Vanguard | Post-Apocalyptic YA

Part 7: A Whale of a Tale

Bewildered by what we witnessed, Ray and I jog back toward the Skipper mostly in silence. We only stop momentarily when I get the urge to throw up. Afterward, the words we do exchange are brief and to the point.

"You know we can't give them the ferries, Will. Especially not after what just happened. We can't let them get to Vanguard," he says in beat with the rhythm of his quickened steps.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand for the millionth time. "I know."

"We'll figure something out to get Ellen back. You have my word."

"I know that, too," I say.

I'm glad he leaves the conversation at that because too much has happened and my brain's still not ready to process all the options. Most importantly, I don't want to think about the cold-blooded murder of those two people. But no matter how much I try to distance myself from it, the more it nags at me.

Stopping the man who was about to break down the door was arguably justifiable, but I can't understand why it couldn't have been handled with non-lethal force. What Nelly did to the woman is another story. The revelation of her age to me right before she pulled the trigger is also puzzling. I guess if she wanted me to know how ruthless she could be despite her youth, then she definitely succeeded.

Maybe I'm taking things too personally since my mom also had cancer. But while the end result in both cases was the same, the way each woman died couldn't have been any more different. We were able to hold Mom's hand and comfort her in her last moments, but that poor woman . . ..

At least she wasn't conscious to see what happened to her husband.

When we finally arrive at the Skipper – still tethered in the narrow waterway where we'd left her this morning – we wash off as much mud from our boots as we can in the dark. I haven't even considered how to explain going missing for over twelve hours, but I know that being topside isn't the first thing on my list. As we settle in – Ray in the pilot's chair and me squeezed into the space behind him – and begin floating toward the ocean, I feel like this is a good time to discuss other alternatives.

"Of course I'll still take all the blame for hijacking your ride, but we need an excuse for being gone so long," I say. "I was thinking maybe mechanical trouble, navigational issues, perhaps even blacking out. Your choice."

"My choice is telling the Commander everything. This isn't something we can keep from him," he replies as if it's already a done deal.

I jump up from my seat on the floor and hit my head on the canopy in the process. Ignoring the pain, I yell in his ear. "With all due respect, Lieutenant Commander. But you've got to be fucking kidding me. You know that's the stupidest thing you could have just said."

"How do you figure that, Ensign Scott?" He turns around, his calm voice belying the anger on his face.

"I don't know yet." I rub my head. "I just think this is bigger than both of us, Ray, and I want the chance to think it over."

"You mean you want the chance to avoid punishment – for the second time, if I may add – while coming up with another half-assed plan that'll once again end in disaster. No way, man." He shakes his head. "Not this time. It's your sister's life on the line. Now sit back down and let's get back home."

"Don't you think I know what's at stake?" I ask as we finally submerge, but as Ray turns the radio on, our argument is forgotten as the whole situation suddenly changes.