Off the Grid Read online

  He went back and lay down. He was wide awake now. It was the middle of the night, the time he always awoke and contemplated the world. He thought, fuck the world. He liked being on his own so much better.

  Jimmie heard the thrashing in the water come much closer as he drank the last of his vodka in one big swallow. As the fire burned down his esophagus and into his stomach, he heard a thump on the starboard side of his little floating home. Then he heard it again and again. It seemed to be floating to different sides of his boat. He thought that the shark must have mistaken them for dinner. Either that or it was bored. Whatever. It was getting tiresome.

  The mutt started barking and howling in distress. It was growling in terror at the rear and was backing up to as far away as it could go inside the pontoon. Jimmie went to pet her but she snapped at him and went back to growling in abject fear. The last time that happened, the dog was warning him to a threatening woman with a broken beer bottle in her hand. Jimmie snapped around and looked at the thrashing noise beneath the water just aft of his boat. Then he looked at the mutt.

  Jimmie made a snap decision. He grabbed the little .38 revolver in one of the waterproof boxes he had and made sure it was loaded. It was. He pointed it out into the nothingness at the noise. He suddenly wished it wasn't so damn dark.

  Then Jimmie heard nothing except the mutt who continued to snarl. He was hopeful the thing beneath the surface moved on to its next victim. Jimmie couldn't be sure. The mutt was damned sure that the thing was still there. It kept growling and whining. The noise was driving Jimmie nuts. He tried to hush the dog who ignored him. It tried to get even further away from the noise.

  Jimmie started to get paranoid. He got this way sometimes when withdrawal occurred or when he had too many lines of coke without it being cut with some downers in his system. He didn't like this feeling at all.

  He slipped the revolver into his shorts pocket and looked outward. He saw nothing. The dog didn't stop making the whining noise. It was still flipping out, which in turn made Jimmie wired and annoyed.

  Jimmie looked around and saw the gaffe. It was a long metal pole with a big hook on it. Every boat had one. It was however the first time he ever needed it for anything like this. He took it from its hooks and pulled it toward him. He moved aft and plunged the hook into the water. He kept doing it, looking for any resistance under the water. He felt none. The dog continued to growl.

  He had enough. "Shut the hell up!" He screamed at the dog who stopped for a brief second. The mutt looked at him with confusion for a second and then went right on barking. Jimmie pulled up the hook and started swearing.

  Just as he was turning toward the dog something grabbed the end of the gaffe hook. Whatever it was tried to pull him off the boat. Luckily Jimmie didn't have a strong grip on it. The pole slid away from him until he caught it at the end. He almost fell into the water with it. Instead, he slammed his knee straight down into the fiberglass of the boat. He saw stars at the pain, but it was tolerable. He felt worse in his life every day.

  He kept his grip tight on the gaffe and so did whatever was on the other end. He was in a tug of war contest with something he couldn't see, and it was beginning to scare him. He suddenly had the urge to pee again even though he just went. He yanked back hard. The pole yanked him forward even harder in response. That chilled his blood. He yanked back and then abruptly pushed forward with all his strength. He felt the pole hit something wet and then penetrate it. Then he felt a slight constant backward pressure on the pole. He started to try and shake the thing off the gaffe. He couldn't do it. The gaffe's hook must have embedded itself in whatever fish it was.

  Jimmie pulled on the pole steadily as he stood up for added leverage. He slowly pulled on the shaft, hand over hand, toward him until something bobbed out of the water. He bent over to get a closer look. He saw something fleshy but couldn't make it out in the dark. He kept the gaffe where it was and grabbed a flashlight.

  He shone the light out at the water. He saw what looked like a turtle bobbing up and down, impaled in the shell by his hook. He relaxed immediately. It was just a big fucking turtle. He looked over at the mutt and was tempted to cuff her ears. The damn dog had scared the shit out of him.

  Why did the dog keep barking? "Shut up already!" Jimmie yelled at the dog and took a step toward her. The dog ignored him completely.

