Chapter Nine

It was close to the end of Hep’s watch, and the sun was just beginning to climb over the horizon. It had been another quiet night, the weather was calm, and he was looking forward to sleeping for a few hours.

He saw a bright flash out of the corner of his eye, but couldn’t see anything when he turned to look. A few seconds later, he saw it again, a bright light flashed. It was attached to something round and orange. He picked up the binoculars and took another look.

It took a minute for Hep to realize what he was looking at. About half a mile away, bobbing up and down in the waves, was a life raft. He couldn’t tell if anyone was in it or not. For a moment, he wasn’t exactly sure what to do. Then he realized there was only one thing they could do, go and try to help.

Hep called down to Poseidon, who got out of his bed up on deck in almost no time at all.

“I think there’s a life raft over there,” Hep said, and pointed.

Poseidon took the binoculars from Hep and had a look.

“Yep, that’s a life raft,” Poseidon said. He took an air horn out of a locker and gave it a blast. Seconds later, there was a response - three short whistles.

“There’s someone in there too. We’d better get over there and render aid. I’ll take over the helm, if you don’t mind,” Poseidon said.

Hep stood aside, and Poseidon turned the boat until they were headed for the life raft. They heard another three whistles from the life raft.

Scroat came up on deck. He looked tired and irritable.

“What’s all the fucking noise about?” he asked Hep.

“There’s a life raft. We’re going to help whoever is in it.’

“I hope for their sake they didn’t rename it.”

“I don’t think life rafts usually get names.”

“Well, then I hope that they haven’t offended our gracious host in some other general sort of way. Unless that life raft has another, smaller life raft, and so on.”

“Point taken,” Hep said.

They were getting closer to the life raft, and could now see there was a person peeking out of a door, waving at them. There where another three blasts of the whistle.

“Are they going to keep blowing that fucking whistle after we’ve got them on board?” Scroat said.

“In a survival situation, you keep making a racket until you are one hundred percent rescued,” Poseidon said. “In case your rescuers lose sight of you.”

“How would we miss a big fucking orange pool toy looking thing in the middle of the ocean?”

“Oh, it’s pretty easy.”

“You’re the boss.”

They were now close enough to see that whoever was in the boat was wearing a black jacket, a white shirt, and a black tie. There were three more blasts from the whistle.

“Let’s get these sails down and motor over to them,” Poseidon said.

Hep and Scroat wrestled down the mainsail and furled the jib, while Poseidon got the engine running.

“Tie a line to one of the cleats and get ready to throw it over to him,” Poseidon said.

Scroat got the line ready, and waited to get close enough to throw it to the raft. In what seemed like no time at all, they were there, and he heaved the line over to the guy in the life raft.

The man in the raft caught the line, and tied it to the raft.

“OK, let’s reel him in,” Poseidon said. The three of them grabbed the line, and started hauling the raft to the boat. It seemed extremely heavy for its size, but in a matter of seconds the raft was right up next to them, and it’s sole occupant was grabbing on to the lifelines of Poseidon’s boat.

“Oh, hello, Hep and Scroat. Funny running in to you guys out here. I mean, I’m glad to see you, but I wouldn’t expect it,” the man in the life raft said. “So, how should I get up onto your boat?”

Poseidon reached out and said, “Give me your arm. Grab my wrist.”

Moments later, the man was onboard. He looked slightly rumpled, and a little green, but otherwise uninjured and healthy.

“Sorry, how do we know you?” Hep asked.

“Robert Wheeler. We recently met on the road in the middle of nowhere.”

“That’s some fucking coincidence,” Scroat said.

“I agree. I didn’t expect to see you fellas again.”

He turned to Poseidon, and held out his hand.

“Thank you for rescuing me. Robert Wheeler is my name.”

Poseidon shook his hand, and said “Poseidon. It was my pleasure to help a fellow sailor.”

“Oh, I’m not a sailor. To be honest, I’m not exactly sure how I got out here. One second I was driving to Los Angeles, and then I woke up on a boat with a bunch of guys in ski masks. Then I guess I got knocked out again, because the next thing I remember is wondering why the bed was all clammy, and waking up to realize I was in the middle of the ocean. Poseidon. There’s a name you don’t hear too often these days.”

