The Onyx Seed - A Story of Survival by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 18

The morning light filled the cabin as the sun, still touching the eastern horizon, brought a faint mist to the glassy surface of a seemingly frozen ocean, while the windless air became heavy as the nearly transparent mist grew into a thick blanket of fog, obscuring everything between the waterline and deck rail. The lack of any perceptible surroundings, beyond the boat’s hull, could easily bring one to the conclusion that it might have been spirited away during the night to some unearthly place, where all manner of craft was piloted through the heavens. Lucas was the first to wake. He quietly rummaged through the cookware and found the coffee pot. It was a bit scratched up around the bottom and blackened on one side but as long as it held water, coffee would always be within easy reach. He turned towards a cabinet, looking for an extra mug for Julie when, upon turning back, was startled into a gasp by her unannounced presence.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he said.

He felt his heart suddenly quicken as the adrenaline rush of fight or flight raced through his body. “How the hell do you do that?”

Julie giggled at his expense.

“I guess it’s a gift.”

Lucas let out a sigh, releasing the tension that had suddenly overwhelmed him.

“So, how you doing?” she began. “I mean...after yesterday?”

Lucas stepped over to the sink and turned on the water, filled the coffee pot.

“Um, yeah,” he answered. “Fine, I guess.” Lucas tried to be convincing, concerned about appearing weak or childlike.

“Luke, it’s okay to be scared,” she said in a gentle tone. “Trust me, I’ve had a lot of practice lately.” Lucas stepped over to the small kitchenette next to the sink, trying unsuccessfully to hide the anxiety left by the terror he’d experienced at the hospital. Turning towards Julie, he paused for a moment and with a nervous tone replied,

“I’m okay, really.”

Julie found his reaction transparent but refused to shatter his boyish defensiveness.

“Well, Luke,” she began. “We’re all in the same boat here, so to speak, so if you ever need to talk...” A nervous grin came to Lucas’ face as he quickly found the humor in her words.

“Thanks,” he replied.

He returned his attention to the task of preparing the morning’s coffee, leaving Julie with the impression that whenever Lucas was masking his fear, any conversation would become abbreviated by a thin wall of silent courage. Julie turned and walked to the middle of the cabin where Marty quietly slept. “Hey, Luke,” she whispered. “You think we should wake Marty up?”

“I don’t know,” he replied.

He motioned her back over to the stove. “After two years in Iraq, I don’t think I’d go waking him up. Especially, if it’s sudden.” Julie nervously looked back at Marty, who’d begun slowly stirring into wakefulness. She hadn’t considered how Marty’s time in Iraq may have scarred his psyche and quickly decided that startling him from sleep was a bad idea. He took a deep breath, rolled over and sat up. Julie nervously wandered over to him, curious about what had previously been hidden beneath his attire. “Morning already?” he asked.

He twisted his body, trying to work the kinks out of his tired back. The sleeping mat he’d spent the night on was fairly comfortable but nothing like a real bed. “Hey, sleepyhead!” she called.

Marty had slept fairly well, considering the almost complete absence of noise. In L.A., he had often been serenaded to sleep by the sounds of sirens, loud arguments, and occasional gunfire. Now, as Marty’s mind had become fully released from the quiet fog of sleep. He realized how different things were and that living on the gentle sway of the sea brought something he hadn’t expected. A feeling of serenity. For a brief moment, he wondered if he had simply slipped away from one dream and into another. But as he stretched out his arms, bringing himself back from slumber, any doubts he had regarding his new reality were shattered by the pungent odor of perspiration. Even Julie, an experienced nurse, was forced back by the smell.

“Holy shit!” she said.

She brought her hand up to her nose and mouth as a foul stench wafted into her face.

“Shower. Now. Go.”

She pointed back to a door on the right side of the cabin.

“Marty!” Lucas exclaimed. “Man, you fucking stink!”

Marty was already on his way down to the shower. The blanket tightly wrapped around his waist. “I get it!” he replied. “I even offended myself.” Ten minutes later, he cracked the door open by only a few inches and called to Lucas for some clean clothes from his pack. A few more minutes had passed when he emerged from the shower to find Julie and Lucas staring at him from the kitchen area. “What?” he asked.

Lucas glanced over at Julie.

“What do you think?” he asked comically. Julie nodded and replied, “Yeah, he cleans up pretty well.”

“Alright, you two...” Marty replied. He walked towards the kitchen area as steam rose from the spout of the coffee pot.

So, what’s the plan for today? he asked, looking towards Julie expectantly.

She had apparently showered some time during the night and was dressed in hospital scrubs. “Well,” she began. “I thought we’d raise the sails and head east. I’d like to try to keep the coastline within view and not drift out into the open sea. If something happens, I want to be close to land without running aground.”

Marty nodded in agreement.

“Sounds good to me,” he said.

“So, we’re just going to follow the coast?” Lucas asked. “Sounds easy enough.”

“Not that easy,” Julie replied. “We’re still going to have to look at the charts and follow the soundings.” Nautical terminology was not a language that neither Marty nor Lucas understood and the lost expression on their faces prompted Julie to offer an explanation. “How do I explain this?” she began. “Soundings are measurements of depth on a nautical chart. The higher the number, the deeper the water. The idea is to stay within sight of the coast but where the water is deep, so we don’t run aground.”

Lucas spoke up after a noticeable pause. “I get it!” he said. “I actually understood that.”

Marty, however, possessing the mind of a soldier and completely unfamiliar with anything nautical, was still lost.

“Okay,” Julie continued. “Let me show you.” She reached up to an overhead cabinet and brought down a large, rolled up nautical chart. Unrolling it on the dining table, she pointed to an array of numbers scattered across the paper.

