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  “Can we go in a little so we can see better?”

  “There are beaches, but there are also sandbars. We’re heavily loaded, so we have to be careful.”

  “All right,” said Sam. “Go in as close as you can and drop anchor. We’ll take a party onshore with the lifeboat, see what we can do, and then come back.”

  “All right.” Miguel moved in as close to shore as he dared and then dropped anchor. In a few minutes, as Sam, Remi, and George were preparing the boat, Dr. Talamantes came up on deck. She watched Sam and George lift one of the generators into the boat and then some gasoline to run it. She said, “Be sure to save some space for me and my bag. The rest should be food and water.”

  Sam said, “We may need to make a few trips, but that’s a good way to start.”

  They lowered the boat off the stern, and Remi, Sam, Dr. Talamantes, and Miguel climbed aboard. Miguel started the outboard motor, and approached the beach at an angle. When they reached the surf line, he turned off the motor and cocked it up to get the propeller out of the water. The boat glided in, was given one final push by a wave, and struck the sand.

  Sam and Remi jumped out of the bow and dragged the boat a few feet up on the beach. Dr. Talamantes and Miguel then climbed out, and all four hauled the boat up farther. Miguel tossed the anchor out onto the beach in case the incoming tide reached it.

  They began to unload the boat, and people ran down to the beach to help them. Miguel and Dr. Talamantes spoke to them in Spanish, and Remi translated for Sam.

  “They’ve got some people with minor to moderate injuries,” said Dr. Talamantes. “They’re in the school a couple of blocks up there. I’ll go take a look at them and be back.” She took a flashlight and her medical kit and hurried up the road with two local women.

  The others finished unloading the cases of bottled water, and Miguel spoke with a man for a minute, then said, “This man works for the local medical clinic and he wonders what we’re going to do with the generator.”

  “That’s as good a place as any to start,” said Sam. He looked around and saw that someone had brought a child’s red wagon from the street above. They loaded the generator onto the wagon and hauled it three blocks to the clinic in the center of town. Sam made the connections and got it running within a few minutes. The lights in the clinic came on, dimly at first and then a bit stronger, as the generator chugged away outside.

  As they were getting the clinic opened and taking patients, Dr. Talamantes arrived. She said, “I’ve already seen quite a few people at the school. All minor stuff, fortunately. I heard you were getting things up and running here.”

  “Has anybody heard about what’s going on nearer to the epicenter?”

  “Tapachula is apparently a mess. A couple of boats have made it here, taking injured people out and looking for supplies they could take back.”

  “Then we’d better get another load of supplies to shore and then leave for Tapachula. Do you want to stay here while we go for another load?”

  “Good idea,” she said. “I can see a few patients while you’re doing that.”

  “Miguel, you stay with Dr. Talamantes,” said Sam. “George and Juan can help us reload the boat.”

  Sam and Remi hurried down to the beach where the lifeboat was hauled up. As Sam lifted the anchor, Remi stood by him. “Did you want a moonlight cruise for two or just want to show me what a good boatman you are?”

  “A little of each,” he said. “I also figured we could carry more supplies if we had fewer people.”

  They pushed the boat into the water, and Remi got in and sat in the bow, facing Sam. Sam turned the boat around into the waves, pushed off, and sat in the center seat to row. He rowed the boat through the first wave, then the second, took another hard stroke, shipped the oars, stepped to the transom, started the motor, and shifted to forward. The boat knifed through the next wave, rose over the one after that, and then moved offshore.

  Sam could still see the yacht anchored in deeper water outside the surf, but, as he watched, he could see something had changed. There was the silhouette of another boat, a small cabin cruiser, pulled up close to their yacht and tied off to the side. He counted three men on the bridge and two more on the rear deck. As the lifeboat came closer to the yacht, he saw one of the strangers go to the steps and disappear belowdecks where the cabins were.

  Sam cut the outboard motor, and, in the silence, Remi said, “What’s wrong?”