  Jimmie took a deep breath and calmed himself down. He blocked out the noise and moved to get the turtle off his hook. He pulled it toward him, and it moved freely to the boat now until it hit the trolling motor where it became stuck.

  He bent down to clear it and pulled the hook simultaneously toward him. The thing bobbed up out of the water along with the neck and torso of an adult male.

  Jimmie dove back out of the way and moved toward the dog who was barking hysterically. The thing stayed where it was, half on the trolling motor and half in the water. The hook was still intact in its body. He looked closer. The hook was in its left temple all the way to the hilt of the pole. There must have been six inches of metal in its head.

  Jimmie was now hyperventilating badly as the noise from the dog increased. "This can t be happening," Jimmie croaked barely above a whisper. The realization hit him immediately that he had just killed someone, and that he was going to spend the rest of his life in jail. He hated authority, and now he was going to spend the rest of his life living under it. Jimmie didn't think about the guy he just killed. He thought only of his freedom. There was no way he was going to get away from this one. He was weird, and the cops knew it. They would nail him on this one.

  He sat there and thought about this a good long time. There was no way he could go to the cops on this one. Dammit, it wasn't his fault, and he would wind up paying for this with his freedom. No fucking way!

  He had to get out of here. He knew exactly what to do. This time he did hit the dog. It finally understood that the barking was finished. Jimmie petted and complimented her when she stopped. The dog seemed pleased despite the hit. Jimmie pulled out a rawhide and gave it to the mutt who was very pleased and grateful. She gave one final grunt to the dead body at the rear of the boat and sat to feast.

  Jimmie moved closer to the rear and looked closely. The body seemed like it had decayed for days. It must have been the moonlight that made it look like this. He moved it to the side and started up the trolling motor. He slowly started heading for deeper waters.

  Jimmie moved to where the crabs usually gathered. They would disassemble this body in no time. They thrived on carrion.

  He steered from the rear by positioning the motor in the right spot. This way took forever, and for once, he cursed being off the grid. He wanted twin diesels right now. When he was headed in the right direction, Jimmie looked down at the hook of the gaffe that still had the man's temple impaled upon it. The man looked like its flesh was rotting off in sheets. It couldn't be. It was way too soon. It must have been the drugs still flowing through his system. He turned away and headed out to sea. The currents flowed toward the gulf out here, and he'd have to be careful. The trolling motor couldn't maneuver against fast currents, and he'd wind up heading toward Cuba with the body.

  Finally, he started feeling the right currents about ten miles from shore. He looked at the body with disgust and kicked the thing off the hook with his bare foot. It immediately sank to the bottom which was about thirty feet deep here. He managed to get gore on his foot which momentarily freaked him. Getting himself under control took awhile before he rinsed off his heel in the water.

  When he was ready, Jimmie turned the boat around and faced the shoreline. He started it back up and began the slow journey to land. Halfway there, he threw the gaffe overboard. He hoped the two objects he sent to the bottom tonight would not by chance meet because of the currents. He shuddered at the thought.

  At the shore, he headed to the boat slip he normally used to get on or off the sea. He easily could have afforded to dock his boat but didn't want the hassle of paying for a berth yearly.
He didn't want the commitment. He anchored his boat next to the slip and went back to sleep. The Oxy made him relax and calmed him from the night s adventure. He hoped in the morning that people would see him there and remember him violating the law by anchoring near the slip. It would give him a great alibi. For once, he hoped the police saw him and gave him a ticket.

  Chapter 2

  Mike really loved it here. He arrived around one in the morning. He found Ron still up and about, cleaning his gear as he pulled into the house. The directions couldn’t have been easier. When he saw the sign for Ramrod Key, he made a left at the Tiki hut and was there. It was a piece of cake. It did surprise him how far it really was from Miami. He thought it was only a couple of miles. It was two hours without traffic at night. He’d hate to drive it on a weekend during the day. He had missed all the beautiful views over U.S Route 1 though. He couldn’t see a thing off the bridges. He had seen lots of fishermen with their poles over the sides amazingly enough. It made him smile. It was a completely different world than in Minnesota.

