The boat was suitably low-tech, Jordan mused at the wheel. The S.U.N. Taskforce wouldn’t notice it until it was too late. They no doubt had surveillance over the island, but what little they knew about the situation inferred that, after a brief visit, they pulled back all immediate personnel. The meteor struck two days ago, their visit was a few hours after, then a total media blackout hit concerning the issue.

Official word was that the meteor burned up on impact and nothing more. In truth Jordan knew he should have left Beita at home, but nothing about this seemed especially dangerous for what they did. The speed of the engine ensured that they’d be there in over half a day. Beita was already climbing the non-existent walls at hour three. She never did well with sitting around.

Not that he was much better at her age.

At present she was going through the lower deck, mostly a sleeping area. He noticed a kitchen area that he’d have to look over. She brought up the odd knickknacks and fancy bit of tech that she found interesting. It rather reminded him of a cat.

“Why are sailboats so slow!”

And much like a cat, she easily lost focus on those baubles.

“Sailboats are for leisure,” he said.

“Why didn’t we get a fast boat?”

“Needed something reliable.”

“You’re something reliable,” she muttered.

He looked from the wheel over to her. She was already blushing, which deepened.

“Shut up!” She tossed a pillow at him.

“From the mouths of babes.”

“You’re not clever, Jordan.”

“I don’t have to be. I have you.”

“Oh my gosh!” She threw her hands up.

Getting back up she rushed down into the hold again. “I’m going to find a speargun and shoot you!”

“Won’t do much,” he said.

“It’ll make me feel better!”

He didn’t tell her that he already checked for weapons. He did that first, before she got onboard. Weapons and occupants. This was going to be their vessel, it was the only boat that fit everything they needed, regardless of who was on it. Searching would give her something to do. The only weapon onboard was a chromed hand axe that was now attached to his belt. It looked brand new with a near mirror-finish that told of how little use it’d seen.

He looked to the horizon. The sun would be rising soon. By the time they arrived it would be setting. He might spend some time in the water, miles from shore. They brought extra diesel, so fuel wasn’t an issue. Arriving at night was ideal. Lessened the chances they’d be seen by government officials. The longer they could delay that, the better.

Best case scenario, they went in, figured out and dealt with whatever was wrong, then left without the S.U.N. being any wiser. That wasn’t realistic though. It was good enough to placate her with, which was why he agreed to this ‘roundabout’ plan of hers. He’d rather have dropped in and dealt with whatever was going on, then and there. Deal with the consequences as they came.

But that wouldn’t have made her happy.

Besides, if things were going to escalate too far, they would have by now. Another few hours wouldn’t save any more lives. That wasn’t his business anyways. He locked the wheel in place to step away. Beita’d been down there for a while with nary a peep. Stooping down to fit, he found her laid out on the bed. She was sleeping. The blankets were a mess. He stared at her for a minute, watching her breathing settle.

He covered her up to the shoulders with a sheet. Looking around the room he could see that it belonged to someone who didn’t have much going for themselves in life. Half-finished liquor, dirty dishes and magazines littered the ground. It was a wonder none of the bottles were broken. The magazines were trash that he had zero time for. He was only glad Beita didn’t notice them. Jordan collected and calmly binned them above deck. He briefly considered throwing them overboard, but decided the ocean had enough garbage in it for one day.

Returning downstairs, he stood against a wall where he could keep an eye on her and the wheel. She looked peaceful for the moment. It’d be best if she slept all the way there, he felt. He’d keep an eye on her regardless.

***

“Beita!”

Her eyes snapped open. Jordan held her hand, kneeling next to her. Her breathing was erratic, she wasn’t sure if she screamed or not.

“Hey kiddo,” he said. “Which one?”

Beita grimaced. Recurring nightmares was something she dealt with often. Especially about the One-Eyed-Man. She shook her head.

“I don’t know. A new one I think, I can’t remember it too well,” which was a mild lie. She didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to remember it. Because if she did, she might have it again. “Please tell me we’re there.”

