Ty & Cinda, A Tale of Forbidden Love - S01 E07

1 week ago

Ty & Cinda, A Tale of Forbidden Love - S01 E07

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 7

Cinda and I hitched a ride to the game with DeJuan and his girlfriend. We cheered for Monroe as he led the team with over a hundred yards rurining and two touchdowns. Unfortunately, they were our only scores. We lost 20-14. Cinda and I walked home, wanting to extend our time together. I was pleased when Momma invited me to dinner. I called Mom for permission; I wasn't surprised to hear Grandpa swearing at me in the background. Everything was back to normal.

I congratulated Monroe on a good game, but he was down. "We can't block worth a damn. There's no running back on earth who can run when there're no holes. We were much better than that team, but we couldn't score when we had to." I clapped him on the back and changed into my running outfit. I was home ten minutes later. Grandpa yelled at me for being so late, rerninding me that we had an early start in the morning. I packed my sweatshirt in my backpack then studied for an hour or so before tuming in.

I was up before six, ate breakfast and was ready before Grandpa was even out of bed. We drove the short distance to the dock where Grandpa introduced me to his mate Tony. He had long scraggly hair and a hawksbill nose. How interesting.

I watched from the cockpit as Tony released the lines that held the boat to the dock and Grandpa expertly backed out into the harbor. I stood with him, my backpack slung over my left shoulder, in the cabin. I was surprised that there was only the single crewman, then again maybe not. Clearly, operating the nets would require more than one man, so what was the purpose of this excursion? I had a feeling I knew, but time would tell.

We were well out into the gulf when Grandpa told me, "Ty, go out with Tony. He'll show you how the nets work."

"I'd rather stay here with you, Grandpa."

"Do what you're told! Now...go aft with Tony. He'll take good care of you."

I walked aft and as I did I realized my backpack felt kind of heavy. I felt the pocket and realized that I'd never removed my throwing stars after my weekend with Cinda. Dropping the backpack by a cabin wall I looked back toward the stern where Tony appeared to be busy. It wasn't long before realized it was a ruse. He had spent more than five minutes playing with some lines, but accomplishing nothing. I turned my back to him, keeping his reflection in the nearby window within my peripheral vision. I was hardly surprised when he ran up behind me and grabbed me, his arms wrapped

tightly over mine and my chest.

I surprised Tony by lifting my legs up to the wall and using the leverage to ram my head forcefully back into his. He staggered a bit, but still held me tightly as he tried to walk me to the boat's side. I drove my thumbs up and back. The left missed, sliding in futility along his cheek, but the right hit home. I gouged into his eye with all my strength. I'd rip it out-pull it from its socket- if I had to. Few people can handle that kind of pain without reacting strongly. Tony lost his grip on me as his hands flew up to his eye.

"Your body is a spring, Ty. Use it wisely." That's what Sensei Aoki had told me, I heard him now as clear as day. I pivoted to my left leading with my elbow. It was a savage vicious blow, connecting squarely with his jaw, rocking his head back violently. In a basketball game I'd be thrown out and suspended for sure, but this was a different game-the game of life-the game for my life! I followed with my right as my body spring unwound, recalling what Sensel had told me "Only a fool punches with his fingers." The heel of my hand smashed into the bridge of his nose. I could feel the cartilage and bone shatter under my blow just as I could see the blood spurt explosively onto the deck.

My spring had turned completely to the left, now it turned back, the heel of my left hand striking his sternum with all the force I could generate. I was sure he'd scream if only I hadn't driven all the air from his lungs. He staggered again and when I swung my right, the side of the hand striking his temple, Tony dropped like a rock even as the blood flowed in a steady stream, staining the deck. Looking around quickly I found what I thought I needed to finish the job I had started on Tony. There were several coils of rope hanging from a steel support. I pulled one of what seemed to be twenty-five feet of quarter-inch braided nylon from the hook. Several loops secured by two half hitches immobilized his wrists then I pulled his ankles up, tying them tightly. When I had about eight feet of rope left I looped the line between his ankles to secure the knots and pulled the rope tightly to his neck. Two quick turns again secured by a couple of half hitches and Tony was stuck. I prayed he'd struggle and strangle himself in the process.

There was only one more thing I wanted to do. Checking several cabinets led me to what I sought-duct tape. I wrapped his fingers together with about a dozen turns of tape, completely eliminating any possibility of untying the knots. I tore about a foot of tape from the roll and wrapped them around his thumbs before turning to confront my grandfather. Tony may have been the instrument, but Grandpa was the bandleader-the one who was calling the shots. I hesitated at the last second, kneeling next to Tony's inert form and pulling up his shirt. There on his stomach were two telltale rectangular bandages; I'd hit him twice in our earlier encounter.

I was always a person who thought before acting. I'd always believed it the wiser courses that's what I did now. Sliding my belt. as far to the left as possible, I moved my smart phone from my hip to just under my navel. Selecting the appropriate app, I turned it on and returned it to the storage clip. There'd be a video of wherever my body pointed. My four remaining throwing stars I placed in my left hand where they'd be ready if needed.

Walking carefully up to the cockpit on the starboard side I peeked through the window in the sliding door. There was no sight of my grandfather so I assumed he might be in what he had earlier described as the chart room although I had seen several bunks in there, too. I slid the door open with a bang. It wasn't long before I heard him shout, "That was quick, Tony. I told you that grandson of mine was a wimp. We'll wait an hour or so and then report him overboard. By then we'll be miles away. Your money is on your bunk-money well spent in my opinion."

