¥273,659 (Chapter 10 of 38)

The big day has arrived. But not for Gil. He simply doesn't have the nerve. Although watching his son risk it all is already enough to keep him up all night. Will God protect Melvin and Reverend Tom? Who the good Lord chooses as his instruments is mysterious indeed. Some might say reckless.  

Transcript

Reverend Tom and Melvin showed up for the boat at 9 pm Sunday evening. Not that they went straight to the wharf. They spent hours going over the details. Or at least that’s what I figured when they were out on the balcony. They were an odd couple I must say. The Reverend was a smart man and not really into the kinds of things Melvin was into. He didn’t like sports. He didn’t like fishing or hunting. And he knew as much about cars and trucks as my poor grandmother who never owned one. So for the serious conversation they were having it had to be about nothing but the plan.  They went down to the wharf for about a half hour, and then they came back to the house. 

“For the love of God, Dad, rebuild that wharf,” Melvin said to me when they got back. “I’ll even help you.” 

“Nothing wrong with that wharf,” I said. 

“Nothing wrong with it? It’s half-rotted to pieces. I nearly stepped on a nail sticking up out of the rotted wood about four inches.”

“I knows about that nail. I just haven’t got around to it yet.” 

“What if Park goes down there and steps on it?” 

He knew what to say. 

“The wharf is alright for a while yet, but yes, I needs to saw off that nail.” 

“See how cheap he is, Tom?” 

Reverend Tom only laughed. “Nothing wrong with being frugal, Melvin. Especially in these times.”   

“That ol’ fart is more fungal than frugal.”

His mother would have got a kick out of that. Melvin has no shortage of lines when it comes to poking fun at me.  

I had planned on not talking to Reverend Tom, but he started talking to me so I couldn’t very well ignore him. 

“Your son is doing the Lord’s work tonight,” he said when we were alone together in my shed. 

“If he was doing it for free I might believe that,” I said. 

“Either way it’s still the Lord’s work.” 

“Well, if it’s the Lord's work I hope the Lord will be looking out for him. The weather seems to be holding up at least. It was calling for fifteen knots, but I got me doubts if it’s even that.” 

“I noticed you weren’t in the congregation today.” 

“No…I was busy,” I said. 

“I can’t remember the last service you didn’t attend. Are you angry with me?”

“Well…I…this is dangerous, Reverend. You can’t blame me for not wanting to see my son go to jail.” 

“I totally understand that, Gil. But we need to help these people. God is calling on us. I wish Melvin didn’t want the money, but that’s his decision.”

“Where’s they staying?” I said. 

“I think the less you know the better in that regard,” he said. 

“Is it going to be in town?” 

“The less you know…” 

“They’re staying with you.” 

Reverend Tom sighed. “Sharon and the kids are going on a trip for a few weeks so that the family can stay with me until things get straightened away.” 

“That won't be easy,” I said. “Them hiding out with you.” 

“I don’t have any other options,” he said. I knew what he meant by that, but I wasn’t about to change my mind. 

“We won't be caught,” he said. “Border patrol is never in this area.” 

“I saw them once last summer when I was out on the water.” 

“Once. That says it all. On the west coast they’re going around like swarms of bees from what I’ve heard from other clergy.”

I stared at him for a moment.  

“Why, is there other clergy in the church doing this too?” 

“Not that I know of. Everyone is seeing border patrol out that way. It’s just that obviously I talk more to my colleagues about it.”  

“I saw your Gimmee page,” he said. “Over fifty thousand dollars. That’s amazing.” 

“It’s over fifty now?” I said. 

“Fifty-one thousand when I checked. It must be a great feeling to get that kind of support.”

“It is. I don’t feel like I deserves it.”

He nodded. “Just be careful what you wish for.”  

-------------------------- 

Reverend Tom went home for a few hours and then just as dusk was fading and dark was beginning, I saw his headlights pull back in the driveway. My stomach tightened and I had to practically run to the washroom. While I was on the toilet I looked at the weather on my palm again, and it still called for light winds. Melvin met the Reverend at the door and they were gone. 

I quickly finished my business and headed down to the wharf as quick as I could. 

“Why are you here?” Melvin said, as they were getting the boat ready. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Reverend Tom said. “You’re implicating yourself in all this.” 

