THE ADVENTURES OF IKE PATTERSON AND GINGER BONNEAU

 

THE ADVENTURES OF

IKE PATTERSON AND GINGER BONNEAU

Chapters

1.    The Beginning

2.    The Riot

3.    The Getaway

4.    Underwater

5.    The Island

6.    Coming Home

7.    The New Day

8.    The Dusty Rose

9.    To The North

10.On To Wilmington

11.On The Shore

12.Wrightsful Beach

13.The Map

14.The Colonel

15.The Knower

16.The Mysterious Trio

17.The Reason

18.Back to The Rose

19.To Maine

20.Where’s Blackie

21.Now What?

22.Going South

23.The Hurricane

24.The Answer

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

“The Beginning”

The gravel crackled under the speeding tires of the red coup drove as it sped up the sycamore tree lined pas­sageway to Kensington Manor. As the tires slid to a stop, dust engulfed the sports car. The air cleared by the flash of the open door and the long leg slowly stretching out till the spiked heel rested in the dust. Keys flew through the dusty air to Swen’s open hand while Ginger’s skirt swirled in the turn to the marble steps.

Pressing open the huge oak doors laden in crystal glass dividing the light like prism onto the white and black marble floor. Her heels echoed down the hall pass the floor to ceiling mirror.

Ginger turned right at the end of the dark hallway into the light of the aviary. The sun cast a long shadow, as she looked through the French doors at the acres covered in green and woods.

Several minutes past until she reached to the side table for the tall glass of brown liquid, meticulously pre­pared to her specifications by Swen.

Ginger sipped the liquid as the sound of the outside grew through the room’s silence. Shadows of wings scat­tered across the floor as she lifted the handle to the green world.

. The rustle of small creatures settled as Ginger walked into the grassy vastness, kicking off her heels to feel the wet dew between her toes. She quickened her pace, as the sounds of chirps and calls became louder. She threw her hands up and twirled in the suns last warm beams. Then lay down in a soft blanket of leaves.

The blue sky was the fast lane for the fluff as it sped goodnight.

Ike walked quickly to his study. He had a mission.

The overhead light was dim, as Ike entered his sanctuary. He paused as the window to view Ginger on the lawn before pulling the floor length curtains to a close.

“Computer On!” Ike ordered as he prepared himself a drink. He opened his canvas pack and un-stuffed a stack of books and papers as the machine whirred to the command.

The screen lit the way to the soft chair as Ike settled in for the night. He shuffled the papers, arranging them in different order and positions, between quick sips. Then he turned to the keyboard.

Back inside, Ginger closed the French doors and said “Good night” to her outdoor friends.

As the sunset, she turned and walked past the roaring fireplace to the kitchen.

The steely blue ice box opened with a chill frost.

Upstairs. Climbing the increasing number of steps. One, two, three, four.... Until finally, the landing strip ap­peared. Familiar land.She turned and walked softly on the thick oriental runners.

The light beaming under the door lead Ginger to the bath. The warm water was filling the sudsy claw footed tub. Candles lit the incensed smell.

Ginger slipped out of her red satin into the blanket of warm water. As her body slid beneath the surfaces of

soft bubbles, she reached for the champagne. Her head lay back to the air filled pillow. Sounds of Celtic music wafted through the air as she closed her eyes. Relax.

Ike pounded on the plastic keys, ever searching for the answer. The right hand grabbed at the mouse and jerked ferociously back and forth to guide the arrow. Me and My Arrow.

His eyes squinted as the dim light lit his face. His eyes raced back and forth with each keystroke.

As the intensity grew, the music became louder. Ike grabbed another drink. He focused on the blue screen.

Another window. Close. Back again. The motor whirred.

Suddenly he paused.

Breathe.

Colors swirled across the glass. Letters flowed up and down, tight, loose, straight, and curved. Lines bend, grew thick, dashed, and faded away. Faces contoured and shaded. Stretched, blurred, bright or skewed.

Anything could happen. The master was at the control.

Ginger patted her powdered body with the thick towel before wrapping it in a warmed robe. A last sip of sudsy liquid, bid adieu to the humid room. She stopped to replace her lost slipper before strolling down the darkened hall to bed.

A quick glance to the light under Ike’s studio door, then opening the heavy entrance to the room of sleep.

Moonbeams lit the grain on the wooden floor. Shuffle to the high mattress. Lay the robe on the hook. Slide onto the warm flannel sheets and pull up the woven wool blankets and homemade quilts. Arrange the pile of fluffy pillows to perfection.

Sigh!

Relax!

Sleep!

The night quiets as you rest.

The light brightens Ike’s face as he reads the blue screen. His head slowly moves right, then left, then back again. His eyes follow the text as it appears magically on the screen. Letters, words, sentences. Messages from another place. Who is sending these thoughts?

Ike smiles as he sips the tall thick glass. He adjusted his glasses, then leans forward to reply. His fingers gen­tly tape the keyboard with skills learned in high school on a manual typewriter.

“What do you mean by that?” he replies.

A smile fills Ike’s face as he reads the response. He leans back in his chair and takes another sips as he pon­ders the text before him.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

“The Riot”

After a restless night, Ike jolts awake, sitting sharply straight up. His silk pajama top is soaked with moisture. Beads of sweat coat his forehead and upper lip. His eyes glazed into the darkness.

“Who is that face?” he questions himself. The same vision every morning. She is an indistinguishable yet familiar face. Is she a sight from the past or a look into the future?

He turns and slowly stands. Years of abusing his body stiffen the first steps of the day. Finding his way through the blackness with patterned step on the same path taken for years, Ike grabs his robe, slides on his reading glasses, and quietly walks down the cold marble floors to the light. At the end of the hall, he turns left into the kitchen’s warm morning glow.

“Good morning Mister Patterson” a tall black woman softly welcomes without interrupting her preparation as she stands at the long black reflective counter.

He picks up the simple white porcelain mug similar to those in dinners and walks into the study.

Resting the coffee cup on the large teak desk, turning toward the window as the sun breaks the dark sky, he reaches for the video remote control to start the day’s ritual of morning. News first, then weather, then news again.

But today was different.

The screen turned from black to light with screens of massive motions of people roaming the streets. Helicop­ter shots of streets filled with bodies, pressing forward, angry bodies pushing toward a goal.

His hand rested on the cup as he stared at the sight.

“What was this?” he asked himself as he raised the white cup to his lips.

The news was anxious. The pitch of the voice was high and disturbed.

“They are….they are coming from everywhere” the announcer screeched.

“They don’t seem to stop. They are coming down every street. Masses of bodies filling the pavement.”

As he lifted the cup to his lips he saw thousands of bodies pressing forward.

“What was this?” he asked himself.

Was the economy so bad that the general public rioting? Was this the breaking point?

As he watched the authorities press back the masses with swinging shields and clubs, mounted horses, then spraying water, then gas, to no avail.

They kept coming. Overpowering the uniforms and charging deeper into the city streets, setting fires, break­ing glass, and exerting their anger.

Ike turned away from the video and peered through the gauze shades at the sunrise.

Pop, pop, pop.

The sound of gunfire was in the distance.

He gazed through the trees as a column of smoke arose.

Pop, pop, pop,

The sound quicken and became clearer in the distance.

Ike turned and opened his desk drawer. His hand pulled out a large silver pistol.

Just then Ginger entered the office, visually disturbed by the sound and stopped at the doorway, her body shaking in the sheer white night garb flowing in the breeze.

She looked at the huge silver weapon secured in Ike’s firm grip, then to his eyes.

But he was looking elsewhere.

With a jerk of a head, Ike turned to the doorway.

“Go to the car!” he quietly said with a stern look.

There was not a second thought.

Ike closed the drawer and placed the pistol into his robe. Ginger, without question, turned and ran back down the hall to dress.

Turning back to the window, Ike noticed more frequent popping sounds and another plum of smoke. Then another column of smoke.

The time is now.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

“The Getaway”

Now Ike is a good driver, but he was pushing the limits. The car spun sideways on the gravel as he swung around the wheel and steered toward the fenced in wall, pressing firmly on the gas pedal.

Ginger had just thrown a little bag of quick gathers into the back and strapped herself in before the momen­tum pressed her back in the leather seat with maximum g-forces. Her hair waving in the half lowered window she stared at Ike.

“Was this a processed man?” her mind wondered.

She trusted him for 25 years, so she was gripping the seat and was along for the ride.

“Where would he take me this time?”

As the silver bullet reached the gate at the giant wall surrounding the Puppywoods Estate, it slid and swiveled to a halt, sliding on the gravel.

“Take what you need and tell the others. Make a run for it” Ike screamed to Juan the gardener. Juan staring at Mister Patterson, shook his head in acknowledgement.

Ike turned back to his mission, and as the giant iron gates drifted open, he pressed the gas pedal and the silver bullet spun into motion screwing rocks and gravel in it’s wake.

Turning left on the pavement, the tires squealed, drowning the screaming voices of the approaching mob.

Looking in his mirror, the sky was filled with black smoke.

“The whole world must have gone mad” Ike thought, gripping the wheel tighter.

His eyes focused on the northern route. He had to make the coast. It was their only chance.

Ike, being the anal compulsive, checked all the gages, air, petrol, GPS, weather, and internal systems to guaran­tee he can reach his destination.

The sky ahead was clear, but Ike was unsure if the future would present worst problems than what followed behind.

As the sun brightened the horizon, the ocean could be viewed, reaching into a soothing welcoming safety zone.

Closer to the beach, Ike reached over to Ginger’s arm and gave a gentle tap. She had grown weary of the flight and slept to the rhythm of the road.

“Ginger, we’re almost there.” Ike quietly said, never turning from his steeled eyed focus on the lit black path before him.

Ginger slowly rose in her seat, wiping her eyes and looking forward at the rising orange glob.

“Are we there yet?”

Ike laughed a deep relaxing chuckle, deflating the tension that had carried them here.

The silver bullet coasted to a slow halt resting in the sand. The sun had broken the sky and golden rays high­lighted the clouds.

The two vary travelers stepped out into the cushioned beach floor. Stretching his arms to the sky and yawning, Ike dusted off the road. Ginger grabbed her bag and without looking back started walking toward the ocean roar.

Ike closed the door and threw the keys into the sand. The silver bullet had carried them this far, now the next adventure was to start.

A towering ship sat anchored just beyond reach. Others had the same idea.

Small boats scurried back and forth from the beach to the ship and back again. Each boat carried only a few with little luggage. Little was said. Everyone knew what was happening.

Ike and Ginger walked forward to the next line.

Would they be accepted? Would there be time?

The next small boat pressed to the shore.

A lad in a horizontal striped shirt and navy cap jumped into the water and secured the boat. He stared at the line of people in the sand without a word. Each person climbed into the small wooden craft until there was not room for another. The line halted and backed into the sand. The lad turned and pushed the craft back into the water, climbing aboard when the water was waist high.

Slowly the boat would turn back to the larger silhouette ship and pressed ahead to deliver its goods.

Ike and Ginger stood on the wooden deck of the huge metal water vessel. The sun had risen to the highest point and the air heated with its warmth. As people shuffled upon the deck, Ike gestured to Ginger to follow him below deck. Pressing though the rumbling crowds, they found a open cabin. Quickly inside and secure the door. This might be their only haven for sometime.

A jolt showed the ship was moving. Turning out to open water, a blast from the steam horn raised cheers from the new passengers. They did not know where they were going, but they were on their way….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Four

“Underwater”

Ike and Ginger settled into a small 8-foot by 8-foot space. A small porthole gave light of the horizon as the massive hull turned toward open waters.

Ginger sat upon the narrow bed with only a blanket and shuffled thru her bag. Its all they had.

“I can’t find my phone.” She said to Ike while stirring the contents of the black sack.

“Who are you going to call?” Ike replied without turning away from the port hole.

There was silence.

The two sat quietly on the narrow cushion as the light began to fade. A narrow steam beamed across the floor and onto the floor until it faded away. Silently the two sat in the dark.

What else was there to do?

Their cabin rocked back and forth as the sound of engines turning beneath them press the hulk forward into the unknown.

“Lets get some sleep. Tomorrows another day.” Ike said in the darkness. Ginger replied in silence.

Neither one undressed, but quietly lay beside one another on the small bed. They quickly relaxed and drifted into sleep.

The motion of the rocking hull was suddenly interrupted by a loud bang.

Ike and Ginger in harmony jumped up.

The sound had vibrated throughout the hull and shook everyone on board.

There was a list in the room. A tilt to the starboard side.

Then the sound of water.

Under the door began a steam. The lights on deck flickered then faded out. Total black darkness.

Ike pressed to the door splashing across the floor. He pressed his head against the steel to hear more rushing water in the hallway.

Then the room jerked him back and began to roll over.

Ginger said nothing, but reached for Ike’s hand. He held her as he strained for the door.

With a quick twist, the door was open and water filled the room.

Holding his breathe, Ike opened his eyes to no avail. There was total blackness.

He felt his way to the door opening and tried to remember the way to the deck. He could feel the suction of the rushing water pulling at him.

With Ginger in tow, he felt his way up the corridor, pulling on portholes, door nobs, and lamps. Around the corner and with a thrush against the wall, they glided against the current to the next turn. They had reached the

stairway.

Lungs about to burst in the black water, the two moved upward toward the deck. The pressure of the rushing water became faint, then a push in reverse.

The two were pushed forward banging against walls, and furniture.

As if sucked from a vacuum, the bodies were shot upward.

Breaking the edge of the water, Ike opened his mouth for fresh air. He choked as his body dropped back into the warm sea. His eyes opened to see the moonlight.

But there was no ship. Only reflections of light appeared in the waves.

Ike turned left then right in panic.

“Where is Ginger?”

He dove back into the salty water thrashing his hand back and forth to reach an invisible body, but to no avail.

Back at the surface, Ike tread water for a few moments, realizing he must make a decision to stay at this site which fate was to probably drown or try to swim out.

Looking up to the heavens, Ike measured the stars and the moon’s position. Longitude 56 by Latitude 75.

Ike turned 27 degrees and started a slow and steady breaststroke into the darkness.

He thought of nothing but his patented arm stroke and his measured breathe.

Chapter Five

“The Island”

Ike didn’t think of anything but the rhythm of his breaststroke as he moved through the waves. Blinking and spitting out the salt water, he moved into the darkness as if on a mission. Each stroke was a consistent move­ment. His stamina did not waver.

And as the light stated separating the water from the sky, Ike stopped. He bobbed in the water for a minute to check the fading stars then looked at his gold Rolex then faced the rising sun. A quick sure nod assured him he was headed in the right direction.

Ike continued his 1-2-3-4 strokes in the warm water, but he knew he was still far from any land and depths held their own dangers.

As the sky brightened from a darken red to an orange, the waves white splashes and continuous movement helped him focus on his leg kick. He moved in powerful jet motion through the water, creating a wake in his path.

Just as the orange orb broke the surface of the horizon, in the middle was a black dot. Ike smiled then took another mouthful of salty water. He had calculated right and his rescue was in sight.

A second wind filled his chest and Ike dove his head down pulling his arms together to a hand clap, then turned the palms and pulled them around his body to his side, then with a quick jerk, thrust them forward again, barely breaking the surface of the water.

The dot at the center of the rising sun became larger. While everything around seems to have motion, this point was solid and still.

As if directed by a laser, Ike continued his strokes in the same steady pace that moved him closer and closer.

Then suddenly he felt uneasy. He felt the water change temperature. A wave grew colder than it had been. Then from the other side a cold wave.

Without breaking stride, his body tightened into a ball, then he pushed his foot out into the cold water. Thud!

Then like a ballet pirouette, his body spun in the water with a fast karate thrust into the water. Thud!

And as suddenly as he had stopped, Ike turned back to his breaststroke and continued to the speck in the dis­tance. Two denizens of the deep were going home with bumps and bruises and nothing to show for it.

With every stroke the outline of the island lay before him. And the current was beginning to help pull him forward. Each stroke was more powerful than the last and as the sun began to bake Ike’s back, he could see the white sand. The sound of breaking waves was a welcoming call.

Finally he put his head down into the water, closed his eyes, arms outstretched and let the waves deliver him to the white soft sand. As the water receded, Ike stood up. His legs were wobbly from the journey, but as he twisted his body and waved his arms, he got back his sea legs.

Blinking in the diamond reflection of the water, Ike reviewed his watery path. His mind flashed back to the sinking, the lost grip, and the long dark night. He scanned the water but there was no signs of wreckage or any indication of life.

So with the past behind him, Ike turned to face his new challenge. The white ribbon of beach kissed the water and was interrupted by a wall of green. Lush leaves and thick stalks presented a jungle wall swaying in the con­stant rhythm with the breeze. As Ike scanned the formidable forest, the breeze was quickly drying his droopy clothing. It was deathly quiet except for the lapping water at his feet.

Ike turned to the right and started walking down the thin beach surveying the greenery for an entrance. He checked his watch. It was noon. He looked up at the increasingly hot sun and decided it would be cool in the shade so he plied two giant bamboo stalks apart and stepped inside.

In the shady darkness, the sound vibrated. Birds were singing in every pitch and flavor. Calls to partners and friends announcing a stranger had entered their paradise.

Ike could only see about two feet in front as he pushed back giant leaves and branches. His bare feet sank in the decaying leaves and fallen limbs. Though the new environment was protected from the sun’s rays, the moister dripping off the greenery produced a thick humid air. Ike’s clothing was wet again. He pressed forward.

As if directed, he moved between the branches like a cat, until the thicket thinned out. Taller pines shaded the dirt floor blocking the growing warmth of the sun. The temperature dropped as Ike paused at this clearing. A two inch underbrush seem to spread everywhere like a soft brown carpet. Crunching the pine needles under raw feet, Ike moved forward to points unknown.

Then the sound of water appeared. Ike stopped to catch the origin of the sound and not the reverberation off the moist walls. Moving left, the volume of refreshing water increased. Through the web of branches and shad­ows, rays of sunlight peppered a path ahead.

