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Chapter 27

"Have the courage to live. Anyone can die." – Robert Cody

**

Victor leaned over the side of the boat and stared for a very long time at the calm azure water surrounding them. He listened to the gentle lapping sound of the waves hitting the hull of the boat. He felt the seawater sloshing along the deck slowly soak into his shoes. He breathed in the tangy salty air.

Then for the third time in the last half hour – he threw up.

Leaning back onto the box that served as a seat, Victor grabbed a bottle of water and rinsed his mouth out—again.

Spitting it out and now no longer caring that he had probably fed every fish in the general area, he lay onto his back and tried to relax.

He had to admit – this wasn’t quite what he had been expecting his honeymoon to be like.

Getting to Amapá was a harrowing but relatively short half hour drive. Victor was half-expecting to have the jeep run into yet another tyrannosaurus at every turn.

It had taken him a full five minutes before he realized – or more precisely, Shantala realized – that he had been shot in the leg at some point during his escape.

Fortunately he had been spectacularly lucky and the bullet –instead of ripping open a major artery as it should have done – had just nicked him on the fleshy part of his thigh.

Now that the adrenaline rush of his insane run was beginning to slowly wear off, the pain from the wound was starting to flare up.

There had been a frantic few minutes of Shantala scrambling to put together a first aid kit from whatever they had on hand – the bottle of…whatever the hell Michael had been drinking…was used to clean the wound and some torn pieces of shirts were used as bandages – while he sat in the back of the jeep as Michael took over the driving.

Michael – if anything – was an even more insane driver than Victor and after about five minutes Victor insisted on taking over again.

Once they got there, they were only mildly surprised to see that the town was not only still there but still quite lively, with the vast majority of its population still going about their business despite the town having no more than ten thousand people (if that) and it being way past midnight.

Amapá was by all appearances one of those charming ‘frontier towns’ where the inhabitants survived by doing a little bit of nearly every legal occupation that existed – and judging by the appearance of some of the men drinking or walking around in the streets – quite a few of the illegal ones as well.

They had debated briefly staying in the town for a day or two until they could figure out a few more of their options but one look at how some of the people were staring at the three of them convinced them that staying in the town even for the night was probably not a good idea.

Then they debated about whether they should keep driving until the border but Michael had brought up the rather pertinent point that border guards tend to be a bit skittish in the best of times if they see three white idiots in an obviously stolen jeep driving towards them. With all the chaos and anarchy of what has been happening, it would be safe to assume that most border guards will be adopting a ‘shoot first, then shoot a few more times to be sure and then ask the questions’ attitude very soon, if they hadn’t done so already.

In the end, they decided to just find a boat instead.

They managed to find a small collection of fishing huts and boats in the ‘suburbs’ of the town. Several of the fishermen were still awake, drinking and/or playing cards and/or singing and/or listening to music from antique radios.

They found a wizened old fisherman – who looked like he was somewhere between 60 and 300 years old – who had no intention whatsoever of renting his boat to the trio but was more than willing to sell his boat for the jeep.

It was obvious that the guy knew that the jeep was stolen but it was also obvious that he really didn’t care either.

Victor had offered to throw in his watch as well if the guy would give them a crash course in how to actually operate the boat as well. He readily agreed and by the time the sun rose up, the trio found themselves the new owners of a twenty foot long decrepit, leaky and barely functional fishing boat that was slowly making its way down a river and on towards the Atlantic.

As for the fisherman and the jeep – Victor had no idea what happened to the guy but he had a sneaky suspicion that the jeep would be chopped up for parts by lunchtime and that Old Man would be back in the sea with a new and improved fishing boat by month’s end at the latest.

They had argued about where to go once they hit the open sea.

Shantala had surprised the two of them by pointing out a salient fact that neither Victor nor Michael had been aware of.

The Guiana Space Centre – owned and operated by the French and for all intents and purposes (along with the rest of the country of French Guiana) considered to be a territory of France – was located a mere 250 miles north of their location.

