Push Back: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (The Disruption Series Book 2) (11 page)

“How many of you are left?” Kinsey asked.

“Seven on this side, and around thirty on the other side of the lock, grouped together on four boats. Staying close to where the stores are made more sense than trying to drag everything to a few boats.” He grinned. “Besides, I kind of like being on this side where I can take off if the need arises.”

“So thirty-seven all told?”

He shrugged. “Last time I heard. We don’t keep a muster or anything. Could be some of those boys took off. Why?” Wellesley asked, suspicion rising in his voice.

“Just curious,” Kinsey said.

Wellesley gave him a long look, then nodded. “All right, but like I said, it’s your turn to share. How exactly do you plan on getting to Baton Rouge? Small boat or not, you’re not getting through that lock or the ones after that.”

“We brought a trailer and we figured—”

“Is that what you’re towin’?”

“Yeah,” Kinsey said. “We got a winch we can mount on the front of the trailer, and long leads to run from the winch to an extra battery in the boat. I figure if we can find someplace with a reasonable slope, we can hook on to something ashore and drag the boat out of the water on the trailer, then push it around the locks by hand and relaunch on the other side of each lock.”

Wellesley looked skeptical. “You better have a look at the canal bank before you go settin’ your hopes on that.”

“Excuse me, Chief,” Bollinger said, “but if the
Judy Ann
’s higher antennas give her VHF coverage as far as Port Arthur, we could probably give Captain Hughes an update.”

Kinsey looked at Wellesley, who shrugged. “Help yourself. If there’s friendly folks within VHF range, I’d like to connect with them anyway.”

Kinsey nodded. “We’ll take you up on that, but first I think we ought to have a look at the situation so we can let our people know what we plan to do.”

Wellesley nodded. “Leave your rig tied off to us. The boys will keep an eye on it, and I’ll run you up to the lock wall in our skiff. That’ll be a lot easier than crawling across all these tows. Matter of fact, I probably need to go on over with you, just so the boys on the other side don’t get antsy.”

***

Fifteen minutes later, Kinsey and Bollinger stood beside Wellesley on the steel and concrete bulkhead leading into the lock, staring across a narrow backwater at the canal bank. Kinsey studied the sloping bank covered with a jumble of rough-cut granite blocks the size of washing machines.

“See what I mean?” Wellesley asked.

Kinsey nodded. “Even if we can get you to shuffle the barges so we can access the bank, that riprap stone is pretty rough. I don’t see us dragging the boat and trailer over that.”

“I was hoping there might be a boat launch ramp, but I guess that was wishful thinking,” Bollinger said.

“Nothing solid to hook the winch cable to either, and no way we’ll be able to manhandle her out of the water without a mechanical assist.” Kinsey sighed. “All right. Let’s look the whole situation over and start working on a plan B.”

Bollinger nodded and the Coasties followed Wellesley along the top of the narrow bulkhead until they got to the wall of the lock proper and walked across a grassy verge to step into a large square asphalt parking lot flanked by a metal storage building. Across the expansive square the asphalt narrowed to a road running the length of the lock, with what were obviously the administrative offices and workshops at the far end.

Bollinger cast an appraising eye down the long straight road. “This is good surface. It shouldn’t be too hard to roll her past the lock, presuming we can just figure a way to get her up the bank to start with.”

“Let’s go see what we’re up against on the other side,” Kinsey said, and they started walking down the quarter-mile length of the lock.

“Whoa. Slow down there,” Wellesley said, and led them around the storage building to a bicycle rack holding a dozen battered bicycles. “No use walking when we can ride. The lock workers used these to get back and forth. There’s another rack at the opposite end of the lock.”

Kinsey grinned. “No argument here, Lucius.”

They pedaled to the opposite end of the lock, only to find more problems. Even more tows jammed both banks of the canal. The bank sloped steeply to the water’s edge, and the jumbled riprap stones protecting the bank from erosion were even larger here, sharp corners pointing skyward at odd angles. Kinsey’s heart sank at the sight of it.

“Even if we manage to get the boat out, there’s no way we’re getting the trailer back down over that crap, even with the planks,” Bollinger said. “What are we gonna do, Chief?”