Ike brought through into the bright sun on another white sandy beach.

“Was this the same beach?” he pondered. “Was this the entire island or had he walked in a circle?”

Across a narrow stretch of water there was another white sandy beach. And the water was moving in a differ­ent motion. The water moved away from the beach instead of toward the beach. This was a cove. This was an inland waterway.

Ike knelled down in the soft sand and dipped his hand into the clear fast moving water. Lifting it gently to his lips, he sipped a taste. The water was cool and fresh.

Totally out of character for Ike, he jumped up and ran into the steam. Lifting his hands into the refreshing liquid, he showed himself while dancing twirls, splashing waves, and letting out an unexpected call.

“YeeeeeeHaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Then he stood still. He still didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know who or what else occupied this tiny speck of land. He didn’t have any food. He hadn’t slept in days.

Ike slowly exited the water.

Standing on the beach again, he looked up at the sun, glanced at his watch, made a mental note of his sur­roundings and decided to move off again.

Moving inland on the beach the pace was easier, though the soft sand reminded his legs of the hours of swim­ming. The scenery changed little except for the occasional brightly color bird flying out from the canopy or the outward reaching leafy branch seeking sunlight.

Then a sight he did not expect. He wiped his eyes and saw a boat. It looked to be beached. He quickened his pace kicking up sand trails.

Yes, it was a boat. The hull had been cracked as if it had been driving full force into the sand. The jungle had weaved its web of vines and leaves over the bow, but Ike could make out the name. “Mai Tai”.

Ike scrabbled aboard and began searching for food. Seat cushions, fishing gear, a torn shirt on the wheel, empty cans of beer, and then “Eureka!” a treasure trove of cans. Beans and fruit.

Without checking the expiration date, Ike pulled out his trusty knife, flipped open the blade and stabbed the lid. With a jerking motion the soft metal was no match for his sharp blade. Prying open the lid, Ike paused to smell the contents.

“Seems alright?” he though.

Pouring the contents down his parched mouth, he chocked on the first gulp. Catching his breath he swal­lowed. It had been the first meal in several days and he had not realized how hungry he was.

Ike jumped away from the Mai Tai’s hull to avoid the barnacles. Another refreshing drinking from the fresh water stream to wash his delicious yet questionable meal down, Ike turned back to the boat.

“What was it doing here? Who drove it? And where were they?” were the thoughts in Ike’s mind.

Looking ashore, he noticed a parting in the green wall.

“A pathway perhaps?”

Sloshing up to the shore, he made note of his location, entering into his mental map of where he was.

Deciding to explore the pathway, Ike re-entered the forest green and the unknown.

Climbing over fallen trees and scraping pass sharp bamboo, he bobbed and weaved his way every step fol­lowing another’s long ago.

Then he noticed the ground had changed. Instead of sharp pine needles and soft mushy decaying leaves, it was crunchy. Crushed shells divided the rotting forest floor. It was at least a meter or two wide and curved thought the trees.

“This is a man made path?” Ike thought. His mind raced as he scanned both ways on the new road to adven­ture.

“Which way to go?”

He looked at his feet. The light darting through the canopy lit the left side of the path.

“Then left it is.” He said with confidence and off he went.

After several twist and turns Ike came across another surprise.

A 1928 Rolls Royce. Rusted and decaying in the middle of this forest jungle next to a seashell road.

“What the heck is this doing here?” He thought. “How did that little Mai-Tai fishing trawler get this big auto on this overgrown island?”

Ike checked out the glove compartment and found only dust, spider webs and years of bad weather.

“Better call Maaco”. He said stepping over a tiki lamp pole.

Continuing down the path his heart quicken at the next site.

Ike stepped over a fallen iron gate that maintained it padlock, but kept no one out and walked between the white stone columns toped with multi-legged lions, some missing their paws.

A large brownstone building stood before him covered in vines as if hidden from all mankind in this green blanket of a jungle.

“What kind of place is this? “ he questioned.

None of this made any since to an already baffled mind. Exhausted yet energized by his new discovery, he walked up the steps to the double doors. They were already opened, inviting curiosity of its contents.

The cool marble floors felt comforting to his bloody bare feet. As if a child in the candy shop, Ike gazed at the opulence and slowly walked down the hallway in awe. Paintings of smiling men poised together for a setting. All with a look of content, knowledgeable yet with a smile of playfulness. Huge mirrors in gold frames reflected the silhouettes of vines and branches growing out of the floor and walls.

Ike peered into several rooms in passing but did not enter. Too much to take in at one time, but he wandered on.

Then, there was a noise.

It came from above.

He backtracked down the dark hallway to the foyer and a giant stairway.

There it was again. He heard it again.

Then a sign against the wall caught his eye. It seemed to be a plaque of some kind.

Leaning over and blowing off the dust he read “The Enigma Club"*. He placed the sign back against the wall in its original position and looked up the stairway.

Slowly climbing the stairs Ike pondered his deliverance to this island. A dot in the ocean if seen by only one. A savior from whatever the world was doing to itself outside. A refuge for a moment in time. But the past was gone and he had to make a new future.

Light shown out from one of the rooms. Someone was walking. The sound of a bottle and the clinking of glasses filled the hallway.

Ike shyly crept up to the doorway and peered into the room. *With permission of the author.

The velvet drapes had been drawn back to let in the light. It filled the room with a warm dusty haze. The ori­ental carpet strewn with dried leaves still appeared thick and lush. The walls were covered with more painting of men in suits looking very formal and poised. Dusty bookcases were full of volumes of leather bond novels with gilded gold titles.

“Ha, ha, ha” a loud cry came out, “ Where have you been?”

Ike’s head swiveled toward the voice and his face went pale. Then a big ear-to-ear smile.

“What the…”

“Come join my party.”

Ike stared in disbelief. There on a stuffed tiger about to pounce sat Ginger, a bottle of champagne in one hand and a wine glass engraved with the letters EC in the other.

“How did you…? When did you…”? Ike stammered, his smile broadening at seeing this vision draped in sunlight.

Ginger sat astride the tiger in her brief bikini panties and bra, legs kicking as if on a bucking bronco, sipping from the glass and chugging from the bottle. As she swayed back and forth, she looked at Ike and said, “Where the hell have you been?”

“I…uh…I…” Ike stuttered to speak.

“I’ve found a life boat, no thanks to you.”

“I couldn’t find you!”

“Oh sure, I’m sure you looked for me”

“I…uh…I…”

“Settle down big boy, everything is alright.”

Ike breathed a sigh of relief of seeing his dream lost and found again. He quickly walked over to her and swept her off the stuff monster.

“Watch it with the hands.”

Ike smiled and held her close. His eyes filled with tears.

“Oh come on, I’ve been here for a while and it’s not that bad.”

Ike looked up and smile, rubbing Ginger’s back as she did a little drunken dance across the floor.

“They stored some nice hooch here. Take a swig. It’s the good stuff.”

Ginger passed the bottle of 1915 champagne to Ike. He could not resist and turned the bottle up to three giant swallows.

Wiping his mouth with his torn sleeve, Ike looked up and quietly said,” I am so happy to see you.”

“You too.”

They embraced and the rest will have to remain to your imagination until we can insure the age of all the readers.

The nextmorning.

“Who is that?” Ginger said in a frothy voice looking up at a wall branching herself on her elbows under a bearskin rug.

“Peregrine Hampton” Ike said tighten his belt.

“Who?”

“Captain Enigma. The head of this club.”

“What club?”

“I did a little looking around this morning and it seems this was a waylay for writers and creative types to gather and share thoughts.”

“But why in the middle of nowhere? Besides, where are we” Ginger said as she looked around for something to wear.

“Here try these.” Ike said as he threw a flannel shirt and baggy jeans to her. “I found them in a closet down the hall and I don’t think they were ever worn.”

“So where are we?”

“ I think we are off the coast of Florida. I saw a boat before getting here. Maybe we can get it to run.”

“A boat? Where?” she said pulling up suspenders over the baggy flannel shirt.

“The Mai-Tai”

“What?”

“Don’t know where it came from, but we might be able to start the engine…. what a minute. What about the boat you found. Where is that?”

“I’m not sure I can find it again.” She said shyly.

“We’ll find a way as a team.”

“OK, let’s get going.”

So the couple, together again, rested and ready for the future, gathered some cans and bottles in a curtain made into a makeshift knapsack.

Down the marble hall, still amazed at the sites they had shared and the history here. Ike and Ginger stopped at the door and viewed the guest book. The last entry was “H. Wornum”.

Ike smiled and had a thought.

He ran back up the staircase and back into their last residence.

There on the marble floor in the dust was a heart shaped image. Ike stood and smiled. Ginger had made that

pattern on the floor during the evening.

Ike leaned down and wrote IP & GP in the dust. Pausing, he smiled at this accomplishment, and then looking around the room, hoped it would be there for years.

Turning, he sighed. This had been quiet an adventure, but it was time to return to the old world and whatever it held for the couple.

Ginger smiled as Ike slowly step down the dusty stairway, glancing back as his artwork, then turning to hold Ginger’s hand and head for the doorway.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

“Coming Home?”

All was silent as the Mai-Thai sputtered to the dock. The tide slowly rubbed the bow on the wooden boards and Ike leapt up with line in hand to tie up the remains of their rescue vehicle.

The quiet was deafening. Only the splash of the waves on the shore and the scraping sound of the Mai-Thai against the splintered timbers interrupted the quiet.

Ike stood and looked slowly around the abandoned dock. There was no sign of life or that life had existed here for some time.

“Hey buster, what about me?” Ginger said as she stood on the rocking deck with arm outstretched.

Ike lean over and with a grasp to her forearm, jerked her up to the dock.

“Thanks!” she huffed brushing herself off, “ Where is everybody?”

The both froze as if in a vacant time.

The hulk of Ike’s car, the Silver Bullet still sat in wait of its former owners, but only a shell of its former life.

As Ike and Ginger approached they saw the silver body, doors open, rag roof down and trunk open. All the tires were flat and the dashboard had been torn off with only dangling wires hanging from the holes where the latest technology had occupied.

Ike stood at the door and looked down at the ripped leather seats. He had spent many miles in this chariot. The memories flooded his mind in a quick flashback journey.

“Ike!” Ginger screamed as she had wandered off toward the shipping station.

Ike turned and jetted to her side, body tense.

“There….there. Look at that” she stammered.

Behind the shipping station were bodies. Bloated by the sun. Some were charred. Some were with suitcases as if to travel. Others were partially clothed.

“Don’t get too close,” Ike restrained Ginger’s inner emotion to go and assist. “We don’t know what we have here.”

He looked around for some sign of life. There was no one.

Backing away from the dead, he peered into the stations window. Wiping away the dust, he saw more shad­owy figures on the floor, some on top of each other. There was on lying at the desk, face down, arms limp at the side.

“Let’s move on, there is nothing here for us.”

He turned toward the road that had brought them to this point so many months ago.

“What about transportation?” Ginger said, slowing the pace.

“You want to call a taxi? I through away the Silver Bullet’s keys and I don’t think it is going anywhere any­way. “

“Maybe we should try to use the phone?” she turned to the station.

“Do you want to go in there?”

“Ah…..no.”

“OK then, let’s move on and see what else we can find.”

Ike thought to himself this might have been the results of the riots, but why weren’t there anyone else around. Army? Police? EMS? Fire?

“Do we need to take anything from the boat?” Ginger asked.

They both turned back and smiled as the Mai-Thai gave its last gasp and sank next to the dock that could no longer hold her up. A loud splash followed as the entire dock sank like dominos into the water.

So they both turned and started walking down the road.

The sun was about to go down. Ike knew there was a small inn about a mile from the docking area, so that was his next destination.

As they arrived at the inn, there was complete darkness. There was no moonlight or any sign of any life in­side. Only the shapes of dark against the sky gave sense to direction.

They felt their way toward the building, hoping to feel a window or a door.

“Oh” said Ginger as her foot stepped on softness.She poked her foot around the object and said, “ It’s another body.”

“I’ve got a couple over here too, step over them and move forward.”

“Yuck” Ginger winched and stepped over the mass of rotting flesh. “The smell around here is not so good either” she said poking here foot in front of her searching for more death.

“Follow my voice,” Ike said, “I’ve found a doorway.”

“Do you think anyone is….” Thud. “Damn!”

“You OK?”

“Yeah, I tripped over another one of these corpses. They are everywhere.”

Ginger picked herself up and continued to move forward. Thud. Another roadblock with a kick of frustration.

“OK, looked for a flashlight or candle or something that will light this place up. We’ve got to see what is go­ing on.” Ike said in his most professional voice.

Once inside they split up gently feeling their way in the blackness. Opening cupboards and rubbing along counters. Reaching inside on drawer, a discovery.

“I’ve got a wax stick!” Ginger cried out.

Ike joined her and reached into his pants pocket. His trusty knife had been wet, but it might still work. He pressed a button and a spark briefly brightened the room.

“Ow!” he said as the light dimmed and the knife dropped to the floor. “Damn I never remember which end that thing lights up” Ike said in the dark, licking his hand.

After retrieving his pride and his knife, he pressed again and the spark became a flame. Ginger held the candle and the light brightened.

“Here’s another one” she said handing Ike another lit candle.

Back to back they surveyed the area.

There were no bodies inside the room. Everything looked as if time had stopped. Plates and glasses were on the dining room table awaiting a meal. A clock on the mantle above a stone fireplace clicked in sequence. Gin­ger touched the quilt over the back of the deep sofa.

“Let’s light a fire.”

A little resourcefulness and some trying, the room was a glow with warmth and light. They found some candle holders, matches, and the most important, bottles of wine.

“That’s a great wine cellar” Ike smiled as he popped the first cork with his trusty knife’s corkscrew.

“What’s the year?” Ginger quipped grabbing two glasses off the table.

“Does it matter?”

“Not really” Ginger quietly said placing the glasses for Ike to pour the red refreshment. “So what do you think happened here?”

Ike filled his glass and walked to the window. There were shadows on the ground lit by the fireplace. Mound after mound of desperate yet unsuccessful flight.

“I don’t know but it seems it happened very fast.”

“Was it the riot?” Ginger remembered her quick retreat.

“No, I think this is bigger than that. A lot bigger.”

Searching around the room for a note, or message, or newspaper to hint at the disaster befalling this place.

“What’s this?” Ike questioned picking up a radio.

Having already tried the electricity and realizing there was no power, he unplugged the radio and turned the knob on the top of the small metal case. Click.

“…..” Ike tuned the knob, then….” This is an emergency message….this is…emergency message…..this…….emer….” Ike continued to turn the knob.

“Thisisanemergencynotificationtoallpeoplesoftheworld. TheA2O2 fluisspreadingandthereisNO moremedicine. Stayinsideandawayfromanycontactwithanyoneelse. NO CONTACT! Evenyourfamily. Donotgooutsideforanyrea­

son. TheA2O2 isbeingtransferredoncontact. Money, food, transportation, DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING. Thisisanemergencynotification. …Thisisanemergencynotificationtoallpeoplesoftheworld. TheA2O2 fluisspreadingandthereisNO moremedicine. Stayinsideandawayfromanycontactwithanyoneelse. NO CONTACT! …” the message continued.

“Ike?”

Ike stood quietly looking at the box, then glanced out the window again.

“Ike, we touch those…those bodies!” Ginger screamed panic in her face.

“You feel OK? I feel OK. I’m not hot or sick, maybe a little drunk.” Ike calmly replied trying to calm Gin­ger’s nerves.

“Yeah, I feel OK I guess. Give me another shot.” Ginger smiled stretching out her empty glass.

“Let’s sleep on it and see how we are in the morning when the sun comes up.”

Sipping from her refreshed glass Ginger yawned,” OK, just one more glass.” Her eyelids started to drop.

Ike looked out the window at the shadows and thought.

“What was this? What had happened in such a short time? How far did this go? How long had it been since the world was healthy and normal and “Puppywoods” was the center of their universe?

Turning back to the light, he quietly walked over to Ginger and covered her with the quilt on the sofa. Eyes closed she smiled and pulled the corner toward her.

They would sleep tonight but there would be little rest.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

“A New Day”

“How do you feel today?” Ike asked staring out the bay window as the early morning sun streamed through the branches of the surrounding jungle.

Ginger turned over on the huge bed with a swirled canvas of disheveled sheets, blankets, pillows, and more pillows.

“Well,” she grinned, “if this my last day on earth, I’ll go with a smile on my face. What time is it?”

“Early.” Ike was obviously not wearing a watch.

“I’m starving. Lets get dressed and find some food.”

Ike turned and started picking up his clothes. “Maybe we can find you something to wear.”

“I’m not taking clothes off any of those bodies outside.” Ginger moved from one yoga stretch to another, catching Ike’s eye.

“Let’s check out some of these rooms. These poor souls must have brought suitcases.”

Ginger walked over to the phone and listened for a tone. “I don’t think we can get room service.”

Ike standing fully clothed checked his essentials. Slapping his pocket he said,” Wallet, keys, handkerchief, knife, ID and credit card”. Ready to go.

He reached down and tossed Ginger the flannel shirt taken from the Enigma Club.

“We’ll find you something a little more pleasing to your figure.” He said with a smile.

As Ginger wrapped the much too large garment around her when an object fell out of the shirt pocket and hit the floor rolling under the bed.

“What was that?”

Ike finished tying his shoe and reached under the bed, bringing back a fisted hand. He opened his hand and with the other gently picked up the golf ball sized object.

“What is it?” Ginger said buttoning the large shirt. From across the room is sparkled in the sunlight between Ike’s fingers.

Ike gazed at the glistening object as he twirled between his fingers then reaching into his pocket, he pull out his knife and with the free hand unscrewed the end. He walked closer to the window and placed the end of his knife to his eye. Through the magnify loupe he examined the object closely.

“It’s a diamond.”