  “Turn around and look at the yacht,” he said. “We’ve got visitors. I’d rather approach quietly until I’m sure they’re friendly. Watch them while I row.”

  Sam moved to the center seat again while Remi sat in the bow and watched. They were still a few hundred feet from the yacht and its new companion. When Sam was a hundred fifty feet away, he circled the yacht, came in behind it, and tied onto the starboard stern cleat, the side away from the small cruiser. He whispered, “I guess we’d better make sure it’s safe before we announce ourselves.”

  Sam and Remi stood on the seats and listened. They could hear a lot of shouting in Spanish. The words were vague even to Remi, but the tone was angry. Sam pulled himself up on the ladder at the rear of the yacht so he could see. After a few seconds, he ducked back down. “There are three men with Juan on the bridge. George is tied up and gagged on the floor. One of the men just punched Juan. I think they’re trying to make him drive off with the yacht.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “See what you can find in the lifeboat’s safety kit. I’ll look in the emergency locker on the yacht’s rear deck.” He began to climb the ladder as Remi opened the kit in the bow.

  She whispered to him, “Look. A Very pistol.” She held it up. It was a vintage flare gun made of metal, not plastic. She brought out a plastic packet of flares, opened it, broke the gun apart, loaded one flare and put the others in her jacket pocket.

  Sam whispered, “A good start. Let’s see what I can find up here.”

  He silently stepped onto the rear deck, made his way to the sheltered spot below the steps to the bridge, opened the built-in steel chest, set aside a few life preservers, and found a second Very pistol. He loaded it, found a large folding knife inside the first aid kit, and pocketed it.

  Remi appeared at his elbow and pointed up the steps to the bridge. “Shall we?”

  Sam nodded, and they climbed the steps. Remi crouched just below the level of the bridge on the right side and Sam crouched on the left. They listened, watching the shadows on the ceiling of the bridge caused by the instrument panel’s lights. One of the men hit Captain Juan and he fell to the floor beside the bound George.

  Sam stood and charged onto the bridge. Sam aimed his Very pistol at the apparent leader, who had just struck Juan. He said quietly, “Drop your gun.”

  The man smirked. “That’s a flare pistol.”

  “So is this,” Remi said from behind the other two men. One of them began to turn, possibly to bring his gun around toward Remi.

  Sam spun the man in the direction he had been turning and pushed him through the doorway and out over the deck, where he fell and lay stunned. Sam fired his flare gun into the torso of the man beside Remi and Remi fired into the torso of the leader beside Sam.

  The cabin filled with a sulfurous, choking cloud of smoke, but they could still see the blinding magenta sparks cascading out of the flares, starting the men’s clothes on fire and burning the skin beneath. The man Sam had shot dropped his pistol and used both hands to try to slap out the fire as he hurried down the steps, fell on the deck, got up, and jumped overboard into the water. The leader tried to go down without falling, but Sam planted a foot in the small of the man’s back and propelled him out over the rear deck. The man landed on the deck beside his unconscious friend and then got up and hurled himself overboard into the water.

  Sam handed Remi the folding knife from the emergency kit. “Cut George loose.” He grasped both railings of the steps from the bridge and slid to the deck.

 
Sam glanced up and saw Remi kneeling at the entrance to the bridge, holding one of the pistols the burning men had abandoned. Sam knelt and picked up the pistol dropped by the unconscious man lying on the deck and stood beside the steps that led below to the cabins. He called down, “Come up out of there. Come on. All hands on deck.” As he spoke, he was stepping out of his shoes. He moved barefoot to the upper side of the hatch behind the staircase. A man came up the steps, looking away from Sam. He had a pistol in one hand and Remi’s computer in the other.

  “Drop the gun but not the computer,” Sam said. “Set it down gently.”

  “Why should I do anything you say?”

  “Because I have your friend’s gun aimed at the back of your head.”

  The man realized that the voice had been coming from behind him and slowly raised his hands to set the computer and the gun on the deck. Then he turned his head and saw one of his companions lying there.