He didn’t speak at first, watching her carefully. He rubbed her back a little until she relaxed. Then he got up and walked to the other side of the room.

“Not quite. Soon. When you’re ready, I’ll make eggs.”

Beita nodded. She didn’t want to talk more. He lingered for a moment before heading above deck. She didn’t recall falling out. It must have been sudden. She’d been putting off sleep for the last few nights as much as she could. She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Looking around she found the cabin was cleaner. She wanted to see what some of those old magazines were about too. Jordan was no fun.

She noticed the mini fridge shoved into the corner. Opening it revealed no drinks, but there was a carton of eggs. A small stovetop was built into the counter nearby. His cooking was typically good, so the idea was tempting.

Emerging from below, she was greeted by the midday sun. She must’ve slept longer than she thought. It was warm, to be expected where they were even in August. She expected it to be much hotter, but maybe it was the breeze of the open ocean that made it feel cooler. Jordan was standing at the bow, staring out at the horizon.

She ambled around the wheel, tracing its metal and wood patterns with her finger. Wouldn’t be long now. She picked up a bottle of water, Jordan having brought a case with them. It was warm but anything helped. She noticed he hadn’t gotten into them yet.

Walking up to him she wondered what he was thinking. He didn’t have an intense expression and he didn’t look especially grumpy. If anything, he looked calm. His high cheekbones were complimented in the light, shadows cast along his face. She didn’t want to bother him. Grey eyes glanced towards her.

“Few more hours,” he said, glancing back out.

“You have anything to drink yet?”

“No. I’m fine,” he said. After a moment he added. “Thank you.”

Eventually she caved to her growing hunger. The two moved down into the cabin where Jordan worked on the built-in kitchen.

“When’d you learn to drive a boat, anyways?”

“Pilot.”

“Whatever.”

“You pick it up,” he said, preparing her omelet. “Skills like that are good to know.”

“Would you teach me?” She wished they had something more exotic. Fitting for where they were. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Sure.” He glanced out the port hole. “I should’ve fished.”

“Do you even know how to cook fish?”

He shrugged, putting her plate in front of her. He stood apart from her, against a far wall. “It’d be a learning experience.”

She picked at it. He made it the way she liked, of course, to the best of what they had. But it didn’t escape her notice that he only made enough for her.

“You should eat too,” she said. “And don’t say ‘I’m fine.’ I’m sick of hearing that!”

“I’ll live.”

“That’s not better!”

He laughed a little. “I’m not hungry.”

They had more important things to worry about. She knew that. Stabbing the food with her fork, she grumbled into its excellence. So it went until she was done. She pushed the plate aside and hopped up. Jordan returned to the wheel while she was busy. The trip went on, the hours dragging by. It wasn’t unpleasant, exactly, but the closer they got the more Beita dreaded it.

The sun was retreating when they neared its location. Beita looked over to her guardian.

“Why didn’t we invite the others?”

He stared straight ahead. “They don’t like this kind of work. Didn’t think it worth an argument.”

“They can’t reach us out here,” she said. “What if they need us?”

“They can handle themselves.”

“I don’t know,” she replied with a sing-song tone. “Some of them are pretty thick-headed.”

“They try,” he said.

“You’re too nice,” she said finally, stepping away.

She missed the wry look on his face as she made her way to the bow. There, in the distance, a spit of land could finally be seen. Breaking out into a grin, she rushed up hollering, jumping to get as close as she could.

“Land ahoy!”

“Land ho,” Jordan said, appearing behind her.

“Same thing.” Beita smiled, the sun sinking beneath the horizon. “We’re here!”

Ahead of them was the very tip of the island, Nueva Tabarca. Though distant, she could make out the outcropping of rocks just barely attached to the tiny landmass. A metal cross was embedded there, as if warding off potential threats. Beita frowned.

She hoped it worked.