“Just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget anything,” I said. “You got lots of charge? You’re going a long ways off.” 

“Yes.” 

“What about grub in case anything happens?” 

“Yes. “

“Got your palms?” 

“Goddamn it Dad, yes, we got everything. Jesus.” Then he closed his eyes and remembered who was sitting in the boat with him. “Sorry Tom.” 

Reverend Tom only smiled and shook his head. He was sitting in the boat gripping the sides of one of the thwarts as if they were already ten miles off in a big lop. I could imagine what he was going to be like when they really did get out there. And he had enough clothes on for the North Pole, even though it was late June. 

I could tell Melvin was nervous too. I knew my son well enough for that. The thing is he was never the type to show it as outright fear. When Melvin is afraid, he gets angry. And short-tempered. 

“No good to sit there!” Melvin said to the Reverend, who was sitting at the head of the boat. He was trying to take the edge out of his voice, but that only made it more obvious. “You got to come back here with me. Can’t have too much weight at the front.” 

The Reverend nervously clambered over the thwarts to the back of the boat, next to Melvin. 

“If you’re going to be on the wharf asking fifty questions you might as well untie the mourns,” Melvin said to me. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said lowly to Reverend Tom as I untied the boat. “But is this your first time in a motorboat?” 

He nodded and smiled sheepishly. 

“You’re first time in a boat?” Melvin said. “Sweet Je—

“Not my first time in a boat,” the Reverend said, “but my first time in a boat this small. I’m a Towny don’t forget. I grew up in St. John’s.” 

“Still,” Melvin said. “First time? Make no wonder you look terrified.”

“God will guide us,” the Reverend said. 

“I was hoping more on our palms,” Melvin said, and he took his out and found the dark app for the boat engine. I still wasn’t used to the quiet of modern outboard electric engines compared to what I had been listening to most of my life. I used to think Honda four-strokes were quiet. The only sound coming from that engine was bubbles from the blade under the water. It was good for this kind of business though. 

As they slowly started to pull away I noticed the anchor still on the other end of the wharf. 

“Melvin!” I shouted. They were about thirty feet away, and although it wasn’t a moonlit night I could easily make out their shapes. He didn’t answer and I shouted out his name again. 

“Stop singing out!” he violently whispered back at me and slapped the boat in neutral. “What do you want now?” 

“The anchor!” I whispered loudly back. 

“We don’t need an anchor,” he whispered back. 

“Don’t need an anchor?” I said. “Since when?” 

“We’re going fifteen miles offshore,” he said. “Not jigging fish.” 

“You still got to go along by Gull Cliffs to get out of the bay. What if you breaks down? Wont take much of a shove to beat up that boat on the cliffs, with all of you in it.” 

“Oh for fu —give me the godda —give me the jes —give me the anchor!” 

“With my back?” I said. “Some chance.” 

“I suppose when you get the shot you’ll be able to balance it on your nose,” he snarled, and turned the boat back to the wharf. He threw the painter to me and I hauled them in. He stepped on the gunnel and as he went to push himself off the boat to jump to the wharf his foot slipped and he came down hard between the boat and the wharf, and the top of his arm just below the shoulder caught the wharf. I heard a muffled, wet snap and then he splashed into the water.

Before I even realized what I was doing I jumped in the water for him. Fortunately, I didn’t dive because the tide was low and I would have broken my neck. The water was about up to my waist and so cold that even at that depth it took my breath away. But as I was reaching down in the water for him he was already staggering up on his feet. At first his mouth was moving but nothing was coming out. Then, “Armbroke armbroke armbroke! Jezus Christ it fuckin hurts! Broke bad too.” Water streamed down his face.

“What happened to him?” the Reverend said. 

“Broke his arm,” I said. “You didn’t hear the snap?” 

“That was his arm? God on high, I thought it was the wharf.” 

“I let myself go,” Melvin said, but there was so much pain in his voice it didn’t even sound like him. “Goddamn it, If I wouldn’t so fat this wouldn’t have happened.” 

“Can he still drive?” the Reverend said. I almost yelled at him for the second time but kept my mouth shut. I should add that we were all still whispering. 

