The Wandering Island Factory Page 27

  Chapter 26

  Their tidal power was under-performing at their new location, as was their aft generator while located outside the rapid southern coastal currents. Unfortunately, they could change neither. While located where the currents and waves were stronger, they had no safe place to anchor without risking entanglement in submerged buildings. So, they made do. They went back to rationing their power. Should they deploy the sails, they could take an excursion and be fully recharged in as little as a week, which was tempting. But electricity was a luxury they could afford to cut back on. Lights out at night. Laptops off. Only one radio for the news. No coffee maker, no microwave, no toaster, and no refrigerator. They would rely on the hotbox nature of the solar oven to keep leftovers in.

  Tweeeeeee. . . Huhhhh.

  "Try it again?" Ava asked.

  "Just a second," Gina said, tinkering with the connections on the jetski's battery. "Ok, now."

  Tweeeeeee. . . Huhhhh. . . huhhhh. . . huh. . .

  "Hold it," Gina said, frustrated. "I think I know what's wrong." She started removing parts again.

  Ava looked hugely disappointed, but obediently climbed off it.

  Makayla looked at all the parts sprawled across every foot of the outside picnic table and in chunks across the precious walking space of the deck. "Am I going to have to have the tidy bedroom talk with you again?"

  Gina threw her wrench at the wooden floor, "You fix it then," she yelled, "Because I don't know how to fix the damn thing without making a mess. Ok, I don't!" She grabbed the injector body off the table, held it over her head, then flung it overboard like she expected it to skip. "Is that better, mom? Clean enough for you? It'll never run without one of those! We can throw it all away now!" She grabbed another part, but Ava had enough sense to stop her.

  The injector body was off a still-being-dismantled one. The part was critical, but not to the one Ava had nearly gotten to start. "Calm dow—"

  "Don't you tell me to calm down," Gina yelled louder, "I'm no damned mechanic!" She pushed her sister aside, grabbed another part, and chucked it over the side, then stormed into the metal sea box that was their home.

  "We've watched them for a week now," Nathan said over dinner. "They haven't ventured out to greet us. They haven't even waved at us from the shore. Maybe they ain't all that friendly. Maybe it was a good thing that the bike broke down when it did."

  "What do we have in the holding net?" Jason asked.

  "A couple big ones, three hundred pounds. Maybe four," Ava said, "And what's left of this fella'. Maybe another sixty pounds. We've got a year's worth of dried stuff, though. Been using the oldest stuff as fish-food to keep the fresh catches alive."

  "I think we ought to take what's left of this, fella', and one of the big ones, and jetski over with it, lunchtime tomorrow," Jason said. "Like a peace offering. Maybe they don't have a boat that can cover the distance."

  "What if they're not friendly?" Ava asked first. "They've made no signs of being friendly at all."

  "Well, we take our chances—"

  "They get a hold of one of our jetskis," Gina said, "and they'll be able to reach us, quick and easy. Especially if they're unfriendly, like what happened at the mansion."

  Jason flaked off a chunk of fish that was marinated in a fresh slice of tomato and peppered with crumbled kelp, brought it to his lips, then pondered. "The big one's a two-seater, right? Two of us tow a big fish, carry the leftovers, and the second person goes back to 'ferry over' the rest of us. Make like it breaks down. Whoever is left ashore gets a day or two to meet and greet, smell things out, then gives the all clear signal to get picked up again, or the trouble sign if things are way wrong."

  "Who gets to go?" Ava said.

  "I would think that's man's work," Nathan said, to the glares of all the women.

  "Well," Jason said, "that might work better, just until we figure out where we stand and what the deal is."

  Gina looked worried, "If things go wrong, I doubt they'll let you give any old signal—"

  "That's what I've been thinking about," Jason said. "If things are bad or seem fishy, we should give a positive sign. You know, waving and welcoming, possibly both arms straight up like a field goal. If we're under stress, they'll let us fake that. But, if we're not being held against our will, then we can do some very strange signs without arousing too much suspicion. Anything from crude gestures to mooning."

  "They don't know us, either," Nathan said. "For all they know, we could be armed to the teeth. That might be why they haven't come out to greet us."

  Jason chewed another piece. "How may jetskis do we have that you think work, reliably?"

  "Two two-seaters, and one single," Gina said, "And I'm not vouching for reliability on none of them. But, we only have maybe ten gallons of gas. If that. That won't get you back and forth as many times as you might think. These things are geared for fun, not efficiency."

  Jason swallowed. "Well, it'll have to do. I would think that they have some sort of logistics or supply line out to here, because, they seem to be running some light construction equipment. I would think they may have some gas to trade for fresh fish. At least, that's what I'm hoping."

  The next afternoon, the boys jetskied over, fish in tow, and Nathan returned alone, back to the boat where they watched Jason struggle to carry the giant fish up the embankment and over the hill.