  Sam said, “Your other friends went for a swim. What are you doing on this boat?”

  The man shrugged. “We knew any boat coming here would be carrying supplies and equipment because of the earthquake. Why else would anyone come now?”

  “You were going to take food and medical supplies from people who need it?”

  “We need it too,” said the man.

  “What do you need it for?”

  “To sell it and make some money. People will pay a lot for those things after an earthquake. Farther down the coast, they’ll pay even more. Food and water are getting scarce. The roads are out, and the power is off, so things in the refrigerators are rotting.”

  Sam said, “Well, you’re not going to get anything from us.”

  The man shrugged, and said, “Maybe you’re right, but maybe I am.” He leaned back against the rail and folded his arms.

  On the steps up from the cabins, there was new activity. The next person to appear was Dr. Martinez. He held both hands above his head. After him came Dr. Garza, with her hands held the same way. Then there was a young Mexican man with an expensive haircut, fitted, expensive jeans, and a pair of cowboy boots that seemed out of place on a boat. He had one hand on Dr. Garza’s shoulder and a pistol at the back of her head.

  The young man said, “If you’ll put down your gun, I won’t shoot her.”

  “Be careful,” said Sam. “Even hearing you say that makes my wife irritated.”

  Remi was at the top of the steps on the bridge, aiming at the young man’s head.

  The man leaning against the rail glanced at her unimpressed, and said, “Take his gun.”

  The man lying on the deck got up and rushed toward Sam. Sam fired a round through the man’s foot and the man fell to the deck and rocked from side to side, wincing and moaning and holding his foot.

  As the young man in the expensive jeans moved his gun away from Dr. Garza’s head to aim at Sam, Remi called from above him, “Last chance to drop it.”

  Sam said, “She’s a pistol champion. Do you understand? She can put a bullet through the pupil of your eye if she wants to.”

  The man looked up at Remi and saw her sighting down the barrel of the pistol she held with a steady two-handed grip. He considered for a moment, then set his pistol on the deck beside him, as Dr. Garza hurried up onto the deck.

  “Now, up with your friends,” Remi said. The man climbed to the deck and joined his two colleagues.

  “All right,” Sam called out. “Now, all of you, into the water.”

  The man at the rail said, “But—”

  “Alive or dead, you’re all going to get wet,” said Sam.

  The man translated for his companions. The two uninjured men helped their colleague over the rail, then jumped in after him.

  When Sam heard the final splash, he stepped to the stern of the yacht, picked up a can of gasoline, walked to the cleat where the small cruiser was tied, poured gasoline on its deck, then untied the boat and pushed it away from the anchored yacht. The five men swam toward it. When the boat had drifted thirty feet away from the yacht, Sam took out the Very pistol, fired a flare onto the cruiser’s deck, and watched the bright orange flames roar to life. There was a smattering of applause from those left on the yacht.

  He walked to the foot of the steps to the bridge. “Juan!”

  “Yes, Sam?”

  “You and George feel healthy enough to work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then start the engines, raise the anchor, and get us to that dock over there. Let’s pick up Miguel and Dr. Talamantes and get out of here.”

  Chapter 3

  SALINA CRUZ, MEXICO

  Dr. Talamantes and Miguel boarded at the dock a few minutes later. Both had run back to the beach when they’d heard the news that there was a yacht burning offshore and, when they’d spotted it heading for the municipal docks, they had gone to meet it. Within a few minutes, they were heading southeast along the coast again.

  Three more times they stopped at darkened coastal towns to unload cases of clean water and canned food, flashlights, generators, and gasoline. Each time, the three doctors came in the first boatload, equipped with their standard medical kits.

  At each stop, after a few hours the doctors would announce that the emergency cases had all been treated and that there were local people who would take care of the minor complaints now that the medical supplies had been delivered. Sam would call everybody back to the beach, and Miguel would take them back in the lifeboat. The last ones off the beach were always Sam and Remi. As soon as they were aboard the yacht again, the crew would raise the anchor, and the vessel would continue down the coast toward Tapachula.