“Come in out of water out of it,” I said out loud to Melvin and led him to shore. He slipped on a rock, but I managed to catch him so that he didn’t fall again. When I looked back the Reverend had drifted about twenty feet from the wharf, and I knew he didn’t have the slightest idea how to manually drive the boat. 

“What do I do?” the Reverend whispered. “How do I get back?”  

“It’s broke clean off,” Melvin said. “It’s gone numb. I should go while it’s still numb.” 

“Is you off your palm?” I said as we climbed up from the shoreline onto the path. “When that comes to life out on the water you’ll be in that much agony you won't be able to see straight. You might pass out even. You got to go to a hospital my son. You go to go now.” 

“Goddamn it!” he yelled and stopped in the path. He was cradling his arm, and although it was too dark to see his eyes I could hear rattling in his voice, like he was near tears.

“I can see the bone almost poking through your arm,” I said. “If you don’t get that set anything could happen. You got to go to the hospital. You got no other choice.”  

“I can’t miss out on seventy-five thousand dollars! I already spent quarter of it. I need that money, Dad. I’m going to lose my house if I don’t get it. The bank is going to take my house!”  

 “The bank?”

“Yes, the bank. I’m behind on my mortgage by four payments. If I don’t have the money by next month, they’ll take the house.”

“Declare bankruptcy.” 

“You say that like it’s the simplest thing in the world.”

He turned and headed back to the wharf, but I caught his shoulder. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I was going to, but this came along, and I figured I didn’t have to.” 

“But what about the first lot of money you got?” 

“I figured I wouldn’t need to waste it on the mortgage if I was getting another seventy-five.” 

“Waste it? It’s your house!” 

“It is what it is now.”  

“Judas!” I said. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll go up to the house, and we’ll call the ambulance, and then I’ll go get the godforsaken magas. I hope they’re worth it.” 

“You shouldn’t call them that,” Reverend Tom shouted from the boat. 

“Of fuck off,” Melvin mumbled under his breath between groans of agony.  

“No, I means I hope they’re good people,” I said to the Reverend.

“We’re on a strict time schedule,” Melvin said. “You haven’t got time to go up to the house with me. I’ll be fine. I’ll call the ambulance right now. You go.” 

So I made him call the ambulance while I stood there so that at least I knew they were on the way. His shadow did the talking. He was in too much pain. We fast-walked up to the house together, and then I left him alone, feeling bad about it all the way back to the wharf. The last thing he said as I turned to head back down the path was, “Mom is watching over us.”

Melvin was never the sentimental type so it surprised me to hear him say something like that. I was touched. Until he continued with,”…and if you don’t get them magas off the boat she’ll haunt you until you dies. Especially with the way I needs that money.” 

I should have known. But he was right. If she knew the trouble Melvin was in she would have been practically pushing me into the boat.  

By the time I got back to the wharf Reverend Tom was drifted about one hundred and fifty feet away, with no idea how to manually operate the engine. I took out my palm and remembered that the service was always garbage in this one little area for some reason. Every time I tried to start the engine on that wharf with the Honda Pullcord App it responded with “poor satellite connection.” 

I yelled out at the Reverend, “I got a poor connection! Do you have good reception on your palm?” 

He took it out. “Yes, five bars!” 

“Download the Honda Pullcord app!” 

“Okay, I got it. But there’s a problem. I need your eyeballs.

“Isn’t there an option for email and password?”  

“Okay, what is it?”

“Email is G, underscore, five, eight, six, six, three, eight, six, one, one, one, two, three, zero, eight, six, question mark, fart, at gmail dot com.” 

Silence. 

“What?” 

“G, underscore, five, eight, six, six, three, eight, six, one, one, one, two, three, zero, eight, six, question mark, fart, at gmail dot com! I can only remember it when I says it all at once. If I tries to break it down I forgets where I am!”

“Gil there’s no possible way I can remember that string of numbers. You’re going to have to keep saying it over and over as I write it in. So is that, Gee as in gee-whiz or g as in the letter g?” 

“The letter G!”

“Okay, just keep repeating it over and over, while I type it in.”

So that’s what I did, for a solid minute or two. 

“Okay, I got it!” he shouted. “Now, the password?” 

“One, two, three…four.” 

“Okay, I’m in to your account! What do I do now?” 

