Page 48 of Laying Low

“Quick,” he said.“Under the pile.We don’t want them to see us when they come looking.But don’t make the boat rock too hard.”

Anthony helped cave out spaces for the boys while Reg made a hollow for the two of them.After securing Ilia and Reynaldo behind a screen of life jackets and wool blankets—some of them from their own emergency bag—Anthony crawled under one of the benches that sat contoured to the side of the cabin and pulled a tarp over the two of them, one arm secure around Reg’s shoulders.

For a moment, their breaths were unbearably loud in the awakening predawn quiet.Then, as their heartbeats steadied, some of the calls of fishermen leaving early and the more distant sound of motors as the larger commercial boats began to pull out of the harbor permeated the fog and lulled them into believing things were normal, at least for a space.

I wonder how long we’ll know to wait?Anthony thought, and it was the last thing that went through his mind before he fell asleep.

HE WASN’Tsure how long he dozed, Reg tucked in against his side, before he realized the boat was rocking back and forth as somebody moved about topside, shouting to somebody else out on the dock.

“No, you can’t board my vessel!”the man called.“I don’t know who in the fuck you are!Any moron can wear a mask—isn’t that illegal now?”

An unintelligible reply shot back, irritated and not at all the sound of a professional law enforcement member.

“No, I don’t need to pull out my phone.I reckon you’re being recorded by half the people out here.We’re not stupid.What’s that?I can’t hear you.”

As Reg stiffened next to him, Anthony felt the rocking of the boat as the man who’d been apparently freeing the mooring ropes from the dock entered the cabin and started preparing the boat to back out of its slip.

In a voice meant only to be heard in the shelter of the cabin, he said, “Unless you want to meet the asshole with the gun I was talking to, you’ll all stay absolutely still until we’re out of the bay.”

Anthony breathed deeply, and he heard one of the boys do the same, and then he closed his eyes and hoped for the best.

The rumble of the boat as it putt-putted through the water must have been as soothing as the warmth under the pile of tarps, because Anthony’s eyes closed again before he could wonder if they were all going to have to walk the plank into the freezing waters of the Northern Pacific Ocean when this guy had cleared port.

It was about then he realized he’d left his gun, of all things, in its lockbox in the SUV that afternoon as he’d been gathering their packs.

“ALL RIGHTnow, everybody awake.I’ve got breakfast for you if you need it and water if you don’t.Come on, it’s fine.Everybody’s safe here.”

“You say that,” Ilia responded, “but I’m the perfect size to feed a big fish.Maybe you just want to dangle me behind the boat as bait!”

That surprised a chuckle from their sailing friend, and Anthony and Reg had a chance to wriggle out from under their tarp in time to see a squat, weathered man in his early fifties offer Ilia a hand out of his own cubby.

“It’s a small boat, boy,” the man said.“There’s no room to put a big fish if we caught one with you.Now your friend here—we might be able to throw that fishy over the hull.”

“As long as I can sleep some more,” Reynaldo mumbled, and Ilia turned a worried face toward Anthony and Reg.

“He’s sick,” he said soberly.“His body is very hot.”

“Ibuprofen,” Reg said, thumping his knapsack on the deck before sitting down so he could rifle through it.Anthony reached down as Reg handed him a bottle.

“He’ll need food,” Reg said, and Anthony remembered the sandwich they’d been saving for later for the boy.It was currently mashed into his pack, but that didn’t sound appetizing.“We’ve got—”

“Fresh fruit or an egg sandwich?”their skipper asked, holding out a bag.

“Fruit,” Reynaldo murmured, smiling weakly.As their new friend (hopefully) cleared off the bench on the boy’s side of the cabin, he sat hunkered, and Ilia came to get the ibuprofen and a bottle of water from Anthony.

A few moments later, Anthony found himself sitting next to Reg, an egg sandwich in his hand—still steaming.

“Please, mister,” Anthony said, only partially kidding, “tell me you’re not going to chop us into little pieces and feed us to the sharks.”

“Well, since you were stowing away in my cabin, don’t you think I should ask you the same thing?”their skipper said, but his eyes were twinkling, and Anthony gave a shrug.

“Those two are little,” he said blandly.“I think you could take ’em.”

The man threw back his head and gave a hearty laugh.“You might be right,” he said, and then he sobered.“Let’s just say we don’t like ICE in these parts and leave it like that.”He frowned.“Not that I think those bozoswereICE.”

“They weren’t,” Reg said, and then gave the boys an apologetic look.“ICE doesn’t wear masks anymore, for one thing.But it doesn’t matter.TheycalledICE on us, and now neither of the boys can go home.”

The man grimaced.“That’s rough,” he said, taking in the boys and nodding.“I….”He grimaced.“Honestly, I’d offer to sail you up through Puget Sound to Victoria, but I wasn’t planning on leaving the bay today.I don’t have enough fuel.”