03.2 Valor

Cloud covered the sky and winds blew from the east. She drove fast around the curb and green verdure gushing rapidly on the left. She climbed the Ashley River Memorial Bridge on the westbound one way and stopped the car. Natalia noticed that the marina lay too far on the east. She picked her binoculars and climbed down. Took a quick glance, over a span of bridge lying across that was part of US17 or the Savannah Highway. She treaded to the north side and right below, there lay a small marina and there was beauty in the boats. It was the Bristol Marina.

She climbed the Bronco and raced up to take a turn on James Island and return on the eastbound span on T Allen Legare Bridge. Natalia stopped by the guardrail and looked down at Ashley Marina stretching a mile.

Fifteen minutes later, she parked on Lockwood Drive and ran towards the gangway. She cared not to get inside the harbour unit and check on the boat first. There were many marinas around and yet she took this slot for the proper one.

She wore sunglasses and in Muay Thai outfit, slit shorts, latex under the fingerless pair of wrist guards, the mesh bag and the Minolta on a shoulder. She ran up the gangway looking for the dock and soon located the berth. There was no boat called ‘Valor’ in the slip.

She began to walk at a moderate pace to read the names of the boats from side to side that caught her eye in a random manner.

After three hours on the half-mile pier and in the brush of wind, she ended without any luck. She unfurled the map standing in the wind and figured another gate to enter south docks. She hadn’t stepped on them. And still another portion lay half a mile to the west. She ran to the entrance to South Outer Docks and spent another hour looking for the boat. She had no imagination of the boat and hence she only looked for a name.

Having failed on her second attempt, she asked around, “Where can I find this boat?”

“Go in the Harborage. You’d find a wall panel of the marina with its slips and docks numbered,” said the guy, “If you don’t find it here, check Ashley Marina lying to the west. This is now City Marina. They have another service office. That is because a highway bridge is coming right down the middle splitting Ashley Marina into two.”

“Thank goodness! You’ve been very kind. That’s a lot of help.” So, a little help from Valerie turned out to be an irksome one – a waste of time. Natalia relied on the map Valerie gave.

She knew she could find it now. She raced up the drive and arrived at Ashley Marina. She did not get inside the Harborage. Instead, Natalia ran up the gangway and stumbled at a post directing to F Dock. In few steps, she was looking down at a cruising yacht called ‘Valor’.

She removed the sunglasses and tucked in the neckline. She took snapshots of the boat with her Minolta camera with a normal lens. Not that it could take close-ups in great detail but pretty sharp and clear shots. She covered both ends and lengthwise.

Natalia climbed the yacht and opened the hatch. She paused to read a panel of a navigational instrument. Raymarine, it read. It was a wooden craft with stainless-steel railings. She took some pictures and glanced inside. It was dark. She shouted for a response and there seemed to be no one.

Natalia descended the companionway. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the dark corners. Interior appeared polished of teak wood. Wall panels compactly designed to fit drawers and closets. To the left stood a cabin with letters ‘TAYANA’ embossed on the door under what looked like three blades of a propeller. It smelt tobacco. There was an ashtray filled of cigarette stubs left on the folding wing table.

She peeped into the cabin. Someone was using the bunk. Clothes hung in there. She switched on a light, checked the pockets and grabbed a wallet. She found a credit card. Natalia produced some plastic bags from the mesh and dropped the credit card into one. Checked the drawers with sundry, again, picked a pen, a broken watch and a mini diary, carefully placed them in evidence bags. Natalia took few pictures and stepped into the galley. She noticed a Uniden CB radio hanging on the top corner over the sink. She turned on the lights fixed on the ceiling.

She advanced into the saloon with red cushions. Framed pictures hung on the walls. She paused to take a few photographs. Then reached the ashtray and emptied into an evidence bag. She picked a lighter on the folding wing table and dropped it into the mesh bag.

She peered into the forward wing cabin to find items on the V-bunk clad in red. Handy tools, a watertight flash, books, a bottle and many compartments to check. Suddenly, some rapid noises fired from behind. Natalia turned briskly to find a man standing there. A half-bald man with hollow cheeks and cold grey eyes as it appeared in the light. Some fright whisked her back. He stared at her with a cigarette in his hand.

“Are you renting the boat?” she began.

He lurched forward and kicked her in the groin. She wore nothing under her Muay Thai shorts – not even a crotch guard. She got caught right in the balls and her hog sailed inside the satin. She went crazy for a moment, crouched down, grabbing her front to pass a horrendous pain through the body – signals launched at 265 mph to the brain.

He became aware that this was a dude. He came down on her. She delivered a front kick in his face. Threw him flat out on his back with a single blow. She rose to her feet and scrambled out of the hatchway clutching her balls. She wasn’t able to dig any further. She just ran.

She was hurt bad and that made her quit finding Wayland Marine Group where Curtis welded a ladder.

She stopped outside Hutton House and glanced at the shady cool street covered off branches and leaves from trees standing abreast the sidewalks. She took some snaps before entering the house.

Valerie suddenly felt shy to find her wearing too little shorts and in that outfit. She reappeared behind the door, “Do you dress like that?”

Natalia nodded, “Les Balles tonight!”

“Yes!” snapped Valerie sharply tilting backwards as Natalia climbed the stairs.

She opened the window and glanced up the road one last time. She could not capture a view of 69 Church Street because it was covered of leaves.

Natalia made her mind to pass North Carolina, home of the Cyrils, before heading north. First, she took a moment to sort out the items and label them with dates. Then she went to the library to obtain recent road maps for driving.

She spent one more night to nurse herself with a thirst for Southern Comfort and make it for a hundred days of spring.