Banana River — Richard Davis

Thirty feet and I slow my pace down; not much but I want to be silent. Twenty. I can hear a radio playing CapCom‟s public countdown. I hear “sixty seconds” when I‟m no more than a couple of yards from the boat and one of them feels the backwash of my push through the water. He‟s at the steering console amidships and surprises me by not calling out. Thirty seconds is the count and he leans down on the deck and picks something up. Not enough light to see what he is grabbing at first but I doubt it‟s a horn to welcome my visit. I see the distinctive shape of an AK 47 against the lights to the south and I lunge against the boat. I rock the gunwale hard once, then again. All three are standing and they struggle to maintain their balance. The one on the front is holding onto the pipe contraction and peering through a telescope; the other two actually fall down in the rocking boat. I try to heave myself over into the well of the stern; takes a few tries but by the time AK Boy has his balance again I am right up in his face.