he said as Tracy tore the peels from her orange like someone frantically unwrapping a present. 'Remember when 'home grown' used to refer to marijuana? If nothing else, these quakes sure put things in perspective, eh?'
'What about Daniel Loeb?' Eric reminded him.
'Yeah, right. Well, Loeb returned from the Peace Corps and became a rabbi. No shit. Had a reformed congregation and a temple over in Fountain Valley. After the California blitz, Loeb turned a group of survivors into a farming community.'
'Like a religious cult?' Tracy asked.
'No. They could worship whoever or whatever they wanted. Loeb didn't care. They had goats and cows for milk, but the rest of their food they grew themselves. Even had avocado and nut trees. Amazing.'
Tracy had eaten her orange and was gnawing on the insides of the peels. 'Come on, Doctor, get to the point.'
'You can't keep word of something like that secret for long. Marauders came down and slaughtered most of the settlers, drove the others off. But that doesn't stop Loeb. He remembers hearing about these half-submerged buildings from some of his people at camp, and leads the survivors out here. What could be a better defense than the whole damned Pacific Ocean? Like a giant moat around their castle. So he moves the settlement out to this building and starts his farming community again. This time, nobody even knows about the food.'
Eric stood up, reached into the bottom drawer of the desk and picked out two more oranges. He dropped one in Tracy's lap and sat back down, his legs crossed. Blackjack gave him an annoyed look, but Eric just smiled and began peeling the orange in one spiraling unbroken peel.
'Anyway,' Blackjack continued, slamming the desk drawer closed, 'the only drawback was they had to haul the fresh water all the way out here for the settlers and the crops. That made them vulnerable to pirates. And in these waters that meant Rhino.' He pointed at the gun Eric was aiming at him while he peeled his orange. 'Is that necessary? You might slip and shoot me accidentally.'
Eric smiled.
Blackjack continued, 'So Loeb was making a water run with one of his ships and they were stopped by Rhino and Angel. Loeb had purposely made sure there were no women on these runs so pirates wouldn't have anything to sell. But he didn't understand Rhino. He'll attack just to be doing something. The man's a perpetual motion machine, can't rest, can't sit still. It's like he's on speed twenty-four hours a day. Well, he caught up with Loeb's water barge and sank it.'
'And Loeb?' Eric asked.
'Sank him too. He personally cut off Loeb's arms and threw him into the water. It was all over in a few minutes.'
Tracy stopped eating her orange. 'Christ.'
'And his death left you in charge here?' Eric asked.
Blackjack laughed. 'Hardly. I told you, I'm a pirate, not a martyr. I have my own Wellington 63 yacht I bought back when I was a doctor and a medical corporation. Some of the crew are former hospital staff, others I picked up along the way. Not Rhino's type of crew, but they're loyal and know how to fight.' He gestured over at his saber which was leaning against the wall. 'A gift from the crew. Nifty, huh?'
'So who's in charge around here?'
'Daniel Loeb was survived by a wife, as they say in the papers. Rachel Loeb. She was in charge of the suicide mission on board the Home Run. She figured she could get close enough to destroy Rhino once and for all.'
Eric pried a segment of orange and reached it to Tracy, who'd already gobbled hers down. She popped the segment in her mouth, chewing and saying thank you at the same time. Eric swept the room with his gun. 'And just where do you fit in to all this?'
'Bodyguard,' Blackjack smiled happily. 'I was hired by Rachel Loeb to protect them on their water runs. She'd heard about me, for Chrissakes. Can you dig it, we have a goddamned reputation. Like Yul Brynner in The Magnificent Seven, remember? We even have the same hairstyle. I love it.' He ran his hand over his balding pate, chuckling like a kid describing his first Little League home run. 'In return we get all the food we want and a safe harbor. In a straight head-on fight with Rhino and his crew, my people don't have a chance. His ship's faster and his crew's a lot more ruthless, but we make it unprofitable for him to risk a battle. For what? Some water, a few women?'
'Then he doesn't know about the farming?'
'Nope. He just thinks we scavenge the land and bring our booty over the water, using the building as a hideout. But he's not dumb, neither is that Angel lady with him. Eventually they'll figure it out. Then we'll be in serious trouble.'
Eric dragged the barrel of the gun along his scar, the metal cool as it skidded over the bumps in his skin. 'So who the hell is Alabaster and what's his map for?'
Blackjack frowned, his dark face suddenly darker in the wavering light of the lamp. He lifted the bell jar from the lantern, licked his fingertips, and pinched the wick. The flame sissed against his wet skin, then vanished in a stream of smoke like a circus magician. The orange sheen of daylight squeezed through the cracks and seams of the cubicle. Outside they could hear the sounds of people starting their day. Blackjack stood up and waved a hand for Tracv and Eric to follow. 'I guess you're ready to know about Alabaster too.'
'This is Nurse Hatchet,' Blackjack said.
'Havczech,' the woman corrected, obviously used to his teasing. She adjusted the too-tight running suit that stretched over her plump figure like the skin of an overripe plum.
'Joyce was a school nurse for twenty-three years at Claremont Junior High School. She's seen it all.'
'I thought I had,' she grumbled, 'till I saw the likes of you. Imagine, a doctor of medicine running around with a silly sword hanging on his hip.' She shook her head and clucked her tongue. 'Probably hit your head goin' through the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland. That's the only explanation.'
'You think I like being a pirate? Hell, I'm doing this for black folk everywhere. Breaking the racial barrier in maritime endeavors. The goddamn Jackie Robinson of piracy.' He laughed, patted her ample behind, which she ignored with another shake of her head and cluck of her tongue. 'How's the patient?' he asked quietly, his voice suddenly grim.
The nurse shrugged her rounded shoulders. 'Steady.'
They followed her across the room, Tracy limping and using another spear as a cane. The room was once the office of the three partners Levy, Treemont, and Finch, but was now the settlement's hospital. The walls had been torn down to provide more space. The 'beds' were nothing more than folded blankets, sheets, towels, and, in some cases, rags piled on the floor in the shape of a bed. Surgical instruments were nothing more than a variety of sharpened kitchen utensils and cosmetic paraphernalia. A metal bookcase against the wall contained some medicines, but the supplies were sparse.
There were three patients in the hospital. The first was a young toddler named Mark with stomach cramps. While the parents had been upstairs working the soil, they'd left their sixteen-year-old daughter, Tammy, to babysit with Mark. Tammy had slipped away for just a few minutes of heavy petting with Phil Rubin over behind where that Piper Cub had crashed. But Phil had wanted more than a little French kissing, so to keep him satisfied, she'd let him fondle her breasts a couple of extra minutes. By the time she'd returned, little Mark had eaten a few unidentified bugs, the severed black legs of one still riding his lower lip.
The second patient was an ancient woman in her nineties. She was terribly frail, sharp bones poking at gray skin, and looked like a deflated doll. Her eyes were open, but she didn't seem to see anything. Her lips quivered as if she were speaking, but no sound came out.
'Lila is the center of controversy around here,' Blackjack explained as they approached her. 'She's bedridden, senile, and rarely lucid, but she still eats her share of food and drinks plenty of water. And she needs occasional medication. As you can see, these supplies aren't very ample.'
'So they don't know whether to keep feeding her,' Tracy said, 'or toss her out the window.'
'That's about it.'
'What's Rachel Loeb say?' Eric asked.
'What you'd expect a rabbi's wife to say.'
