PARKER’S SLEEP WAS FILLED WITH constantly shifting images of the ocean, and men with thick forearms and multicolored nets, and the sensation of sitting in rocking chairs that wouldn’t stop rocking. He felt like he woke up multiple times but didn’t have the strength to stay awake and kept slipping back under. Finally he settled into a dream where he stood on the edge of a stream that reminded him of eastern Oregon. A hot summer sun blasted down from above. But it invigorated him. Thick underbrush and grasses filled the other bank and spread out for miles till they reached a low range of mountains. Behind him was a lush forest.
The river water was crystal clear, and all he wanted to do was sit on the soft turf along the bank and soak his feet in the stream. Forget his life. Pretend his dad had loved him as much as he loved Joel, and he and Allison were as tight as they’d been in the old days. He breathed in the peace of the dream. But the solitude didn’t last. A man appeared on the other side of the river and strode toward Parker. Cap on his head. Flannel shirt, worn. The dense foliage reached almost to the top of the man’s beat-up jeans, but he cut through it without effort. His thick forefinger was pointed at Parker’s chest, and the scowl on the man’s face said he wasn’t camping in the land of milk and honey.
“Get up!” he growled.
When he reached the edge of the other bank, he stopped and screamed the command again. The third time, Parker realized the voice wasn’t coming from his dream.
Parker pried open his eyes and found himself staring into the dark brown eyes of a man whose face was less than a foot from his. The man had a forest of a beard, with eyebrows almost as thick. His head was covered in a dark red stocking cap, and he wore green rubber coveralls that came up to his chest. A thin scar ran down the left side of his chunky neck, and his voice sounded like he had half a potato stuffed in his cheek.
“Where . . . who—”
“The fish are running, and they’re not going to wait for your lazy glutes to get on deck. So move! Now!”
“Wow. Overslept, didn’t I?”
The man pointed a sausage-like finger at Parker. “A pal of yours vouched for you. Said I should hire you. I took a chance. Gave it to you even though the other three votes aboard this little luxury liner were against you. People would kill for this gig, guys younger and probably in better shape, so don’t screw with me. Got it, Rook?”
“Yeah. Got it. Back off.” Parker pushed himself to a sitting position and scooted back. The cold hull of the boat pressed through his T-shirt.
“Wha’d you say?”
Parker gritted his teeth. “I said I’ll be right there.”
“That’s what I thought.” The man slammed his boot into the base of Parker’s cot. “You sleep in again, you’re going swimming. Got it?”
“Hey, it was a long flight. I didn’t sleep. I haven’t been—”
“Shut up. I don’t want to hear it. This boat has a limited number of weeks left to make or break the entire year. So unless you shut your mouth and start working, I’ll give you a new set of teeth about half the number you have now.”
The man turned and lurched out of the cabin. He slammed the door behind him, but the wood didn’t mute his final instructions. “Two minutes and you’re on deck or I’m throwing you overboard, and don’t think for a second that I’m kidding.”
Parker’s gaze whirled around the tiny cabin to take in what he hadn’t been able to see in the dark when he arrived last night. Five bunks. Work clothes. Boots and gloves and hats. Not much else. He crept out of the small bunk and tried to get his footing on the stark gray floor. The boat lurched and Parker almost went down. Had to be rocking back and forth at more than thirty degrees. No picnic working on a boat moving like this.
He pulled on his jeans, a long flannel shirt, a thick coat, and his work boots. The boat pitched hard. Parker lost his balance and slammed his elbow into a small wooden shelf to his right. Pain shot through his arm. Nailed his funny bone with perfection. Funny bone. Yeah, hilarious. What a stupid name for a part of your elbow and what a great start to the day. He finally staggered through the door of the sleeping quarters, then up the stairs that more closely resembled a ladder.
The wind buffeted him as he stepped onto the open deck. Not bad but still cold. The rocking targeted his stomach. He formed a fist and punched his gut. He wouldn’t allow himself to get sick. He could do this.
Two men stood with their backs to him, their legs braced wide, their arms resting on the railing. A third man stood by himself on the other side of the boat. The two at the rail turned, glanced at him, then resumed gazing out over the black waves dusted with dawn’s gray light. The tall, older man on the other side studied Parker from head to toe.
The man who had woken him pointed at the men near the railing. “Guy on the left is Dawson. Don’t piss him off. The one on the right is Fredricks. Don’t piss him off either. The one over there is Abraham. You met him last night when you arrived, so he’s probably already told you to call him Abe. My name is Logan, but you’ll call me Captain.”
The big man started to turn to walk away but hesitated, then called to Dawson, “Anything you want to add to the rook’s education?”
“Yeah.” Dawson glared at Parker. “Don’t screw up.”
“Fredricks?”
“Same.” Fredricks grinned at Parker. “It won’t go well for you if you do.”
“Abe?”
