The Sea Hunt. (standard:action, 5234 words)
Author: Oscar A Rat	Added: Jun 27 2020	Views/Reads: 1441/1007	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A young couple accidentally stumble onto a secret government project. Discovered, they have to run for their lives.

“How could things go so wrong, so fast?”  Mary sobs from her seat in the
stern of a ten-foot rowboat. 

I don't bother to answer; it takes all my strength and resolve to simply
pull on the oars.  We're adrift on the small craft, alone inside a 
harbor off the coast of a small Pacific island.  Coral reefs extend 
between us and the ocean, some quite near or above the surface. 

A fog has drifted in while I'm rowing.  It should make it harder for any
pursuers to find us.  All I can do is row, hoping I'm not going in 
circles.  Maybe Mary can take over for a while? I think, arms feeling 
leaden and numb.  A dark shadow in the fog resolves into the shape of a 
large ship.  After briefly stopping to rest a moment, I take a deep 
breath and pull closer. 

“Goddamn!”  I exclaim, seeing the now familiar sight of a rusty WWII
ship beached on a reef.  We WERE rowing in circles.  I think back to 
about ...  is it only five hours ago...? 

*** 

"What're all those patrol boats doing around this little place?"  Mary,
my wife, asks Thomas, our guide.  We're on vacation from our home in 
Chicago, renting a motor sailboat and guide to see the world -- or at 
least this part of it. 

"Dunno.  They're American, though," Thomas, a sun bronzed young native
Micronesian answers, continuing to sail toward the island. 

We need water and could use local fruits and veggies if available; our
boat doesn't have much of a freezer or refrigerator. 

"They shouldn't bother us and we might even find a few souvenirs if
we're lucky.  I know a couple of the islanders,”  Thomas says while 
doing something to the sail.   “Trouble is, all the souvenirs are 
handmade.  If another tourist boat has been here recently, you're out 
of luck." 

I know I should try to learn how to manage the sails in case something
happens to him but we do have an engine and fuel and this is a 
vacation. 

"Good.  After all this time alone with you guys, I could use a little
adventure, " Mary says, with a laugh. "Maybe we can find an honest to 
god freshwater shower here." 

With no shower aboard, we've had to wash with seawater and rinse off
with the precious fresh stuff.  Getting low on the latter, we've had to 
do without cleanliness for the last few weeks. 

On the way into a small port containing a few naval vessels, somewhat
like the old PT boats, we pass a wrecked WWII Liberty ship rusting on a 
reef; a grim memory of past battles. 

Passing the small military craft, bearing US insignias, we pull
alongside a dock with a number of what look to be fishing boats tied 
up.  A few others are pulled, bow on, up onto the narrow beach, waves 
lapping gently at their sterns.  Thomas grabs a rope and jumps to the 
dock to tie us up, while I go to the stern. 

"Nobody seems to be around,"  I mention. "Its about eight am.  You'd
expect someone to be out here." 

“Maybe a holiday or something, who knows?"  Mary says, as I help her off
the boat.  Thomas is still occupied with tying the boat front and aft. 

"Ain't no holiday I know of,"  he answers, joining us. "And what's that
smell?  Have they been butchering hogs?" 

There is a strong odor of rotting swine, I think, having been raised on
a farm. 

As we walk to the village, conspicuous by its thatched-roofed huts, we
see a party of American sailors on the other side of the buildings, 
ambling along, carrying shovels over their shoulders. 


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