Kinsey said nothing for a long moment. The access road ran straight and true beside the canal another quarter mile, then turned sharply to the left, away from the water. A tall bridge loomed over the waterway in the near distance.

“Okay,” he said. “This whole area is marsh, with inlets and bayous all over the place. We only draw three feet or so of water, so we can likely get up most of them. We just need to find one that gets us close enough to the canal on the east side of the lock for us to use the trailer to get the boat across and back into the canal.”

“But how, Chief? There’s probably a dozen inlets like that, and the marsh grass and cane is six or eight feet high. It’ll be like a maze. We won’t know which one to go into, and even if we get close to the canal, we likely won’t know it. We can’t see anything from water level.”

“Which is why we’re gonna have a look from up there.” Kinsey said, pointing to the top of the highway bridge arching high above the canal and the flat land it ran through.

Wellesley cleared his throat, and Kinsey turned his attention from the bridge to one of the boats about halfway down the road. A group of men was starting to form at the rail of one of them, obviously in expectation of a visit.

“I figure y’all are eager to have a look at that bridge,” Wellesley said, “so let’s ride down together. I’ll stop and fill the boys in and y’all can head on up the bridge. These fellas haven’t had anyone new to talk to in a while. Stop now and I doubt y’all will get away before nightfall.

***

Accessing the bridge proved easy. The lock road turned left and intersected State Route 384 a half mile north of the bridge; then it was a straight shot back south. They ate up the distance quickly, and minutes later they hopped off to push their bikes up the bridge, the old single-gear, fat-tire conveyances no match for the steep incline. Soon they stood atop the bridge, surveying the flat land spread before them, the sun glistening off channels crisscrossing the half-submerged terrain.

“I’ll be damned,” Bollinger said.

A wide channel roughly paralleled the south bank of the canal, punctuated at intervals with side channels that extended northward toward the canal like crooked, arthritic fingers. One of those fingers ended at the southern abutment of the bridge they stood on, the ‘fingertip’ separated from the canal itself by a narrow strip of land. At the bridge abutment there was a gravel parking lot, and Kinsey grinned as he pointed down at it.

“You see what I see, Bollinger?”

“Well, I’ll be double-damned. A boat ramp!”

Kinsey nodded. “That takes care of the hard part, and there’s not any riprap on the canal side down this far, so we should be able to get her back in without any problem.”

“And getting there’s a piece of cake,” Bollinger said. “We just go back out into the river and turn into the first wide channel south of the lock.”

Kinsey grinned. “Well, let’s get to it. If we can talk the towboat guys into helping, we may be able to get around the lock and well down the canal before dark. But first, we need to have a long talk with our new friends. I’ve got an idea.”

***

Matt Kinsey stood on the lock wall in front of the assembled group, glancing at his watch. This was taking far longer than he’d anticipated and he was eager to get away. He’d had Wellesley assemble the towboat men so he could present them with his proposal, but it had ignited a much more spirited debate than expected. Finally, Kinsey put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. When he had the group’s attention, he held up both his hands in a stop gesture and raised his voice.

“Okay, fellas, I understand this is a big decision, but I can’t give you any more time. I have to call
Pecos Trader
and put the proposal to Captain Hughes, and I’m not even sure he’ll go for it himself. But first I need to know how many of you are in. It’s entirely your call, and not everyone has to agree. But if you’d like to give it a shot, I need to know now, because Bollinger and I need to get out of here.”

No one said anything for a long moment; then Lucius Wellesley shook his head. “I don’t know, Kinsey. We’ve got a pretty good setup here, and it sounds like those folks over in Texas have already attracted some unwanted attention. I mean, I sympathize, but I’m not sure puttin’ ourselves in the middle of that is very smart. I think it might be best if we just stay here and lie low until things get back to normal.”

Some of the others nodded their agreement.

Kinsey sighed. “You might be right, Lucius, assuming things do get back to normal, but from the way I understand it, the time frame for that happening, if ever, is years not months. How long you figure you can stay here?”

“We’ve got food and water for maybe six months, a bit longer if we ration it,” Wellesley said, “and enough diesel, gasoline, and lube oil in all these barges for years. I figure when push comes to shove, we can trade for what we need.”