“These numbers are soundings. They’re recorded by sonar. Higher numbers mean deeper water.” She glanced up at Marty, searching his face for any sign of understanding.

“Oh, right,” he said. “Now, I get it.” His sudden realization left him wondering how such a simple idea could be so elusive. Julie quickly reached the conclusion that it would be best to sail in thirty to forty feet of water, believing that this depth would also account for the tide. She rolled up the chart and returned it to the overhead cabinet. “Okay, then,” she began. “Let’s teach you two how to sail.”

Lucas was thrilled with the idea and saw it as the chance to experience a bit of adventure. Marty, however, was a bit more reserved about having to learn something that was clearly very complicated and held little margin for error. They would spend the entire day learning the basics of sailing. And the first thing Julie introduced them to was navigation. The Stellar Storm was outfitted with a navigational computer that linked with a satellite. It displayed not only ocean features and land masses but also weather imagery and pinpointed their location in real-time. Most small boats didn’t have this kind of equipment. It could often be said that the more money one has, the more toys one could buy, and the Stellar Storm seemed to have the best toys.

The day’s meals were brief, as there was a great deal to learn and not nearly enough time to learn it. They would, in fact, have to learn as they traveled along the coast. Marty and Lucas would also learn about rigging and maneuvering the sails. The most critical word of caution Julie gave them was in regard to a piece of rigging called the ‘boom’. It was a long, heavy pole that stretched out from the bottom of the mast, near the middle of the boat, to the stern and held the bottom of the mainsail in place. If the wind suddenly shifted, the boom could sway from one side to the other with enough force to shatter the skull of the unfortunate person who failed to duck in time. The most difficult and disturbing duty of operating a boat this size was maintaining the holding tank. This is essentially the boat’s sewage tank and requires regular emptying, usually accomplished by opening a valve and pumping its contents into a coastal collection tank. The last thing anyone on a boat wanted was a leaky holding tank. The smell alone could send the most experienced sailor running to the rail.

Marty and Lucas’ first day as yachtsmen was exhausting. But as evening approached, the sails were brought down, and the anchor was dropped for the night. The three of them sat at the dining table. Their minds spinning with exhaustion, their bodies rebelling with pain. Barely able to stand, Marty got up and walked to a nearby cabinet, returning with one of the radios he and Lucas procured back in Whittier. He put it on the dining table as he returned to his seat. “Let’s see if there’s anyone out there,” he said. A gentle hiss emitted from its small speaker prompted the attention of everyone. Even a repeating broadcast would help them feel less alone in a world that had been swallowed up by an attack of global proportions. Marty dialed slowly through the AM and FM bands as everyone’s ears became tuned for even the slightest sound. Yet there was nothing to be heard beyond the sounds of silence and intermittent static. There were five shortwave bands and if atmospheric conditions were right, they might be able to hear broadcasts from anywhere in the world. However, there would have to be someone broadcasting but without power, listening for anything would be pointless. Marty hoped that maybe there might be someone somewhere, transmitting with a power generator. Someone who, somehow, went unnoticed by government edicts or military action. Even a voice in another language would offer some degree of hope. They leaned in close as Marty slowly turned the dial through the first shortwave band. The air became tense with expectation as he hesitated in a few places along the band, thinking that he may have heard something that sounded like a voice. Half an hour later, they had heard nothing and were left feeling as though the world had contracted around them. And in spite of each other’s company, they now shared the experience of true isolation. From the outset, Marty simply wanted to be left alone. However, he did not anticipate what real isolation would feel like and suddenly found himself appreciating the company of both Julie and Lucas. But the apparent emptiness of the airwaves did not completely leave him without hope. He knew that atmospheric conditions changed from one night to the next and passing this on to Julie and Lucas seemed to alleviate some of their disappointment.

“I guess we’ll try again tomorrow night,” he said. Again, Lucas was the first to turn in for the night, dropping off into a deep sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. Julie stretched her arms back, working the kinks out of her fatigued muscles. Even in the dim warmth of the small overhead light, Marty couldn’t help notice her breasts pushing themselves out against the green fabric of the scrub top she was wearing.

The arrival of nighttime chill gave them an obvious change of contour that Marty was unable to ignore. But considering himself a gentleman, he glanced away slightly so as not to draw Julie’s attention to her body’s response to the cool ocean air. "So, what do you think of life on the sea?" she asked. She brought her arms back down from over her head, resting them on the table.

“It’s not as easy as I thought it was going to be,” Marty answered. “I didn’t know there was so much to do.”

“It’ll get easier,” Julie replied. “To be honest, my boats only about half this size. So, I’m not used to having to do all this work.”

Exhausted, Marty began to drift off. “Marty?” Julie began.

Marty pulled himself away from the inviting call of sleep long enough to participate in what would be the last conversation of the night.

“Do you think we’ll ever hear from anyone? You know, on the radio? Do you think there’s anyone else out there?”

Marty knew there were others like themselves, wanderers and likely asking the same question. Perhaps people do gravitate towards each other during times of crisis, like campers around a campfire. Maybe the only thing we truly need is each other, for no other reason than to feel the warmth of each other’s presence.

“Well,” Marty began. “If everyone was dead, we probably wouldn’t be here. So, I’m pretty sure there are other people out there. Now, will we hear anyone on the radio? I don’t know. I guess it would be nice. Who knows? Maybe there’s someone out there on a HAM radio or a pirate station. We’ll keep trying.” Even if they heard a transmission, they’d never be able to contact anyone. The only thing they’d be able to do was to listen. But considering what the world had become, perhaps simply listening would be enough.