Don't Pick the Flowers by D. F. Jones

Author:D. F. Jones [Jones, D. F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Science Fiction, General, Action & Adventure, Cyberpunk
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2019-06-13T07:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

I ignored the rest of my companions, and went on deck, my throat hurting. The evening sun, glittering on the sea, mocked my mood. I stepped ashore, irresolute, not knowing if I wanted company to engage my mind, or solitude to think of Suffren…

‘That your boat, son?’ The speaker was a parchment-faced man, well on in his sixties. A gay flowered shirt hung over his Bermuda shorts, yet concealed little of his sagging stomach. Under one arm there was a bulging briefcase. Tired, anxious eyes peered out from under a long-peaked baseball cap.

‘No, sir. I’m only one of the crew.’

He took that in, hesitating. Behind him in a large figured print dress was a short, tubby woman who could only be his wife. One heavily ringed hand clutched a well-filled beach bag, the other was prodding him.

‘Son, d’you reckon your skipper would take us aboard—just to sleep nights. I’d pay well— ’

If the situation had not been so tragic, it would have been screamingly funny. Two less suitable figures for Mayfly were hard to imagine. ‘I’m very sorry, but there just isn’t the room— ’

‘I’ll pay twenty bucks a night—just to sleep—no food.’

I could only repeat, ‘I’m sorry, there’s no room.’ I disliked the man and his wife on sight, but felt desperately sorry for them.

‘Thirty bucks! We’d be no trouble— ’

‘I’m sorry, sir.’ By God! I was …

The wife spoke, pulling his shirt, ‘C’mon, Ed.’

With hardly a glance they moved off slowly, her fat ankles bulging over the cutting straps of her shoes; his thin, veined legs moving unwillingly. I had ceased to exist in their new, frightening world, yet ten seconds before I had been the center of their hope and attention.

Looking down the quay, I saw with new understanding another couple, slowly moving, hopefully, hopelessly, in our direction … I turned and jumped back aboard.

‘Bill—let’s get outta here! We don’t have to stay!’

He was smoking, carefully writing up his log. Bette was sitting quietly, mending a shirt. Karen, hands in lap, was doing nothing. Bill finished his entry, closed the book, and looked at me, his face impassive, but his eyes alert.

‘No, we don’t but are you sure you want to go? This is still the USA, you know.’

‘It’s not my USA!’ I spoke with real feeling.

‘Or mine! ’ echoed Karen.

Bette said nothing, but got on with her mending.

‘You’ve got to be sure. This is the last fully civilized port of call with good transport facilities we’re likely to get this side of Australia.’

‘I’ll take that chance!’

Karen nodded vigorously, ‘That goes for me, too!’

Bette had finished her work. She knew we were all waiting for her to speak, but she wasn’t going to be rushed. She folded the shirt carefully and put it on the shelf behind her head. Then she spoke.

‘Are you quite sure you want to go on with us, Bill?’

‘Of course I am!’

‘Truly?’

‘Good God, yes! What a suspicious shower you are!’ He smiled at her. ‘I’ ve never had it so good! Fine cooking,

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.