Ginger walked up and stared in awe.

“It’s red.”

“I see that, but it is a diamond.”

“A red diamond?”

“And it is finely crafted. It doesn’t appear to be made for a setting, but it is well chiseled. Around 10 carats I imagine.” Ike said dropping the loupe from his eye into his hand.

“Well let’s go find some food and get some…” Ike said as he turned and started placing the stone into his pocket.

Ginger interrupted him with an outstretched arm and open hand.

“Mine.”

“But of course my queen.” came the perturbed reply and Ike pulled the glowing stone out of his pocket and placed it into her palm.

After a quick peek into several rooms, they slowly walked down the wooden staircase to the open lobby. Ike went over to the desk and started looking through papers. Ginger surveyed the surroundings and spied a gift shop. She quickly shuffled through the open door and stood in wonder.

Ike turned the pages of the entrees signatures but did not recognize any of the names. He searched through the office with no significant findings. He reached a pile of newspapers scattered on the floor next to the long sofa.

“PANDEMIC IS AT HAND”

“WORLD LEADERS GATHER TO PRAY FOR A SOLUTION”

“PANIC IN THE STREETS”

“PLAGUE!”

“HOSPITALS CLOSED. NO MORE MEDICINE.”

All the newspapers are 3 weeks old.

Inside the office he took some paper and a couple of pens. He checked the safe but it was broken and empty. The infirmary was ransacked with broken bottles covering the floor. At the concierge desk, he found a cell phone and surprisingly a pistol. He placed both into his pocket.

“Good ole Joe.” He smiled as he looked at the photo on the wall. This former bandleader and then good friend could get anything done and often did for Ike and Ginger’s brief but passionate stays at the end.

“Well, what do you think?” came a cry from across the lobby.

Ike looked up to see Ginger standing in the gift shop doorway. Dark glasses on her head, bright orchid push­ing back her rust colored locks, a light, flowing pastel spring dress blowing in the breeze from the open win­dows, silver bracelets adorning each arm, and pink tennis shoes.

“You are a vision.” Ike smiled. “Grab a handbag and a knapsack too. We may have to carry some food.”

“Oh yes, food. Where is food? I’m starving.” Ginger said gathering the items.

Moving through an empty dining room with plates still on the tables. Chairs lay on the floor as if there was a

race to leave the room.

“Have you noticed anything strange?” Ike asked as they moved toward the dual swing doors of the kitchen.

“Anything strange? This whole thing is strange?” Ginger replied.

“Insects.” Ike quietly said. “Insects. This place should be teaming with flies and ants and every creature known to man. “

Ginger looked through the window at the bloated bodies resting in the street.

“You’re right. This place is full of food for the wild creatures, but there is no sign they have been here. Are they dead too?”

Ike pushed the door to the chrome kitchen open and quickly glanced from side to side. There are polished doors and polished cabinets and polished trays and polished tables, all undisturbed and ready for food prepara­tion and no sign of recent activity.

The pair separated to the freezer and the storage areas.

Ike opened the freezer and the meat locker only to find warm compartment of rotten meat and melted veg­etables.

Ginger found green covered breads and pasta. She stuffed a couple of cans into the knapsack and set aside a few more.

“Here,” Ginger said tossing the heavy sack to Ike, “ and see if you can open these. I don’t want to look at the expiration date.”

After a meal of canned beans, pineapple and some fresh coconut Ginger found outside, the two sat the win­dow staring out to the future.

Ike muttered and downed another glass of wine. “Don’t forget to pack up some bottled water.”

“So now what?” Ginger replied a blank look on her face.

“Puppywoods is probably dust now and besides we have no transportation.”

“Then what do we do?

Where do we go?

I don’t want to hang around these bodies and the service here sucks.”

“Let’s head back to the beach and follow the coast.” Ike stood with a determined look on his face and strapped the knapsack around his shoulders.

“I’ve got another idea.” Ginger smiled and looked up. “The roof, let’s go to the roof.”

The couple climbed the stairs and found the escape stairway to the roof.

The sunshine poured into the dark narrow stairs as they burst into the morning. They walked out to the flat roof and stood in the silence.

“The sky should be full of singing birds.” Ike pondered wiping a tear from his squinting eyes.

“Over here” Ginger cried.

I turned to view a whirly bird. “We can fly out of here. Get it started.” Ginger impatiently fidgeted with the seats.

Ike put down the knapsack and walk to the cockpit. “Looks in good shape. Let’s see what we can do.”

He sat in the seat and started turning switches and watching meters. The blades shook and a puff of smoke came from the exhaust pipe. Then the blades began to slowly turn.

“Grab my bag and climb in. We’re going for a ride.”

Ginger smiled from ear to ear and grabbed the knapsack, ducked her head and climbed in beside the man who was about to deliver them from this nightmare.

The clear bubble shell tilted as the rotor blades spun faster and faster and smoke twirled around it like a fog. A bump and the carriage started to rise.

“Here we go.”

Tilting forward, the helicopter blew off the roof and over the green jungle.

And the two were off to another adventure. Not sure of the past events they ventured into an unknown future.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

“The Dusty Rose”

“Hang On. We are going in.”

The air filled with smoke and the wind blew up a sandstorm as the helicopter set down with a loud thump, then skidded until the front dove down and the blades stopped suddenly whirling and shuttered to a stop.

“You OK?” Ike said as he unfastened his harness and fell against the glass shell half buried in the sand.

“Yeah, I guess,” Ginger replied shaking her flowing hair in great waves, “ but that wasn’t a very smooth land­ing.”

“Sorry,” Ike replied grabbing his knapsack and crawling out of the cabin, “but we were out of gas.”

“Didn’t you check that before we left?”

Ginger crawled out of the cockpit and dusted off the sand. Remembering her sack with its red surprise, she reached back in the smoky wreckage.

“Well we made it to the coast.”

“OK, now what?”

“North.” Ike surveyed the landscape.

White sandy beach ran a ribbon roadway between the dense jungle and the crashing waves.

“Take off your shoes. It will be easier to walk barefoot.”

Ike stuffed the shoes in his pack, rolled up his pants legs, and loosened his collar.

The couple was off.

After an hour of soft sand and no signs of life they stopped to have a snack.

“How far to anywhere do you think?” Ginger asked opening a can of peaches.

Ike pondered the question but blankly starred into the constant roar of the ocean lapping the shore.

“I don’t get it.” He thought. “This use to be a resort beach. There should be cabanas and hotels. Some sort of building, but there is only jungle. How long have we been away?”

“You know this is really a nice spot. If we cleared a little area over there we could…”

“What is that?” Ike peered into the horizon.

“What?”

“There.” Ike pointed. “12-degrees from center.”

“What is it? An animal?” Ginger squinted remembering she had not heard any sounds of birds on their hike.

“Its…. its PINK!”

“Yes, I see it. What the he….?”

“It’s a SAILBOAT.”

“With a big pink sail”

“It seems to be drifting north at 2 knots.” Ike said using his watch as a compass.

“How far away do you think?”

“Two…. maybe three miles. It’s following the currents.”

“Give me your bag.”

Ike took off his jacket and wrapped Ginger’s bag in it, and then stuffing all into his knapsack. Strapping the sack on and tightening up the straps in a frantic pace he turned to Ginger and said, “Lets go!”

Without abandon they raced to the water and dove in. Ike had already calculated the drift and the current and the distance so they set a course above the bow of the vessel.

As they closed in on the drifting sailboat, Ike remembered he had incourted some creatures going to the is­land.

“We are in shark infested waters, so be alert.” He said scanning the waters on both sides. “I ran into a couple of them going to the Enigma Club.”

“Wonder how they can survive and no thing or no one else seems to have?” Ginger questioned her long hair blending with the waves.

“Well,” Ike spurted, “they did out last the dinosaurs.”

As calculated, the pair reached the sailboat just as it drifted to them. As if shot out of a cannon, Ike kicked his feet and tightened his legs and flew out of the water grabbing the rail. Pulling himself onto the deck, he immedi­ately turn and reached for Ginger.

“I’m not losing you this time.”

Their arms intertwined and with a firm grip he lifted Ginger onto the deck.

They sat for a few minutes, taking deep relaxing breaths before checking out the drifting platform. Ike re­moved the knapsack and stood up, then quickly ducked as the boom swung over them.

“Oh yeah, SAILboat.” He smiled remembering days as a youth learning how to manage these wind powered vessels. Many a time he had met the boom and it had not been so pleasant.

“She seems to be OK. I don’t see any damage up here.” Ike walked across the deck pulling at lines and check­ing the sides. “The rudder looks firm and she responds to the wheel.”

“Let’s look below. Maybe I can find a towel.”

Ginger stood and her spring dress clung to her body like a second skin.

“I see you didn’t find any underwear at that shop.” They both grinned and walked to the entrance to the cabin below.

Ike pushed the door opened and sunlight streamed down the steps.

“Hello! Is anybody here?”

Ike leaned down and viewed the room. He listened for a moment expecting a voice, but only heard the water splashing on the sides and the fluttering of the sail.

“Careful.” Ike reminded Ginger they were still dripping wet and could slip on the steep decent.

Once below they separated in different directions searching for whatever (and whoever) was there to find.

Ike found a table of maps, compasses, a sexton, some handwritten notes and a half full cup of very cold cof­fee. Shuffling the papers he studied the direction charted for this lost vessel. “All signs look like this boat was headed south.” As he turned the maps together he glanced back and forth. “It was headed to a little island off Florida.”

“Maybe that was the island we were on?” Ginger questioned digging through drawers of silverware and cook­ing utensils. Opening the overhead cabinets she quipped “Looks like we are stocked for a while. Now if I can find a towel.”

Ike glanced back at Ginger as she stretched on tippy toes to reach into the top shelf, her quickly drying dress riding up her legs. A quick smile then back to business.

“Do those maps tell you where we are now?”

“I’ll have to take a reading of the stars tonight, but they help.”

“Eureka!” Ginger squealed.

Ike quickly turned to see Miss Ginger resting her head on piles of thick towels. She fondled and rubbed each layer in ecstasy with eyes closed. He could almost hear her purr.

“I’m going forward.” Ike said with a change of direction and attention.

Slowly opening doors on either side of a narrow hallway, he found the head, a small dressing room, then under the bow, the bedroom. The curved bed fit into the bows hull wrapped in a cage of netting. The covers were neatly tucked as if never used. Opening a teak door he discovered a trove of shirts, slacks, windbreakers, and rain gear. Pulling one of the shirts of the rack, he viewed the size and designer. He smiled realizing this was quality goods and his size. Below the hanging clothes were cubby holes with rows of shoes, everything from deck sneakers to winter boots.

Turning to the other side of the room, he opened a drawer to find more papers and a pistol. He upholstered the pistol and made sure it was unloaded. Softly putting it back he covered it up as to hide a secret. Another drawer and more papers, all hand written. “What was this person doing out here?” his mind raced.

Then Ike noticed a space above the top drawer. A sliver of paper hid in the shadows. He slowly reached for the paper and found it was a bookmark. Pulling an old journal out of the crevice, he blew off the dust. Brush­ing off the cover Ike viewed the title “Just Another Life” in gold letters on the red leather hand sewn binding. Fingering the bookmark, the pages crackled as they opened. Drawings, sketches, notes, scribbles, covered the pages.

“Find anything in there?” came the voice down the hall.

Ike put the journal back in it’s hiding spot and thought it will take more time to read or understand these mes­sages than he had now. Walking back to the original room he saw a vision.

Ginger leaned up against the stairway, wrapped in a towel and crowned by a towel turban. “I took a shower.” She smiled. “You should try it.”

Ike enjoying the site and smell of the refreshed Ginger turned back to the maps. “We’ve got to get a heading.”

“I also found some sailing clothes that I think will fit.” She said tilting her head and rubbing her rusty locks.

“I’m going topside and try to get some readings. I’ll set a course and come back down in a bit.” Ike said gath­ering some of the instruments from the map table and climbed the steps still bare footed. “It’s getting dark.”

“I’ll see if I can whip up some dinner.”

Ike checked all the lines and cleats. He tightened one line then checked the sails. He tied off another line and watched the bow turn. Feeling the water glide pass, the lofting craft became taunt and responded well to a new captain.

Night had fallen and the cloudless sky presented a lighted road map for Ike. Dedicated to every detail, he looked up at the sky, then his watch, then the horizon, then the sail, then the bow, and the sky again. Turning the wheel to starboard the water parted allowing the couple’s transport fly. Ike grinned. Feeling comfortable in con­quering the waves and harnessing this ocean stallion, he put on the autopilot and watched as the rising full moon stayed in the same position. He was on coarse. The vessel gently rocked accepting it’s new captains orders.

“Your grog is ready captain.” Came the voice from below deck.

Ike broke his hypnotic trance and stepped down into a warmly lit room.

Ginger had outdone herself again. She had found candles that flooded the room and the waves outside the portholes with a welcoming glow. On the mess table sat a steaming pot of soup bubbling with potatoes, carrots, and celery swimming in a rich tomato pond. A wooden board rested thick slices of bread fresh from the oven. Two wooden bowls and neatly folded cloth napkins offered themselves to the weary travelers.

“Let’s eat, I’m starving.” Ginger scrambled to a stool and picked up a large spoon. She had slipped from the towel into a dark polio shirt and blue sweat pants.

“Wow!” said Ike as he gathered to the table. “You did all this and look very relaxed.”

“I still have a few skills you don’t know about.” She said buttering her slice of bread and looking slyly at him.

“Dusty Rose.”

“What?”

“She’s the ‘Dusty Rose’, that’s her name.” Ike responded ladling the thick soup into his bowl. “We are riding with the ‘Dusty Rose’”.

“Nice name. I like that.” Ginger beamed.

“She looks seaworthy and in good shape.” Ike said as he mopped the soup spilled on his still damp shirt. “She

handles well and I think we have a new ride.”

“Good.” Ginger slurped. “Did you find anything else?”

Chapter Nine

Toward the North

“Sleep well?”

Ike sat at a desk surrounded by papers, a single narrow light shining down on the masses of maps and books and a cup of coffee.

Ginger stirred and tapped the empty bottle of wine.

“Where are we?”

“From what I can access, just south of the Carolinas.” Ike replied smiling and picking up the cup of steam.

Ginger sat up wiping her eyes and letting the silken covers fall off her glistening body sparkled by the sun­light through the portholes. She looked to the left and saw a cup of tea while positioning her body into a yoga pose.

“With honey?”

“Of course my queen.”

“How long have you been up….er…..awake.” Ginger smiled and sipped the tea. “It’s perfect.”

“I woke before the sunrise and decided to read. I want to find out who the skipper of the Dusty Rose was and where they were headed.”

Ginger stretched touching the roof of the room and yawned.

“It seems the captain of this vessel before we came aboard was a scientist and computer wizard named May­nard.”

“Maynard?”

“Yes, these guys us only one name. “

“These guys?” Ginger asked getting into a lotus position. “The tea is good, thanks.”

“Looks like Maynard acquired the Dusty Rose for the purpose of going to this island off of Florida. He was on a mission.”

“For what?” Ginger slipped from the softness of the pillows to the rocking room. “Oh”, she slid into the wall. “I guess I had a lot of that wine.”

“You had a lot of everything.” Ike smiled turned another page.

“Where are my clothes?” she asked rubbing her eyes against the blinding morning sun. “Oh, here is a pile.”

“Maynard was a scientist and computer whiz. I wonder where the computer is?” Ike looked up with a ques­tioned look. “I did find some thumb drives, but have nothing to plug them into.”

“What is there to eat?” Ginger said zipping up her spring dress and picking up the empty wine bottles.

“Where was the party?”

“Here.” Ike responded. “There are bagels and cream cheese on the counter. I’ve already eaten.”

Ginger walked past lifting one of the bottles as if to whack his head only to lower it with a smile.

“Maynard was looking for something, but I can’t figure what happened. He and his computer seemed to have vanished, but everything else is the same. He appears from the readings to be a genius. He is on a quest, but I don’t know why or for what?”

Ginger reenters the room wiping the cream cheese from her lips. “What makes this guy have a pink sailboat?”

“The Dusty Rose, a 42 foot slope with a single sail, was painted pink for his first lover. He writes in this journal that he had a long lost love that cherished roses. So when he acquired this vessel, he painted it pink and installed a pink sail and named it the “Dusty Rose” for her.

“Nice story.” Ginger said sitting on a footstool. “Now what?”

“From the drawings and sketches and scribbles, we should probably be going in the other direction.”

“But?”

“But I think we were already there and there is a bigger problem we must solve. Where is everyone and ev­erything?”

“So where do we go first?” a crumb of bagel falling to the floor.

Ike pointed to the map. “Wilmington.”

Ginger looked over his shoulder and viewed the base of the North Carolina coast.

“Isn’t that place that all the hurricanes hit?”

“We will be there tomorrow.”

Ike folds the maps, standing and walking into the galley. He picks up a cup of steaming coffee and climbs the steps to the wheel. Sitting he faces the bow and the darkness arising over the horizon.

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

“On To Wilmington”

The night chill covered the Dusty Rose. The water was calm and the wind was constant. A gentle tug on the sail and a check of the stars kept the course straight.

Ike scanned the water white caps lit by the full moon. In the distance he could see a lime green glow just un­der the water. “Is it seaweed or some microorganisms still alive under the sea?” he pondered. “Could the oceans survive whatever happened here? Protected by the depths of life’s origin?”

“Want a cup of coffee?” came the break in the thought process from down below.

“Just black for me.” He replied.

In an instant, Ginger wrapped in a wool sweater sat next to Ike, both cuddling cups of warmth in the night air.

“It’s so quiet out here.” Ginger whispered looking up at the giant sail full of the night’s breeze.

“Too quiet.”

“Found this sweater down below. It’s a ____ weave. Nicely done, but I could do better.”

Ike stood and pointed to Ginger to hold the wheel. “Keep her steady. Follow that star two degrees of star­board.”