"There’s even a couple hundred French Foreign Legion guys permanently stationed there whose one and only job is to protect the Space Centre. You can bet your ass that once all this mess is over and done with, the French are going to send a fucking fleet of ships there to make sure that nobody gets any funny ideas about stealing their property. If we can convince them that we’re not a bunch of terrorists but just a bunch of stupid tourists who need help, I’m sure they’ll take us in. At the very least, they’ll give us some food and water and a place to stay somewhere until they can figure out what to do with us."

"How the hell do you know all this stuff?" asked Michael.

"I actually read all those tourist brochures that they give out at the hotel."

"Reading tourist brochures? Huh—have to remember to do that one of these days…" muttered Michael.

After about three tries, they had finally figured out how to turn the stupid boat and were now making their leisurely way up along the coast.

At their current speed (as best as Victor could figure), they should make it to the Space Centre sometime around Thursday evening.

And the Old Man had been nice enough (after asking for a "small charitable donation" of five U.S. dollars from each of them) to throw in a basket full of sandwiches and a large bottle of some vile-smelling clear liquid that was either homemade booze or wood polisher. Most probably both.

So—they had transportation, food, a goal and something resembling a plan. Things were – as Michael so eloquently described it - ‘not completely fucked up.’

There was, of course, a small snag to the whole thing.

Victor had seasickness.

"Guuuuughhhhh…." moaned Victor as he felt his stomach squirming again.

Victor blinked as he saw Shantala – upside down – gaze down at him.

"Are you ok, honey?"

"Never better. Feel great. Go team!" He raised his fist in triumph and made a ragged cheer.

Victor made a horrifying discovery.

Cheering was bad. Very bad. Very very bad…

"Excuse me…" groaned Victor as he suddenly got up and made it to the side just in time to feed the fishes again.

God…what more can possibly go wrong? thought Victor as he leaned back onto the deck of the boat.

Victor was feeling – somewhat – better.

The full blown seasickness had downgraded to just "general crapiness". In addition, they were actually becoming quite good at steering the boat. Around mid-morning they got themselves a good wind and current and were now making truly excellent progress and – as near as he could figure from his very rough (and probably highly inaccurate) calculations – were zipping along at an impressive fifteen miles an hour. The boat –which even to Victor’s unpracticed eye was by all rights a hunk of junk and should not even be allowed anywhere near the ocean -- was actually still floating and gave every indication of doing so until they got to their destination. The skies were clear and the ocean itself was relatively calm.

Victor and the gang had no delusions whatsoever about their sailing abilities. The fact that they were actually moving in the direction they wanted to go was seen by all of them as something of a minor miracle. But given the borderline sitcom level of insanity and craziness they had gone through just in the last 12 hours, they didn’t want to push their luck and tried to stay within sight of the shoreline at all times.

Emphasis on the word ‘try’.

The boat seemed to have other ideas, alas, and Victor noticed with a vague sense of dread that the shoreline was slowly receding further and further away with every passing hour.

The boat –with its three occupants – continued onwards…

Victor and Shantala were finishing off the last of the bottle and had a stale sandwich each as Michael – who was fast becoming the sailing expert of the trio - made a few final adjustments to the sails.

Cutting a sandwich in half with an old knife he found in a forgotten cubbyhole of the boat, Victor handed one half of a sandwich to Shantala and wolfed down his own half.

They passed the bottle back and forth a few more times – exchanging a few kisses in the process (much to Michael’s ever-growing disgust) – and then lay back on the deck.

Watching the sunset three hours earlier had brought a rare moment of tranquility and bliss to them.

Victor had wondered if that was going to be the last sunset they will ever see.

There was no sign of the shoreline now. Nothing but open sea surrounded them. Try as they could, they had little luck in keeping themselves from drifting further and further east into the Atlantic.

They were still heading in a – more or less – northwest direction however, something that the three of them were thankful for. And if their calculations were correct – and Victor was becoming more and more dubious of his mathematical skills as time passed – then they passed the halfway mark to their destination just as the sun had set.

"Yo Vic!", screamed Michael. "Get your ass over here and check this out!"

"What is it?" screamed Victor back.

"Just move it!"

Sighing deeply, Victor got up, placing the knife into the knife sheath in his belt as he did so.

As he reached Michael, he practically grunted.

"What?"

"Check that out!", said Michael, pointing at something far to the north.

Victor squinted, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

There was…something…there. Off in the distance.

