Jinx, Me, and Captain Eddie-Pt4

So far:  Our intrepid trio are fighting to stay alive while America is being pulverized by a bomb and missile attack.  By whom?  Things that blowup don't come with return addresses.  Jinx, the young female firebrand, Kenny, her lover and would-be protector, and Captain Eddie, an older man who has worked around boats all his life, take advantage of a lull in the barage to escape to what they hope will be a better life 'up north.'  They head toward Massachusett's Cape Ann to find a boat and sail toward sanity.

Part 4:

Jinx had made it sound so easy.  Stroll to Cape Ann, pick out the boat of our fantasies, and sail to the land of sunshine and coffeecakes.  Considering the nightmare were living, I didn’t buy for a moment that she could harbor such sweet dreams.  No.  I decided it was all a sales pitch meant to entice Captain Eddie.  He had to be our Cruise Director.  What Jinx and I knew about traversing the sea we learned from SpongeBob SquarePants.

***

Just getting to Cape Ann, more specifically the remnants of Rockport, the once renowned artist colony located at the tip of the cape, took six grueling days.  I felt like an old-world explorer searching for the elusive Northwest Passage—except we were trying to travel northeast, and none of us had attended Explorer School. 

“No point in grumbling,” Jinx told me whenever I complained.  “We’re still heading north just like we planned, Kenny.  Get used to it.”

Oh, I got used to it alright.  Just like someone gets used to a chronic toothache—grudgingly.   

Jinx knew why I was no fan of the ‘sea route’ to the glorious North.  Too many unknowns.  Sure, ersatz ‘Captain’ Eddie was familiar with things maritime, but even he harbored serious reservations.  Finding fuel was a major concern.  More troubling to me was the threat of pirates.  The land whelped wolfpacks, the water spawned frenzies of cold-eyed sharks.  On land, at least we could run and hide.  I hadn’t learned to run on water yet.

When we finally reached Rockport, we hadn’t had anything to eat for three days—and precious little during the three days prior.  The Scrounge, the After’s version of fine dining, was our first order of business. 

Captain Eddie split off with his plastic pail in search of tidal pools along the rock-strewn shore.

Jinx and I turned our attention to the rubble and the half-standing shells of bombed out buildings.  There’s something indecent about riven apartment buildings severed and left open like half a split grapefruit.  The guts of people’s lives left exposed in the most unflattering of ways.  I remembered watching the carnage at Gaza on television.  I was fascinated by the remnants of apartment buildings left standing.  To me, they looked like the set of the old game show called Hollywood Squares.  I’ll take Paul Lynde in the center square to block, Peter.

There’s an issue I haven’t dealt with, nor do I intend to go into any details about the . . . bodies.  All I’ll say is there are fewer corpses than a reasonable person might expect.  Sure, there are plenty, but either most people were atomized, or there are more survivors wandering around than evidence would suggest.  I’m going with the atomization theory.  The alternative is too scary to contemplate.  In a land with very limited resources, people are rivals . . . enemies.  So speaketh the so-called Keeper of the Hope.  I’m certain I’m underqualified for the job.

During that Scrounge in Rockport, we spotted a few other parties out on a similar mission, but they kept their distance.  I’m sure it was my fearsome demeanor that kept them at bay.  Fortunately, we encountered no one decked out in Red Sox regalia.

***

Jinx and I kept our eyes open for signs.  Half buried gas station signs, market signs, motel signs.  Where there are signs of signs, there is the prospect of digging out a meal—maybe a Slim Jim, a dented can of tuna, or the motherlode . . . a box (or a partial box) of pasta. Nothing like the ‘starches’ to fill a shrunken belly.  You can’t beat pasta and rice.  They’re light and easy to carry.  A ten-pound bag of rice could feed us for weeks.  Not that ten-pound bags of rice grew on trees.  Just as well.  I hadn’t seen a tree since last Christmas.  Did I mention?  The Hard Rain came on Christmas morning.

“Do you notice anything, Kenny?” Jinx asked.  Her hands rested on her hips as she scanned the immediate area.

“Yeah, rubble.”

“No, Kenny, look closer.”

I looked closer.  All I got was a closer view of rubble.  “What am I missing, Jinx?”

She smiled at me.  “Rockport didn’t take it on the chin.  Not like Worcester or the hole where Boston used to be.  The Hard Rain wasn’t as hard here.  I’m convinced moving north is a sound strategy.”

As I stood on upheavals of concrete, asphalt, and twisted steel, my view wasn’t nearly so rosy as hers. “If you say so, Jinx, but we haven’t found anything to eat yet.”

She hopped over a jagged pyramid of concrete and rebar.  She put her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek.  “Some Keeper of the Hope you are!  I think we’re on the fringes of the worst of it.  Maine will be so much better.  Why would they bother to bomb trees?”

I couldn’t help myself.  “The same reason they bombed a junior high school in Worcester.”

I saw the deep hurt in Jinx’s eyes.  I’d Hard Rained on her parade.

