and hamburguesas , he sounds like a Cuban refugee. But Cuban, American, or Afro-Hungarian, he’s another mouth to feed. If we don’t find ourselves some signs of civilization in the near future, we’re going to be up that famous, foul-smelling creek without a paddle.”
The sensei smiled. “Ah, the river of defecation, yes?”
Travis grinned. “Yeah, one and the same.”
“Then we should be underway at first light,” said the Japanese.
He motioned to the prostrate Cuban. “I will watch him tonight. You go back to sleep.”
“Okay,” Travis replied. “See you in the morning.”
Night passed quietly. The gentle movement of the ship and the rhythmic, soft slap of the waves against the hull lulled them all to sleep.
When Travis rose in the morning, he found the sensei already on deck and together they watched as the first edges of the sun rose over the dark waters and threw tendrils of yellow and orange into the smoky-colored sky. The morning breeze skipped across the sea, rippling the waters and caressing the two men, ruffling their hair. They stood there savoring the sweet, salt air, silently acknowledging their mutual bond with the sea, when suddenly a voice croaked from behind them.
“ Donde estan —where am I?”
Travis and the sensei turned around as one. Somewhat disheveled, but apparently improving, the little Cuban stood by the hatchway looking at them. Small, tight ringlets of curly, black hair framed a narrow face with tired but sensitive eyes. A thin mustache dusted his upper lip. His mouth, which seemed too wide for his face, softened into an uncertain smile, conveying the image of a man accustomed to laughter. His features were drawn with fatigue but, looking at him, one expected a degree of wit, a benign roguishness.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“We’re the last people left in the world,” Travis replied.
Carlos gasped, ” Madre de Dios! It is all gone?”
Travis grinned. “No, it probably isn’t, but as far as we know, we’re all that’s left around here. The name’s Travis and this gentleman is Higado Sensei. I would offer you a cup of coffee, but there’s no gas for the stove. Line’s ruptured.”
“ Mi llamo Carlos,” the Cuban replied. “Hey man, chu got any more of that soup?”
Carlos was barely conscious when brought aboard the boat, and Ra hadn’t recognized him as a threat. Carlos hadn’t seen the dog at all. When Ra suddenly appeared from the far side of the cabin, cautiously padded over and rumbled threateningly, Carlos went stiff as a wooden Indian.
“ Madre de Dios , where chu get de frigeen’ dinosaur?” he mumbled tensely as the Rottweiler sniffed him.
Travis chuckled, “It’s okay, Carlos. He seems to think you’re all right, but I wouldn’t make too many sudden movements ’til he gets to know you a bit.”
“Jesus,” Carlos exclaimed, “I don’ move at all if he no want me to. That son-a-bitchee snap Carlos’ whole leg off just for snack.”
Travis laughed and called Ra over to him, allowing the little man to relax. “C’mon, let’s go get a bite to eat.”
As they shared a couple of cans of chicken soup, Carlos explained a little of his recent history and recounted his meeting with the wave. Although it was basically a tragic story, Carlos’ way of telling it, with his accent and his gallows humor, had Travis laughing out loud. A half-hour later, when the sun had risen high enough to warm the air, Travis rose from his seat in the galley.
“Time for us to get underway, Carlos. You make yourself comfortable, get your strength back. We’re going to set sail, see if we can find civilization—and maybe another couple cans of that chicken.”
Carlos offered a wide smile of approval. ” Buena idea, amigo , buena idea.”
Night passed in dark oblivion, but when the boy woke in the morning, the crushing terror and desperation of the previous day’s events wrapped around his sanity like the hands of a strangler. His mother was gone,
The sensei smiled. “Ah, the river of defecation, yes?”
Travis grinned. “Yeah, one and the same.”
“Then we should be underway at first light,” said the Japanese.
He motioned to the prostrate Cuban. “I will watch him tonight. You go back to sleep.”
“Okay,” Travis replied. “See you in the morning.”
Night passed quietly. The gentle movement of the ship and the rhythmic, soft slap of the waves against the hull lulled them all to sleep.
When Travis rose in the morning, he found the sensei already on deck and together they watched as the first edges of the sun rose over the dark waters and threw tendrils of yellow and orange into the smoky-colored sky. The morning breeze skipped across the sea, rippling the waters and caressing the two men, ruffling their hair. They stood there savoring the sweet, salt air, silently acknowledging their mutual bond with the sea, when suddenly a voice croaked from behind them.
“ Donde estan —where am I?”
Travis and the sensei turned around as one. Somewhat disheveled, but apparently improving, the little Cuban stood by the hatchway looking at them. Small, tight ringlets of curly, black hair framed a narrow face with tired but sensitive eyes. A thin mustache dusted his upper lip. His mouth, which seemed too wide for his face, softened into an uncertain smile, conveying the image of a man accustomed to laughter. His features were drawn with fatigue but, looking at him, one expected a degree of wit, a benign roguishness.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“We’re the last people left in the world,” Travis replied.
Carlos gasped, ” Madre de Dios! It is all gone?”
Travis grinned. “No, it probably isn’t, but as far as we know, we’re all that’s left around here. The name’s Travis and this gentleman is Higado Sensei. I would offer you a cup of coffee, but there’s no gas for the stove. Line’s ruptured.”
“ Mi llamo Carlos,” the Cuban replied. “Hey man, chu got any more of that soup?”
Carlos was barely conscious when brought aboard the boat, and Ra hadn’t recognized him as a threat. Carlos hadn’t seen the dog at all. When Ra suddenly appeared from the far side of the cabin, cautiously padded over and rumbled threateningly, Carlos went stiff as a wooden Indian.
“ Madre de Dios , where chu get de frigeen’ dinosaur?” he mumbled tensely as the Rottweiler sniffed him.
Travis chuckled, “It’s okay, Carlos. He seems to think you’re all right, but I wouldn’t make too many sudden movements ’til he gets to know you a bit.”
“Jesus,” Carlos exclaimed, “I don’ move at all if he no want me to. That son-a-bitchee snap Carlos’ whole leg off just for snack.”
Travis laughed and called Ra over to him, allowing the little man to relax. “C’mon, let’s go get a bite to eat.”
As they shared a couple of cans of chicken soup, Carlos explained a little of his recent history and recounted his meeting with the wave. Although it was basically a tragic story, Carlos’ way of telling it, with his accent and his gallows humor, had Travis laughing out loud. A half-hour later, when the sun had risen high enough to warm the air, Travis rose from his seat in the galley.
“Time for us to get underway, Carlos. You make yourself comfortable, get your strength back. We’re going to set sail, see if we can find civilization—and maybe another couple cans of that chicken.”
Carlos offered a wide smile of approval. ” Buena idea, amigo , buena idea.”
Night passed in dark oblivion, but when the boy woke in the morning, the crushing terror and desperation of the previous day’s events wrapped around his sanity like the hands of a strangler. His mother was gone,
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