Ducking the boom, Ike managed his way to the bow. Face down on the deck, Ike dipped his hand into the water as it rushed pass.Shifting left then right the craft cut a swap through the churning highway. Bringing his hand back to his face, he looked at the small puddle in his palm. With only moonlight to light his examination, he studied the swirling pond. It was alive with creatures.

“There is life here.” Ike said to his hand. “We are not the only ones.”

“What?”

“We are not Adam and Eve. There is life in the water.”

“What are you talking about?”

Ike poured the contents of his hand back into their home, wiped the remaining moister on his pants leg and crawled back to the wheel.

“I remembered those sharks. The ocean is alive. Whatever has happened here has not affected the oceans.” Ike smiled.

“Yet!”

“Thanks for raining on my parade.”

“Take the wheel, I’m going below. It’s cold out here and I’m tired.”

“I guess so.” Ike smiled a bigger smile.

Ginger gave Ike a gesture and climbed down the steps to the glowing room below. “Sweet dreams.” She said as she faded into the dark of the forward rooms.

A few more sips of hot liquid and refocus on the horizon. Ike became one with the wood, sail, wind, water.

As the horizon started to wake the clouds with an orange glow, the shoreline became a pencil thin line in the distance. Pointing the bow to port, the Dusty Rose responded with a jump and let the waves push her forward. Ike tied off the wheel with the new course and stepped down the slick walkway to the galley.

Looking down the hall to the darkness, he smiled knowing Ginger was asleep and dreaming sweet dreams in the rocking cradle. Ike prepared another cup of coffee and climbed back to the wheel.

The sun had broken the plain of the horizon and lit the sky with beams of yellow and red rays. As the vessel grew closer to shore, the dark black line blossomed into a green and yellow mass of vegetation.

Ike turned the wheel to run parallel with the coastline. “Where there no buildings?”

Turning back toward the shore, Ike spotted a blip in the water. Rubbing his eyes, he looked back at the speck bobbing in the waves. He turned the wheel to rendezvous with the object and kept a close watch.

The white sand cut a line on the coast against the same jungle Ike had been watching. Tacking back and forth to avoid sandbars, the Dusty Rose crept closer to the mysterious shape.

“It is a man!” Ike’s eyes widen. He stomped three times on the deck to awaken Ginger then stood, almost be­ing wiped out by the boom swinging back with the fresh wind.

“What?” came the muffled sound from below?

“Get your pretty little butt up here. There is someone I want you to meet.”

“What….. who…..” a crash of chair, a stack of books and a bottle echoed through the hole.

Ginger struggled up the steps squinting into the new morning sunlight. Ike’s frozen star pointed the observa­tion in the distance.

“What is that?” Ginger whipped her eyes in wonderment.

The silhouette of a human form lifted an arm and waved back and forth.

Ike steered toward the form, the shaking boat responding to the captain’s every request.

Bouncing on the waves, straddling a surfboard was a blond young man. Bare chest, long hair and a beaming smile.

“Dude!” he called out waving friendly. “Been a while since I’ve seen someone else.”

Ike released the sail to slow the vessel as it came along side of the surfer. Ginger eagerly went to the portside and offered a hand to the young man. The lad grabbed her arm and almost pulled her into the drink.

Dripping on the deck, the smiling visitor presented himself to the amazed couple saying, “Dude. Where have you been?”

There was a pause as Ginger and Ike starred at the bare chest young man with bright color jams and then to

each other.

“Hey man, you got anything to drink? “

“Ah…yes, welcome aboard the Dusty Rose. Currently the skipper is Ike Patterson.” Placing out his hand. They met in a firm handshake.

“Will wine do?” Ginger asked slyly.

“Sure babe!” the new passenger grinned still firmly grasps checking out the female physique. “Nice chick.” The grasp became firmer.

Ginger lowered into the hole constantly smiling at the tanned young man.

“So whoareyou?” Ike interrupted the scene.

Hair flipped as the young man’s head turned away from his vision to a stern face. “Dude, I’m Jack.”

“Jack?”

“Yeah man, nice ride you have here.” Rubbing his hand over the rails.

“Jack, where did you come from? We haven’t seen any life in….”

“Hey man, me neither.”

“So why did we find you outside of what should be Wilmington?”

“Man,” the boy said pointing to the shore, “Wilmington is there.”

Ike looked at the shore as it crept closer and saw a pier on the white broad beach.

“That’s Johnny Mercers.”

Ike smiled remembering the years of surfing between the barnacled pilings as a youth.

“Red OK?” Ginger asked bringing up two glasses of wine from below.

“Cool.”

Ike looked at the couple as they clinked their glasses and wondered where his glass was?

“The bottle is down there.” Ginger smiled staring at the blond surfer with a knowing smile.

A moment of silence was broken with Ike looking at Jack saying, “Do you know how to steer this thing?” His face grimaced with a grin.

“Sure dude,” came the crusty reply, “ me and the ole lady can handle it.”

Ike released the wheel and slid down the stairway. Entering the galley he found the wine and an empty glass. He slugged a swallow from the bottle, and then wiping his lips filled the glass. “Who is this guy?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eleven

“Onto Shore”

Ike slowly climbed back to the deck. He heard giggling and moans. He stopped, took another breath, and then stepped into the sunshine.

Ginger and Jack laughed looking at each other then back at Ike as he climbed back into the captain’s chair moving everyone out of the way.

“Easy dude.” Jack laughed taking another sip of wine. “Did you bring up the bottle?”

Ike gave him a blank glance then view the stars giving the wheel a jerk. “Stupid, didn’t follow the path.”

The Dusty Rose leaned to port and the sail blossomed in the morning wind.

“Wooo.” Jack gleefully responded. “Ride the curl dude.”

“So what happened here? And why are you still ALIVE?” Ike interrupted the joyous moment.

“Me?”

Ginger took another sip of wine and stared at Jack.

“Well, it kinda goes like this man.”

“I’m listening.” Ike growled wrestling with the wheel to turn the vessel back on course.

“Man, I don’t know all the details. I’ve been surfing down here for about 5 years. There was this money thing going on but I didn’t worry about it ‘cause I didn’t have any. I saw it on the tube man, but who cares about that stuff, dig? Well all the folks went crazy and started to tear down the establishment. Then the power went out so I turned to the water. It is always there.”

“What happened to everyone? And when did this happened?” Ike gruffly replied still pulling at the wheel as the bow pointed to the white sand.

“Man, I don’t know the answer to your questions.”

“When did this all happen?” Ike insisted.

“I don’t know”, Jack stammered, “around 2009 I reckon.”

“So what is the year now!” Ike pressed.

“Dude! It must be 2020 by now. I don’t have a calendar but it’s been a while.”

“Twenty-twenty?”

“And a strange thing seems to happen. I don’t grow old.” Jack disclosed.

“Where is everyone else?” Ike yelled.

“Dude! I don’t know. They started roaming through the streets and then thinned out and man they were all gone.”

“What do you mean ‘all gone’?’”

“They all just disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“Yeah man, like they were here one day and the next they were gone. No cars, no cats, no kids. Just gone.”

“Ike we are getting close to the pier.” Ginger broke in.

“Where did they go? Why did they leave?”

“Man I don’t know?”

“And why did you stay??”

“Ike…. Ike the dock.”

A sudden lunge and the Dusty Rose suddenly stopped. Grounded on a sandbar with a sail waving back and forth trying to find a direction.

“Damn, we’ve run aground. Lower the sail.” Ike ordered, breaking his focus to the survival of the vessel he commanded.

Ike, Ginger and Jack jumped up to release lines. The huge pink sheet dropped down to the deck releasing the pressure on the hull. Ike pointed and instructed the others on how to wrap the sail and secure the boom. He checked the rudder and picked up his spilled glass of wine.

“Man, that was boss.”

Ike responded, “ We’ve landed. Drop the anchor and we’ll swim ashore.”

The sun was a full bloom and high overhead with sweat stirring heat. Ike checked the deck and lead the three in diving into the water toward the beach.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 12

“Wrightsville Beach”

The trio of Ike, Ginger and Jack landed on the empty beach beside the barnacled pilings of Mercer’s pier. Dripping body’s scampered ashore and store in wonderment of the quiet.

Ike looked back at the Dusty Rose wondering if he had done the right thing leaving it there. Then his attention diverted to the old wooden structure stretching out into the waves. He had many memories of walking out over the water and fishing here on his summer vacations.

“Which way do we go, Ike?” Ginger asked shading her eyes against the sun.

“I’ll take you to my pad man, “ Jack interjected with a sly glance to Ginger, “or we could just look around, but I know you won’t find what you are looking for.”

Ike quickly responded to Jack. “What are WE looking for?”

“Dude, you are in search of life, right?”

“It’s really lovely here.” Ginger cooed while ringing out her hair soaking the light bulb littered sand from the last hurricane.

“Is Station One still there?”

“You mean the drug store…. yeah?”

Station One was the first stop over the inlet bridge. Then the beach was divided into two paths, each side held wooden two-story beach houses. Decks faced the water, flapping shutters placed to keep out the hurricanes but never succeeding, sand washed windows peppered in the constant wind, and each house painted white. These were not summer homes, but everyday living for people who loved the ocean.

The trio walked down the beach for a distance then turn to the right.

“This is where Lumina was before the years took it away.” Ike said. Turning around and facing the constant flow of waves,” There used to be a movie screen out there…. out in the ocean…. and the dance crowd would take a break and sit in the sand and watch black and white films” He said smiling at the nostalgia.

The trio walked up to the blacktopped ribbon that lead them back to Station One. Cars were parked in garages under the steps leading up to the empty rooms above. Each held a history, but now was being covered in the sandy encroachment of nature.

At Station One standing in front of the open glass door the trio paused.

“Is there any shade here?” Ginger complained wiping her brow.

“Man, it gets a lot cooler when you get inside. Cool tile floors man. Dig?”

Ike stood still, his shirt having dried from the swim then soaked by the sun.

“Any food in there?”

“Dude?”

Ginger hastily stepped into the doorway and disappeared in the darkness.

“Swell.” Ike thought of the impatient whiff of a girl.

The two men followed enjoying the temperature drop and the cool touch of tile on burnt feet. The musty sand covered floor stored empty wire racks spinning in the breeze, piles of crumpled paper, ceiling tiles splattered to the floor, a single flip flop, scattered bottles of unopened suntan lotion, reflections of a counter with chrome stools awaiting customers.

Ike bent down and picked up a card. “Welcome to the world’s best family beach” the card, read while the flip side showed families enjoying summer vacations.

“Look what I found” Ginger giggled appearing from the darkness holding a windbreaker. She flipped it over and then pulled it over her head. Shaking her hair and pulling on the sleeves she twirled in a nylon mini-dress and asked, “Does it fit?”

“Super delicious.”

Ike glanced at Jack again as the young man seemed to drool. “Do any of the motor vehicles work?”

“Don’t know man. Never tried them. I’m just into the board and the water. I can walk from my place to the water. That’s all that matters.”

Ike turned and walked back into the baking sunlight. He survived the few cars available walking to a ‘56 Desoto. He pulled on the massive door and it swung open with an old creak. Leaning over and probing the inte­rior he found the keys were still in the wheel. He swung the backpack he had been carrying with some foodstuff from the Dusty Rose just incase they became strained onto the seat and leapt in beside it creating a cloud of dust.

Wiping off the small windows to the dials, Ike eagerly examined each set of needles. He knew this rusting monster would probably not start because the gasoline would have evaporated years ago and all the parts were rusted.

Then he turned the key.

The ground shook as the beast came to life blowing black smoke behinds its wings.

Jack and Ginger ran toward the sound of a choking rumbling machine that had not be visited for years.

“Sweet ride dude!” Jack squealed and the group stared wide-eyed at the possible travels presented.

“Climb in and we’ll take a spin,” Ike gleefully answered proud of his new discovery.

With the trio together again, the metal monster was placed in gear and slowly began to roll. Pressing down on the pedal and turning the wheel to the left, the purple beast glided onto the bridge and into the forest of Wilm­ington. Over the inlet that separated the mainland from the beach the three roared onto another vacant road.

Spanish moss hung from the overhanging trees, which soften the view of emptiness.

Ginger and Jack sat pressed to the front seat, hands gripping the head rest, acting like small children on an ad­venture. Ike firmly gripped the wheel of this sputtering beast. It had been some time since this mobile machine had moved and the gears responded roughly.

Turning onto Chestnut Street, Ike slowed the vehicle. His memories of this small railroad town came rushing back. He looked left at a small brick house, swing on the porch, driveway that led around the back to a rose gar­den. He could almost hear the laughter and singing in the kitchen. Then speeding up he headed for the center of town. Pass the small corner grocery doors wide open with saw dust floors, open produce bins and the accompa­nying flies swatted by small boys eager to deliver food to elderly women, walls lined with photos of entertainers of another era next to thin grey weathered wooded row houses, their tall ceilings and heavy drapes hiding heavy furniture dating back to the civil war and small dirt yards.

Ike stopped the motorcar and opened the door.

“What?” Ginger asked seemly enjoying the ride.

Ike stepped out and stared at the stream of water that broke the plaza. “That is the Cape Fear River” he whis­pered. “This was the sight where English and French explorers came to create a trading post. The Indians would wipe them out, illness struck, but finally they got established when the railroad came to town. Then they parked this battleship in here” Ike’s voice growing as he viewed the massive rusting brown hull pointing her array of guns up and down the river. Ike paused from his history lesson onto deaf ears to stare into space of a forgotten time.

“Hey, dude? Want to see my place?” Jack cowardly asked realizing Ike was in a different place.

“You know they sank a floating restaurant bringing that hulk in here.” Ike responded.

“Sure!” Ginger sang to a new adventure.

Breaking his train of thought and following the others, Ike slowly climbed back into the sputtering machine and said, “Which way?”

“Dude, do a 180 back to the beach. I’m out there.”

“You sure are.” Ike thought as he swung the massive beast around and headed back.

“Turn left after you cross the bridge.”

Rolling to another strip of black molasses the wheels slowed as sinking into tar.

A row of close one-story brick buildings sat shoulder-to-shoulder with names painted on the dusty windows. “Drakes”, “Pirate’s Treasure”, “Cap Sam’s”, and “The Cove”, showed the north end of the beach was adult entertainment.

“Man, we are like here.” Jack announced pointing at an unassuming building to the right.

Ike slowed the vehicle then with a flick of the wrist, stopped the movement parking this monster until the next carrier demanded transportation.

The two doors opened emptying the adventurers.

Ike slapped the pack over his shoulder as Jack pointed to the door and welcomed the pair inside.

Ike and Ginger followed the blond surfer into a dark room.

“Wait here” Jack, said moving through the familiar location.

The couple stood in wonderment of what they might find.

Suddenly curtains were drawn back and the sunlight flooded in like spotlights.

“Woo” Ginger turned, avoiding the flash.

“This is my pad dude and dudess.” Jack beamed arms outstretch to either side basking in the glow of his worldly good.

Brightly colored posters lined the walls. Pillows filled the floor. A small counter to the right held two wooden stools. A large sliding door window presented the ocean to the room. Sand covered the floor. Papers and maga­zines piled in a corner and a guitar rested against a black-screened television.

“Where’s the bathroom” Ginger frantically questioned.

Jack looked confused.

“I got to go!!” she danced holding her skirt.

“Uh, I just use the beach man. The plumbing doesn’t work so good here.”

Ginger ran toward the beach, pushing back the sliding window and out into the sunlight and sand.

“So what do you eat?” Ike in a disconcerting manner asked.

Jack smiled and walked out to the side of the small building.

“Here is where I live man.”

Jack pointed to a plot of dirt dividing the buildings. Large green stalks were wound in string and ribbon. Be­low them were red and orange and yellow ground resting vegetables.

“You see man, I’m micro-bionic” Jack answered in pride “I grow my own grub man and the earth has been good to me. I’ve got several of these gardens around here. “

Ike took new appreciation of this man until he said….

“Feel better?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Ginger returned to the group.

“Want a smoke?” Jack changed the conversation.

“What?” Ike jerked around.

“I grow my own man. It’s good stuff. I call it Carolina Crash.”

Ginger smiled.

Stepping back into the carpeted room with drapes of beach towels and posters surrounding the room, Jack directly went to a little cabinet next to a pile of pillows.

The three sat as Jack presented an engraved silver cigarette container, but it contained something different.

Placed securely to his lips, Jack struck a wooden match and sucked on the tightly woven paper.

“Try this….(suck)….it’s primo” Jack smiled passing the fire to Ginger.

She eagerly took the lit paper and sucked deep. A smile filled her face and she passed it to Ike.

He slowly looked at the other two and slowly reached out gently reaching the wet paper. Staring at Jack, Ike drew in a puff, then another bringing ashes falling on the floor.

“Way to go dude.” Jack smiled.

Several more rotation sessions were started before Ike looked at his watch and noticed the setting sun.

“We must go.”

“What?” dazed Ginger looked up through drooping eyelids.

“We’ve got to get back to the Dusty Rose.”

“Dude, stay for dinner. I’ve got some yummy mushrooms.” Jack giggled smoke pouring from his mouth.

“We’ve got to go…. NOW!”

Ike jumped up and looked down at Ginger. In her sleepy stupor, she managed to stand. Turning toward the door Ike forcefully stepped forward. Ginger looked back wishfully at Jack and said,” You coming?”

Jack sat cross-legged on plush pillows and grinned ear to ear.

Ike and Ginger paused at the doorway and looked back at Jack awaiting an answer.

“No dude, you go on. I’ve found a good place here. Hope you find whatever you are looking for man.”

“Thanks for the hospitality…dude,” Ginger smiled before being jerked out of the doorway.

The couple paced toward the water’s edge, Ike strapping on his knapsack still full of provisions while Ginger kept looking back at the fading light.

Ike positioned the course to the stranded vessel and dived in the waves with Ginger close at hand.

