to be closing, according to Larry’s dead reckoning, he constantly scanned the horizon ahead and through 180 degrees to port and starboard with his binoculars.
“There it is!” he said at last. “Another half mile to the west and we’d have run right into it!” He handed the binoculars to Artie. It was incredible how much light these high-quality German-made navigation binoculars gathered even on nights lit only with starlight. Under the moon they had tonight, looking through them was almost like viewing in daylight. He saw what Larry was pointing at: it was a steel tower rising out of the sea, the 142-foot Sombrero Lighthouse. Larry said it was the tallest light in the Keys. While the flashing white light that would have enabled them to see it from much farther out had been extinguished, the tower itself was an adequate landmark on an otherwise empty sea to mark their position. More significantly to Artie, it was a major milestone in their voyage. It meant they were back in mainland U.S. waters and that he was that much closer to Casey.
“I don’t know how you do it, little brother,” he said, as he handed the binoculars back to Larry. “That was an incredible feat of navigation with nothing but a compass.”
“Nah, no big deal. I just followed the dolphins,” Larry said, but as he looked around, he saw that they had disappeared. “The good news is we made it to the U.S. It looks like the bad news is that the lights are out here too. From here you would normally be able to see a whole string of towns lit up along the Overseas Highway, dead ahead. You’d also see the glow of Key West off to port and the glow of Miami way up there to the northeast. But I don’t see anything. This is truly bizarre.”
“I guess every place we come to that has no lights just proves how incredibly widespread this event was, whatever it actually was. I don’t guess there’s any reason to hope it’s not the same in New Orleans.”
“Nope, I wouldn’t think so. We all need to keep a sharp lookout now. There aren’t any reefs to worry about if we hold this course, but there could be other obstructions. We should be able to see the Seven Mile Bridge soon. It will be to the left of the closest key we’ll pass on this route, where Marathon and Boot Key Harbor are located. We want to aim for the high-rise span in the bridge that’s about three miles from the eastern end. The vertical clearance there is 65 feet, so we don’t have anything to worry about there.”
Though they had no working depth sounder, it was obvious from the change in the wave patterns when they crossed into the shallower waters of Hawk Channel as they passed the Sombrero Key light tower. From the edge of this area of somewhat protected waters inside the scattered reefs that paralleled the Keys, it was less than five miles to the Overseas Highway, a road that consisted of numerous bridges stringing the island chain together from Key Largo to Key West.
“There’s only a few places in this part of the Keys where a boat with a tall mast can get under the bridges,” Larry said, “and this is one of the highest spans.”
Artie could see the bridge looming ahead out of the darkness as they closed the gap. Scully eased the sheets to spill some wind and reduce speed as they approached the channel under the elevated section of the span. It was a surreal scene after being so long at sea and among less-developed islands. Here was a modern concrete and steel highway bridge that was totally silent in the absence of traffic and totally dark without the lights on its lampposts lit or the headlights of cars shining. As they drew nearer, they could see parked vehicles spread out at intervals on the roadway overhead.
“They’ve been there since they stalled out, I suppose,” Artie said.
“Yeah, I’m sure. All the traffic to and from Key West has to come this way. It wouldn’t be the best place to be right now, unless you had a boat.”
“My God, can you imagine how many cars must be stuck on the Causeway? It’s much longer than this. I hate to think of what it must be like for anyone to get stuck in the middle of a bridge like that and have to walk to the shore.”
“It would be a nightmare for sure,” Larry said. “But you don’t have to worry about Casey being in a mess like that, at least. From what she and Jessica told me during their vacation last summer, most of their life in the city revolves right around the campus and the immediate area nearby.”
“Yeah, unless she tried to leave. After this many days without electricity and phones, I don’t know if she and Jessica could sit still that long.”
“Just try not to worry; we’ll be there in just a few more days now. Soon as we pass under that bridge, we’re in the Gulf!”
Artie was elated to be back in U.S. waters, two-thirds of their voyage behind them. But he still couldn’t help but worry about Casey, especially now as he saw the reality that even a country as modern as the United States was shut down and blacked out. Looking up at the rail just before they sailed under the bridge, he was startled to see movement. There were two people leaning over to look at them.
“Hey! Stop that boat and give us a ride!” one yelled. The other one threw something at them that they could not see, but a couple of seconds later there was a huge splash in their wake as something heavy hit the water.
“Rock! Watch your heads!” Larry said.
“Fockin’ kids, mon.” Scully said as he looked up.
Just then they moved out of danger as the boat slid under the overpass and was hidden from the view of anyone above. Scully hardened the sheets as soon as they were between the pilings, and the
Larry said there were still several scattered keys and shoal areas to the north of the bridge that they would have to be careful to avoid as they made their way to the open Gulf, but he knew the waters, and the moon was now high enough to provide good visibility, especially in the absence of lights ashore. The crab traps he had mentioned before were evident everywhere on this side of the island chain, marked by floating white buoys that were so numerous Scully had to constantly steer around them. With no inboard engine and consequently no prop in the water to hang up on the buoy lines, the markers were really no threat to the
EIGHT
“WHAT IF WHAT THEY SAID is true?” Jessica asked as the three of them pedaled north out of the town of Franklinton in the drizzling rain. “Where will we go if we can’t get to the cabin?”
“I don’t see any reason why policemen here would have made it up,” Casey said. “They probably don’t want us hanging around here either, and wouldn’t do anything to encourage us to stay. But still, it’s unbelievable that they would close a whole
“I don’t know,” Grant said. “I guess all bets are off as to what people may do and what may happen in a situation like this, mainly because it’s never happened before.” Grant was reeling with the impact of what the police officers had told them. If it were really true, he had made a terrible mistake to bring his two trusting companions all this way for nothing. If they couldn’t reach that cabin, he had no idea where they would go or what they would do. They were already low on food and he had no alternate plan for obtaining more. Turning back to New Orleans certainly wasn’t an option. Riding out of Franklinton in the continuing rain didn’t do anything to improve his optimism, but until they received this news, the cabin had seemed so close it had felt as if they were already there, and he could put up with any amount of discomfort knowing they would not have to spend another night out on the road. Now, everything had changed. They had come all this way only to learn they might not even be allowed to ride the rest of the way to their safe haven.
For now, it seemed as if the only logical choice was to continue on to the state line to see for themselves whether or not they would really be turned back. Maybe they could somehow convince the officers at the roadblock