Scroat turned away from Robert, and faced Hep.

“Kind of a weird fucking coincidence, him showing up conveniently where we’re sailing, isn’t it? A little suspicious, don’t you think?”

“I guess. Stranger things have happened.”

“I still don’t trust this guy.”

“OK. You don’t have to.”

Hep stepped to one side, and started paying attention to the conversation between Robert and Poseidon.

“Well, Robert, we’re about a day and a half from Brookings, Oregon. In the meantime, I hope you’re hungry, because we haven’t had breakfast yet. Excuse me a moment, and then we’ll get to cooking up something to eat.”

Poseidon took a folding knife from his belt, opened it, and leaned out over to the raft. He untied the line holding it to his boat, and stabbed a hole into each of the air chambers, then spun it a bit, and stabbed it again. The air rapidly hissed out of the raft, and in a matter of minutes it sank beneath the waves.

“Wouldn’t want any one to try and rescue an empty raft,” he said to Hep and Scroat, who were looking at him as though he’d lost his mind.

“Scroat, you’ve got the helm. I’m going to make some breakfast,” Poseidon said. “Robert, come on down. We’ll get you fed and then, I suspect, you’ll want to sleep for a while.”

Scroat and Hep were left alone on the deck. Hep wanted very much to just go and sleep. After finishing his watch, and rescuing a castaway apparent good samaritan, he was kind of worn out.

Scroat had other ideas, however.

“I’m telling you, Hep, this son of a bitch is up to something. It’s one thing for some weird guy to pull over and offer to help on a road in the middle of nowhere. It’s another thing entirely if the same guy then shows up in the middle of the fucking ocean when you just happen to be sailing by,” Scroat said. “I mean, how many boats have we seen altogether on this trip once we got away from land? Six? Maybe?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of weird, but I doubt it’s anything.”

“It definitely is something. This creep is following us, I just know it.”

“I think that’s kind of a stretch,” Hep said.

Poseidon peeked out of the companionway then. “Do you guys want to power oats?”

Hep and Scroat both said they did, and took the bowls Poseidon was offering.

“I don’t think we’re going to make it to Brookings,” Scroat said.

“Oh, come on. What’s the worst that could happen. If he kills you, you’re just going to pop back into existence in Australia. Yeah, it’s kind of an inconvenience, but I don’t think it’s really worth stressing out about it.”

“Have you ever popped back into existence in the middle of the Australian bush? It’s hardly a marble palace in the sky, Hep,” Scroat said.

“I just don’t see what you’re so freaked out about. At worst this guy is little more than an inconvenience.”
“Yeah? Well, did it occur to you that maybe this little inconvenience is the one who torched your workshop?”

Hep fell silent. It had not, in fact, occurred to him.

“I’m just saying, I’m going to keep an eye on him at all times. Two eyes, when I can,” Scroat said. “This is too fucking weird.”

“I think you’re nuts,” Hep said, but without much conviction.

“I guess we’ll see when you wake up in Olympus and everyone is sitting around laughing at your dumb ass for getting killed again,” Scroat said.

“I guess so,” Hep said.

After breakfast, Poseidon came back on deck.

“OK, gentlemen, I’ll take over the helm again. Why don’t you go rest up? It’s been an exciting morning,” he said.

Hep and Scroat went down into the cabin. On their way forward to their berths, they passed Robert Wheeler. He’d taken off his jacket and tie and was sleeping on one of the settees, snoring gently.

“Yep, he sure looks like he’s out to get us. That right there is one cold blooded god killer,” Hep said.

“Can you think of a better disguise than a good natured, bumbling idiot?” Scroat asked.

“I think you worry too much,” Hep said. He climbed into his berth. “Pleasant dreams.”

“Yeah, good night. Here’s hoping you wake up on a boat and not somewhere in the air over Greece,” Scroat said.

Seconds later, they were both out cold.