As light faded to moon shine, the two were back on deck. Ike lifted the anchor and the deck shuffled then started to drift. He moved back to the captain’s chair and turned the wheel to the open water. The Dusty Rose responded as if asleep awaiting a call.

Ginger’s red eyes looked at Ike in wonderment but nothing was said.

“High tide.” Ike stated, looking at the stars for guidance.

So the Dusty Rose and its crew were off again. Heading north for new answers and more questions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

“The Map”

“Ike!”

Ike stirred and rolled over in the crumpled mass of pillows and covers.

“What….? What are you talking about?” he said rubbing his eyes against the blur of light.

“ I think I’ve discovered a clue about our “skipper” Maynard.”

“Do we have any coffee?” Ike stood bumping his head on the ceiling. “Ow!”

“I was looking thru the miscellaneous pile of books and things in that hidden panel we discovered and found a notebook of drawings and a copy of all things “Knitting Patterns”.

Ike started sipping on the warm cup mumbled through his blurry hangover, “What? What knitting’s?”

“ Someone was working on a sweater and incorporating clues into the pattern of the sweater.

“What?” Ike mumbled eyes starting to wake up while rubbing his head.

“Much like the quilts that slaves would hang out as messages to the Underground Railroad slaves.”

“What are you talking about Ginger?”

He knew she was excited about her find and was curious as to where she was going with this, “ What sweat­er?”

“The one I intend to finish.”

“What?”

“ It looks like there is enough yarn here and seems in pretty good shape. No moths have gotten into that cedar box it was folded into so you work on your clues and don’t dismiss me.”

“What?”

“Let me show you what I’m talking about.” Ginger stirred through the piles of papers she had assembled.

“See this is a list of patterns and what they mean – if I follow the pattern in my knitting the mystery will un­ravel.”

“OK”, Ike sat up interested in the information that Ginger was presenting, “ What are the patterns? What do they mean?”

“Well, according to this I believe this sweater was going to be a “fisherman’s Guernsey” in a cable and cross over pattern and it looks lie its incorporating about 8 different patterns – I just have to figure out the pattern and see where I end up.” Ginger pointed out the weave.

“See these cables here represent fishing ropes. “

Ike viewed the patterns through blured eyes.

“These diamonds shapes are fishing nets, the mesh in the net”

“OK”

Ginger continued her explanation, “This honeycomb pattern represents “worker bees”.

“Bees?”

“You should recognize the “moss stitch” Ginger said, “I used this to make you the scarf our 1st anniversary together. I’ll called the “poor man’s wealth” which I used to show you don’t need a lot of money. It also repre­sents the local mosses.”

“Do we have any breakfast?” Ike said staring at Ginger.

“This “trellis” pattern shows a small field fenced with stones.”

Ike turned and went into the gallery.

“This “zigzag” represents lightning or mountain paths.”

“Yeah, OK.” Ike grabbed a slice of bread and bet it in half.

“This is the “tree of life or Fenn Stitch”.

“OK” Ike muffled dropping crumbs on the deck.

“Still researching that one.”

“So what do we make of this discovery?” Ike questioned with disdain.

“Ah, the “Trinity Stitch”. Religious significance.”

“You keep checking, I’m going up and check our course to Norfolk.” Ike stumbled up the slippery step to the deck above.

Ginger continued to research her quest with intensity and meaning turning additional pages and writing cu­mulous notes, while Ike settled into the captain’s set and awoke in the night air.

 

 

 

Chapter Fourteen

“The Colonel”

The morning light brought the shoreline of Virginia Beach. The dark silhouettes of rows of hotels create a jag­ged horizon. As the sun rises on the Dusty Rose’s starboard, Ike can feel the wheel pull toward the shore.

“Where are we?” Ginger squinting at the daylight, arises from the darken hull with two cups of coffee.

“That’s Virginia Beach?” Ike said grabbing a warm cup and taking a sip.

Ginger sat next to Ike and cuddled up with the soft grey sweater pulling it tight and cupping the ivory cup “It’s nice this time of the morning.”

“We’ll cut into the Old Coast Guard Station and anchor there. Hold this coarse while I go below and try and find a spyglass.” Ike put down his mug and release the wheel to go below.

Ike crept down the stairs to the mass of papers scattered about. Opening a cabinet and shifting through maps he reached in the back and felt the metal cylinders.

“This thing is hard to steer.” Ginger complained struggling with the wheel.

Ike grabbed the wheel with his left hand and gave a sharp turn to starboard while raising the binoculars. The Dusty Rose moaned and proceeded back to course.

“There! That’s where we want to go.”

Ginger squinted and stared at the white beach. “How do you know?”

“See the grey shingled building?” Ike handed the binoculars to her and pointed.

“I see Neptune!” she squealed.

“But I still don’t see any people and that worries me.”

The sun was up and the beach accepted the constant waves staring down with pastel towers of loneliness.

Ike moved to the bow and threw the anchor overboard listening to the chain rattle against the side. The Dusty Rose slowed to halt and turned into the wind as Ginger lowered the sail.

After a brief clothes change below, placing the sweater in a safe place, the couple dove into the waves riding to shore.

Alone on the wide stretch of sand the two surveyed the former vacation site. Stepping out of the waves slap­ping at their backs, Ike and Ginger’s steps sunk into the dry sand up to the concrete boardwalk. The hot sand turned to the cool slab that separated the massive hotels from the pristine beach.

Ike swung the pack over one shoulder and started inland. “There has to be someone here.” He muttered.

“I’m glad I found these shorts and t-shirt. They are much easier to swim in.” Ginger said to wind blowing her hair dry.

Up to the boulevard of surf shops and restaurants and tourist attractions, the two looked north and south. Surf­

boards sat layered, sand blistered in the sunshine awaiting the next wave. Brightly colored beach towels faded waving like flags in the sea breeze.

Ike walked to the nearby Hyatt high rise and pressed the glass doors that did not resist his entrance. The lobby was dark and had the smell of mildew. He walked to the check in counter, then behind opening doors and mov­ing knocked over chairs. Scattered papers covered in sand covered the floors. Ginger moved to the elevators and pressed the button.

“No electricity here either; just like it was in Wilmington. All the doors have electronic locks so we can’t get a room.”

“Let’s keep going.” Ike turned back to the blinding sunlight.

“Hey dude, try these.” Ginger said tossing him a huge pair of sunglasses.

Ike tried on the glasses and stared back at Ginger who was admiring herself in the glass doors.

“I’ve got an idea.” Ike moved toward a rack of bicycles at one of the tourist sites. The tattered awning gave little shade as he checked the gears, brakes and tires.

“Try this one on for size.” Ike pulled a pink cruiser out of the rack and walked it over to Ginger who was still shaking her hair in the reflection. “I’ve pumped up the tires and it looks stable.”

Ginger stopped her vanity and looked at the rusting heavy bike. She lowered her sunglasses and pointed to the rack. “That one. I want that one.”

Ike turned to notice her selection; a white 28-speed racer with drop down handlebars.

After a few minor adjustments the two barefooted explorers were gliding down empty streets littered with rusting vehicles stopped in their tracks.

Up Virginia Beach Boulevard to Oceana the two rode until Ike said, “Let’s try the navy base.”

They rode to the gates but there were no guards. Proceeding inward they followed the winding streets of va­cant cinderblock buildings casement windows swinging in the wind. Ike thought of the still navy ships bobbing in the waves off shore when they entered the area and wondered why they had not seen any sailors. “There was no one here?” they thought as they traveled out another unlocked gate and onto the up ramp to I-264.

“I’ve never ridden a bike on a highway.” Ike laughed as his gears clicked higher and his speed increased. The race was on. Ginger lowered her head, grinned a wild smile, and zoomed pass Ike. In turn, they gathered together one taking the lead, and then the other weaving pass abandoned cars and trucks and roaring like school children on a holiday.

“Let’s try this one.” Ike pointed to a sign showing the exit ramp for the Pembroke Mall.

They coasted down the ramp and onto Independence Boulevard, then into a parking lot full of empty vehicles. The two coasted to a stop and Ike took off his sunglasses. He blinked twice trying to focus on the expansive retail establishment.

“We need to rehydrate, “ Ginger said in her domineering voice sure she had won the race. “Over there, where it’s shady.”

The travelers rested their bikes against the wall and slid down to sit cross-legged under the cement canopy. Ike slipped off his pack and produced two bottles of warm water. Soaking a handkerchief, Ike passed it to Gin­ger to wash her face and rub the back of her neck. She handed it back and he repeated the process for himself.

“So what the hell is happening here,” Ginger gulped spilling water onto her already soaked t-shirt “ and why are WE still here?”

Wiping the top of his head, Ike checked the steaming parking lot in silence.

“Whatever has happened has taken all the life forms, but left buildings and cars. It’s not a natural disaster because the Red Cross would be here. It is as if everyone just stopped and disappeared.”

“So now what?”

“Let’s stay the night at the beach and move back to the boat in the morning. We’ll find someplace to sleep.”

“Sounds good to me.” Ginger replied in confidence she had worn him down with her speed and looking for­ward to a real bed.

“Let’s get started before the sun goes down.” Ike leaped up swinging the backpack in place and mounted the bike with new energy and vigor, disproving Ginger’s first thoughts.

Before they went back to the boulevard, Ginger asked, “ Do we have any food for tonight.”

Ike reached around and felt the pack, remembering he filled it in a hurry. “Perhaps we need to find some….ah…..stores somewhere.” He replied shyly.

Ginger stood up shaking off the dust and turned to the glass doors of the mall. “Let’s go shopping.” She smiled as she entered the doors into the darkened mall.

Ike reluctantly followed resting his steed against the wall.

The skylights lit the floor with mysterious shadows. Ginger ducked back and forth from shattered store to store like a ferret on the hunt.

“This is great. I like this one, and here’s another great top.”

“ I better find another pack.”

“Make it a big one.”

Back into the parking lot, the couple gathered their rides and strapped on their bulging packs and pressed back to the boulevard.

As they neared the beach, Ike remembered the food. “We’ve got to find some food!” he shouted to Ginger as she had sped ahead.

“Oh yeah.” Ginger slowed as Ike caught up. The sun was starting to set and the shadows quickly filled the side streets.

“Ike,” Ginger yelled, “ Look over there.”

The pair stopped and turned to a large supermarket approaching quietly in the dark.

“Stop!” A voice rang out.

The couple froze.

“Friend or Foe”

Ike heard the sound of a shell filling the chamber of a gun. His cat like reflexes crouched down and turned from side to side in a defensive move.

“Advance and be recognized!”

Ike grabbed Ginger by the arm and directed her into the shadows. She quietly disappeared and he walked forward. The moon had backlit the couple but he could not see who or what he was approaching.

Ginger stood silently as a figure appeared in the moonlight. Ike paused facing the barrel of a sizeable weapon held firmly by a large man with ribbons and sashes hanging from his pockets.

“Who the hell are you?” the gruff voice yelled. “Where did you come from?”

Ike stood transfixed as if to pounce on this uniformed guard, when Ginger yelled out. “Who are you and where is everybody else?”

At this distraction, Ike quickly grabbed the weapon and ripped it out discharging the magazine.

“Where is everyone!” Ginger yelled hearing the last shell fall being cleared from the chamber by Ike who then threw the rifle to the grown in disgusts.

The uniformed figure, looking confused and bewildered by the company of other human beings and having been removed of his protection, straightens to a rigid attention and presents him self to the couple.

“Captain Roland Spicer, 12th Division, Company A, Ops and Special Protection Unit.”

Ike moved forward studying the aria of badges and ribbons on the captain’s uniform. He felt the bulge of the pistol he carried behind his back but did not fear the situation.

“Ike…. I’m Ike Patterson sir, and this lovely lady,” motioning to Ginger to reveal herself from the shadows, “ is Ginger Bonneau.”

The tension eased and there was a moment of silence as each looked over the other.

“So Colonel?” Ike started, “ what are you doing here?”

The unarmed warrior looked startled by the question. He searched the darkness for his weapon like a baby for a security blanket.

“ It’s captain and I’m standing my post until replacements are sent or until I get an order to stand down” he nervously said still peering into the darkness for his cane.

“You have radio contact?” Ginger interjected.

“I did, but now it is all static. I haven’t had a message in a long time.”

“But you stay at your post?” Ike quipped.

“Duty!” the captain replied.

“Where are your troops?” Ike responded looking into the darkness. He was sure that if the captain had been in command of others they would have presented themselves or fired up the couple.

“They all deserted. Ran away. It was almost a mutiny. They had wives and families and when the disease hit, they ran home. All of them…. they just left. Platko, Forrest, Bullard, McGinnis, Cromley, Winfield, Campbell, Held, Greentree, Laudon, Foster, Atkinson, Morris, Sadler, Powell, Clements, and little Blake” the captain’s voice dropped.

Ike walked up and wrapped his arm around the big fellow and with a hug said, “It’s OK big fellow.”

“Where are we?” Ginger interrupted the warm moment.

“My assignment was to protect the Food World against looters.”

“Looters?”

“Yes, when the world went mad, we were called up to protect the limited resources available to the general public.”

Ike and Ginger paused and stared at each other. The world had gone mad and they missed it, but have to deal with the results.

“So is there any food inside?” Ginger giggled in an effort to lighten the tension.

“Don’t know,” the captain responded in a firm voice, “ I’ve been living off of K-rations. This is what has been instructed to do.”

Ginger started to explore the darkness feeling her way into the shelves of can goods and questionable food stuffs, while Ike bent down and retrieved the rifle he had so unforgettably taken from the solider.

“Since we are down south I’m going to call you “Colonel”, if that’s alright with you?” Ike handed the empty weapon to the confused looking warrior.

“Where did you come from?” the captain responded clutching the metal to his chest.

“Well Colonel it’s a long story and we aren’t there yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve come a long way and it looks like we have a way to go before we discover what is going on around here.”

Ike reached back to his pack and revealed a bottle of scotch. “Would you like to share a swig.”

The captain’s… err…. Colonel’s lips were wiped in anticipation. The two men uncorked the bottle and passed it back and forth wiping the top on every taste.

Ginger returned from her adventure in the darkness holding up two cans of kidney beans. Ike smiled and stuffed them into his heavy pack and slapped it on his back.

“We’re going back to the beach for the evening. We have a boat off shore. Do you want to join us?” Ike asked to the stoic protector and was surprised at his response.

“I must man my post until relieved or ordered to stand down.”

The two men stood face to face and slowly saluted each other. Ike mounted his bike and pointed it toward the rising moon. Ginger joined his side smiling at the protector of the Food World.

“By the way,” Ike yelled back at the figure standing at attention,” I’m with the government, and you are now a REAL Colonel. Field promotion. Take care.” Ike turned and the couple peddled off from a smiling face hold­ing his at parade rest.

As they coasted into hotel row, the moon lit the ocean like glistening dancing diamonds.

“Let’s try the Hyatt again” Ginger urged.

So the two weary adventurers propped their bikes again the stucco building and entered the dark but now familiar lobby. Ike remembered the direction to the stairs and pressed the door, inviting pure darkness.

“Feel your way through” Ike whispered to Ginger as the two felt the handrail and stepped lightly on the con­crete wedges.

“Stop that” Ginger would slap Ike as he slid his hand up her leg during the climb showing his effects from the scotch with the Colonel which he left for the solider manning his post.

Ginger pushed open a door to a tight hallway and Ike followed moaning under the weight of his backpack.

In the darkness Ginger asked the staggering Ike, “Now What?”

Ike grinned but she could not see it in the blackness. A swift kick to the left popped the door open flooding the room in moonlight.

“OK!” Ginger swirled swiftly into the space and threw open the curtained shades. She slid the glass win­dows open and the roar of the ocean filled the room. The wind blew the curtains in abandon. “What a beautiful moon,” she noticed sliding off the pack stuff with her early finds. “Don’t you think?”

Ike had landed on one of the two double beds. His pack had slid off under its weight entering the room and his body had crashed upon the covers.

Ginger looked at the limp body and thought about removing his shoes, but decided he was better off the way he was. She removed her shorts and slid under clean sheets watching the moonbeams until her eyes closed in a restful relaxing state.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

“The Knower”

“Look at that sunrise. It’s magnificent.” Ginger stood staring out at the ocean. The horizon was glowing in a warm orange glow. Every wave brought a new color glistening on the water bringing in a new day. “Ike, wake up, you’ve got to see this.”

Ike stirred and mumbled something about bees and robots.

“Ike, come look at this.” Ginger insisted.

Slowly opening his eye, he viewed a soft light silhouetting a figure against the starry sky. The transparent t-shirt flowing in the morning breeze did little to hide the willowing shape below.

“Um, OK, I’m coming” Ike gruffer as he rolled out of bed and onto the sandy floor. Umph!

“What are you doing?” Ginger turned to see him pull himself back up and sit on the edge of the rumpled cov­ers. “How much of that scotch did you two have?”

Ike stood and paused for a moment changing his thoughts and direction and staggered to the window.

The orange glow faded the stars into clouds and the blackness turned to light blue before their eyes. Even the sea seemed to come alive. The two stood silently watching the beach reveal itself from the shadow of night.

“Look! Look there.” Ike pointed into the distance like a child finding Christmas.

“It’s a pelican.” Ginger quietly assured him her meditational thoughts wrapped up in the sunrise.

“I know,” Ike disgust at her quip announced, “ it’s the FIRST creature we have seen except for fish. IT’S A BIRD. The first bird we’ve seen.”

Ginger winked and turned toward the passing feathered creature slowing gliding over the crashing waves. Then something else caught her eye.

“Who’s that?”

Their focus zoomed onto a man walking down the beach. Carrying a book, the tanned body with hair and open Hawaiian shirt blowing in the morning air, seemed like a tourist taking a morning stroll.

Ike shook his head as if to remove the cotton inside. “Let’s find out.” He looked down at the exposed legs of his companion. “Get dressed and grab your pack.”