"What the hell is that? Another boat?" asked Victor.

Michael shrugged his shoulders.

"Beats the fuck out of me. But it’s getting closer now."

Sure enough – it was getting closer.

The trio stared at the object for a few seconds as it slowly became more and more distinct.

And then a head on a long snakelike neck rose a few inches out of the water.

The three of them gasped nearly simultaneously.

"Tha...that...that’s a... a..." stammered Michael, incoherently, as he pointed at it.

"Loch Ness Monster?!?" screamed Victor and Shantala at virtually the same instant.

The creature was as long as the boat – and, incredibly, inexplicably, seemed to be on a collision course towards them.

Victor had just enough time to notice what looked like a wedding train of scarlet water in the creature’s wake just as the creature rammed the boat.

The boat flipped over from the impact and the three of them , screaming, were thrown into the water.

For one terrifying instant as the water washed over him, Victor did not know where he was.

Driven by pure terror and lungs nearly empty of air, Victor swam in what he hoped was the surface – and was rewarded a moment later by the tangy smell of salt air.

Gulping in mouthfuls of air, he looked desperately around.

Both Michael and Shantala were in the water with him, flailing their arms and legs trying to stay afloat. The water surface was a maelstrom of debris and waves. A part of Victor’s mind glanced dispassionately as he saw the cooler full of sandwiches sink below the surface.

The boat had completely capsized and was now upside down in the water.

The ...plesiosaur?... was tangled up in the sails and ropes, thrashing uncontrollably in an effort to escape.

The water around it was a scarlet colour, showing up even in the moonlight.

And then Victor saw that one of the rear flippers of the creature was gone – ripped completely from the creature’s body, along from its body a chunk the size of a human being.

The creature bellowed, screaming in pain and confusion and terror.

And then – the three of them heard something else.

Another loud bellow.

From behind them....

None of them were ever was able to describe what it was. It was more of a sense of presence rather than an actual object.

But the brief impression that Victor got was that of a giant half snake/half crocodile thing with flippers....

...and jaws that could swallow a person whole...

It came out of the water and snapped its jaws on the plesiosaur’s neck and almost instantly dived beneath the waters again, dragging its prey down with it.

With a cacophony of sounds like dull firecrackers being set off during the Fourth of July, the ropes and sails tangled up with the plesiosaur snapped and ripped and tore loose.

And then...

Shantala screamed.

As Victor looked on in shock – Shantala disappeared beneath the waves...

Victor let out an incoherent scream of rage and pain and terror and dived beneath the water after her, ignoring the protests from Michael.

It was...dark.

Pitch dark.

But - just at the very extreme edge of his vision - Victor could see Shantala’s flailing arms and legs.

Her leg had gotten caught on a length of rope that in turn had gotten caught in one of the flippers of the plesiosaur—and she was being dragged down into the depths along with it.

With his lungs on fire, Victor put on a burst of speed and followed down.

Down...

Down...

Down...

He had lost sight of Shantala and his lungs were nearly at the limits of their capacity but he kept swimming anyway.

He kept swimming downwards.

And then...

Was it because he had dug deep within the reservoir of pure dumb luck that had been sustaining them for so long? Was it a random confluence of factors? Or was it because of an act of divine providence as some amused deity smiled upon him?

Victor never knew. Nor did he care.

But he felt – for a brief instant – his hand touch on a piece of rope.

Without thinking, Victor wrapped the rope around his hand – and was immediately pulled downwards even faster than before.

Ignoring the pain from his hand and his shoulder, he pulled himself down along the rope length until he got to Shantala.

She was barely moving now but he saw her eyes widen in shock and recognition as he moved into her field of vision.

Yanking out his knife from his belt sheath with his free hand, he began hacking blindly at the rope wrapped around her leg.

The rope – finally -- snapped – and Shantala literally rocketed past him upwards towards the surface.

And that’s when Victor’s lungs – strained far beyond their limits – finally gave up.

The last image he saw before his vision went was the image of Shantala swimming towards the surface of the sea, her body illuminated by the remnants of moonlight that managed to make it down this far.

She really does look like an angel was Victor’s final thought, before the darkness enveloped him.

Dark...

Floating...

Peacefulness...

