Evan stole a boat to escape his massive rent hike, but the stolen boat had a ticking bomb.
"Get your foot off the rope," Evan said.
He did not look up from the ignition block. The heat rolling off the wooden docks of the Kenora marina was thick. It smelled like dead fish and premium unleaded gasoline. Summer in Ontario was supposed to be nice. It was not nice. It felt like standing inside a mouth.
"I am not moving my foot," a voice said.
Evan blinked. He wiped a line of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. His knuckles were smeared with black grease. He finally looked up. A kid, maybe twelve years old, was standing on the edge of the dock. The kid wore an oversized yellow life jacket and a bucket hat that covered half his face.
"Move it," Evan said.
"You are stealing this boat," the kid said.
"I am borrowing this boat. Indefinitely. Because the universe owes me."
Evan jammed a flathead screwdriver into the key slot. It was a vintage speedboat. The seats were bright red vinyl. The hull was white fiberglass. It looked like something from an old movie. Evan did not care about old movies. He cared about the email on his phone. The screen was cracked in three places. The email said his rent in Winnipeg was going up eight hundred dollars a month. Eight hundred. For a basement apartment that flooded every time it rained.
"The universe does not owe you a boat," the kid said.
"The universe owes me a lot of things," Evan said. He twisted the screwdriver. The engine coughed. A puff of blue smoke shot out of the back.
"My name is Harper," the kid said.
"I do not care, Harper."
Evan kicked the mooring rope off the wooden cleat. The boat drifted backward. The water slapped against the fiberglass. It was a good sound. It sounded like leaving.
"You should not take that specific boat," Harper said. The kid was leaning over the edge of the dock now. His hands were gripping his knees.
"Too late," Evan said.
He slammed the throttle down. The engine roared. It was incredibly loud. Evan's ears rang. The boat shot forward, lifting out of the water. The wind hit his face. It was hot wind, but it was fast. He drove out of the marina, past the big expensive yachts, past the gas pumps, and out onto the open water of Lake of the Woods.
He drove for twenty minutes. He did not know where he was going. He just wanted to find an empty island. There were thousands of them out here. He would live on berries. He would become a swamp monster. It was better than paying rent.
He slowed the boat down. The engine dropped to a low rumble. The water was dark green. Trees covered the rocky islands on all sides.
Evan let go of the wheel. He stretched his arms. His back cracked.
"You drive terribly," a voice said.
Evan's stomach dropped. His heart hit his ribs. He spun around.
The blue plastic tarp in the back of the boat rustled. A yellow life jacket popped out. Then a bucket hat.
"Harper?" Evan yelled. "Are you kidding me?"
Harper climbed out from under the tarp. The kid looked slightly green.
"I told you not to take this boat," Harper said.
"Why are you in the boat?" Evan screamed. He grabbed the edges of his own hair. "I am committing grand theft auto! Or grand theft boat! You cannot be here!"
"I was hiding," Harper said.
"From who?"
"From Mr. Henderson. He owns the marina. And this boat. I knocked over a display of fishing lures. He yelled at me. So I hid."
"I am turning around," Evan said. "I am taking you back. I am leaving you on the dock. Then I am driving to the middle of nowhere."
Evan reached for the steering wheel. He grabbed the metal rim. He pulled it to the right.
The wheel did not move.
Evan pulled harder. His biceps tightened. The metal was totally locked. It felt like it was welded in place.
"What is wrong with this piece of junk?" Evan asked.
He grabbed the throttle. He tried to pull it back to neutral. It was stuck too. The boat was moving forward at a steady, slow crawl.
"Evan," Harper said.
"How do you know my name?"
"It is printed on your coffee shop name tag," Harper said.
Evan looked down at his shirt. The green apron was still tied around his waist. He had literally walked out of his shift, got in his car, and driven two hours to the lake. He ripped the apron off and threw it on the floor.
"The wheel is jammed," Evan said. He kicked the dashboard.
A loud beep filled the air.
It was sharp. It hurt Evan's teeth.
Under the steering column, a small plastic panel dropped open. A bundle of wires fell out. Red wires. Blue wires. Yellow wires. They were wrapped around six gray cylinders. Thick duct tape held the cylinders together.
Attached to the front of the tape was a small digital screen.
Red numbers lit up on the screen.
01:00:00.
00:59:59.
00:59:58.
Evan stopped breathing. His lungs felt like empty plastic bags.
"Is that a clock?" Harper asked.
"That is a bomb," Evan said.
"Why does a boat have a bomb?"
"I do not know!" Evan yelled. His hands shook. He reached out to touch the wires.
