Hurricane by Ken Douglas Page A

lanes, wouldn’t it?”
    “ Yeah, that would work,” Victor said.
    “ Won’t they tow us back to Trinidad?” Meiko asked. “You’d lose the boat anyway.”
    “ But we won’t lose our lives,” Victor said.
    “ We’re not going to lose the boat either,” Julie said, “There is no way we’re going to let some creep sink us.” And for a second she thought about the intruder, then she said, “We’ll just have to fix the leak and get on to Grenada.”
    “ We can’t go down there,” Victor said.
    “ We sure can. We have scuba gear on board and full tanks. You could go down and plug the leak.”
    “ Not me,” Victor said. “I don’t dive. Never have.”
    “ Then I’ll do it,” Julie said.
    “ Mom, I can do it. I’m the swimmer.”
    “ Have you ever done scuba?”
    “ No, but I snorkel.”
    “ It’s settled,” Julie said, “I go. Meiko, you and Victor can cut up a towel in thin strips while I get the gear. And soak them in Vaseline, that should help bind them together and help keep the water out.”
     
    Fifteen minutes later Julie tied a line around her waist. Meiko held the other end. Victor stood aside, watching.
    “ All right, I’m ready,” Julie said, and they followed her to the swim ladder. Getting over the life lines was awkward. She’d never gone down the swim ladder with a tank on her back, and she’d never done it at night, and never in the open sea with the boat rocking with the waves.
    But she made it without stumbling or slipping. She shivered when her foot touched the water. She had the rags in a pouch tied to the weight belt. She checked to make sure they were secure.
    “ Good luck, Mom,” Meiko said.
    “ Back in a flash,” Julie said, with more bravado than she felt. Then she slipped into the black water. She shivered again, but this time not from the cold. She sucked on the regulator, and drew a deep breath and held it, then she exhaled and dropped below the boat, into the dark.

Chapter Seven
     
    Broxton felt fuzzy headed. The movie flew by in a haze of cheers and boos. When Trinis went to see a film they were absorbed by it and Broxton was caught up along with them, shouting encouragement to the good guys, cat calling during the love scenes and hissing the villains. And before he knew it the movie was over and he was on the street again.
    He wandered up toward the Savannah, following a group of young people, two boys and two girls. The teenagers were still talking about the movie, imitating the characters, rehashing the lines, reliving the climax. They’d had a good time at the show and they were still sharing it.
    And Broxton felt the afterglow. He’d smoked marijuana a few times in college, but he’d never enjoyed it, preferring Jack Daniels and water instead. Tonight, despite the mess he was in, he’d had fun. He’d been carried away by the film and for a few hours all of his cares were gone. It was easy to see why a man with a low paying job, several kids, piles of bills and a dead end future would go to the movies and smoke a joint on the weekend.
    He stopped and looked at the sky, taking in the stars, like a child seeing the heavens for the first time. The teenagers kept walking and talking away. Their happy voices carried to him on the cool night breeze.
    “ Can you help us out here,” said a not so happy voice. Broxton was jolted out of his reverie and his attention was riveted on the scene ahead. Two men were confronting the kids, asking for money. The one speaking was spitting his words through a filthy beard and matted dreadlocks.
    “ We don’t got nothing,” one of the young boys said.
    “ Bet you do,” Dreadlocks said.
    “ Honest,” the young boy said.
    “ You got some money for us or you gonna be fucking sorry,” Dreadlocks said, and Broxton had the picture. Two men. Late twenties or early thirties. Unkempt. Street people. He moved closer. The men had their backs to him. The children were too frightened to notice.
    “ All we had was