The two scurried out into the hallway and retraced their path down the stairway. Stumbling over each other as if they were chasing the Beatles in “Hard Days Night”, they rushed out to the sand.

Sitting in yoga poise the unknown had seated himself on the soft surface and was facing the sunrise. He did not move as the couple approached.

“Excuse me.” Ginger softly interrupted the moment.

A long thin face turned to the pair. The eyelids slowly opened to reveal steely blue eyes. His face was weath­ered by sun and sea and the deep lines revealed wisdom, not age. Pushing back his hair that whipped his face he smiled.

“Hello.”

Ike and Ginger startled at the welcoming tone of the man’s voice, glanced at each other for an expression.

“Hel.. Hello.” Ginger stammered. “I’m Ginger Bonneau,” then pointing to the man dropping his bulky pack in the sand, “and he is Ike Patterson.”

“Come join me. Sit” the smiling man pleasantly, volunteered a spot next to him on the warm sand.

The two joined hands and braced each other settling down in a crossed leg Indian style wiggling side to side to create a depression.

“Ike and Ginger. Welcome to my beach.”

“Who are you?” Ike getting to the point quickly replied.

“Dexter. They call me Dexter.”

“They? They who?” Ginger interjected looking up and down the beach. “We’ve only met two people in the past week.”

“Dexter, you are the third person we’ve seen in days. Where is everyone?”

“Ike and Ginger. Nice names,” the stranger paused and faced the sunrise. “There will be time for that,” his quiet voice whispered as he went back to his yoga position, closing his eyes. “Do you have any books?”

“Books? No, we didn’t go to the library.” Ike quipped noticing Ginger was duplicating the yoga pose.

The trio sat for several more minutes, quietly listening to the roar of the rising tide.

Suddenly the stranger arose to his feet and picked up his book.

“Where are you going?” Ginger asked shading her eyes with her hand.

“Home; to join the others. Follow; I’ll lead you there.”

Ginger jumped to her feet and tugged onto her overloaded bag. Ike stood up and looked at the Dusty Rose bobbing in the water. His thoughts turned to concern over following a stranger and leaving the only means of transportation around. When he turned back the other two were already halfway down the beach. He bullied on the cumbersome sack and started trotting to catch up. He thought about the sweater and the red diamond. As he arrived two the fast moving pair he again looked back taking points of reference. “If anything happens to that boat…” he thought.

“Pardon good sir?” the gentleman asked hearing Ike’s mutters.

“Nothing,” Ike responded turning back to their unknown route. “How far, Dexter?”

“It’s just over that next hill.” He pointed a thin finger to a distant rise.

“What are you reading?” asked Ginger noticing the book Dexter held so tightly.

He turned the cover to show her. “The Kings of England”

“Oh!” Ginger’s voice faded. “What about the Queens?”

Ike chucked knowing that Ginger often portrayed herself as “Queen”.

Dexter smiled at her; as a father would do a child.

“Did you know in 1257 the first gold coins were produced in England?”

“No,” Ginger replied slyly looking up to her new founded teacher.

“Did you know the Wales’ David Prince was drawn and quartered by the long shanks of Edward I? How about the conquering of Ireland in 1171 by Henry I, son of Maud, who married Plantagenet, Earl of Argon? Those were good times. Did you know that Charles II had to deal with the plague of 1665 and the Great fire the next year? Much like what is happening now.”

“What do you know about ‘what is happening now’?” Ike joined the conversation.

The three rested under a pier to shade from the sun.

“Would you like some water?” Ginger asked Dexter. “I’d offer you scotch, but Ike gave it away.” Ginger gave Ike “the stare” while he struggled with his backpack.

“What did you get yesterday?” Ike moaned.

“Just the essentials. Things I must have.” Ginger defensively continued.

Ike opened the pack and pulled out black velvet Elvis beach towel with an inscription “What plays in Vegas, stays in Vegas”.

Dexter laughed and turned back to the sun. “Come on you two. It’s not much further.”

 

 

 

Chapter Sixteen

“The Mysterious Trio”

Dexter turned inland followed by the two pack mules, leaving Elvis on the beach. Through the shadows of the towering hulks of concrete emptiness, the three shuffled on the sandy sidewalks.

“We are right over here.” Dexter pointed to a small weathered house on stilts next to a glistening pond.

“Ow!” Ginger cried out. The three stopped. “Sand spur! Damn!” Ginger raised her foot to pull the small shell from her foot.

“Why don’t you leave your packs down here?” Dexter said pointing to the vacant parking deck under the house.

Ike paused and looked around questioning the offer.

“They’ll be safe,” Dexter said spread his arm around.“Do you see anyone around?”

Ginger and Ike agreed and lightened themselves of their burden.

“Watch your step.” Dexter warned as he ascended the rickety steps leading to the abode.

The shuttered simple domain had few amenities. The ocean had taken its toil on the wooden structure through the years. Shingles were missing from the roof while others flapped in the breeze. The splinted deck showed the wear and tear of years mistreatment. Once painted white, the one story building had been sand peppered to its grey asbestos siding.

“I bring guest,” Dexter announced to the darkness inside swinging open the squeaking screen door that was the only filter from the outside world. The wary travelers followed.

The temperature dropped 20 degrees once inside. Their eyes adjusted to the darkness. As they scanned the large room they began to focus. A table made from an old wire spool used for telephone lines rested in the cor­ner. It was covered with candles of every size and shape. A dusty mirror rested against the wall to amplify the light. Two windows at the far end of the room were covered with some sort of woven cloth letting in some light through torn weaves. The room had a musty yet smoky smell. A huge red and white oriental carpet covered the floor. Crate furniture were scattered with towels and blankets covering the arms and a scattering of pillows.

“So who have we here?” came a voice from another room.

Two men walked out of the kitchen area to meet the visitors. They were anything but threatening. One wore hospital scrubs and the other cut off jeans and an army green t-shirt that had a faded image saying “Frog Hollow Day Camp” on it.

“This is Ike and Ginger” Dexter proudly presented the pair placing his book on a makeshift bookshelf lined with hundreds of volumes.

“Hi!” Ginger blurted, “I’m Ginger Bonneau and this guy is Ike Patterson.”

“THE Ike Patterson?” the man in the t-shirt laughed and approached the couple.

“What?” Ike looking astonished replied.

“Just kidding” the thin mustached man with thick glasses laughed circling around the pair, as he looked them over.

Ike and Ginger, not knowing what to make of these comments, stood still and watched as this observation took place. Dexter stood in the corner enjoying the interaction.

“Don’t pay him no-mind. I think he is half thick anyway,” the other man said stepping out of the shadows. “My name is John, but they call me West.”

“You can call him Mike,” the other man laughed.

Dexter coughed and joined the others placing his arm around the shorter man with well-groomed hair, “ This is ‘West’. He was a medic with the navy before….”

“Yeah, before….” Said the t-shirt man still circling the new couple as if to size them up for a meal. “Before what?” his head turned back to Dexter with a puzzled look.

“There’ll be time for that Newton.” Dexter scolded.

The thin man who had been circling the couple stopped and stood up straight adjusting his glasses. “Excuse me for the weirdness. We don’t get many visitors.”

Ike and Ginger relaxed and smiled.

“My name is Newton. West and I belonged to the Navy before….. well you know.”

Dexter stopped the introduction, “NO! They don’t know.”

The room grew silent and tension overcame all.

Dexter broke the tension. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Yes, what kind of welcome is this?” West broke away from the arm of Dexter and walked back into the kitchen.

“Before WHAT?” Ike picked up on the conversation and pointed to Dexter for an explanation.

The sun was setting and Dexter gestured for Newton to light the candles. With the additional light the master of ceremonies offered the new couple pillows and covers to rest on. West returned from the kitchen with a plat­ter of chunks of cheese and crackers. After lighting the candles Newton disappeared into the darkness quickly returning with two bottles.

“White or red?”

Dexter smiled and without looking at Newton, “Yes.”

The group made themselves comfortable on the floor passing glasses of refreshment reflecting the candlelight. Ginger took a taste of the cheese and smiled her appreciation for the taste and the company. Ike smelled the wine and sipped with apprehension. Newton continued to cut the cheese and arrange in order of size and shape much to Ginger’s joy. West sat back and seemed to enjoy the atmosphere.

“So tell us about you Ike and Ginger?” Dexter questioned.

The couple looked at each other with the abruptness of the question. Who would be the spokesman for the pair? Since Ginger had a mouth full of cheese and crackers, Ike declared their tale.

“I’m Ike Patterson. We used to live in Virginia at a place called ‘Puppywoods’, but then there were riots and we had to quickly leave. I don’t know what caused the riots but I could see we had to leave. We went to the ocean and escaped on a cruise ship, but it sank.”

“Ah, to the sea.” Dexter whispered, with the assured smiles from Newton and West.

“What?” Ike stopped and questioned the new mysterious trio.

The three smiled and looked back and forth for a spoke person.

Dexter chimed in, “ They all went to the sea.”

“What?” Ike stammered.

“Finish your story and we’ll fill in the gaps.” Dexter mumbled under a sip of wine to wash down a cheese cracker.

“Well the boat sank!” Ginger chimed in, “ I had to swim through shark infested waters to this overgrown island and found this cool old club.”

“Who found?” Ginger sharply turned to Ike. “I found it first buster. You stumbled along later remember?”

“Oh… oh yeah.”

“Then WE found this boat and sailed up the eastern seaboard until we found you guys.” Ginger was proud with her story.

“I see” Dexter acknowledged.

Newton and West looked confused by the quick story, but continued looking at Dexter for clarification.

“How long were you gone?” Dexter asked.

“We are not sure. We met a surfer in Wilmington who thought it was 2020, and then we saw a soldier guard­ing a Food King who wasn’t sure what year it was. As I recall we left Virginia in 2009. “

Silence drew over the room, as all looked back and forth, each other expecting someone else to forfeit a time stamp.

“OK, let me tell you about this mysterious trio we have become.”

The room eased and Newton and West settled into lounging positions. Ginger poured Ike another glass and went back to the cheese platter.

“Newton and West worked on the navy base. Newton worked on planes and computers, while West was a medic.”

“So where is the Navy?” Ike interrupted.

“Everyone was ordered out to sea.” Newton responded taking another sip of wine.

“But we missed the boat.” West added in a comfortable prone position.

“What?” Ike confused by the answers responded.

“Wait. Let me tell you the full story.” Dexter quietly calmed the situation.

Chapter Seventeen

The Reason

The room had become comfortable for the five occupants. Perhaps it was the wine but each had accepted the other and the conversation continued.

“Do you remember the housing melt-down?” Dexter started.

“Sure. That was a mess.” Ike answered.

“That was THE start. The market went down with the bad loans. People had overextended themselves.”

“I always lived by a pay-as-you-go policy.” Ike chirped as if to get a winning approval smile from the others.

“Fine, but so many others didn’t. This caused the banks to have debts they could not recover.” Dexter stood and started flipping though the books on the walls.

“Then everyone got sick!” West chimed in.

“What?” Ike confused response.

“Not too fast,” Dexter turned and continued his story. “So as we know the economy cracking up under the pressure of bad loans and the fear of a run on the banks. Companies were laying-off employees to reduce cost. There was no employment for newly graduating students. People stayed at home to keep cost down and waited for a recovery.

“And don’t forget the digital snafu.” Newton shyly whispered taking another slip of wine.

“Ah, the digital change over.” Dexter stopped searching for a book. “The government needed more air band­width, so they announced the analog television signal would be changed to digital. They sold boxes to convert the older televisions to accept the new signal, but the day the change over happened…..”

“Riots in the streets.” Newton added.

“It seems the digital signal was not strong enough and people lost there ONLY entertainment…. television. That was the last straw.” The tall blond turned back to his book search.

“Foreclosures grew and some… many just walked out of their homes and wandered into the emptiness. Com­panies closed and the government could not print enough money to help.”

“Abandoned homes started to fill neighborhoods. They became crime havens with roving gangs of homeless. Homes started to burn, either by their former owners or in anger to the financial crisis. Cities started to burn and that fed the fever. The whole country went crazy.”

“Then the illness came.” West spoke up.

“Please continue good sir” Dexter bowed to West placing another book on the shelf.

“The A2O2 virus had started the year before and was picked up by the medical community” West continued sitting up, “It seemed to start in Mexico, but it didn’t matter. It spread like wildfire.”

Ike and Ginger stared at each other in bewilderment.

“Television talked about the A2O2 everyday on the news while all these unemployed people were sitting at home watching. Reports of growing numbers of deaths on the nightly news didn’t help matters and the panic grew. People would wonder the streets in mask and gloves. The pandemic created a gigantic fear factor. Then the television went off the air so no one knew what was going on. The Internet was full of lies and roomers. . The hospitals started flooding with cases. We were all overwhelmed. There was no vaccine so all we could do is cope.”

“So everyone died?” Ginger questioned with a wine burp.

“Not so fast little girl, the story continues” Dexter placed a restful hand on her shoulder.

Ike filled Gingers glass fascinated by the tale being presented to the couple. “Please continue.”

Newton returning from the kitchen with a plate of raw seafood said, “ It was panic time.”

“People started going crazy!” West added in a calm medical manner. “They had been kept at home watching this crazy stuff on TVand then everything they touched turned them sick. They went to the grocery story and the carts and the cereal boxes and the bottles of milk and the frozen packages were all contaminated with the A2O2. It was everywhere. Even in the money.”

“Wild man” Newton added.

Ike was not charmed with the comment. “So where did everyone go?”

“Man, it was wild” Newton turned chomping on a crab leg. “It was like a bell went off.”

“It spread” Dexter calmed the conversation. “It was like a wildfire.”

“Like a wildfire!” Newton agreed.

“Suddenly on April second, 2009, the world went crazy.” West explained.

“Crazy?” Ginger questioned.

“Crazy! The whole world went mad. It was as if no one had anything left to lose. Neighborhood on fire emptied into the streets screaming. Mobs formed and started looting. Cars were left on the roads as people ran for whatever safety they could find. Banks and other symbols of the establishment were burned to the ground. Anything that represented wealth were targets,” West continued.

“Yes, we know” Ike sighed.

“Oh, really?” Newton seemed to perk up.

“Please, continue” Ike interjected.

“Well the few that could get television reception, the news showed the rioting and then they went off the air, so people used their own devises to communicate.” Newton added.

Dexter continued the story, “The Internet was good for a while, and then that went down. It related the whole world was intertwined in this mess. Everyone all over the planet was broke, mad, sick, and dying. That was went it really went bad.”

“Where were you?” Newton asked the bewildered couple.

Ike shyly responded, “ We left our home and boarded a cruise ship for open waters.”

“Ah, the sea” Dexter smiled.

Ike seemed perturbed with Dexter’s remark replied to West, “ Where did everyone go?”

“They did the same thing as YOU did! THEY WENT TO THE WATER!” West shouted.

The room’s atmosphere chilled as the conversation halted on the shout. What was the meaning of the state­ment?

“The water didn’t seem to be affected by the A2O2 virus. The fish were somehow shelter by the water.” New­ton calmly broke the tension while picking up the empty platters.

“So the water shielded the virus? So the fish are immune to this virus? “ Ike asked.

“Seems so” Dexter replied opening another book and studying the scripture within.

“But you guys are here?” Ike ‘s volume increased. “And we have seen other humans?”

“And we saw a bird this morning?” Ginger added.

“We were on the base when the order came in that we were being shipped out” West broke in. “ I was in the supply depot. I became distracted by the list of pills and prescriptions and stayed to organize the orders. Time passes quickly and when I realized the time, I went to the outside. Everyone was GONE!”

“Gone?” Ginger asked.

“Gone. The base was empty. I wandered around for awhile hoping to find someone, then walked to the beach thinking I catch a ride.”

“And? ....”

“There was not a person in sight. Only vacant cars, trucks, buildings, and a hot highway.” West responded.

Newton suddenly entered the conversation; “ It was the same for me.”

“What?” Ginger asked.

“I was in an airplane hanger. I was working on a solution to air draft through a video simulator, when I fell asleep. I guess I had been working on these projects for hours.” Newton paused and wiped his glasses. “I went outside and everyone was gone. EVERYONE!”

“What… what did you do?” Ginger questioned.

“I did the same as everyone else. I went to the water. Wandering to the ocean I met West and then Dexter” Newton softly remembered. “ That was when we realized WE were the only ones left.”

“Dexter? Where did you come from?” Ike changed the subject.

“Me? I was in the library doing research. Hours pass like minutes when you are engulfed in a fascinating ad­venture of research and study. I had a special corner where I did my study. No one would ever bother me there, so I continued to complied my notes until I was so overwhelmed with information I placed my head on the table

and slept.”

“And?” Ike added.

“When I awoke, I rubbed my eyes and walked through the empty building full of the most wonderful, excit­ing, and revealing words anyone can find. I moved into the outer world to find silence. Every human had disap­peared.”

“As the three of us stood on the beach watching the last of ships lose themselves at the horizon; the power died.”

“And that was how many years ago?” Ike asked, hoping not to get an accurate answer.

“After we found this place and realized we were not sick, we started looking around for the basics. Food, water…” West continued in a logical manner.

“… And books” added Dexter.

“The necessities of life.” Newton returned from the kitchen area with two more bottles of wine.

“Allow me” Ike grabbed one bottle and with a quick twist removed the plastic cover. Then a thrust from his knife into the cork and another twist reveled the liquid shared to all.

“This is really strange,” Ginger questioned.

“The wine?” Newton asked.

“No, what is going on here. Have you every seen anyone else?”

Dexter walked over and sat on the floor. He placed a slice of paper in the book and closed the cover. Quietly picking up another filled glass said, “ We looked. Up and down the beach. We went inland, but everywhere we went was empty.”

“Empty?” Questioned Ginger.