“Tell the engine to turn on, and tell it to “take me home!”

“Turn on!” the Reverend shouted into the palm, and then “Take me home!” Whereas before we were only whispering, because of the distance, now we were only shouting. I guess he forgot when he spoke into the palm that he didn’t need to shout anymore. Either way, like a scolded dog, the boat finally turned and slowly headed into the wharf.

“I didn’t want to say it to Melvin,” Reverend Tom said when I got in the boat, “but I’m terrified of the water.” 

The two-thousand-dollar survival dry flotation suit he was wearing (I don’t know where he got that to), and his white knuckles gripping the thwarts was a hint to that, but I didn’t say it. I was too nervous myself. Not of the water, but getting caught. I didn’t want to break down crying with fear in front of another man, even if it was Reverend Tom. I almost got back on the wharf. Getting caught by border patrol was a big deal. But I pushed all that to the back of my mind and told the Honda App the coordinates that the Reverend had written on his hand. With a trembling voice I told it to maintain a steady speed of twenty knots, just enough for the boat to plain off. 

As the two-hundred-foot-high Gull Cliffs came out of the darkness ten minutes later I remembered the anchor. It was still on the wharf. 

I kept my distance from Gull Cliffs, in case we did break down we would at least have some time to decide what to do if the swells were shoving against the rocks. If there tide was running out there wouldn’t be an issue anyway. Truth be told though, I never broke down for any longer than five minutes in my life, on the water. It was almost always some minor issue.

“I hope you got everything planned out,” I said, as we got away from Gull Cliffs and into the open ocean. “Melvin didn’t tell me much.” 

“We do,” the Reverend said. It seemed he was one of those people that clammed up when he was afraid. I was always the opposite. 

“You got the coordinates?” I asked. “Now that we’re out of the bay I needs to tell the boat where to go.” 

He read out the coordinates and I told the Pullcord app.  It told us we would arrive in an hour. I was shocked to see that the battery wasn’t fully charged, but it looked like it would be enough. A little too close for my liking. Judas! How did I get caught up in this?  

“How do you know they’re even going to be there?” I asked. 

“Because they already gave your son twenty-five thousand dollars.” 

“Good point…but they still might not be there.” 

“Honestly, Gil, at this point I’m just hoping to get out of this alive. I can’t even look over the sides. The thought of all that water beneath us…” 

He got off the seat and sat in the bottom of the boat in the middle. 

“You’ll get your ass wet sitting there,” I said. 

“I don’t care. The waves are making me nervous. I’ve got a dry suit on anyway.” 

“What waves?” 

“Looks like waves to me.”

“There’s no sea on. You won't want to see it if it is.” 

“What about rogue waves?” 

“Never seen one in my life. Did you find out how big the boat is, or what kind it is?” 

“It’s a sixty-foot longliner from Maine.”

“Oh, okay, that’s not too bad. You said a cargo ship before.” 

“I said I didn’t know.” 

“So it’s a family? How many kids?” 

“Two kids. Wife and wife. They’re on social.” 

“Boy and a girl?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you know their ages?”

“Young. Very young.”

“What kind of longliner is it? What colour is she?”

“Never said.” 

“Is there anything we have to do when we’re getting close? A sign or anything?” 

“We just have to show up I guess.”

 ----------------------

We weren’t the only boat around. Ten minutes later when we approached the vessel there was already another boat parked next to it. If I had not been scared half out of my mind I would have enjoyed the low rumble of the diesel engine in that longliner. It was so long since I heard it. I even missed the smell. It was a sweet smell that usually brought back a lot of good memories every time it crossed my nose. But there was a boat already idling next to it, and I assumed right away it must be border patrol. Were we too close to turn around?

See, I was cursed with the Abrams weak bowels. At the best of times I need to be within a hundred meters of a toilet if I have to go. At the worst of times when I’m afraid, or in this case, scared half foolish, I need to be within a hundred inches of a toilet (Yes, I still think in inches. Something else to blame on magas). 

“Dear God,” I said. 

“Continue,” the Reverend whispered back. “Don’t be embarrassed.” 

“I think I’m done,” I said. 

“Done? You just started. Just say whatever comes to your mind.” 

“Sorry?”