Victor felt...

Tranquil.

Suddenly --Victor felt his body rise up – slowly at first—then faster...and faster...and faster....

As he rose—he felt the darkness around him lighten ever so slightly.

He got really confused when a moment later he felt – for the second time in a few minutes – the tangy taste of cool salt air flood into his lungs.

Coughing up what he surely thought was half the Atlantic Ocean, he felt his body move towards the capsized boat.

Victor blinked in confusion.

Shantala was there, clutching the side of the boat, a dazed look on her face but very much alive.

Victor twisted his head.

And looked into the face of Michael, puffing in exhaustion as he half-swam/half pulled him towards the boat.

He bumped into the boat with a thud and Victor clutched it in a death’s embrace, gulping in more and more breaths of air.

Michael joined him a second later and clutched the boat as well.

He turned towards Victor, still breathing heavily.

"You owe me. Big time. I mean it. I fucking own your ass for the next couple of lifetimes."

"Uh...thanks."

Victor opened his eyes and cringed at the bright sunshine.

He looked around and noted with little shock that the boat was – barely – still floating and that there were no signs at all of land in the featureless expanse of water surrounding them.

It had taken several attempts but the three of them had finally managed to get themselves on top of the capsized boat and lashed themselves to it with various remnants of ropes.

With the boat barely afloat and at the mercy of wind and currents, all they could really do was huddle together and hope that they will end up near shore rather than further out into the Atlantic.

It had been a long and hectic day for all of them and exhaustion had settled in fairly quickly. Victor had a massive migraine and nearly every square inch of his body was in pain – but whether that was from the abuse he had put his body through or something else entirely was unknown.

He remembered some vague warnings advising against divers going down too deep or coming up too fast. ‘The bends’ – was that what it was called? He hadn’t the faintest idea what the symptoms were other than ‘lots of pain’ nor could he for the life of him remember what the treatments were, if any, for it.

He decided to take that advice to heart.

What choice did he have?

Victor dug through the remnants of his memories and tried to make sense of it.

Did he really see all kinds of weird lights all along the horizon sometime just after midnight? What were they? Explosions…city lights… boats …hallucinations… dreams… who could tell?...

He was fairly certain that he had saw them – but hadn’t the faintest idea what they were though….only that they were there for a full minute or two before they mysteriously disappeared and quickly as they appeared…

Mentally—he flipped over the That can wait card and took another look around.

Yup – we’re in the middle of nowhere he decided, after a moment or two.

We be royally fucked said another inner voice.

Victor sighed.

And then –

--something that had been at the very edge of hearing for the last few minutes – that Victor realized with a sudden flash of knowledge had, in fact, actually have been the cause of him waking up—finally made it through to his consciousness.

There was a loud buzzing sound coming from nearby.

He glanced up – noting that the other two were slowly stirring awake as well – and looked around.

That’s when he saw it.

A giant mosquito? was the first, addled and incoherent, thought to enter his mind.

And then Victor took a closer look.

"A helicopter!" shouted Michael as the object slowly came into view.

It ducked and weaved through the air…and then paused briefly.

Banking sharply, it began flying towards them.

As it got closer, Victor saw a familiar red, white and blue flag on the side of the helicopter.

I take back every nasty and stupid and idiotic thing I have ever said about the French in my entire life! thought Victor as the helicopter slowly came closer and closer.

Michael was whooping with joy and Shantala was grinning at Victor.

Victor grinned back.

"Told you that I’ll get us to safety." said Victor.

"Have to admit – you really know how to show a woman a great time." replied Shantala.

The two of them hugged and kissed each other. After a few seconds, Shantala pulled away and stared at Victor, a serious and strangely concerned look on her face.

"So –what are you planning for our anniversary?" she asked.

Victor howled with laughter and was joined by Shantala a moment later.

Michael rolled his eyes and stared up at the helicopter and shouted at it.

"Excuse me?! Can you –like shoot me? Please?!"

Michael tore open his shirt, exposing his chest.

"C’mon man! One shot! Right in the chest! PLEASE!"

That made Victor and Shantala laugh even more, tears literally dripping down their cheeks.

They were still laughing as the helicopter came to hover over them…

~~

On to Chapter 28

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