ASCENSION: THE SYSTEMIC SERIES (22 page)

“There she is,” said Bushy, nodding at the monstrosity. 

“Big,” I breathed.

“
Real
big,” Will seconded my opinion.

“Should be enough room for you and your group,” Bushy went on.  “It’s fueled up and ready to go.”

I just nodded.

“Why’s it in such good condition when almost all these other boats look so beat up?” Will asked.

“Until recently it was owned by one of the heads of the Little Havana neighborhood,” Bushy told us.  He paused a moment and then said, “He won’t be needing it anymore.”

The back of the boat was facing us, and it read, “Havana Bound,” and under this, “Miami Beach, Florida.”

“Well, I don’t think we’re heading
that
far south,” I nodded at the boat’s name.  “It certainly looks like it ought to work for our purposes though.”

The boat was comprised of multiple levels, the backs of which were mostly all open-air decks.  The back of the top deck housed a small-motor skiff, which I liked as it could act as a sort of lifeboat in an emergency.  The entire boat was painted pure white and had black, tinted windows.  There were even small portholes lining the bottom deck, which I took to house the sleeping quarters.

“What’s the range on this baby?” I asked Bushy.

He shrugged, “Don’t know much about boats myself, but I’ll tell you what I do know.  Range probably depends on what type of seas you’re navigating.  This particular boat is a 2001 Lazzara.  It’s 80 feet in length, has about a 19 foot beam, a max speed of around 24 knots, has two 1150 horsepower engines, and tanks that hold 2200 gallons of fuel and 350 gallons of water, both of which are currently full.  As for range, like I said, it all depends, but I’ve heard there’s a rule of thumb when heading out to sea.”

“Oh yeah?  What’s that?” I asked.

“You use a third of your fuel to get there, a third to get back, and a third as reserve against the unexpected.”

“That sounds smart,” Will agreed.

“Well…want to see her?” Bushy asked.

“Definitely,” I said, starting to get excited.  I secretly hoped that dad, who used to have a speedboat before we were born, would be able to help operate and navigate this beast, as this was one area in which my experience and confidence were both sorely lacking.

We all walked to the edge of the dock and climbed aboard.

“Like I said,” Bushy noted, “I don’t know much about the boat.  What I just told you is pretty much what I was told, so don’t expect me to be answering many questions.  I’m just a country boy from north Georgia.  Biggest boats we had up there were fishin’ boats.”

Will and I took a few minutes to clamor around the exterior of the mighty vessel, pretending like we knew what we were looking at.

The front of the boat had a nice open deck space.  “The girls will like this for laying out,” Will grinned at me, giving me raised eyebrows.

“And we’ll like it for the pleasure of
watching
them lay out,” I gave him raised eyebrows back.

The back of the boat had a nice space for fishing or lounging, and several deck chairs were folded up and stashed near one side of the space.  The very back of this area led to a small extended platform that jutted off the back of the boat and that sat about six to eight inches above the water making for easy access from the boat to the water and vice versa.

“This will be a nice spot to fish from,” I nodded to Will.

“You think you’ll be able to manage this thing?” Will said in a hushed tone, as if Bushy, who was preoccupied with lighting up a cigarette, cared.

I shrugged, “We’ll figure it out.”

“No Coast Guard anymore,” Will reminded me, eyeing me warily.  “Once we’re out there, we’re on our own.  We run out of gas or something breaks, and we could be floating around for weeks…or longer.”

“Any worse than taking our chances on dry land?” I frowned.  “We’ll take it easy.  I won’t push her hard and we don’t have
that
far to go.  We’ve got the skiff if worse comes to worst.”

“Oh great,” Will sighed, rolling his eyes.  “You going to load all nine of us and a cat into that little dingy in an emergency?”

“No…I’m just saying, it’s an option to at least get help…or something,” I shrugged.

Will just looked at me.

“Come on,” I said, leading him back to where Bushy sat smoking on the edge of the boat. “The skiff got gas in it?” I asked Bushy.

“Think so,” he nodded.  “We can check when we get up there.  Want to take a look inside?” he nodded to the door leading to the interior of the boat.

“You bet,” I said, trying to remain upbeat even though Will had me feeling less than confident about the soundness of my plan.

But my concerns faded as we entered the pristine surroundings of the boat’s interior through a sliding tinted glass door.  The inside appeared deceptively spacious compared to how it looked from outside the boat.  And I was stunned not just by the lavishness of the furnishings and décor but by the size of the space and numerous amenities within it. 

We entered into the salon which was the ship’s communal living space and that included a large L-shaped sofa, several cushioned chairs, a coffee table, and an end table with lamp.  The floor was covered with a plush and immaculately-kept white carpet that made me wonder how it had remained so clean over the years.  At the far end of this space, heading towards the bow of the ship, there was an oak wet bar with black granite top and three bar stools bolted to the floor in front of it.  Across from this, on the opposite wall, protruded a buffet-style ledge, and beside this, a chrome gate kept wobbly sea-legged individuals from taking a tumble down the small stairway that led to the sleeping quarters below.

A short hallway with tiny half bath complete with toilet and sink separated this space from the lavishly appointed kitchen and dining spaces. 

The kitchen had everything one might find necessary for fine living on the high seas.  There were mocha-colored granite countertops, stainless steel appliances that included a microwave, stove and oven combo, dishwasher, coffee maker, toaster oven, refrigerator with ice maker and water dispenser, and even a trash compactor. 

Just up from, and connected to the kitchen space, was the dining area that had a boomerang-shaped black-granite table top on stainless steel legs ringed by a sofa seating area that looked like it could easily seat seven. Skirting this seating space were large slanted windows that faced out over the bow of the ship and that had blinds that could be pulled up from below.