Abraham shook his head. “We will see what we will see.” He glanced at Parker as if to say, Hang in there. But it might have been Parker’s imagination.
Parker’s stomach heaved again and his head pitched forward as he gagged. No. Keep it down. These were not the kind of guys he wanted to see him throw up. Wouldn’t make the right first impression. But it was already too late. Parker lurched toward the railing and just made it to the edge as whatever he’d last eaten spilled over the side.
“Yeeee-haw! Looks like we’ve got a puker, gents!” Dawson leaned back and shouted at the sky. “Gotta love the pukers.”
Parker glanced back at the grinning faces. Even Logan joined the merriment, although his only way of showing it was to allow one corner of his mouth to turn up, and a glint hovered in his eye for a moment. A second later it vanished and he pointed at Parker.
“You get a drop on my ship, Rook, I’ll take off your ring finger. Got me?” Logan’s eyes said he was dead serious. Parker stumbled forward two steps and grabbed at the railing as another heave overtook him.
“Bait!” Fredricks hollered. “Feed the fish, baby!”
“You’re gonna love going across the gulf, Rook.” Dawson grinned again. “Can get a little choppy at times. Roller coaster of the seas.”
“This isn’t choppy?”
Fredricks laughed. “Don’t worry, we won’t be headed that direction for another two weeks. Plenty of time for you to get your sea stomach.”
Logan drilled Parker once more with his eyes and strode off. Parker glared at the back of Logan’s head and muttered, “That man needs to go down.”
He glanced at Abraham, who must have had Superman’s hearing, because he shook his head, and his eyes said that trying to take down Logan would be a poor decision. Parker wandered over to Abraham. His hair was graying slightly under his baseball hat, but he looked to be in good shape. A cigarette was tucked behind his right ear. As soon as Logan was out of sight, Abraham pushed himself off the railing and strolled forward.
“You ever smoke, kid?”
“I’m thirty-five, not a kid.”
“Everyone younger than me is a kid. Nothing personal.”
Parker stared at the dark green, four-feet swells off the side of the boat and a horizon of low-level mountains in the distance. “Where are we? What part of Alaska? The guy who dropped me off last night didn’t think it was worth his breath to tell me.”
Abraham handed Parker a pair of worn brown gloves.
“You’re not going to answer my question, Abe?”
Parker studied Abraham. Laughing eyes even when he wasn’t smiling. Eyes that said he was a decent man. Hard to ignore a guy like that, especially since he might be Parker’s only hope for a friend on this boat. What had he gotten himself into?
“We are looking at the saline waters of the great state of Alaska about five miles off the coast of Ketchikan, catching the freshest salmon the world has to offer. Your turn.”
“I smoked once or twice in high school.” Parker pulled on the gloves. “Tried it a dozen times in college. That’s about it.”
“Why’d you do it?”
“Trying to be tough. Tick off my dad.”
“Ah, good reasons.”
“Good?”
Abe gave him a thin smile.
“What about you, Abe? Why do you smoke?”
“Did I say I smoke?” Abraham grinned.
Parker pointed at his ear. “Then what’s that?”
“A cigarette.” Abraham slipped it out from behind his ear and stroked it. “A reminder.”
“Of?”
“Lung cancer. A friend of mine got it. Took him early. It reminds me to treasure the moments I have on this earth.”
Logan appeared around the corner of the boat’s cabin. He reached Parker in two strides and grabbed his neck with a hand large enough to easily palm a basketball.
“I wasn’t kidding about tossing you overboard if you don’t work. But since it’s your first day, I’m going to cut you a break.” He shoved Parker backward toward Abraham. “Do exactly what Abe tells you, and start doing it now, Rook.”
“My name is Parker.” Parker grabbed Logan’s hand and yanked it down. “Not Rook. Not Puker. Parker. Got it?”
“You’re on my boat, so I’ll call you whatever I want to call you. You asked to be here, so you’ll follow my rules. You eat, you sleep, you work hard every second you’re on duty, you stay out of the wheelhouse, and you keep your mouth shut unless someone asks you a question. Are we clear?” Logan snarled at him as he stepped away.
“Yeah.” Parker looked down and muttered, “They must have loved you in charm school.”
Logan whirled back. “What did you say?”
He glared at Logan as his dad’s voice echoed in his mind.
“A strong man knows when to fight and when not to fight. A true man controls his emotions. His emotions do not control him.”
Logan’s face seethed with anger. “You want to give me lip? Give it to me right here with your fist.” Logan stuck a thick finger into his chin. “But if you don’t want to mix it up with me, then shut up and work. Eat. Sleep. Work. Stay out of the wheelhouse. Are. We. Clear?”
Parker glared at the man. “We’re clear.”
Logan started to go, then spun back and launched his fist into Parker’s jaw with the power of a jackhammer. Parker crumpled to the deck. As darkness took him, he heard Logan mutter, “Now we’re clear.”