“Just as you have seen today. The entire population of every country had boarded ships and gone to sea…. Or died.” Dexter voice dropped off and he took a long gulp of wine.

West changed the mood, “Light a few more candles Newton.”

The sun had set and the group was wrapped in darkness except for the corner of the room lit by a few wax light sticks.

Dexter had vanished into the darkness as the others resituated themselves for the evening. Ike looked worried about the revaluation of the demise of the country, but kept a smile for Ginger who was filling another glass of wine.

“Go ahead, we have plenty” Newton smiled checking out Ginger’s curves.

“What a minute!” Ike cried out, interrupting the mood of relaxation. “This A2O2 virus that swept the coun­try? Why were YOU guys spared?”

Dexter walked back into the room and sat crossed legged on a pillow staring at West.

“Science seems to prove the A2O2 virus only had a brief, but deadly lifespan. By the year 2010, the virus had mutated and died or become harmless.” West shrugged, “ I have no proof of this, but it just stopped.”

“But no one knew that because they had all vacated the premises.” Newton smiled with another bottle of wine glaring at Ginger.

“What about the rest of the country?? Those who could not get to the sea? What about Kansas?” Ike slurred having another glass of red.

“We don’t know,” responded West, “Unless they came this way, we have no communication with anyone. You are the first people we have seen in… oh…. ten years or so.”

As Ike and Ginger sat looking at each other in a stupor haze of wine and wonder of an unbelievable story presented to them, Dexter offered a silver case. With a knowing smile he opened the case to show some tightly rolled cigarettes.

“Would you like a recreational cigarette?” he smiled a broad knowing grin.

“Does everyone just get high now?” Ike grumbled knocking over his glass of wine. Ginger moped it up with a towel she pulled off a chair. Newton enjoyed her every move.

“What about the animals?” Ginger questioned the drunken trio. “We saw a bird today.”

“Some animals survived because they were out at sea or on far away islands, but for the first year or so there were nothing but carcasses laying on the ground. There were no insects so the bodies just rotted under the sun into mush. “

“It wasn’t pretty and very smelly, but we three could not bury all of them” West added. “Thank God for the rain.”

Ginger eagerly grabbed the lit cigarette from Dexter and took a long toke. She turned to Ike who did not looked interested, so turned back to Newton who smiled and received the gift.

“Let me see if I understand,” Ike over spoke to the group, “ everyone in the country… no in the world…. Realized they were in immanent danger if they did not escape to the seas? So everyone, except for you three and a couple of others who seem to be immune to this A2O2, climbed aboard any floating fixture and paddled out to the open oceans.”

Dexter puffed with smoke coming out of his nostrils, “ Yes!”

“This is crazy,” Ike slammed his hand down, “The entire world can NOT run away from a flu. We have medi­cine, doctors, scientist, the military, the government… there must have been something done…. Something to stop this.”

“It is estimated,” West stopped the tantrum, “ that 30 to 40 million people died due to this virus. It was fast and devastating.”

“What choice did people have but to run away?” Newton asked smoke blending into his curly grey hair. “You’ve seen the results.”

“Now what?” Ginger slowly lifted her droopy eyelids to look to Ike for an answer.

The room grew silent. As the flames on the candles flickered in the sea breezes the five figures sat in complete quiet. There was no answer to the question.

“Let me have a hit,” Ike reached for the silver case which fell to the floor.

There on the dusty sandy-carpeted floor sat the silver case with an inscription on the cover. “Maynard”.

Ike and Ginger stared at the case and at each other as Ike inhaled. The mysterious trio stared at the case then each other wondering what the interest was with the inscription.

Blowing smoke into the room Ike asked, “Where did you get the case?”

“We do scavenger hunts on the beach,” Newton puffed.

“Yes, we found it on the beach” West agreed.

Dexter just smiled; smoke wafting around his long hair. He just sat with a knowing gesture to the others.

Ike was too tired and drunk and high to continue the inquisition, so he lay down on the floor, put his head on the pillow, and closed his eyes. Ginger realized it was her call to cuddle next to him. The two became as one on the soft pillows.

The clink of empty bottles rolling across the floor were covered by the breathe of candles being blown out.

“Sleep well” Dexter whispered to the pair as the mysterious trio disappeared into the darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eighteen

“Back to The Dusty Rose”

“Ike?”

Ginger reached over to the pillow and found it empty.

“Ike?”

Her eyes opened to view the light pouring in from the torn window covering. The sunshine spotlight lit an empty room of pillows, bottles, and half burnt candles. She sat up and held her head.

Gazing through the haze she spied Newton sitting in the corner. He was slumped over in a pillow chair, a half filled glass of wine in his hand. His eyes were closed, but there was a smile on his face as if he had been watch­ing Ginger all night.

Rolling off the pillow, Ginger stumbled to her feet. Newton grumbled but did not wake. West was nowhere to be found.

Staggering to the window, she saw two silhouette figures on the beach. Taking a long breath and looking back at Newton slumbering quietly, she moved the window covering and slid the glass door to the sun.

She walked up to the couple on the beach and listened to their conversation.

“The water, water seems to be the forgiveness.”

“But what of the land?”

“We stand here and the sun rises and falls and we breathe the air.”

“Life goes on.”

“Exactly… and what will you do?”

“Ike?” Ginger interrupted the conversation.

The two men turned toward the lady slowly pacing toward them in the sand. They both smiled.

Ike turned and gave out an extended arm to welcome her to the conversation.

“You OK?” he quietly asked Ginger with a smile from Dexter.

“Yeah, just a little foggy.”

“So what now?” Dexter asked the couple staring at the rising sun over the concrete barriers lining the beach.

“I’ve got to go.” Ike said, holding Ginger around the waist and looking toward the beach.

“Let me take you home.”

The three walked to the walkways and gathered their packs. Dexter picked up a book from the sandy steps and led the group to the beach.

The sun rained heat upon the heads of the three, as they walked pass empty shops and sidewalks. Turning right on the beach they headed back through their tracks from the previous day.

Walking pass empty towers of personal pleasure the group watch the pier grow closer. To the right they saw the Neptune statue approach. To the left, bobbing in the wave was the Dusty Rose.

“This is where I leave you” Dexter announced and sat down in the sand with his book. Ike looked at Dexter, then Ginger and took his pack off. He left the group and slugged through the sand to the boardwalk. Disappearing for a moment, he appeared with a floatation devise.

“Let’s make this easy.” Ike smiled. Dexter smiled in return.

Ike placed both Ike’s and Ginger’s packs on the floatation tube and dragged it to the water.

“Ready to go?” Ike asked Ginger as she paused noticing Dexter quiet demeanor.

Ginger turned and walked to the water’s edge.

“Thank you for your hospitality” she said to Dexter, who gently smiled.

The pair pushed the floating packing into the water and kicked out into the waves.

A short time later the pair were on board and drying off from the salty water. They lifted the packs and spread out their bounty upon the shifting deck.

“So where to now?” Ginger asked shaking off her hair and pulling through her pack of t-shirts and lotions

“Maine!” Ike quickly responded.

“Maine? Why Maine?”

“You will see.” Ike smiled.

Ike raised the anchor and lowered the sail. The Dusty Rose responded and turned to the north.

Chapter Nineteen

To Maine

Ginger lay face down on the deck sunning her back as the bow splashed Cool Ocean water over her in a mist. Ike sat back in the captains seat watching the sail fluff, checking the position of the sun and using his watch as a compass. Examining the horizon Ike turns the rudder. As the Dusty Rose cut through the waves, a wash of salty water sweeps over the desk.

“Hey!” Ginger picks up her head and wipes off her face. “Watch it buster.”

“Sorry, but the seas are getting rough” Ike slyly responded.

Ginger sat up and turned back to Ike. She sipped from a tall glass of liquid that had been secured on the deck against the erratic course and asked, “Why Maine?”

Ike lowered his sunglasses and stared at Ginger with a sly grin. She stopped and returned the stare with a questioned face. The two froze in this strange communication until Ginger looked down and started to laugh.

“You mean these?” she smiles and did a little shimmy shaking off the salt water and dew.

Ike continued to stare and smile.

“What?” her voice becoming excited. “It’s not like you have seen these before!”

Ike continued to stare and lowered his sunglasses.

Ginger looked to the horizon and back again, and then shyly reached for a towel. “It’s not like anyone else is around.” She wrapped the towel around her and replied to Ike’s leer, “Well…. why Maine?”

“Going to see Blackie” Ike replied placing his sunglasses back on and returning his stare to the horizon.

“Blackie? You mean that crazy cousin of yours”

Ike just turned the rudder and tighten the sail.

“That crazy guy who threw you out of a plane? You want to go see that goof ball who dropped you to the ocean floor with too much weight?”

“Yes, the wild guy who taught me how to surf.” Ike quietly replied.

“Why him?” Ginger questioned as she slid next to him in the captain’s cabin.

“Blackie can find ways to get out of anything and besides he is very high up in the secret organizations of the government, so if anyone has communication…. it’s Blackie.”

“I think you are crazy going all the way up the coast when we should be finding some of those boats out at sea.” Ginger looked at the vacant horizon.

“We haven’t seen much so far, so I figure this is a good chance to get more information.”

They both sat for an hour watching the sun more across the sky and the waves get higher.

“The waters getting rougher and the air is cooler and we still have a day or so to get to the Deer Isle.” Said Ike whipping the foam from his face. “Why don’t you go below and examine that sweater map you found?”

“You want anything to eat?” Ginger asked before lowering her wet body below the deck.

“Not right now.” Ike replied checking his watch. “I’ll be down later to get something to eat.”

Ginger stepped down into the darkness and answered, “ Yes, I bet you will. You better be hungry.”

Chapter Twenty

Where’s Blackie?

I joined my friends at a small bistro and they all laughed when I arrived.

My friend Jacque introduced me to the couple seated with him.Pierre is an artist and musician and dancer. A slight roughly bearded young man in a corduroy jacket and long scarf.

Next to him was a lovely young dark haired girl with a special glow in her face and unforgiving black eyes.

“Renee, Pierre…. meet my friend Ike.”

I settled in to the small round table and a round of drinks were ordered. Jacque helped me because my el­ementary school French was lacking. The carafe of white wine never seemed to empty and the glass was always full. We laughed and shared stories in our broken understanding of what each of us was saying, but with the continu­ing glasses toasted to each other and our ideas, the dusk turned into late hours.

“Let us stop and rest now.” Jacque broke the laughter and we all agreed.He led us to a quaint bread and breakfast and offered each of us rooms.

“Come back down in a few minutes for a nightcap.”

We all went into small comfortable rooms and changed into nightclothes.

I was settling onto a long wicker couch with a glass of cognac with Jacque and Pierre talking over by the fire­place when Renee entered the room. She looked at the couple at the fireplace then walked over to the couch and sat.

I offered her a glass, which she accepted with a smile and a slight nod of her head, her dark hair draping her face against the strobe of the flame.

We did not speak, but watched the two men across the room laugh and slap each other with old tales.

I looked back at the little girl who had wrapped herself in an afghan and a quilt that were resting on the back of the couch.

“Cold?”

I offered my arm and she slid close accepting my hug.

We sat silently, her head resting on my shoulder.

I refilled her glass and my own. She adjusted the cover and snuggled closer.

The fire had dimmed when my eyes opened and found the two men had left the room. I could feel something warm against my cheek. Reaching up I found a bare foot. Pushing my hand further, I felt a slim smooth ankle and leg.

As my head cleared in the smoky room my body moved up the length of the couch. Renee lay next to me, eyes closed, wrapped in the quilt like a baby hugging a teddy bear.

I touched her cheek and she responded by pulling the antique fabric over me and pulling me close to her un­draped body. My face moved to her neck and I could hear her breath.

Then a warm and sweet kiss on the neck.

“OW!”

Ike reaches for his head tangling in the sheet and tried to sit up.

BAM!

“OW! What the….”

“You need to be more careful where you sleep.” a quiet voice whispers.

Ike wipes his eyes and leans against his elbows in the cramp dark space. As the area starts to focus he feels the sway of the ocean beneath him.

“How long have you been up?”

“A while. It’s been fun watching you sleep.”

Ike peered at the black portholes with just the faint sent of light around the rim.

“You shouldn’t have dreams like that.”

“What time is it?”

“Does it matter?”

Ike struggled to free his legs and slowly stepped on the deck, carefully watching the hull above.

“Here.” Ginger held out a cup of steaming dark liquid.

Ike held it in two hands and took a sip. “Hot!”

“You are having a rough morning,” she giggled.

“What are you doing?”

“Going over these maps and this sweater.”

Just then light filled the space as Ginger turned up the oil lamp. Wrapped in the gray sweater she turned to Ike and said, “ I think we have to go back to that island.”

Ike staggered to the desk where Ginger had neatly arranged maps, pens, paper, rulers, compass, with sketches and drawings.

“What is all of this stuff?”

Then the Dusty Rose shifted in the ocean’s swell and Ike stumbled, spilling coffee.

“Ow!”

“Hey buster, you almost got that on me,” Ginger spun holding tight the sweater as she slip her chair away from the bumpkin.

“Who’s steering this rig?

The room fell silent as the two stared at one another.

Ike grabbed his slicker stumbling toward the hole to the upper deck.

“I better check where we are,” he muttered as he climbed the teak stairway.

“You go on. I’ll tell you what I found later,” Ginger mumbled expressing her disappointment in Ike’s disinter­est.

Disconnecting the lines from the wheel, Ike took hold of the Dusty Rose. Placing his half filled cup on the deck then looking up at the looming blackness sparkled with points of lights, Ike started to get his barrens. He viewed the horizon that was started to lighten with orange and yellow, then check the star placement using his watch as a compass.

Pulling the wheel to the starboard, he rechecked his calculations. Feeling the bow turn into the waves and the ship smooth in it path, he grabbed his cup and consumed the cooling liquid with one gulp.

“Do you have any more of this coffee?” Ike beckoned below deck.

As if knowing beforehand what was requested or anticipating what would come next, Ginger rose from the bowels of the ship with two fresh cups of morning waking liquid.

“So where are we?” she asked placing the new cup next to Ike.Ike continued to pull on the sheet, looking up at the sky and the luff of the sail, turning the wheel slightly, and looking off to the brightening horizon.

Ginger snuggled into her sweater, looked up at the sky then forward over the bow while sipping her hot black liquid.

“You have no idea do you?”

Ike picked up the cup and enjoyed the steam and aroma, squinting forward across the bow, swinging the wheel further starboard.

“We have about 3 hours before we get to our destination.”

“3 hours huh?” Ginger replied in disbelief.

The sun rose as the couple sat quietly watching the waves pick up intensity. Suddenly Ginger broke the silence and started down below deck.

“I’m hungry, do you want anything?”

“Maybe another cup, but I’m fine.” Ike replied watching her disappear into the darkness as the sun lightened the deck and the sails. Though the sun was rising the temperature was dropping.

Ginger returned with another cup and a plate of fruit and cheese. Ike immediately reached for the cheese.

“I thought you were fine?” she asked resting next to him.

“Mummmm. Yes, I was but this looks too good. Thanks.”

Ginger pulled the sweater around her and cupped the white vessel close to her.

“I thought the sun would warm us up.”

“We are pretty far north. You can tell about the waves picking up.”

Ike reached his arm around Ginger pulled her close.

“That better?”

The sound of waves crashing on the rocky shore grew as a crescendo directing the crew to their next destina­tion.

 

 

Chapter Twenty One

“Now What?”

The little sloop “Dusty Rose” darted between the rocks firmly guided with a cold wet spray of winter wa­ter washing the bow. Ike turned the rudder left then quickly right compensating for the waves and wind of the rough sea while glaring ahead into the quiet waters of Penobscot Bay.

“Ginger!” Ike yelled below deck never veering from his focus. “Come up and take the wheel. I’m taking down the mainsail.”

The rocking was remarkably reduced when Ginger popped from the hole, another hot steaming cup of winter liquid in her hand. She slipped into Ike position and held the wheel straight as Ike jumped up and moved from line to line loosening their hold on deck and reducing the stress on the weathers sail. As the boom swung over the deck, Ike and Ginger ducked in unison and the sound of the lines racing against the metal cleats competed against the wind. The sail fell to the deck. Ike folded each link into a proper stack and tied off the lines to hold it secure.

“We’ll go in by the jib from here.” Ike assured Ginger, taking back the wheel and a sip of the warm cup.

“How far is it from here?”

Ike scoped out the ever-glowing sunshine drenched landscape.

“It is just off to starboard. We first have to get past this Isle au Haut.”

“So tell me, why does Blackie live up here when half the year he is stranded by the weather and the rest of the time…”

Ike was quiet.

“Do you think we will find him…or anyone else? This situation is starting to really scare me.” Her voice quivered.

Ike was quiet.

“Granite.”

“Who?” Ginger questioned Ike’s one word sentence.

“This is the island where JFK’s gravestone was quarried.”

The conversation stopped as the waves revealed a dock filled with bobbing fishing craft. As the wooden dock grew closer, Ginger put down her cup and crawled over the folded sail to the bow. No instructions were needed as Ike loosened the jib and coasted to the beams. With a soft bump, a line was tightened to the barnacled en­crusted post. Ike released the wheel and tied off the stern. The couple gathered by the wheel and proceeded to shore up their ride.

Walking down the frost-covered dock each fishing vessel was examined finding no evidence of life. Passing the “Pres Du Port” sign, Ike pointed to the main street.

“Route 15, that is what we want.”

As they walk down the vacant road past a ghost town of vacant windows and doors slamming in the wind, they look for some sort of transportation.

“Wanna give it a try?” Ginger pointed to a red jeep with it’s canvas top flapping.

Ike unscrewed the gas cape and took a whiff, then moved under the dashboard.

“Is there a key?” Ike asked fumbling on wires and metal.

Ginger looked over the driver’s seat, the gray sweater falling on his back and said, “Yeah, there is a key.”

“Give it a turn.”

