Page 53 of Casualties of War
Chapter Twelve
The rocking of the surface beneath his face told Adán he was on a boat. The fact registered before much else made sense to him.
His mouth was drier than the Mojave and his head was muzzy.
Memory trickled back. The stink over his face, the blackness. Then, being dragged. The needle prick in his arm and the rush of coldness.
They had kept him knocked out. From the way his armswere wrenched backward and his ankles jammed together, they had bound his wrists and ankles.
He kept his eyes closed and worked to clear his mind of the fogginess. He listened for clues that would tell him more about his situation.
Water rushed against the hull, right by his head. An open boat with a big outboard motor. Big enough to cross over to Vistaria.
Sunlight did not dazzle against hisclosed eyes or warm his skin. Cool air rushed over his face, which told him he was lying on an open deck. It had to be night. He’d been out for hours, then.
The motor was burbling with a steady note, sending vibrations through the hull. It wasn’t at full power, which seemed odd. Surely, if they were stealing across to Vistaria with a hostage, they would go at full speed?
“You figured it outyet, Monty?” a male voice asked. It wasn’t a young voice.
“I can’t get my phone to reboot,” came the reply. This one was young. His voice whined.
“You said that five minutes ago,” the older man. “You said you could find Vistaria with the damn thing.”
The motor dropped to an even lower note. The boat slowed and rocked with the motion of the waves. They were stationary.
“Fuck!” came a thirdvoice, neither young nor old. “Vistaria is a big fucking island. Just point the boat and go. We’ll run into the island sooner or later. Are you laughing at me, Joaquim?”
“I’m laughing at all of you. You don’t have a clue, do you?” A fourth voice. Older and smarter, by the sound of it. “The Internet. Maps. You don’t need any of them.”
“How the fuck are we supposed to get to Vistaria, then?” Montythe Whiner asked.
“Lift your chin and look up,” Joaquim replied.
Celestial navigation, Adán mentally whispered. He held still, waiting to hear more.
“Up at what?” Monty demanded. “There’s nothing there!”
“There’s stars,” Joaquim replied, his tone calm.
“Stars? Fuck.” Monty sounded disappointed. “You gonna cast a spell next?”
“Maybe a spell will work,” another said. “Your fucking phone doesn’t.”
“Shut up and let him talk. You know where to go looking at the stars, Joaquim?”
“Sure. See the Big Dipper there?”
“The saucepan shaped thing?” Monty asked.
Big Dipper up to the North Star, then you have north,Adán finished.
“The front of the Dipper…the front of the pan. Follow that upward until you get to the bright star, about five times the length of the front of the Dipper away. See it?”
“Fuck, they’re all bright, out here,” Monty whined.
“The big one up there?” someone said.
Polaris, Adán told himself.