“And trading means letting people know you’re here with fuel to trade,” Kinsey said, “so you’ll be sitting on a goldmine with no means to defend it. Just how long you think that’s going to last before either gangs out of Lake Charles or FEMA shows up to take your boats and cargo? You got what, three or four handguns between you all?”

Wellesley said nothing for a long moment, then glanced at the other towboat men before turning back to Kinsey. “Would you and Bollinger mind taking a walk down to the other end of the lock for a bit. I’m not the king here, and I don’t speak for these other fellas. We really need to discuss this among ourselves in private.”

“Understood,” Kinsey said as he and Bollinger walked toward the far end of the lock. When they were well away from the group, Bollinger shot Kinsey a questioning look.

“Ah, you sure about this, boss? How do you think Captain Hughes is going to feel about us ‘recruiting’ extra people? Shouldn’t we have checked with him first?”

Kinsey shook his head. “I thought about it, but I figure Wellesley’s gonna be standing right beside us when we use the VHF, so I didn’t figure he should hear my idea for the first time while we’re on the radio. And we don’t have time to engage in a lengthy debate and negotiation. They either want to go or they don’t. As far as Hughes goes, he can always say no, but I don’t think he will. If even a few of them take the deal, it will add guys with needed skills, and from the looks of ’em, I’m thinking at least half of them have some military service, and I’m betting the others are probably at least hunters. We start increasing our dependent population, we’re gonna need more shooters to protect them. Besides, that’s not the only thing they bring to the table, there’s also—”

Kinsey turned at a shout from down the lock wall, to see Wellesley waving them back. They turned and walked back to the group.

“Well,” Wellesley said when they reached the group, “it appears we should get on the VHF to your Captain Hughes.”

“How many?” Kinsey asked.

“All of us,” Wellesley said.

Crap
, thought Kinsey.

Chapter Six

M/V
Judy Ann

Intracoastal Waterway

West End of Calcasieu Lock

Lake Charles, Louisiana

Day 26, 2:40 p.m.

The relief in Hughes’ voice changed to irritation when he learned of Kinsey’s freelance recruitment efforts.

“You did what? Thirty-seven guys? Dammit, Matt! You know—”

“They’ve got their own food, at least for six months or so. Water too. And they’re bringing their own housing with them. Over,” Kinsey said. Beside him, Wellesley nodded, suddenly concerned Hughes might reject the deal.

But news the recruits wouldn’t strain existing resources mollified Hughes to some extent, and as Kinsey presented the merits of his case a bit more fully, he sensed Hughes’ resistance weakening. Kinsey sealed the deal.

“Is the chief engineer with you, Captain Hughes? Over,” Kinsey asked.

“Yes, Dan’s standing right beside me. Over,” Hughes replied.

“Well, ask him how he’d like a couple of twenty-thousand-barrel barges full of lube oil of various grades. It seems like I recall hearing him moaning about how hard it was going to be to find any. Over,” Kinsey said.

There was a long pause until the radio crackled again. “This may be the only time I’ve ever seen Dan Gowan speechless,” Hughes said. “He’s nodding his head so hard I’m afraid it might fly off his shoulders.” Kinsey heard Hughes sigh into the radio. “Put Captain Wellesley on and we’ll work out the details. If he gives me an ETA at the Neches intersection, we’ll send the patrol boat out to escort his little convoy in and keep the cons off him. And, Matt,” Hughes added, “this will likely be the last we hear from you before you return, so Godspeed in finding your family. Over.”

“Thanks, Cap,” Kinsey replied. “Here’s Captain Wellesley. Over.”

***

Kinsey and Bollinger sat at a table in the galley of the
Lacy J
, one of the towboats trapped east of the lock. They had a chart booklet open on the table between them, and Wellesley was hunched over them, studying a chart.

“We appreciate this, Lucius,” Kinsey said. “Obviously,
Pecos Trader
didn’t carry inland charts.”

Wellesley laughed. “Well, it ain’t like these boats are likely to need them anytime soon.”

“Still, we appreciate it,” Kinsey said. “I knew the route, but operating with a Louisiana road map and a general idea leaves a lot to be desired.”