’re taking them. If things get really bad, they could be our salvation. They are better than having money right now. Let’s get them to the boat and stored away. We don’t mention them to anyone.”

  Allen stripped the blankets from the bed and folded a long gun in, rolled it once and added another. He managed to wrap four of them before he ran out of blanket. By the time he had them all bundled in blankets, Ellen had started placing the bundles in the dinghy. They ended up with nine rifles of various caliber, some semi-automatic, one stood out from the others as it had a tripod for it to mount to and the shells had to be huge to fit the barrel. There were a couple rifles of the hunting variety too. Three Glock’s, a 45 caliber and millimeters. Another Taurus 357, two Ruger’s one a P90 and the other a P85, both were in their original boxes, and a Walther P38.

  She was marveling at their good fortune when she almost tripped over another duffle. Inside it were more boxes of ammunition. She hoped it was for at least some of the guns they had collected, but it didn’t really matter. She thought that someone would want what they couldn’t use.

  Back at the Annie-C, they stowed the weaponry in the food cabin along with all of the ammunition. The totes containing food were removed and the long guns placed on the port side against the bulkhead. Then Ellen re-stacked the totes in front of them. She had to replace the eye bolts she used for the straps that held the totes in place, but if she didn’t already know they were there, the guns were undetectable.

  Backing out of the aft cabin she turned to find Alan just closing the door to the V-berth. “Is she still asleep?”

  He nodded yes, “With what I gave her she should sleep until morning.” As if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders he sank to the port settee. “I still can’t believe what those guys did to her. How does a person cope with something like that? I hope Dan gave them a suitable ending.”

  “I’m pretty sure he did. Maybe not as bad as they deserved, but I don’t think they will ever bother anyone else.”

  “Good.” He yawned and Ellen realized it had been a long day. Hell, it had been a traumatic day for all of them.

  “I think we should get some sleep while we can. Dan is going to stand watch tonight for all of us. Just for tonight, you should take the settee and I will snooze in the cockpit.”

  “I don’t want to push you out of your bed,” he said through another yawn.

  “You need to be able to hear if she needs anything during the night. I don’t think she could handle meeting another stranger right now. So you take the settee.”

  She didn’t have to tell him twice. Before she could say good night, he was already softly snoring.

  Ellen stretched out on the starboard cockpit seat with an afghan to ward of the chill. While the days were beyond warm, the evenings still carried a chill on the water.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ellen woke to the sound of a boat sliding through the water. The gentle swish it made in passing would not have been heard by someone who had not spent time on the water. She sat up to see the last of the three boat convoy gliding past.

  Dan waved, for he was the last boat in their convoy. She waved back. Then gave him the universal thumbs up to show him they were okay. She received his in return. Allen, was snoring softly stretched out on the settee. Sometime during the night she had heard him talking to the girl. She had no idea when he had finally fallen asleep.

  While she didn’t want to be responsible for another person on board, she also couldn’t just dump her off somewhere. She supposed she and Alan would decide what to do later that day, after they had both had talked to the girl.

  “Morning Ellen,” Alan yawned and stretched. “OHHH…” he groaned. “I have more sore parts than good ones this morning.”

  “I think we all do. It has been a strenuous few days. Unfortunately, I don’t think it going to get better any time soon. Let’s get some of this stuff put away. Then we have some decisions to make. I’d like to leave here sometime tomorrow morning as soon as it’s light enough to see.”

  “Ok…that sounds good to me. Have you heard anything from the V-berth yet?” He asked, stretching again.

  “Not yet, but Dan and the others just left. Them leaving is what woke me. Maybe you should go check on her and I’ll see what I can find us for breakfast. I’d also like to check out the other power boat. There may be things on it we can use.”

  He seemed a little surprised, and asked. “Isn’t that kind of like stealing?”

  “Stealing? From who? You heard Dan. Whoever was on it doesn’t exist anymore.” She took a few seconds to decide what she wanted to say Allen, “I think you may need to take on a different mindset. We have to do whatever we need to do to survive. If you think that taking from an abandoned boat, and whatever we take could mean life or death somewhere along the line is called stealing, then yes. It’s stealing. On the other hand, don’t you think after what those guys did to that girl, they may owe her something?”