Free Long Voyage Back by Luke Rhinehart Page B

him neutrally.
    `Then we sweep it off,' he replied.
    12
    Jeanne and Lisa, with Skippy and the dog huddled around them, blinked in bewilderment at the chaos that was now the waterfront of Point Lookout. Two hours after they'd been thrown out of the stationwagon by the two men, there were several hundred people where the night before there had been perhaps two dozen. In places along the docks and on wooden picnic tables a thin layer of ash had been discovered at dawn, a discovery that had increased the panic. Jeanne had already seen people siphoning gasoline from automibiles for boat engines or for another car; seen men rush past with guns stuffed in their belts, rifles in their hands. Along the dock milled people pleading with those on boats to take them aboard, the women sometimes weeping, the children silent. She had seen five or six people with burned faces and arms and two people being carried on makeshift stretchers. One of the cars that had driven into the parking lot had most of its red paint blistered.
    One by one over the two hours since she'd been up searching for Vagabond, vessels had motored away from the dock area, a few completely packed and low in the water, others with only two or three people aboard. Some were motor yachts, some sailing boats; most were open boats with inboard and outboard engines. All wanted to get away from Washington and the fallout.
    Although many ships had already left, the waterfront was still crowded. Several boats that had been anchored, were now coming in to get fuel or to pick up passengers. Others were arriving from down the Potomac.
    Jeanne had recovered from the shock of being thrown out
    of her car. The men had let Lisa and Skippy leave and had tossed out the children's dufflebags, her larger suitcase and a sleeping bag, but had driven off with her smaller suitcase, her handbag, and a lot of little stuff in the car, including snack food she'd tossed together. She had no money or credit cards and they hadn't eaten breakfast. When she'd rolled into the creek she'd wet her jeans through so had changed into white shorts and tee-shirt; her wet boat shoes she'd had to leave on since her other footwear was in the missing smaller suitcase.
    As she stood with one arm around Lisa's waist and the other holding Skippy's hand, she was tremblingly considering other options. With every minute that passed the chances of the trimaran's arriving at Point Lookout grew smaller. She could conceive of no reason for Frank not to have arrived by now. He'd said he hoped to come at ten last night, early morning at the latest. What could possibly stop him from motoring across the bay? Her only conclusion was that Frank had decided that she and her family were dead. He wasn't
    ,coming.
    So what could she do? She had no husband, no home, no car, no money, no friends, and no place to stay. Her isolation and powerlessness saddened and angered her. The burned faces, sightless eyes and the shuffling, numb way so many people moved frightened her. She had to focus on her alternatives but when she did she could see only one: she should try to get across the bay to Crisfield. Frank would probably not be there, but it seemed her only, hope. At least it was movement. She should try to hitch a ride on some other boat.
    Even as she decided, she could feel herself absorbing the alternating numbness and hysteria she saw all around her. The people were becoming more numerous and the remaining boats fewer. Two fistfights had broken out at the gas dock and just after ten a man there was shot. The absence of electric power had forced the marina to develop some sort of mechanical, siphoning system and the dock-master's effort to ration the amount of fuel he pumped seemed to have initiated the shooting. Within two minutes of the gunshot everyone seemed to have forgotten about it. The wounded man, had staggered off alone. There were no policemen.
    When she went in search of a boatowner willing to take her and her family across