Mindbend

Instead, the Hobie Cat shot forward with an exhilarating burst of speed. Adam opened his eyes and saw that they were racing toward shore in front of the torrent of white water.

Before he knew what was happening, the speeding boat hit the backwash of the previous wave and bounced into the air, throwing him over the side into the water. He came up sputtering, but happily surprised that the water was only waist deep. Alan had remained on the boat’s trampoline, secured by the line around his chest, but he had rotated around the mast and his legs dangled over the side. Adam grabbed the boat and pulled it toward shore, straining against the undertow. The pontoons finally hit the bottom, and Adam waited for the next wave before running the boat up onto dry land.

He immediately collapsed onto the sand to catch his breath, then fished out his glasses and slipped them on.

Looking around, he saw that they had landed on a narrow and rather steep sand beach that was strewn with all sorts of debris. A number of old wood-planked boats were drawn up from the water’s edge and secured around the trunks of nearby coconut palms. Within the darkness of the trees was a village of ramshackle houses.

A welcoming committee of two scraggy dogs appeared at the edge of the beach and began to bark loudly. A light went on in the nearest house. When Adam struggled to his feet, the dogs dashed out of sight for a moment, only to reappear and bark more insistently. Adam ignored them. He untied Alan and got the man standing.

Alan held his head as Adam led him up the beach. Just within the shelter of the palms, they came upon a ramshackle house with a beaten-up half-ton pickup parked outside. Adam peered hungrily inside the cab. No keys were dangling from the ignition. He decided to knock on the door of the house and take his chances. The dogs were barking wildly now, nipping at his legs.

As he walked up the steps, a light went on and a face appeared at the window. Adam checked his back pocket to make sure his wallet was safe. A moment later the door opened. The man who opened it was stripped to the waist and barefoot. He had a gun in his hand, an old revolver with a mother-of-pearl handle.

“No hablo much español,” said Adam, trying to smile. The man did not smile back.

“Me puede dar un ride al aeropuerto,” said Adam, turning slightly and pointing toward the truck.

The man looked at Adam as if he were crazy. Then he made a waving motion of dismissal with the pistol and started to close the door.

“Por favor,” pleaded Adam. Then, in a combination of Spanish and English, he rapidly tried to explain how he’d been lost at sea on a sailboat with a sick friend and that they had to get to the airport immediately. Pulling out his wallet, he began counting out soggy bills. That finally perked the man’s interest. He put the gun into his pocket and allowed Adam to lead him down to the beach.

In the midst of his frantic attempts to capture the man’s interest, Adam had had an idea. When he got to the beach, he picked up the bowline of the Hobie Cat and put it into the Puerto Rican’s hand. At the same time he struggled to explain to the man that the boat was his if he took them to the airport.

The Puerto Rican finally seemed to comprehend. A broad smile appeared on his face. Gleefully, he pulled the boat higher on the beach and lashed it to one of the coconut palms. Then he went back to the house, presumably to dress.

Adam lost no time in getting Alan into the cab of the truck. Almost immediately the Puerto Rican reappeared, swinging his keys. He started up the truck, glancing warily at Alan, who was slumped in his seat, and at the point of drifting off to sleep again. Adam tried to explain that his friend was sick, but he soon gave up, deciding it was easier to pretend that he, too, had fallen asleep. He sat with his eyes closed until they reached the airport. Indicating that he wanted to be dropped at the Eastern departure area, he began to worry how on earth he could explain Alan’s and his appearance to the ticket clerk.

The truck came to a stop, and Adam touched Alan’s shoulder. This time it was easier to wake him up.

“Muchas gracias,” Adam said as they got out.

“De nada,” called the driver, and roared away.

“OK,” said Adam, taking Alan by the arm. “This is the last lap.” He walked into the almost empty terminal. A few taxis and an ambulance idled by the entrance, but it was too early for many departing tourists. Adam surveyed the old-fashioned building and seated Alan at an empty shoeshine stand. Then he went over to the ticket counter.

Looking up at the schedule, he saw that the next Eastern flight to Miami was in two hours. A small sign said “For After Hours, Use Phone.” Adam picked up the receiver next to the sign. When the agent answered, he told Adam that he’d be right out. Sure enough, by the time Adam hung up, a man in a clean and pressed brown uniform emerged from a door behind the counter. When he saw Adam, his smile faltered.