“Sorry for what? You’re doing a great thing.” 

“How is shitting yourself a great thing?” 

“Oh! Oh…are you okay? Don’t be embarrassed. I thought when you said ‘Dear God’ you were getting ready to pray.” 

Normally I would have jumped over the boat from embarrassment, but when you’re that afraid, embarrassment gets put on a lower shelf. If that was a border patrol boat we were finished, but it wasn’t shining any lights into the longliner so that made me feel better. The only thing I could think was that it was another smuggler. Then as I looked about the boat I was sure I could see another dark shape in the distance, and another, and another. What was going on here? 

“What do we do now?” I said, more to myself than the Reverend. 

“Why?” the Reverend said. “What’s going on?”

“Get up and look,” I said. 

“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t.” He was still sitting on the bottom of the boat.

“There’s another boat,” I said. “And by the looks of it there’s more around us.” 

Reverend Tom slowly raised his head above the gunnels, like a soldier peeking over a parapet. 

 “Them poor magas,” I said. “Caught up with the two shittiest smugglers in history.”

“What kind of boat is it, the smaller one? Is it border patrol? Maybe we should go. No one can say we didn’t try.”

“There’s nothing in the world I’d like to do more, but Melvin already spent a quarter of the money, and he’ll lose his house if he don’t get the rest anyway. Besides I’m pretty sure it ain’t border patrol. I think they got other smugglers. I got to get out of these clothes. I can’t pick them up like this.”

“Other smugglers?” he said. “They’re stealing our maga – Americans! Go stop them!” 

“When I washes these clothes in the water,” I said. 

“We don’t have time, Gil!” 

I shook my head and manually brought the boat over to the longliner. When I got close I recognized the twenty-six-foot sports boat and the man in it. It was Frank Vaders. Frank was a braggart and a know-it-all, and one of the reasons I didn’t get my high school diploma. 

“That you, Gil?” he shouted.

“That’s me,” I said. I was glad he couldn’t see me well. Or smell me. There appeared to be dozens of people on the deck of the longliner.

“How many you hauling?” he said. “I got three families. Going to make a fortune this time.” 

This time? 

“Just one family,” I said. 

“You wouldn’t get many more aboard that boat anyway,” he said, laughing. “Any sign of patrol?” 

  Just hearing the words made me so afraid that I had a hard time answering. My chest was all tight and I found it hard to talk. 

“No,” I croaked. 

“Hey!” someone shouted from the longliner. I could barely pick him out because no one had lights on. It looked as if he might be holding a gun, but it was hard to tell in the dark. “You ready to load?” 

“That I am,” Frank said. “The Kennedys and the Epsteins, come on down.”

Didn’t seem like the right time for Price is Right jokes, but that’s why he still had clean underwear and mine needed to be burned on the beach. 

“Who the hell is that other boat?” the man yelled.

None of the boats had their lights on and it was barely any moon so I was surprised he could see me.  

“Hey!” the man yelled again. “You deaf, buddy?” 

“Oh sorry,” I said. “You talking to me?”

“Who the fuck else would I be talking to?”  

 “Sorry, we’re here to pick up a family.” 

“No shit. Any family in particular?” 

“Uhh…” 

“The Rockefellers,” Reverend Tom whispered to me from the bottom of the boat. It sounded like something sarcastic, but I guess all the Rockefellers couldn’t be rich. 

“The Rockefellers,” I said. 

“Oh, those two,” he said sarcastically and laughed. “So why are you so goddamn close? You’re supposed to wait until one boat is finished and stay away from the vessel before you approach. You can’t follow instructions or what?” 

“I didn’t know that was the instructions. I’m sorry, I’ll back off.” 

“You’re lucky I didn’t put a hole in that tub. Or you.” 

“Sorry,” I said again and pulled back about thirty feet. “Sorry.” Now I knew he had a gun. “Sorry.” 

“Sorey. Sorey. Sorey,” he said, mocking me. “Fuckin nucks. Is that the only thing you know how to say?” 

“Easy Roman,” Frank said. “He’s just nervous. He probably never done this before.” 

“Shut up, Frank, or I’ll put one in your boat instead.” 

“You better point that goddamn gun somewhere else,” Frank said, “or I’ll come up there and stuff it up your arse.” 

