James Axler – Starfall

“Wind’s changing,” Morse said. “Good in a way, though. Don’t want to have to worry about the boat getting caught in a damn cross wind when we drop anchor tonight.”

“Nobody said anything about dropping anchor,” Ryan told him.

“Be triple stupe to think about going on in these waters after dark,” Morse stated. “You haven’t hardly seen any of the shit I’ve steered us clear of. And even with a good moon hanging overhead, we’d rip the body out of Junie for sure.”

“Junie?” Doc inquired.

“Yeah. Named her after my second wife.” Morse shrugged. “Course I named her after my first wife and a few girlfriends before and after and in between, too. But today’s she’s Junie.”

“Pray tell me,” Doc said, “what became of your second wife. You never mentioned. Unless I misremember.”

“Chilled her,” Morse replied. “Got to where she was creeping around at night. Caught her with a knife once, coming at me while I was asleep. I slept lighter than she knew.”

“So you chilled her?” Doc repeated.

“Yeah. Fishing’s hard work. Suck the life right out of a man, he ain’t careful. Even with these boys, I bust my ass every day to bring a catch in. I don’t need to be losing no sleep while I’m at it. A man gets tired, that’s a man who makes mistakes. I’d sooner be without a wife than be with­out this boat.”

“A man’s got to have his principles, Doc,” Ryan said.

“So you chilled your own son’s mother.” Doc shud­dered at the thought.

“Did it right, though,” Morse objected. “Slipped that boning knife between her third and fourth ribs right into her heart. She was gone before she knew she was going. Afterward, me and the boys took her out to the river and had a ceremony.”

“Then used her for bait?” Doc asked dryly.

“Naw. Just dumped her in and went upstream to fish.”

“And your boy Bud,” Doc said, “he never came to you about any of this?”

Morse smiled. “Them boys, they like fishing more than anything else in the world. Reminds me of myself. I crewed aboard this ship when I was a boy for my da. And him for his before that. Ship’s got a long history. Luck willing, I’ll still have it to leave for my own sons.”

“It and such an interesting history besides,” Doc agreed somewhat sarcastically.

“Oh, and if it’s stories you want, there’s plenty of them about Junie, as well.”

Before the storytelling could get any further, Ryan said, “You were asking about jack for the use of your boat.”

Morse gave him a look filled with greedy interest. “I’m a working man. Going out of Docktown like this, I’m gonna miss a few customers on my regular rounds. Mebbe even lose some of them altogether. This taking my boat and taking me and my boys hostage, that’s going to impact my business.”

“Ah, the nomenclature of the would-be Wall Street ty­coon,” Doc said. “The me generation. And people thought all that had been left behind in the eighties. The 1980s.”

“Noticed you and your boys didn’t have any blasters when we came on board,” Ryan said.

“No.”

The man’s answer was too short and too clipped to be the truth, and Ryan knew it. He was certain that somewhere aboard Junie was a hidden cache of one or more blasters. J.B.’s earlier investigation of the boat had turned up the bows and arrows kept in the small hold.

“You do a lot of salvage, though,” Ryan went on.

“What I can,” Morse agreed. “Not so much trade in it as there used to be. Most stuff me and the boys scull up from the bottom these days ain’t worth having.”

“J.B. doesn’t see it that way. Says he spotted some blast­ers in the lockers belowdecks that he can fix.”

“He thinks so?”

Ryan nodded. “Comes to weapons, J.B.’s an artist.”

“He fixes those, you want to call it square on the jack you owe me for the boat?”

“Yeah. Only you’re not getting all of the blasters.”

Morse didn’t look happy. “How many?”

“Half,” Ryan answered. It was more than fair. Without being repaired, the blasters were useless. And fixed and ready to fire, they’d be worth more than anything Morse had ever laid his hands on. The others could be used by the companions to barter with.