The Skill Conspiracy by Pete Gustin

Author:Pete Gustin [Gustin, Pete]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-12T22:00:00+00:00

21

You’d think that for two million bucks, Kevin could have left us with the snacks in the refrigerator, but nope. That jerk took out every bag of chips, every pretzel rod, and every bit of trail mix that was in the little kitchen before he transferred ownership of The Runner over to my PCD. I went online to double-check ownership of the vessel, to make sure it wasn’t still registered to his PCD as well as mine, but in this at least, he was telling the truth. Now, the only way the boat would start up is if I were personally standing on it with my PCD in hand and had my thumb right on it. Kevin and Domingo did at least hook us up with some fuel for the trip. Well, by “hook us up,” I mean, they let us purchase fuel at the going rate from their marina. But at least we didn’t have to go driving up and down the coastline looking for a fueling station. Now, two million dollars’ worth of boat and twelve hundred bucks worth of fuel and Annie and I had to go spend a few more bucks on food.

“We also need to get toothbrushes and deodorant,” Annie pointed out.

“Hold on,” I said. I was messing with The Runner’s onboard GPS and trip planner. Our eventual destination was Bogota, so I called up a list of popular ports in Colombia and was trying to find the closest one that we could set as our destination.

“Ahhhh,” I half-sighed, half-grumbled out loud.

“What’s wrong?” Annie asked.

“Where we’re trying to go,” I said, not daring to speak out loud our eventual destination, “is like a million miles away from any water.”

“A million?” she asked with a slight eye roll.

“Well, let’s put it this way, the distance we need to travel from here to get to the coastline of Colombia? That’s about the same distance we’ll need to travel on land to get to our eventual destination.”

“Oh,” Annie said with a grimace.

Neither of us were exactly what you’d call awesome at geography, and I don’t think either of us had realized how far inland Bogota was. When our original plan was just to fly there, I hadn’t exactly been looking at how far away the nearest seaport was on a map. I was mentally about to start going down the road of “do we really need to be going all the way to the space station” again, but I’d already hashed this out a hundred times, and I couldn’t let seven hundred miles of land-travel change my mind now.

It looked like Cartagena was going to be our best bet. It was just under eight hundred miles from here to there, and it would be about seven hundred from there to Bogota. Not wanting to pull into the most obvious port in the entire country, though, just to be on the safe side, I set the destination for a little beach spot just up the road from Cartagena called Castillogrande.

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