  When he got to the house, the lights were on, but his girls were out cold. He stopped and looked back at the sea of drool coming from their empty mouths. He took a picture of it with his phone for future blackmail. He got out of the car and found Ron heading toward him. They shook hands and embraced like old friends. He always liked the man. He seemed much more relaxed than when he knew him from Michigan. Ron had lost a lot of weight and looked fit. He was obviously exercising and swimming since his retirement. He wore his baseball hat over his balding head and wore shorts and a t-shirt with a picture of a sunfish on it. Even with this low light, Mike could tell Ron had a deep tan from the beautiful sun down here. Ron seemed happy to see him even at this late hour.

  “Lisa’s sleeping. She’s upstairs. I’ll help you bring in your stuff.” Ron was always a workhorse. He moved to the girls and started laughing at the sight. They were covered in glitter and makeup.

  “It was the only way to keep them quiet. They’re going to need a bath.” Mike said this with a smile. Ron just laughed and picked up Elizabeth with a grunt. She was deadweight in Ron’s hands. She flopped right down limply on his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him reflexively. Mike sighed. It wouldn’t be long before she was too big for anybody to do that. Ron understood immediately having raised great kids of his own.

  He immediately started up the stairs toward the house, and Mike followed with Victoria. Mike looked down and saw the house was sitting on large concrete pylons with a great open space underneath it. He saw the house had huge bolts attaching it to the pylons. He guessed it was for the hurricane surges.

  Mike walked in and was hit immediately by a cool blast of air conditioning. It felt great, but he missed the warm moist air outside after having survived another brutal Minnesota winter. He carried Victoria to the back bedroom and laid her down next to Elizabeth. They didn’t stir at all. Mike envied their ability to sleep without a care. He never had that ability. He was always worrying even in his dreams.

  They moved back to the car together and unloaded it in short order. They dropped their stuff in the living room until the morning. Mike hit the head, and they went downstairs to turn off the lights. He looked around at the stilts on which the house rested. He hit them and saw they were solid concrete. They weren’t going anywhere even in the worst storm.

  Ron brought him deeper underneath the house and showed him his storage space below the house. There were dozens of long guns, shotguns, and pistols in his safe along with scuba and fishing equipment galore. It looked well used and wonderfully kept by Ron. There wasn’t a speck of rust anywhere to be found. Ron had a well-earned reputation as a big game hunter and deep sea fisherman and liked a clean shop. The sea air and salt water was brutal on all metal.

  Ron handed Mike a Heineken and grabbed three Diet Cokes for himself. Mike forgot about that habit. Ron could drink a case of Diet Coke a day and not think twice about it. They headed to the back of the beautiful house to the balcony. They plopped themselves down on comfortable chairs overlooking the house’s canal. Too bad Mike couldn’t see it. He did see thousands of stars and just gaped upward at them. Ron smiled. The view affected him the same way.

  They talked about nothing for an hour before Mike became tired. It was way past bed time with the drive taking a toll on him. Ron showed him his room that had a large puffer fish as a lamp. It made Mike laugh. It was a different world down here. Mike laid down after hitting the head and instantly fell asleep.

  He woke up to the smell of bacon, and the sound of his girls screeching. It made him smile. He looked at the clock. It was 11:35. He instantly got up, got dressed, and went outside. He was very embarrassed. He never slept this late. He must have been more tired than he thought after the long ride.

  He walked up to Lisa and gave her a big hug and kiss. “Thank you so much for having us. This is amazing.” He hugged her again. He looked at her. She looked well-rested, young, and very tan. He’d need to work on his.

  “You’re very welcome. We love to have company. You must be starving. We ate breakfast long ago. We’re making lunch.” She handed Mike a plate of bacon and eggs. He sat down immediately and ate it all in thirty seconds. He was famished.

  The girls were already in their bikinis. They were smearing suntan lotion all over themselves. They were oohing and aahing over their swimwear. Mike and Ron looked at each other and smiled. They both knew Mike was screwed just like Ron was with his two beautiful daughters.