He had just emerged when I spoke, "Sorry to upset your plans, Grandpa-Tony is in no shape to collect anything. I knew it was too good to be true. You were too nice this past week. Wait until the cops leam about this."

He laughed he actually laughed, "Who would believe you-a nigger-loving young turd-over me, an upstanding citizen with political clout? Nobody that's who; it would just be your word against mine."

Now it was my turn to laugh. "You obviously don't know anything about smart phones, Grandpa. This entire conversation is being recorded in a video. You'll be condemned by your own words." I could see him react. He hadn't planned for any of this. I was supposed to go quietly over the side. He'd probably cry crocodile tears when he notified my mother, but I'd be safely disposed of- either food for the sharks or the crabs. What a fucking pain in the ass I was! No wonder he hated me so much.

Grandpa took his eyes off me and looked forward, searching for something. I saw it, too. "Don't even think of going for that pistol! You've already seen what I can do with these throwing stars. I won't think twice about throwing at you." He moved toward the gun in spite of my words. I took the star, my biggest and most dangerous one, in my hand and prepared to throw, yet something made me hold back. He grabbed the pistol and swung it toward me. I recognized it as the same one I had seen in Tony's hand last weekend. He shot just as the boat lurched into a wave. I felt the

searing bullet glance off my scalp, throwing this time from pure

instinct. He had missed-barely-but I didn't. The star embedded

itself in the base of his neck. Blood spurted from its edges onto the cabin deck.

Grandpa let go of the wheel in reaction and the boat heeled over to port. He tumbled over the high doorsill and fell to the side, through the open door. A second later he was leaning precariously over the bulwark and the sea below. I dropped the remaining stars and rushed forward even as blood poured down my face into my eyes. My fingers found his shoe and foot, I held onto it tightly, why I could never understand. Looking down I saw Grandpa spit at me. "Damn you! Damn you to hell! You're even worse than your father." Then he lashed out with his other foot, striking me in the chest. The blow didn't hurt, but I was shocked. I let go of his foot then watched as my only grandfather slid down the side of the boat. His head struck the steel rail at the waterline and somersaulted into the water. He slid along the side until disappearing under the boat near the stern, I ran back as quickly and safely as I could. Had there been any doubt of his demise they vanished when the boat shook from the impact with his body and the water turned red with his blood. I'd read about people being sucked in by the props; now I'd seen it for myself. I made my way back to the cockpit, feeling my way, barely able to see through my own blood.

I had no idea where we were or how to get back to the dock. Taking the radio microphone in my hand I pressed the button. "Help! Help! I need help."

"This is the Mariboro. Don't you know anything about radio protocol?"

Pressing the button again I continued, "No-I'm an eighteen year- old kid from indiana. I'm on the shrimp boat Emma Mae somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico. My grandfather is dead-over the side. He shot me. My head is bleeding. I'm getting dizzy. There's a mate, but he's tied up. He tried to kill me, too." released the button so I could listen.

"Coast Guard calling Emma May... Coast Guard calling Emma May... Coast Guard calling Emma May, this is the Coast Guard," another different voice said. "Can you find a compass there? Over."

"Okay, we're heading west. Uh....over."

"Turn the boat slowly toward the north. I suggest you slow down to about ten miles an hour. It'll be easier to control the boat. We're launching a chopper. Can you find the flares? Over."

I ran back to my backpack and removed my sweatshirt. Wiping it

over my forehead helped and I held it tightly over my wound then I

looked around for flares. I found the kit about a minute later bolted to the wall-uh, the bulkhead. "Okay, I found them. Now what? We're heading north. Over."

"Good... what's your name? Over."

I understood now-saying "over" meant you were done speaking. "I'm Ty... Ty Feldner. Over."

"You're doing great, Ty. Just hang in there. What I want you to do now is hold down the button for sixty seconds. That'll enable us to find your position. Can you do that? Over."

"Sure, but something else will have to go. I have one hand on the wheel and my other is switching between the radio and my sweatshirt to hold back the blood. I'll drop the sweatshirt. Okay, here goes starting now. One...two...three..." I continued until I had reached sixty then released the button.

That was great, Ty. We have you now. Find a smoke flare and light it once you hear the chopper. Don't light it in the cabin. You can throw it onto the deck. It won't set the boat on fire. Is there a stool or captain's chair? If so, sit down." Spying one in the hallway to the chart room I reached back to pull it forward. It was a relief to sit. Truthfully, I didn't know how much longer I'd be able to hold out. I was feeling faint from the loss of blood and my head ached terribly.

Suddenly I could hear the chopper. I staggered outside to the exact spot where my grandfather had gone over the side. Removing the cap from the flare ! struck it against the flare's end. It ignited almost immediately and I rolled it back toward the stern. Seconds later I was back in the cockpit. The chopper approached and hovered overhead. The last thing I saw was a big orange blob as the cockpit door opened. I fell to the deck and as I did all could say was, "Cinda...get Cinda."

It was dark when next opened my eyes. I had the world's worst headache. Everything was a big fog, but I was sure I could hear crying. "Please God-don't let Ty die...please. Please Ty...don't you dare die on me."

I turned my head slowly.

That was just about all I could handle. There, not more than two feet away, sat Cinda crying in the dark. I reached out to touch her to make sure she was real and not a

dream. "Cinda... Cinda," whispered.