“What did you say to me old man?”

“He won’t have to stuff that gun up your ass, because I will myself if you don’t stop fucking pointing at him!” another raspy, feminine voice roared on the deck of the longliner. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”   

I was peering into the dark so hard I felt like my eyeballs were going to pop out. I heard a soft thump, like someone falling on deck, which I guessed right, because when the automatic weapon went off I caught a split-second glance of an older woman standing over the younger loudmouth who was trying to catch himself with one hand while he held the rifle with the other, and all around them about thirty people. Then a baby started crying.  

“You didn’t even have the safety on? What the fuck is wrong with you?” the woman said. “I give you one job and you can’t even do that. Jesus Christ, when are you going to grow up?” 

All the strength went out of the young fella's voice when he responded, and he sounded like was twelve, “Did you hear—” 

“I heard him, and you goddamn deserved it! I own this boat, I own these people, I own this operation, I’m the skipper. Not you. Now shut your mouth and get below deck.”  

I couldn’t see them anymore, but I imagined him sulking and pushing through the passengers to the cabin. 

“I’m sorry, Frank,” the lady said. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.”

“Okay,” Frank said, but I could still hear the trembling in his voice. “Let's get them in the boat so we can get out of here.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” she said. “Hey, you in the other boat?” 

“Me?” I said. 

“Yes you. Melvin?” 

“…yes,” I said. I was terrified to tell her I was not Melvin, but his father. I was so afraid by that point that some kind of numbness had come over me. The load of shit in my boots didn’t even exist. It was like I was on autopilot, like I was standing off to the side somewhere watching what was happening.

“My son was technically right, even if he was being rude. If there’s any border patrol out here on the water and they saw that rifle flash we’re all done for. And if you had followed instructions I wouldn’t have got mad and pushed him in the first place.  You’re supposed to keep a distance until we’re ready to receive you. Make sure you follow the instructions the next time. It’s very important. I know it’s your first time and you’re nervous, but no one wants anything bad to happen, right?”

Right?” 

“Oh, sorry, right,” I said.

“Okay. But you’re here now, so you might as well stay until we get the Kennedys and Epsteins off.”

Were these just nicknames? Also, now that I was close to the vessel I could see the name of it. It was the Boy George.  

“What’s that smell?” someone on deck said.

They unloaded the two families into Frank’s boat. I had wondered how Frank was getting all those new toys lately. He probably made over one hundred thousand yuan in this trip alone. It wouldn’t take many to add up to a million. He is a retired fisherman, but it’s not like fishing back in our day. No one has their own licenses or boats anymore. It’s just a nine-to-five job now, working for either Tailfin Corp or Unilever Corp. The wages aren’t great and most of the boats are autonomous. 

When Frank’s passengers were aboard he left without speaking. I guess he was still angry at having a loaded automatic rifle pointed at him.    

We were next. The Reverend had still not gotten up from the bottom of the boat. When the two young women got aboard they didn’t even know he was there, and one jumped right on him and tumbled down on top of him. Luckily she wasn’t the one with the infant strapped to her chest. The Reverend let out a grunt and apologized, but still didn’t get up or help me. 

“Is there someone else in that boat?” the skipper asked. 

“Yes,” I said. 

“Why is he hiding in the bottom?” 

“He isn’t hiding, he’s afraid of the water.”

“He can’t speak for himself?” 

“I got in over my head with this,” Reverend Tom said in a voice that quavered even more than mine. “I forgot how terrified I actually am of the ocean. I can’t swim and this is the first time I’ve been in a boat since I can’t remember. I’m with the church.”  
The was silence for a moment, and I seriously considered if we both might be shot right there, but then the skipper laughed. “Quite the crackerjack smugglers – Jesus, I can smell that now too. I wonder is the toilet backed up? Must be some dirty water in the hold or something.”

“There’s dirty water in this boat,” I said. “Haven’t had a chance to clean her out.”

As I said, the second young lady had a baby strapped to her chest. And then two more children got on behind her. Two boys. One was about twelve and the other was younger. None of them had spoken yet. Even the children were strangely quiet. 

