scanned the docks for anyone watching then sprinted between some containers. Just as he ducked between the containers, two crewmen came around the corner, talking animatedly in a mix of English and what he recognized as Tagalog.
He pressed himself into the rusted grooves of the containers, trying to disappear. They walked by his position, apparently only interested in their tall tales of the previous night’s activities, oblivious to his presence. When they were gone he breathed a sigh of relief and tried to relax. Only a few more hours until we leave harbor. Once at sea he would worry about how he was going to survive. For now, he knew he just needed to get out of Peru and back to where he had friends who could help him.
He moved deeper into the maze of containers and sat on the deck where he was sure he couldn’t be seen. He gazed up at the stacks of containers towering above him, the sky barely visible above. Opening his gym bag, he surveyed his provisions. Half a dozen bottles of water and two PowerBars.
Three days to Mexico.
Washington, DC
“William Guthrie, this is Mr. Darbinger, the White House Chief of Staff,” said the orientation leader assigned to him. Billy gulped and extended his hand. After two days of orientation, Billy was finally introduced to his boss.
“It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise, Mr. Guthrie,” said Darbinger, as he shook Billy’s hand. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but I met you at your father’s house about three years ago for his retirement party.”
“Of course, sir, I remember.” Billy flashed back to that night, desperately trying to remember Darbinger. It had been a whirlwind of disinterest for him, being paraded around as the brilliant son who would one day carry on the legacy. It had been the end to an illustrious career for his father, though, after having served in the Air Force for ten years then turning to politics, first as mayor, state assemblyman then congressman. His last five years he had been Speaker of the House and had retired when his wife had been diagnosed with cancer.
“It was that night I asked your father to have you come work for me when you were old enough,” said Darbinger. He looked at Billy closely. “You don’t remember that at all do you?”
Billy blushed and shook his head. “I’m really sorry, sir, but I met so many people that night.”
Darbinger laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I was a teenager once too.” He turned back to the orientation leader. “Get William set up at a desk and make sure he’s well looked after.” He then turned back to Billy. “If you need anything, feel free to come see me. I told your father I’d look out for you.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Billy, “I will.”
Somewhere on the Pacific
Acton awoke with a start. He glanced around, looking for what had woken him, but he was alone. It was dawn of the third day. The ship would be arriving in Mexico that afternoon if they were on schedule. He could see the ocean from his vantage point and could tell they were in a heavy fog, yet the Captain kept the engines at full steam, sounding the horn repeatedly. Moron.
He checked his supplies only to reconfirm what he already knew. He was out of water and had been since early yesterday. The salt air was making him thirsty and he had finished his water in half the time he had expected. He knew he needed fresh water, especially since he would need to be at his peak when trying to get off the ship.
Rising from where he had lain, he stretched the kinks out as best he could. He slung his bag containing the case with the skull over his shoulder and cautiously headed toward the crew tower at the stern of the ship. It took him quite some time, moving from container to container, being careful to not be seen. The chance of any crew being amongst the containers was slim, but he also had to make sure he wasn’t seen from above.
Eventually, he reached the final row of containers. He
He pressed himself into the rusted grooves of the containers, trying to disappear. They walked by his position, apparently only interested in their tall tales of the previous night’s activities, oblivious to his presence. When they were gone he breathed a sigh of relief and tried to relax. Only a few more hours until we leave harbor. Once at sea he would worry about how he was going to survive. For now, he knew he just needed to get out of Peru and back to where he had friends who could help him.
He moved deeper into the maze of containers and sat on the deck where he was sure he couldn’t be seen. He gazed up at the stacks of containers towering above him, the sky barely visible above. Opening his gym bag, he surveyed his provisions. Half a dozen bottles of water and two PowerBars.
Three days to Mexico.
Washington, DC
“William Guthrie, this is Mr. Darbinger, the White House Chief of Staff,” said the orientation leader assigned to him. Billy gulped and extended his hand. After two days of orientation, Billy was finally introduced to his boss.
“It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise, Mr. Guthrie,” said Darbinger, as he shook Billy’s hand. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but I met you at your father’s house about three years ago for his retirement party.”
“Of course, sir, I remember.” Billy flashed back to that night, desperately trying to remember Darbinger. It had been a whirlwind of disinterest for him, being paraded around as the brilliant son who would one day carry on the legacy. It had been the end to an illustrious career for his father, though, after having served in the Air Force for ten years then turning to politics, first as mayor, state assemblyman then congressman. His last five years he had been Speaker of the House and had retired when his wife had been diagnosed with cancer.
“It was that night I asked your father to have you come work for me when you were old enough,” said Darbinger. He looked at Billy closely. “You don’t remember that at all do you?”
Billy blushed and shook his head. “I’m really sorry, sir, but I met so many people that night.”
Darbinger laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I was a teenager once too.” He turned back to the orientation leader. “Get William set up at a desk and make sure he’s well looked after.” He then turned back to Billy. “If you need anything, feel free to come see me. I told your father I’d look out for you.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Billy, “I will.”
Somewhere on the Pacific
Acton awoke with a start. He glanced around, looking for what had woken him, but he was alone. It was dawn of the third day. The ship would be arriving in Mexico that afternoon if they were on schedule. He could see the ocean from his vantage point and could tell they were in a heavy fog, yet the Captain kept the engines at full steam, sounding the horn repeatedly. Moron.
He checked his supplies only to reconfirm what he already knew. He was out of water and had been since early yesterday. The salt air was making him thirsty and he had finished his water in half the time he had expected. He knew he needed fresh water, especially since he would need to be at his peak when trying to get off the ship.
Rising from where he had lain, he stretched the kinks out as best he could. He slung his bag containing the case with the skull over his shoulder and cautiously headed toward the crew tower at the stern of the ship. It took him quite some time, moving from container to container, being careful to not be seen. The chance of any crew being amongst the containers was slim, but he also had to make sure he wasn’t seen from above.
Eventually, he reached the final row of containers. He
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