The Raft Read Free Page B

hours, maybe minutes, before
the feds and the cops finished their respective jurisdictional
pissing matches and came out, loaded for bear, onto the Raft.
    If Maggie was still aboard when that
happened... well, Rachael couldn't let that happen. She'd lost
Maggie once already that day – at least emotionally – and she
wasn't about to lose her again. Maggie could be stubborn... shit,
she was practically half mule, but Rachael couldn't let anything
happen to her. No, not after all that had happened, not with so
much still left unsaid.
    God, Peter was going to be furious when he
figured out where Rachael was. Margaret would be in daycare until
three. She was going to have to call, tell Peter everything, but...
maybe Rachael had enough time...
    Maggie was busying herself, preparing the Soft Cell to get underway. She was moving to the bow to
raise the anchor. Rachael tried to follow, moving cautiously on the
slick deck. “Maggie, I know this might not seem like much to you,
but-”
    Rachael slipped, her left foot coming out
from underneath her. She landed hard on her rump.
    “Take those boots off,” Maggie interrupted as
she cranked up the anchor. “You'll kill yourself as well, and then
the cops will have two reasons to sail out here and start poking
around.”
    Rachael laughed in nervous shock. She should
have known better to think that Maggie wouldn't have already
grasped the full political implications of the young girl's death.
Rachael sat down on the roof of the boat's cabin and pulled a
rubber boot off. She did the same with a sock. Maggie slipped by,
returned to the cockpit.
    “Maggie...”
    “Rachael, take your own advice: don't
start.”
    “But-”
    “Don't.”
    Rachael let her mouth close. She busied
herself with her second boot and sock. When she was barefoot, she
pulled herself back to her feet and tested the fiberglass below her
toes. It was cold and damp and Rachael felt dizzy.
    What the hell was she doing here?
    She began shuffling back towards the stern,
one hand keeping hold of the grab rail and the other holding her
boots. “What are you going to do, Maggie?” Rachael said, not
looking up from her toes.
    “Do?” Maggie seemed surprised by the
question. “Arrest Horus, of course.”
    Of course. “But I thought you said you
weren't a cop?” Rachael said as she reached the cockpit. She
dropped heavily down onto one of the long benches, never slacking
her iron grip on the boat's railing.
    “I said it didn't work like that. But if it
helps to think of me as a policeman, fine.”
    “No,” Rachael winced. That was Maggie: don't
explain, just condescend. “If I'm going to write an article about
the Raft, you have to explain things to me. Are you a cop or are
you not?”
    Maggie paused, looked at Rachael out of the
corner of her eye, then chuckled. “Yes. And no. It just not like
that out here, Rachael.”
    “But you can arrest this Horus
character?”
    Maggie nodded.
    “And you're sure he's the murder?”
    Maggie shrugged.
    “Well, is he or isn't he? Isn't he innocent
until proven guilty? Even out here on the Raft?”
    “I doubt anyone has ever seriously considered
Horus innocent of anything in his life. But I see your point.”
    “Then who decides if he's guilty or innocent?
A jury of his peers? A judge? What? Does the Raft have any sort of
judicial system in place?” Rachael shifted in her seat, trying not
to think about her queasy stomach. “No? You've never had to deal
with a serious crime like this, have you? So there's never been any
need. Damn it, Maggie, this is what everyone onshore is saying:
that you're a bunch of spoiled, pie-in-the-sky New Agers, dodging
taxes, skipping out on the check, preaching peace and love while
practicing self-preservation. And now the Raft has finally killed
someone, some poor, young, innocent girl, and now the world can see
you all for what you really are: dangerous. Dangerous to yourself
and dangerous to mainstream society.”
    Maggie didn't answer. She