Chapter 3:Part 1

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Samuel Taylor swept the blood into the ocean, pouring buckets of water onto the deck, ridding the area of any trace of the kill he'd made earlier. Satisfaction buzzed through him. Dinner for a week. He laughed out loud, without reserve.

Out here, on the open ocean, there was no one to judge him. No one looking over his shoulder, no board of directors looking to fire him or reporters to embarrass him. Everything was cool.

Thank God he'd been able to leave the shackles of business behind. The rest of the nation had crapped out, but not his business. Plus he had a cushion of stock he played with for extra cash. His friends didn't know how he kept his Midas touch, but you just had to know how to play it.

With the fish packed and stored in his freezer, he laid down on his now pristine deck. One more reason he loved his life. The sailboat was his savior. He'd been unhealthy before leaving the corporate world. Not really fat, but nothing like now. His body was trained and trimmed. Women looked hungrily at him. Well, the few women he saw on the off chance he docked and left his boat.

He hated their obsession with his body even if it did feed his ego. If they knew who he was then their attention would be relentless. Nothing could induce him to take what they offered, his dreams were enough for now.

The rocking of the boat calmed his thoughts and relaxed his body. Nothing like this existed for him in lower Manhattan, or any of the other big cities he operated out of. His eyes drifted shut, blocking out the harsh sun. He woke to a showy red sky. How long had he slept? "Red sky at night, sailors delight. Looks like smooth sailing for me."

Samuel moved from the deck to below and poured a glass of water from his desalination equipment. It wasn't as good as fresh spring water, but he held back on drinking too many bottles of the good stuff. He wanted to wait for a celebration. The fish came close to celebratory water. Maybe tomorrow at dinner he would crack open a bottle to celebrate the good catch. The crisp freshness of chilled bottle water would be treat.

Fresh. He had almost forgotten what fresh felt like, but he wouldn't give up his freedom for what he'd had before. He'd come close to selling his soul to the devil. It took him almost dying to know he wasn't really living. Thank God for that man who'd saved him. He couldn't think of him as a bum anymore, but that's what he'd been. The rotten-toothed, smelly old coot had swayed towards him and Sam had shied away, tripping over the curb. The old man hadn't hesitated to grasp onto his hand and pull him to safety. The bus only missed him by inches.

"Why?" Samuel had asked.

"Because we're all God's children."

The simple answer still echoed in his head. The old man had grossed him out, but the bum hadn't hesitated to save his life. Sam knew he wouldn't have returned the favor.

The next morning Sam had an appointment with his investment banker. He hadn't even paused when signing the papers ensuring that a homeless shelter would be closed to make way for a tower of luxury condos. After the meeting he'd realized exactly what he'd done. He was the lowest of scum sucking jerks.

He'd gone back to the office and pulled out paperwork from business deals of the past and saw how many problems he'd created for the poor. Shame and self-hatred had forced him to run away.

Samuel dropped to the deck and rolled over onto his side, staring at the dark waters. The boat and ocean thing had been a choice, one that he'd made consciously because he needed the lack of people. Intellectually, he could achieve peace anywhere. In the city he would have to work harder for the calm, but he could access it if he tried. Eventually he would return to Manhattan and do something, but not until his head was screwed on right. Prayer and meditation helped, but he needed more time.

His companies were doing great without him. Thoughts of going back to the business world gave him the shakes. Eventually he'd make the commitment to return and take over again, but he wasn't really needed. He could rejoin society later.

The stars twinkled above and his eyes drifted shut. The roll of the boat jerked him awake. Night had fallen. Weighing anchor wouldn't do any good this far out. The ocean floor was too deep. He checked his radar, making sure the weather would really hold, red sky and all. He moved to his bed, happy that the ocean was so calm. Tonight, sleep would be peaceful.

Copyright Sara Thacker 2011