Ginger stretched over the hunching mechanic and turned the key to the right.

“Yeow!”

A sparked flashed and Ike jumped back knocking Ginger in a staggering circle.

The two recaptured their position as the vehicle rumbled.

“Climb aboard” Ike, said blowing on his fingers.

Shifting into gear, the rusty hulk slowly rolled down the path picking up speed with every grinding shift.

Ginger looked back at the ship that landed them on this cold forbidding rock, but Ike pressed the pedal and followed the curves of the empty road. Following the winding path, Ike turns right at the first turn and heads back toward the roar of the water.

“Do you know where you are going?” she questioned.

“Oceanville.” Ike confidently responded.

Over a bridge and onto another island then left over another waterway, the pair sped while storm clouds freck­led the grey sky.

Ike turned onto a rocky dirt road and slid to a halt. He slowly reached for the key and turned it left, quieting the beast. Ginger dusted herself off and stared at the tilted shack.

Ike slowly climbed out of the chuffing delivery vehicle and stood next to her watching the curtain flutter out the broken windows.

“Looks real welcoming,” Ginger commented as they walked up to the door.

Ike pushed the wood opening a dusty dark room.

“See if you can find some light” he asked Ginger, wandering into the cluttered space.

The pair separated exploring new ventures.

The room glowed as Ginger lit a candle, then another. Ike found paper and magazines next to a stone fire­place, setting them ablaze with his Zippo lighter stored in his Swiss Army knife.

“Ah, now that’s more like it.” Ginger moved to the warmth and rubbed her hands together.

Ike silently walked from corner to corner, moving papers, opening drawers, and shuffling through stacks of DVDs and CDs.

Ginger added some of the wood stacked next to the fireplace saying, “Looking for something?”

“Some reason why Blackie left.”

“So Blackie left?”

“He would be here this time of year. Where is he?” Ike quietly pondered.

“Who is Dusty?” Ginger asked looking at a carved wooden post.

Ike smiled and continued to exam notes and records.

“Who is Cricket?”

Blackie had a lot of girl friends.

“Cricket??”

“He gave them all nick names. He had a problem remembering names, so….”

“Cricket???”

“She was a small black haired girl with big eyes.”

“And Dusty??”

Ike looked up from his investigation, “She was very special to him.”

“Are these names like notches on a gunman’s belt?”

“Conquest?”

“Yeah.”

“Blackie was a suave handsome sculpted man with thick hair and a killer smile.”

“Oh,” Ginger added reaching for a framed photo blowing off the dust. “Is this?”

Ike leaned over and nodded, then went back to the desk arranging files.

“Woo, you are right. He’s hot!”

“Easy big girl,” Ike chucked.

“What are these other names?”

The silence was only broken by the slam of metal drawers.

“Woo, did you two compete??”

Ike straightened up and turned to Ginger’s list. He walked forward placing his hand on the carved names.

“Parsley, Dill, and Clover”

Ginger’s brow crumpled under this awakening.

“Sisters with spice.”

“…and Rag-A-Muffin?” Ginger ventured to question.

“Rag-A-Muffin and Patches were sisters. Kiwi was sweet and quiet. Maggie and Wizzy were from the South. Skunk you can guess. Pumpkin was the first. Caitlin and Cullen were another pair of sisters. Bunny was a soft, black…”

Ginger interrupted the continuing list, “I think I get the picture.”

“Doodlebug…”

“I got it. I got it!”

Ike turned with a solemn face-to-face. “Then there was Buffy. She was very, very special. I think he would have married her. Beautiful blond with a frisky smile and seemed to fill his every need.”

“Need… or want?”

“And want. She would cuddle next to him and he gave a smile I’d never seen before.”

“What happened?” Ginger asked.

Ike dropped his hand and stood staring at the post in silence. Ginger watched as he turned back to the desk continuing his search. She did not continue the conversation realizing it was too fragile.

Ginger added some more wood to the fire as the room glowed in warmth and light. Ike booted up a laptop, then another, then a third connected to one keyboard. Each screen reflected the light enlarging to massive screens on the walls. The room was aglow with information screens scrolling through multiple windows at the speed of light.

Ginger walked to the chair where Ike had seated himself, mouse pointed all over the screens, opening files, reports, and closing as quickly. She rested her hand on his shoulder. As the computers purred he reached up touching her comfort. A warm squeeze and the computers were not the only purring.

“We have got to go back.” Ginger broke the silence.

Ike stopped the search, put down the mouse, stood up, and turned to Ginger.

“I’ve figured out this map,” she said pulling on the grey woven material wrapping her while still hold his hand. “We’ve got to go back to that island.”

Ike, being Ike, did not question any further and took the instructions as faith.

“We’ll start back tomorrow. Let’s get some food and rest and start in the morning. There is nothing here.”

“Really?” Ginger surprised looked.

“Yeah, Blackie has vacated this place some time ago. He is a free spirit, so he could be anywhere with any­one.”

“I’ll check out the kitchen and see what we can take with us. Are we really going back?”

“If that is what you want.”

Ginger smiled and turned into the kitchen.

Ike smiled a relaxed face shutting down the multiple screens.

“We’ll go back.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty Two

“Going South”

The well-stocked “Dusty Rose” ambled south heading for a new adventure. Leaving the cold winds yet run­ning against the stream, the journey was long for this wearied duo crew.

With the coastline remaining in sight off the starboard side, Ike did not ask where they were headed. He just followed the coast and the stars.

Passing Portsmouth, New Hampshire, the craft was faced to the ocean to get around Cape Cod. In some cases the vessel drifted closer to shore at large ports like New York City, looking for some sign of life.

The daily discussions were about sights of the day, what to eat, and average of location. There were no con­versations about future plans or former lives. The destination was created from a woven map and to solve the mystery, the pair had to follow it. Frustration brought angered remarks of being marooned on the rocky island they traveled on. Other days were surrounded in the wonderful sights of the ocean with a chorus of sea birds.

An atypical conversation follows.

“What was with all that porn?” Ginger barked out of the blue staring into space.

“You mean Blackie?” Ike questioned with moving his view to the oncoming waves.

“YES, Blackie!” Ginger responded, “What was all that stuff sitting around? And some of it was pretty rude!” she said grabbing her nose.

“Blackie was a single guy living on in lonely desolation.” Ike defended his cousin with only a stare from Ginger.

“Why are we talking about him?” Ike quipped. “You didn’t know him. I barely knew him, but I had some memorable experiences with him.”

Ginger sat quietly, gripping her cup until her knuckles went white.

“I’m not saying he was perfect,” he interjected, “ but he was family and that made it different.”

Ginger just looked down into her cup.

“I have very little understanding of my family line or their interactions. We did things out of rituals.”

She did not acknowledge these words.

“Blackie was a free spirit and broke from family restraints. He among all the others tried to find his true self.”

“With all those….those….skanky hoes?”

Ike smiled. “He has a lust for life.”

“That’s not funny.”

The rest of the day drew silent. Clouds blew over and the little wooden home continued down the coast slap­ping the waves in a rhythm matching the heartbeat.

Ike thought they might want to go ashore in Virginia and see if “Puppywoods” had survived. He thought of the strangers they had met and wondered if they had moved on. From so many contacts with people known and unknown, Ike had spent energy interaction with hundreds for years, but now there was only one.

The constant waves brought the sunshine and closed the day, continuing into the darkness. The shore became a ribbon of black. There was no sign of light or activity.

The journey continues down by Ocean City Maryland and the Chesapeake Bay tunnel. Ike pondered if he should pull into Virginia Beach and see if Col. Roland, Newton, or Dexter were still there or had they migrated to parts unknown?

Supplies were getting low, so at Kill Devil Hills, Ike decided to go ashore.

Anchoring the much lighter vessel to the sands that had claimed pirate ships of the past, the duo splashed ashore.

“Should we be this close to shore?” Ginger asked squeezing out the gray sweater that had become her second skin.

“It’s low tide. We should be back by the rise.” Ike stretched getting his land legs from weeks at sea.

They slowly walked up the soft sand to the crumbling black top ribbon of a road running north and south.

Ginger excited pointed and ran toward the cinder big building.

“There! A Brew-Thru! It must have everything we need!”

Ike smiled and followed. The packed bags with cans and candles, matches and mustard, and loads of alcohol.

Dragging the stuffed bags back toward the beach, the sun was starting to set.

“Let’s stay on land tonight” I uttered out of the blue. “There is a nice little cabin.”

Ginger looked shocked, breaking her survival pattern for the thought of slipping in a bed that didn’t sway. She was speechless.

The little cedar-weathered cabin had a deck with a hammock looking out on the beach. The bags were placed on the deck as they peered into the small wood room.

“The water works.” She giggled. “It’s cold, but it works.”

Ike took some of the new supplies to the “Dusty Rose” and brought back another line to tie to the deck. Gin­ger stripped down and climbed in the cold shower. By the time Ike tied off the line and climbed up the rickety steps to the deck, she was refreshed and wrapped in white towels, two glasses in her hands.

“Here.”

“What is this?” Ike coyly asked, looking her still dripping body in the sunset.

“I found a wine rack, completely stocked.” She smiled unwrapping her hair and giving her head a shake in the last beams of daylight.

They sat together sipping their wine surrounded by candles and serenaded by the roar of the ocean, watching the sunset.

Tomorrow is another day and another adventure.

Chapter Twenty Three

“The Hurricane”

Another morning sunrises to set sail for these weary travelers. Silent now knowing their mission, they look at the horizon with blank stares. Passing cups of warm liquids, pieces of baked goods, then switching to bottles of wine stored in the hole, the couple prepare for the unknown.

Keeping close to the coastline, they recognize certain sites as they pass. Down the Pamilico Sound, then around Cape Lookout to the Onslow Bay. Ike pointed out Atlantic Beach off of Morehead City where he had gone to summer camp. Passing Cape Fear into the Grand Strand, Ginger talked about her weekends in Myrtle Beach with the surfer boys. The Carolinas grew together then shifted to Georgia and more tales about Charles­ton and Hilton Head.

“Should we pull in?” Ike asked as they approached Savannah.

“No, “ Ginger replied facing the future, “ let’s push on. We have enough to get there.”

“There?” Ike pondered.

The coast began to jut out into the waves, adjusting the wind and bow route. Also the waves were getting rougher and the sky was darkening. Passed Jacksonville, the little vessel started to bob in the waves. By the time they had reached Cape Canaveral the sea was tossing the little “Dusty Rose” about straining all the lines and the strength of the tiny crew.

The supply stocks had been forgotten as the two rushed back and forth to tackle each emergency.

Ike looked forward at a wall of black clouds reaching from the heavens to the water and as far as the eye could see. “This is not good.”

Sails were lowered and the hatches battened, but the little wooden boat that had traveled so far was out of control in the waves and wind. The two hung on to each other and taunt lines as they rocked and slid through the blackness pummeled with driving rain.

Ike coughed water from his lungs as his hand reached deep in the wet sand. The rain pounded on his back like a whip, but he raised his head and wiped his eyes to view an empty beach awash with massive waves. Bracing himself up he frantically swiveled his head for some sign of Ginger.

Dragging his soaked body to a shadow, he turned over a body to see her limp and lifeless. Immediately he pressed his face against her lips.

“Hey! Bud!!” she turned her head stammering, “What are you (cough) some kind of (cough) pervert (cough, cough)?”

Surprised, then grinning from ear to ear, Ike sat up and hugged her.

“OK big boy”, Ginger replied, breaking the rapture of the moment, and then with a clinical refrain, “Where (cough) are we?”

“Over there” Ike pointed to a tall building. “ It will shelter us against this wind.”

The two staggered to their feet and started plodding toward the grey refuge, and then froze.

There on the sand, lay the remains of the “Dusty Rose”. Like a beached whale, it lay on its side with holes in the bow and stern. She had been such a faithful companion but could not withstand the final challenge.

Turning away from their transport, the two focused on surviving.

After breaking a window, a quiet spot was found in a hallway behind two doors. Swaying, the building gave shelter, but the two wondered how sturdy their new home was.

Fumbling in the dark, Ike found a flashlight, but the batteries were dead. Ginger reached into dark hole and found some. By feel they refilled the flashlight and a weak beam lit the room.

Overturned chairs, scattered magazines, and no sign of life were all that presented itself to the couple.

“Let’s see if we can find the kitchen.” Ike began wandering into the darkness.

“I’m tired and wet and cold…” Ginger began to wine.

“Me too. Look there it is!”

The pair walked past tables with white linen table clothes and silver services laid out for guest. Into swinging doors, a pristine chrome kitchen presented itself, but offered no relief for their hunger. The refrigerators were locked and the cupboards bear.

“Ike,” Ginger moaned, “I’m tired.”

“OK, lets find a place to crash.”

Just then the sound of a window crumbling against the wind filled the air.

They walked softly over the broken glass and up some stairs until they found a door to a vacant room.

“I’m exhausted!” Ginger flopped on the bedspread and grasped the pillow like a teddy bear.

“Me too.” Ike responded to the already asleep beauty, peeling off his wet cloths. He covered the spread over her, then cuddled up next to her given her warmth and him comfort.

“Tomorrow will be another day.” He faded out.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Answer

Morning brought bright sunlight while the wind and waves shook off the night of peril.

Two lone figures stood in the wet sand. Beside them were the remains of their trusty vessel. Before them spread a vast ocean churning with furry and anger. Electric kites of clouds flew over the white caps like a natu­ral strobe light.

“There!” Ike cried out and pointed to a tiny dark shadow.

The couple stared at a small dingy bobbing in the rough water. Looking like a float on a fisherman’s line seemingly unaffected by the storm that had washed them ashore, this could be their salvation.

Without a thought the pair dove into the water and swam to the small craft.

Once aboard they took stock of the boat and found it sound. With some struggle, the pair lifted the anchor that had held it and began another journey.

The little wooden hull about the size of a bed turned and began to break the waves.

Ike grab the rudder and began to change the course.

“Wait!” Ginger exclaimed. “It knows the path.”

Ike paused looking puzzled, and then slowly released the rudder.

The bow jerked back and forth in the currents like a slide on an Ouija board. The two sat quietly watching the wooden platform held together with luck and spit find its way. Steadily it became calmer and straightens out its course.

For hours, perhaps days, the little cradle wandered through the blue water following an invisible trail, its crew numbed by the sun and constant rolling of the waves slept.

Thud!

“Wha…?”

“Where are…?”

The sun burnt couple opened their eyes to a shady umbrella of green. The scrapping sound of wood against wood was their alarm clock.

An old dilapidated dock jutted out from an overgrown island.

Ike wrapped the anchor line around a pillar and helped Ginger onto the decaying wood planks.

“Careful. Don’t want to come this far to….” he advised.

“So what is this place?” she asked walking gingerly across the crumbling wood until they both reached firm ground.

“I don’t know but it feels familiar.”

Ike looked down the bamboo lined narrow beach but there were no signs of an entry point.

“Come on,” Ginger firmly demanded, “I know the way.”

She divided the thick stacks of green and stepped into the darkness, Ike quickly on her heels. Pressing into the unknown the explorers weaved through the vines and stalks that tore their cloths and scrapped their skin.

A spot of sunshine found a clearing for the couple to stop and catch their breath.

Ike, leaning over his hands on his knees, puffed and moaned, “I’m hungry.”

Ginger crossed legged sat in a pile of leaves, wiping her brow onto her red arms and replied, “Yeah, Big cap­tain. You didn’t think about bringing any food, did you?”

Feeling dejected by their new situation, Ike stood straight and scanned the area. Examining the pine carpet as if documenting a crime scene he circled the jungle cavern, when he suddenly froze and stared at the ground. His eyes were fixated, not a word was said.

“Did you find a Big Mac?” Ginger broke the silence stretching her gams walking slowly to the spot.

They both recognized their future and began to follow a narrow crushed shell path.

Coming to an opening they found the familiar brownstone building still draped in constant capture of the jungle.

As they entered the cavernous sculpture Ike smiled at the dust spot on the dirty marble floor. Ginger slapped his arm, then turned seeking out a destination they were not aware of.

She stopped at a massive wooden door. Ike reached for the iron latch ring that hung down on an art deco plate. He tugged on the ring with no success. Always up for a challenge, he explored blocked passage.

Ginger, being Ginger, stood back and watched with fascination. She broke her enjoyment and spied a bronze statue sitting on a pedestal next to the door. Rubbing her hands over the dusty Buddha squatted in a lotus posi­tion; she felt an indentation on the forehead. Something was missing from this guardian.

She paused.

Then she knew.

Ike stopped his investigation and turned to Ginger as she reached into her tattered gray sweater. The silence was deafening.

Ginger extracted the red diamond she had been so protective for all this time and held it to the sunbeams streaming through holes in the roof. The stone glowed in the warmth and seemed to vibrate as if to be coming home.

With the hands of an angle, Ginger slowly pressed the diamond into the impression, twisting to the left and then right until…..

The red diamond found its place in the Buddha and seated itself. Ginger pulled back her hand and the pair stared at the statue.

Ike turned back to the door and pulled on the latch.

A bright glow grew under the door onto the shiny floor then spread up the edges increasing in intensity as the wooden portal opened.

Awash in light, the stunned travelers stood affixed at the wonder that behold them.

A figure approached the doorway with a welcoming smile. He stepped forward, dressed to the nines, curly hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and somehow very comfortable and familiar. Behind him was a yellow glow space filled with men and women, all seemingly very happy, in gowns and dresses swirling dances to soft live orches­tra music. There was no other sound.

Ike’s eyes caught in the corner a young man with a wavy hair, sharp black tux, blue pocket napkin and an un­forgettable smile; two ladies on his arm, one in a satin red gown, the other leaning her head against his shoulder looking very content. The trio faced Ike with an ageless recognition.

“Blackie?” Ike stuttered.

A time passed as the pair took in the wonders before them, then the silence was broken.

The figure that approached them spoke.

“ My name is Maynard. Come join us.”