  At dawn on the fourth day, Sam and Remi were asleep in their cabin when Miguel knocked. Sam got up to open the door. “What’s up?”

  “We can see Tapachula. Juan thinks you should come to the bridge.”

  Sam and Remi dressed quickly and headed up on deck. When they climbed the steps to the bridge, they could see why Juan had wanted to wake them. Through the windshield they could see the distant shape of Tacaná, the second highest peak in Mexico. It was a dark blue pyramid miles back from the coast, standing alone against the sky. This morning, it was emitting a line of gray smoke that trailed off to the east.

  Juan said, “It’s technically active, but it hasn’t had a big eruption since 1950.”

  “Did they say on the radio that it was about to do anything?” asked Remi. “Have they told people to evacuate?”

  “They don’t seem to know what’s happening yet. They say maybe the earthquake shook something loose or opened up cracks. The roads are out, so I don’t think the scientists have gotten there to measure anything yet.”

  “How far is the volcano from the city?” asked Sam.

  “Much farther than it looks,” Juan said. “The mountain is four thousand meters, so it looks close. But we’ll have plenty to do without the volcano. We’ll be off Tapachula in twenty minutes.”

  Remi went down the steps and then belowdecks to the cabins and knocked on doors. “We’re almost to Tapachula,” she called.

  A few minutes later, the crew, the doctors, and the Fargos were all up and having a simple breakfast of coffee, eggs, and fruit on deck. It was difficult for any of them to keep from staring into the distance at the smoke from the volcano smeared across the sky. As they approached the city, they began to see the devastation — buildings that had half disintegrated in the shaking, leaving great piles of bricks beside walls that were, for the moment, still standing; long rows of telephone poles that had fallen, leaving electrical wires draped over parked cars or lying in the street. Here and there, in the panoramic view from the deck of the yacht, they could see small, steady fires that had probably begun when natural gas pipes had broken. One by one, they left the table to prepare to go ashore.

  They had visited enough affected towns on their way down the coast to have improved their methods greatly. The three doctors, who had already replenished their medical kits, each packed two large backpacks with supplies they�
��d needed in the last towns. There were fires, so they brought burn medications and painkillers. There was fallen masonry, so they brought splints, sutures, and — for the worst cases — amputation kits. Sam, Remi, and George lined up the cases of food and water, loaded the first of the generators and gasoline cans. They knew from experience that their trip to shore would attract those eager to help as well as the desperate, so they included cases of flashlights, first aid kits, and tools for digging people out of collapsed buildings and for making temporary shelters.

  At seven, while they were packing, they could already see people gathering on the beach to meet them. They loaded the heaviest items into the lifeboat before they lowered it to the water, then formed a line so they could hand the other boxes and packs from one person to the next down the ladder to the boat. When they were finished, the boat was a bit overloaded, so they had to carefully arrange themselves to keep it evenly balanced.

  The trip to shore included the three doctors and Sam, Remi, and Miguel, who would run the motor and bring the boat in safely. Miguel used the waves judiciously, positioning the boat at the proper angle so it would be propelled in rather than rolled over. Just as the boat was near the shore, he turned off the motor and tilted it up to protect the propeller. As the keel scraped at the bow, Sam and Remi jumped out and hauled the boat ashore.

  The local people were overjoyed to see what they had brought. The three doctors were immediately surrounded by people eager to guide them to the local hospital and carry their medical supplies. Sam, Remi, and Miguel unloaded the rest of the supplies onto the sand and pushed the boat back out to sea so Miguel could go back for the next load of food, water, and a second generator.

  Sam and Remi went with the doctors to get the first generator up and running at the hospital and then returned to the beach to get the second generator, when Miguel returned, and bring it to a medical clinic that was still standing across town.

  The work went on all day and much of the night. As they distributed their cargo to various parts of town, they heard many stories. People were working with shovels and tractors and trucks to clear the roads to cities along the coast. Others with homes that had remained intact were taking in those whose homes were destroyed.