  Lisa walked over with another plate of food for Mike. He looked sheepish and ate that one as well. He forgot that they really didn’t eat dinner last night. When he was quickly done, the girls rushed him and asked him to take them swimming. Mike looked confused. He had no idea where the beach was. Everything was dark when he drove into town.

  “Where am I taking them swimming?” He looked at Ron.

  Ron laughed, “In the backyard. Come on.” He led them out the back. There was a deck doubling as a small pier that had a small pool sunk into it. It was no more than four feet deep. There were already pool toys in it.

  “Can we go swimming Dad? Please?” the girls said it unison. They were begging as they hadn’t been in the water in months.

  Mike didn’t have to think twice. “Dive in.” They didn’t have to be told again. They literally jumped in before Mike could change his mind. The two little dogs dove in too. Mike especially loved the little mangy one-eyed dog Moe that was Ron’s familiar. Ron walked around with that dog everywhere he went. The dog loved him and literally hated everyone else. He growled whenever anyone got close to his master. He was harmless though at five pounds.

  “Sorry I overslept. I guess not sleeping for thirty hours knocked me out,” Mike apologized to Ron and Lisa. They thought nothing of it.

  Mike looked up at the sky and saw nothing but blue. The sun was a hot eighty-five tropical degrees. He stared up at the sky and started to get pink immediately. Ron handed him suntan lotion.

  “It’s not like up north. You’ll get burned right away. Put it on.” Ron knew better. He was in a thin long-sleeved t-shirt and was wearing a boonie hat. “Everyone who lives down here is always completely covered. The sun just bakes people.”

  Mike looked into the sky and decided he wanted to get burned. He was lily white, and he was sick of it. He needed color. He took off his shirt and sat on a lawn chair for about fifteen minutes before applying the lotion. He realized Ron was right. The sun was a killer if you weren’t careful. He refused to put on his shirt however. He went and got his sunglasses from the car which were completely inadequate. He would need to buy some polarized lenses. It was unbelievably bright.

  They sat and talked on the deck for hours while the girls played in the pool. It was so nice not to have to watch them like a hawk anymore. They were big enough to be able to stand upright in the pool without him fearing for the chance of drowning. He still watched them out of the corner of his eye. He’d never be able to relax completely. He was their
father after all.

  When it was time for dinner, they took a cruise on Ron’s boat out to Picnic Island. It couldn’t even be called an island really. It was a patch of sand, fifty feet long with a palm tree and some bushes on it. Boats gathered around it filled with partying fifty-year olds who decided to drop out of the rat race. Some were successful in their lives and just got tired of the daily grind of mainland life. Some were ex-hippies who got tired of protesting and just preferred drugs and sun. Some were complete failures in life that went from the couch in their parents’ basements to the couches of whoever had one available. Virtually everyone out there drank heavily. Most were swallowing pills of some sort along with smoking weed. Those people stayed on their boats, preferring to mingle with their own kind. The families gathered on the small sand bar. They stayed away from the revelers mostly and protected their kids.

  Mike and Ron waded ashore after anchoring the boat. They carried dry wood high above their heads to the small beach. The kids walked with Lisa and took the sandwiches ashore. They also carried bags of smores. When the job was complete, they started a small fire and roasted marshmallows. All the kids gravitated to them and became friends instantly with the girls who were more than willing to share. Lisa knew what she was doing. Nothing invites friendship to a preteen more than smores in a hot fire. Mike smiled at her in thanks. His girls were in heaven.

  Ron looked out at the approaching barge. The barge looked like an old steam ship without the wheel in the back. It was absolutely enormous and anchored a couple hundred feet from the island. Mike looked at him quizzically.

  Ron laughed. “The owner bought it from the US Military as scrap. He decided to hook up some batteries to it and give it a rudimentary engine. It barely moves and is perpetually docked here. He charges ten bucks to party on it. He sets up his band and provides crappy food and cheap keg beer. The locals love it.”