***

Our Scrounge turned into an unconditional success.  Not one, but two unscathed boxes of Ronzoni Penne, three small packets of crackers/peanut butter sandwiches—like the kind we used to buy from vending machines. 

Then we found the vending machine.  We liberated an assortment of Ring-Dings, Funyums,  Drake’s Cakes, and four Snickers bars.  Also, six sealed bottles of Poland Spring water.  Dare I say it?  Life can still be good.

Captain Eddie found us at our prearranged rendezvous.  His Scrounge wasn’t half as successful.  His pail contained about ten tiny sea snails, two pink crabs about the width of my palm, and a bunch of slimy seaweed he swore was edible and nutritious.

While I don’t have the science to prove it, I’ll wager a single Snickers Bar is more nutritious than all the seaweed in the Massachusetts Bay.  Even if it isn’t, I ain’t eating seaweed when I can have chocolate, caramel, and peanuts  The problem remains—there are only a finite number of Snickers Bars left.  Seaweed, however, still grows like weeds. When I suggested, “life can still be good?”  I take it all back.

We used one of our precious bottles of water to boil up Eddie’s bounty.  None of us considered it chowder, but we chewed every morsel and drank the meager broth as if it was nectar. 

But we all jonesed for dessert.  There was a packet of Ring-Dings with my name on it.  Hey, I was a bona fide provider.  Eddie did his best, but came up short.  Jinx was bound to notice.  I’d clearly won the day.

“I ain’t told you all the best part,” said Captain Eddie, savoring a dessert bag of Funyuns.  “I think I found us a boat.”

The last bite of my Ring-Dings caught hard in my throat.

Jinx, who sat next to me on a pew of polished driftwood, slapped my back, but spoke to Eddie.  “Really?  A boat?  Tell us.”

Eddie inverted the Funyuns bag so the crumbs would fall into his mouth.

“It’s a pleasure craft,” he said.  “Eighteen footer.  It appears seaworthy.  Even better, it’s backed right up to a boat launch.  Won’t be no trouble to slip it into the water.  We catch an outgoing tide, we’re in business.”

Jinx rose, likely to embrace the captain.  I grabbed her wrist, held her back.

“What about fuel, Eddie?” I asked.

The captain beamed.  “The tanks are full.  The twin Mercury engines show no signs of damage or tampering.  She’s cherry.  If you all want to travel north on the water, we should shove off early in the morning—if we catch the outgoing tide, we can conserve fuel.”

Jinx appeared uncomfortable.  “Wouldn’t a sailboat be better?  Eliminates the reliance on fuel.”

Captain Eddie grinned. “You happen to have a serviceable sailboat in your back pocket?  Better yet, you got a crew to sail her?  Uh-uh, Missy, this ain’t no leisurely pleasure cruise we’re embarking on.  If we run into pirates, I’ll take twin Mercs over a fickle gentle breeze any day.”

I could feel Jinx’s agitation, but I couldn’t suss its cause. 

She kicked gently at the dirt.  “Do we really need to shove off tomorrow morning?  Shouldn’t we Scrounge for more supplies first?  If today’s Scrounge is any indication . . .”

“In a perfect world, I’d agree with you.”

In a perfect world.  Captain Eddie had a sense of humor after all.

Eddie continued.  “Finding that particular boat, intact, and ready to launch was a stroke of shit-kickin’ good luck.  If we don’t take it—and quick—somebody else is bound to, Honey.  My Aunt Elsie, she raised me, would’ve called this boat low-hanging fruit.  If we don’t pluck it, sure as shootin’ somebody else will.” 

I’d come to know Jinx’s lovely body—and her not-so-lovely body language, too.  I noted the tension in her jaw and the thinning of her lips.  Jinx was pissed.  And I partially knew why.  First, Eddie called her ‘Missy’, then he followed it up with ‘Honey.’  Jinx and terms of condescension made a bad brew.  But there was something else that Jinx was hiding.  I’d knew I’d figure it out sooner or later.  Turns out, it was later.

For the moment, things were going my way.  Captain Eddie had taken up residence in Jinx’s doghouse.  I couldn’t be happier . . . so to speak.    

***

The sun rose slowly in the east.  As the sky brightened, festooned with ribbons of pinks, oranges, and bruise purples, I was unmoved.  If the world hadn’t become such a shit pile, I might have oohed and ahhed.  No more. The sky, with its raining missiles and bombs, had turned traitor and no longer fooled me with her pretty faces.

The boat was as Captain Eddie had described.  Except for one ironic tidbit.  Across her stern, painted in shadowed black and gold letters was the name Missy.  I hid my smirk.  Missy’s home port was listed as Manchester-By-The-Sea, MA. I wondered if the boat would be big enough for Jinx and Missy.

Missy was never intended to be a working boat.  She was some rich person’s toy.  But even I, a genetic landlubber, could see it was well crafted, well maintained.  

I asked Eddie, “Did you find anything useful inside?”

Eddie appeared puzzled.  “Can’t say.  I never boarded her.”

Jinx was the first to scramble over the side. 

As I struggled to pull myself up and over, I heard a shrill shriek.  Or maybe it was a scream.

To be continued . . .