would think to have a knife like this.
“Put it away,” Peach says. “If you drop it…”
“Right,” I say, pushing the blade back down. I pocket the knife and don’t bother looking up to see if this bothers the other two.
There’s more in the bag. I’m surprised when the next item is soft. When I pull it out, I think it’s a big black, wool blanket, but there’s a hood.
“A cloak?” Peach asks.
“Looks like it,” I say.
“You should use it,” Jenny says. I start to argue, but then notice for the first time that Jenny and Peach are both dressed for cold weather, wearing insulated, water resistant pants and jackets. They both have hats and gloves, too. In my haste to witness the hubbub on deck, I didn’t bother to grab anything warmer than a sweater. If not for the tinfoil-like thermal blankets we found, I would have been much colder the last few hours. I look at Peach and she nods in agreement.
I throw the cloak over my shoulder and pull the big hood up over my head. “I’m Ugthar, son of Grondol, beware my magic missile.” Snickers fill the life raft. “Always knew Chase had to be a D&D guy.”
“I think it’s WOW these days,” Jenny says.
“Wow, indeed,” I say as I reach back into the bag, not expecting to find anything else. But I do. Its hard metallic shape is easy to identify.
Peach sees the surprise frozen on my face. “What?”
I take the gun by the handle and pull it out. Peach and Jenny lean away from the weapon. Neither say a word as I pop out the magazine, check the number of bullets and slap it back in. “It’s a .45 caliber Glock,” I say. “Small, powerful and accurate. Thirteen rounds.”
“Uhh,” Jenny says. “I’m not sure whether to be surprised by the gun or the fact that you’re holding it like it’s your boyfriend’s unit.”
I look at Jenny, then down at the gun in my hands. Was I stroking the barrel ? I fight my embarrassment and say, “I’ve been to the range a few times.”
“The WSPA arming people these days?” Peach asks, only half joking.
“Military brat,” I say. “My father’s a colonel. Took me to the range a couple times a year.” I check the weapon’s unique safety mechanism and tuck the weapon into my belt.
“There a reason why you’re holding all the weapons?” Peach asks. She looks more afraid than confrontational.
“Aside from the fact that I know how to handle a gun and a knife? How about the fact that you were, until last night, in cahoots with the guys who were planning to pin a terrorist attack on me?”
Jenny raises both hands, “Hey, I—”
“Don’t worry,” I say, “I don’t think either of you had anything to do with it, but it takes a little more than apologies and hugging to gain my trust. So, until I trust you implicitly or there’s a reason for you to have a gun, I’ll hold on to the pointy things.”
“Works for me,” Jenny says. “With the knife and gun and cloak you kind of look like a female Van Helsing or something. It’s pretty cool.” She leans back, stretches with a grunt and then adds, “Ugh, seriously?”
The comment is clearly rhetorical, but Peach asks, “What’s wrong? Were you injured?”
“Nope,” she says, “it’s six o’clock.”
I notice she’s not wearing a watch. I glance at mine. Six o’clock. “How did you know the time?”
Jenny sighs. “I’m…regular.”
I let out a laugh, but Peach hasn’t understood. I look at her and say, “So, how does someone take a shit on this thing?”
Apparently, there’s no easy way to relieve yourself on the life raft, but we work out a system that I think will work…or might result in all three of us falling into the ocean. Jenny sits on the edge of the raft with her ass hanging out over the ocean. She’s leaning forward, arms outstretching and clinging to Peach and me. We’re holding on tight, and leaning back, providing balance.
“Can’t you go faster?” Peach asks.
With a grunt, Jenny says, “My ass is
“Put it away,” Peach says. “If you drop it…”
“Right,” I say, pushing the blade back down. I pocket the knife and don’t bother looking up to see if this bothers the other two.
There’s more in the bag. I’m surprised when the next item is soft. When I pull it out, I think it’s a big black, wool blanket, but there’s a hood.
“A cloak?” Peach asks.
“Looks like it,” I say.
“You should use it,” Jenny says. I start to argue, but then notice for the first time that Jenny and Peach are both dressed for cold weather, wearing insulated, water resistant pants and jackets. They both have hats and gloves, too. In my haste to witness the hubbub on deck, I didn’t bother to grab anything warmer than a sweater. If not for the tinfoil-like thermal blankets we found, I would have been much colder the last few hours. I look at Peach and she nods in agreement.
I throw the cloak over my shoulder and pull the big hood up over my head. “I’m Ugthar, son of Grondol, beware my magic missile.” Snickers fill the life raft. “Always knew Chase had to be a D&D guy.”
“I think it’s WOW these days,” Jenny says.
“Wow, indeed,” I say as I reach back into the bag, not expecting to find anything else. But I do. Its hard metallic shape is easy to identify.
Peach sees the surprise frozen on my face. “What?”
I take the gun by the handle and pull it out. Peach and Jenny lean away from the weapon. Neither say a word as I pop out the magazine, check the number of bullets and slap it back in. “It’s a .45 caliber Glock,” I say. “Small, powerful and accurate. Thirteen rounds.”
“Uhh,” Jenny says. “I’m not sure whether to be surprised by the gun or the fact that you’re holding it like it’s your boyfriend’s unit.”
I look at Jenny, then down at the gun in my hands. Was I stroking the barrel ? I fight my embarrassment and say, “I’ve been to the range a few times.”
“The WSPA arming people these days?” Peach asks, only half joking.
“Military brat,” I say. “My father’s a colonel. Took me to the range a couple times a year.” I check the weapon’s unique safety mechanism and tuck the weapon into my belt.
“There a reason why you’re holding all the weapons?” Peach asks. She looks more afraid than confrontational.
“Aside from the fact that I know how to handle a gun and a knife? How about the fact that you were, until last night, in cahoots with the guys who were planning to pin a terrorist attack on me?”
Jenny raises both hands, “Hey, I—”
“Don’t worry,” I say, “I don’t think either of you had anything to do with it, but it takes a little more than apologies and hugging to gain my trust. So, until I trust you implicitly or there’s a reason for you to have a gun, I’ll hold on to the pointy things.”
“Works for me,” Jenny says. “With the knife and gun and cloak you kind of look like a female Van Helsing or something. It’s pretty cool.” She leans back, stretches with a grunt and then adds, “Ugh, seriously?”
The comment is clearly rhetorical, but Peach asks, “What’s wrong? Were you injured?”
“Nope,” she says, “it’s six o’clock.”
I notice she’s not wearing a watch. I glance at mine. Six o’clock. “How did you know the time?”
Jenny sighs. “I’m…regular.”
I let out a laugh, but Peach hasn’t understood. I look at her and say, “So, how does someone take a shit on this thing?”
Apparently, there’s no easy way to relieve yourself on the life raft, but we work out a system that I think will work…or might result in all three of us falling into the ocean. Jenny sits on the edge of the raft with her ass hanging out over the ocean. She’s leaning forward, arms outstretching and clinging to Peach and me. We’re holding on tight, and leaning back, providing balance.
“Can’t you go faster?” Peach asks.
With a grunt, Jenny says, “My ass is
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