From the kitchen, a small stairway led up to the lounge that was decorated with a sherbet green sofa and several cushioned chairs.  In front of this space was the bridge, with two white leather commander’s chairs facing a control panel that made me feel as though I would be captaining the USS Enterprise.  Looking at all the controls and out through the windows at the deck below, I found the scene somewhat intimidating.  To be honest, I found it
extremely
intimidating, but I wasn’t about to let on that I was having any misgivings about our plan.

From the bridge, we headed down to the bowels of the ship where the bedrooms were located.

We began our below deck tour in the aft portion of the ship where we found the master suite.  It was superbly appointed with immaculately made up queen-sized bed, a sizeable sitting area, and plenty of storage in finely-finished wood cabinetry.  The bathroom had dual sinks and enclosed shower and tub.  Just down the hall from this were two more bedrooms, each with double beds and small attached baths.

We walked in wonder as we counted three more, smaller bedrooms – two of which were built with bunk beds – another two small bathrooms, and even a tiny office.

“You could start writing again,” Will referenced my pre-flu work as a freelancer with a smile and a nod at the office space that came complete with now useless phone and fax machine.

“No kidding,” I said.  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think we were in a downtown condo.  This place is amazing.  It even has a stacked washer and dryer.  Heck, we could just live
here
,” I said, shaking my head in sheer amazement at how well designed the space was.

“Amazing how the other half lives…or used to live at least,” Will considered as he gawked around him.  “Well, looks like there’s room for everyone to sleep,” he said.  “I think Paul and Sarah will like the bunk beds.  They always wanted them.  Now they get them on their own yacht.  Not too shabby.”

“Guess it’s time to show you the engine room,” Bushy said, tearing us away from our daydreaming in the lap of luxury.

He led us outside to the lower aft deck – what he referred to as the “fishing landing” – where two beautifully appointed wood fishing chairs faced the ship’s stern.  Here there was a small hatchway with tiny glass porthole that he opened for us, ushering us inside ahead of him.  We had to duck our heads to make it through the small opening.

Will and I stopped abruptly as we entered, but Bushy pushed us in ahead of him just far enough to get the hatch closed behind us.  It wasn’t the intimidating scene of the engine room mechanics facing us that caused us pause, but the two hulking men who filled the small room.  I had to wonder how these gigantic men managed to squeeze themselves through the entrance through which we’d just wriggled.

I instinctually went for my gun, but Bushy stopped me, grabbing my hand, “Whoa, whoa, whoa…it’s okay,” he said.  “These guys just want to talk to you.”

Looking at the two beasts standing before us and who looked like un-bathed professional football players, it was hard to believe they just wanted to
talk
, but the men seemed calm, unfazed by my initial reaction, and they hadn’t made a move to counter it, so I guessed that Bushy must be telling us the truth.

Both had long hair – one blonde and grimy, one dark and grimy – that didn’t look as though it’d been washed in days or longer.  And both men looked as though they could have snapped Will and me in two if they had half a desire to do so.

Bushy nodded to the dark haired man, “That’s Rambo.  And this,” he nodded to the dirty blonde, “is Mad Dog.”

I wanted to tell them that their names fit them perfectly, but instead I just stepped forward and reached out a tenuous hand in greeting.

They both just stared at me, unflinching.

I pulled back my hand, somewhat offended but not daring to mention it.

“So what is it you want to talk to us about?” Will asked as he squeezed up beside me in the tight quarters of the engine room, trying to be brave.

Bushy stayed back by the engine room door, blocking our only escape. I figured he did this just in case we tried to make a break for it. 

The two men remained silent, still staring.

“Things have changed slightly since we talked last Friday,” said Bushy from behind us.

I turned halfway around so I could talk to him while still keeping an eye on the two hulking thugs on the other side of the engine room.  “So, what’s that have to do with us?” I asked.  “We had a deal.”

“We still have a deal,” Bushy agreed. “But we need to ask a little bit more of you before we hand over everything we promised.”

I took a deep breath, recognizing that I didn’t have much of a negotiating stance.

“The boat and everything on it is yours as of today,” Bushy continued.  “You can take it and sail away to wherever.  We won’t ask for your continued assistance if that’s what you choose to do.  “However…” he paused and nodded to several small boxes stacked between the two brutes, “…that’s two years worth of diabetic supplies in those boxes.  You want it, and you’re going to have to do one last thing for us.”

I took another deep breath as I waited for the other boot to drop.

Bushy went on.  “You see, Ava’s my boss.  And Ava’s planning on running things here in Miami.  She had a plan in place to do just that until Friday.  As you know, since you were trailing Jake that day, events took an unexpected turn.  What you may not realize though was that after the attempt on Jake’s life, he took his revenge by hitting Little Havana.  Little Havana was on our side…Ava’s side that is.  Jake didn’t know it.  And Little Havana was a key component in the plan to get ride of Jake.  Now that they’re gone, we’re a little shorthanded.”

“We’re not hired guns,” I said.

“Everyone’s a hired gun these days,” Rambo growled.

“You may not even have to kill anybody,” Mad Dog added.

“Well that’s a plus,” Will said, the sarcasm lost on his audience.

“It’s your call,” said Rambo.  “The hit takes place later this afternoon, and since you know about it, you either help us or you stay locked in this engine room until it’s over…that or we kill you.  It’s up to you.  You don’t help us though, and those supplies go with us.”

I took another deep breath, “Not really much of a choice,” I said.  “We don’t do it and you kill my wife…indirectly, but the result’s largely the same.”

“Sorry,” Bushy said.  “But that’s the deal.  Take it or leave it.”

I looked at Will.  He didn’t hesitate.  “We’ll take it,” he nodded.  “But we’re
done
after this,” he said matter-of-factly, and making sure he made direct eye contact with Bushy.