Free The New Madrid Run by Michael Reisig Page A

more, and you had not surfaced, I swam over to last bubbles and dove down.”
    Travis shook his head in grudging admiration. “Not a bad free dive, considering you had to deal with lifting that rack off me and getting me to the surface.”
    “Japan is surrounded by water,” said the sensei. “Part of training at Dojo is daily ocean swim.”
    With new respect in his eyes, Travis stared at the Oriental. “Well, Higado Sensei, the first port we reach, I owe you the best bottle of saki in town. I’m in your debt.” He stood and bowed slightly to the sensei.
    The Japanese smiled, and returned the bow. “The debt is already paid. You forget that it was you who rescued me from my sinking ship.”
    “Then we’ll just split that bottle of saki when we find it,” Travis replied.
    Carlos, who was sitting next to Travis, shook his head. “All this talk ’bout drinkin’ and not one stinkin’ Bud-a-wiser for Carlos.”
    Everyone laughed—everyone except the boy.

CHAPTER 6
    The sun descended slowly into the sea, piercing the evening sky with fiery daggers, surrounding the gray storm clouds on the horizon with a crimson luminescence.
    They all sat together on the deck, watching nature’s light show, each lost in his own thoughts for the moment. Memories of other times, friends and lovers, other places, flashed through their minds in pinwheel fashion. Their lives had been changed forever. There was no going back. The past no longer existed, and the future—who knew what that held? They were embarking on a journey into the new world, as if they were ancient mariners, setting out in search of uncharted lands.
    Aside from the tragedy that had brought him to that point in time, Travis couldn’t help but once again find himself excited, intrigued by the possibilities and uncertainty of the trek ahead. Born once more to adventure on the sea , he thought as he watched the last rays of the sun burnish the darkening waters. He smiled, remembering adventures he and Cody had shared on the ocean.
    The first waft of the cool night breeze brought him from his reverie and he shivered.
    “It getting muy frio ,” Carlos muttered next to him as he stood, his arms wrapped around his skinny frame.
    “Yeah,” replied Travis. “Time to head below.” As the others stood, Ra, who had been lying next to them, rose and led the way to the warmth of the cabin.
    Carlos had stored all the goods they had found. He had also cleaned everything from the walls to the floor and laid out a cold dinner of beef, carrots, potatoes, and chocolate pudding for dessert. Ra devoured the couple of cans of dog food prepared for him, then lay contented by the cabin door—the ever faithful guardian.
    During supper, they learned a little more about one another. Carlos began by telling them of his life in Cuba. The small, animated man with dark, curly hair and mischievous smile recounted working for the Cuban equivalent of the U.S. Department of Transportation. He had repaired their trucks, from engines to two-way radios. To hear him tell it, he was nearly a genius—forced to repair antiquated equipment with inadequate tools and very few spare parts, keeping most of the Cuban government running almost single-handedly. Carlos paused, almost self-consciously for a moment in his narrative and brought his hands up, palms out, in somewhat of a submissive gesture.
    “But there be a little problemo —some confusion—about radios disappearing in trucks I fix. Carlos find out they think maybe he steal them—gonna be ’ investigacion .’ Carlos innocent, of course, but he no gonna stick around to find out if they think so. In Cuba too many times you guilty ’til you proven guilty . . .”
    Travis told them of his flight service and how he had survived the wave. The sensei listened quietly and interjected a question or a statement here and there. The boy seemed to be gradually shaking off his lethargy, but there was a heavy aura of sadness around him that was almost