Page 37 of Casualties of War
Adán glanced at Minnie, who was staring over the dashboard, as the boat drifted away from the dock. The tide was turning. “Youheard Calli this afternoon,” he told her. “The guns they’re using aren’t fake. Neither are the bullets.”
“Bullets kill civilians, too,” Minnie replied. “Let’s go. It’s getting late.”
Adán put the engine in gear and eased the throttle forward, nosing the boat out from the dock at an angle. He headed for the first green navigation light that marked the channel out to the open sea. “You shouldget the bucket out of the cabin and bring it up here.”
Minnie scowled again. “Why?” she demanded.
“The wind is coming from the south.”
“So?”
“Southern winds create chop. We’ll climb up waves sideways, then down them. You’re already dealing with morning sickness. The corkscrew motion won’t do you any favors.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”
“It’s the Vistarian in me. Sorry.”
She smiled and lifted her chin to look at him. “I’m married to a Vistarian throwback. If I’m grumpy, it’s not because of you, it’s because of him. He’ll kill me when he finds out I’m doing this.”
Adán nodded as he steered the boat passed the first channel marker and into the open seas behind the marina. The boat tilted and yawed. He spread his feet, finding his balance. “Your Duardo will killyou and Nick will kick my ass. We’re helping, though, right?”
“Right,” Minnie said firmly.
* * * * *
It was an unremarkable crossing. Minnie didn’t react to the motion of the boat, even though the chop was greater than Adán had expected. Either she was holding back nausea with an iron jaw, or she was a born boat person who never got sea-sick. She stood beside him, or sat on the edge of a cartonprojecting from the stack behind them.
Adán was glad to have her company. Being alone on the yacht was different to being alone on a noisy, smelly boat running without lights, stealing into an island that was constantly under fire. She chatted sometimes about people and events in the big house which helped him fill in who was who and the roles they played. Sometimes, she let silence stretch.
Occasionally, she poured him coffee from the thermos they had put on the dash for him. Once, she had spelled him at the wheel, while he ate the sandwiches that had come with the coffee.
They spotted the first of the navigation buoys just after two in the morning. Adán was pleased. “The tide didn’t pull us off course as much as I thought it might.”
“You’re right on top of it,” Minnie said. “Lasttime I came over, we had to turn and follow the coast down until we reached the marker.” She glanced at him. “I guess you’re as good as you say you are with boats.”
“It’s been a while since I navigated around Vistaria, though,” he admitted. “Come over to the port side, hm?”
She considered him. “Out of sight of the mainland and the Insurrectos, you mean?”
“Humor me,” Adán told her.
Silently,she sidled behind him and tucked herself into the corner made where the bulkhead met the side of the boat. “Better?”
“Thank you.” He glanced over to the starboard where a black-hulled launch with no lights was heading toward them. The bow wave it made glowed ghostly in the dark. “We’ve been spotted.”
“This boat is known,” Minnie assured him. “Wave at them.”
He waved.
The launch turned andran alongside them, with a hundred feet separating them. It escorted them all the way into the long dock. A reception committee waited on the dock. Adán spotted Nick’s red hair among the dark-haired soldiers. “We have company.”
Minnie stepped back so she could see through the windscreen. “Nick. Flores. Duardo. Damn, the patrol warned them.”
“Did you think they would be pleased to see you?”
“Us, Adán,” she corrected him. “They’ll yell at you, too.”
Adán laughed. “I’ve spent decades watching directors and actors having hissy fits. I can take it.”