“I think you’re going to have to move, Tom,” I said, in as steady a voice as I could muster. I can feel my teeth clenching even now as I tell this because I was so irritated that he didn’t move, or even help them aboard. “She’s not going to be able to get the kids aboard with you there in the way. You can barely see the water anyway.” He managed to slide over to one side so I could help them aboard.

When we got a mile or so away from the Boy George, Reverend Tom, still not getting up, introduced himself and asked the ladies how they were doing. 

“We’re here,” one of the ladies said. It looked like a blond lock peeking out of the front of her hoody but it was hard to say in the dark. “They treated us like livestock, but we’re here.” 

“You’re here is all that matters,” the Reverend said. “Praise be to God.”

They told us their names were Liza and April but didn’t introduce any of the kids. 

“You must be Melvin,” the blonde named April said. 

“No, I’m his father, Gil. Melvin broke his arm on the wharf and had to go to the hospital.” 

“So who gets the money,” another voice said in the dark, “you or him?”

“Liza, what’s the point?” the blond in the hoody said. “A deal is a deal.” 

“Neither of us are taking the money,” Reverend Tom said. “Melvin is.”

“He tried to get more out of us,” Liza said. “He tried to get two hundred thousand in the last minute. We thought we were done.” 

I shook my head. 

“Did you give him more?” I asked. 

“No.” 

“Good.” 

“Are we going to our new home?” one of the little boys said. It was the first time either of the children spoke.

“Yes,” Liza said. “We’re safe now.” 

“I have to ask, if you don’t mind,” I said. “Is it as bad as everyone says it is? Below the border?”

“Anywhere near the cities or suburbs it’s terrible. Outside of that it’s not bad. But there’s no work. The infrastructure is in ruins. There’s no police in half the states now, just military. Martial law. You can get by I guess if you’re in the right area, but we had to get out if we wanted our kids to have a decent life.” 

The wind did pick up when we reached Gull Cliffs, but as I said before, it was too dark to really be scared by it. There was more water coming over the bow, and we were rising and dipping a lot more than before, and the engine slowed down to compensate, but I was the only one who started to get worried. Although by that point we were almost home. The biggest fear was an engine problem. If the engine shut down, with no anchor, we would be smashed up on the cliffs like kindling. Fortunately that didn’t happen. 

I prayed that Melvin wouldn’t be waiting on the wharf when we got in. I’m sure the good Lord tends to all his sheep, but maybe even he draws the line at answering prayers from people sitting in their own shit. Melvin was there, with his arm in a sling and cast. 

“I broke my arm because you wanted me to take the anchor, and you didn’t take it anyway,” was the first thing he said, shaking his head, as he grabbed the painter and hauled us into the wharf.  

“There was a lot of things going on,” I said. 

“More like there was nothing going on,” he said, pointing at my head, “up there.” 

“How’s your arm?” the Reverend asked. 

“It’ll take a while for it to heal,” he said. “And at my age, guaranteed I’ll have arthritis in it down the road. Who knows, it might never be the same again. At least I have insurance.”

“Used to be free one time,” I said. 

“I can remember, Dad, I’m not that young.”  

He held out his good hand and helped the women and children up to the wharf, but other than that he barely acknowledged them, until Liza said, “You’re Melvin?” 

“I am,” he said. 

“How dare you try to shake more money out of us.” 

“Liza,” April said. “Let it go. We’re safe now. What’s the point?” 

“Do you realize the prison term for this?” Melvin said. “This might be Canada, but we still can’t do whatever we want. Even if the Green Party is running the show. Only for us you wouldn’t be here.”

 “Us?” Liza said. “You mean them.”

“It was supposed to be me, my dear,” he said. “There’s a sling on my arm in case you haven’t noticed.” 

“You also got our life savings,” she said. 

“It could have been life in prison for me,” he said, “or a good portion of it.” 

“Why don’t you—"

“Liza!” the other girl said through clenched teeth. “That’s enough.”

The child on April’s chest began to cry, and Liza listened. 

Now that the Reverend was back on land, he came back to himself and began to talk as he led the family up from the wharf. 

“You made it,” Melvin said to me. “Everything went alright.” 

“There was a few hiccups, but we’re here,” I said. 

He was going to say something else as we began up the path, but he brought up standing as if he had run into a wall. “Jezus,” he said, “what the fuck is that smell?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.