"Do not touch it!" Harper screamed.
Evan pulled his hand back. The red numbers kept ticking down. The boat kept moving forward. The sun beat down on them.
Suddenly, the radio on the dashboard clicked on.
Static hissed through the boat's speakers. It was loud enough to make Harper cover his ears.
Evan stared at the radio. The dial glowed green.
The static faded. A voice came through. It was a man's voice. He sounded bored.
"Moving on to item four on the agenda," the voice on the radio said. "The structural integrity of the Pine Portage Dam. We have a report from the civil engineer."
"What is this?" Evan asked. He stared at the speakers.
"It sounds like the local town hall meeting," Harper said. "They broadcast it on the AM station."
"Why is it playing on this boat?"
"I do not know," Harper said.
A woman's voice came on the radio. "Thank you, Mayor. The concrete on the east spillway is showing severe stress fractures. If water levels rise another two inches, we are looking at a catastrophic failure."
Evan rolled his eyes. "I do not care about local zoning issues. I am trying to not get blown up."
He reached out and grabbed the volume knob on the radio. He twisted it to the left. He wanted silence. He needed to think. He clicked the radio completely off.
BEEP.
The bomb under the dashboard made a horrible noise.
Evan looked down.
The timer had been at fifty-nine minutes.
Now it was at forty-nine minutes.
00:49:59.
00:49:58.
"It just jumped ten minutes!" Harper screamed. The kid jumped onto the red vinyl seat and hugged his knees. "You made it mad!"
"I turned off the radio!" Evan yelled.
He reached out and clicked the radio back on.
"...and the budget simply does not allow for emergency repairs this quarter," the mayor's voice droned on the speakers.
The timer stopped jumping. It went back to ticking down normally. One second at a time.
"Okay," Evan said. He swallowed hard. His throat was completely dry. "Okay. If I touch the radio, the bomb speeds up. This makes perfect sense. This is a very normal day."
A large shadow fell over the boat.
Evan looked up.
A bird was circling them. It was huge. It had a black head, a black and white checkered back, and a sharp, pointed beak. It dropped out of the sky and landed on the front deck of the boat with a heavy thud.
The bird stared at Evan. Its eyes were bright, glowing red.
"Shoo," Evan said. He waved his hand. "Get off the boat."
The bird opened its beak.
"Actions have consequences, kid," the bird said.
Evan froze. His brain simply stopped working. He looked at Harper.
"Did that bird just talk?" Evan asked.
"Yes," Harper said. The kid did not look surprised. He just looked scared.
"Birds do not talk," Evan said.
"I am a Loon," the bird said. Its beak snapped open and shut with the words. It sounded like an old man who smoked too many cigars. "And you are a thief. And a cynic. A bad combination."
Evan backed up until his spine hit the driver's seat. "I am having a heatstroke. The exhaust fumes are getting to me."
"Mr. Henderson built this boat," Harper said. The kid's voice was shaking. "He is the guy who owns the marina. He used to be the town planner. Then he went crazy. He hates people who do not care about the community."
"What does that have to do with me?" Evan asked.
"You stole his Karma Engine," the Loon said. The bird hopped closer to the windshield. Its claws clicked on the fiberglass. "Henderson rigged this boat. It runs on civic duty."
"That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard!" Evan shouted.
BEEP.
The timer dropped another five minutes.
00:44:59.
"Stop saying things like that!" Harper yelled. "The boat listens! It punishes apathy! If you ignore the town's problems, it blows up!"
Evan stared at the bomb. He stared at the Loon. He stared at the radio.
"So I just have to listen to the boring town hall meeting?" Evan asked. "That is it? I just sit here and listen?"
"You have to engage," the Loon said. The bird tilted its head. The red eye locked onto Evan. "You have to care."
"I do not care about anything," Evan said. "I cannot even afford groceries. Why should I care about a dam?"
BEEP.
00:39:59.
"Evan!" Harper screamed. "Stop it!"
"Okay!" Evan held his hands up. "I care! I am very interested in the concrete fractures of the east spillway!"
The timer stayed normal.
The boat was still moving forward. It was picking up speed now. The engine was roaring louder.
Evan looked out the windshield.
Directly ahead of them, jutting out of the green water, was a massive wall of jagged gray rocks. It was a shoal.
"We are going to hit the rocks," Evan said.
He grabbed the steering wheel. It was still locked solid.
"Turn the wheel!" Harper cried.
"I am trying!" Evan pulled with all his weight. His boots slipped on the floorboards. The wheel did not budge.
"The wheel is locked because you are not participating!" the Loon squawked. It flapped its wings. Water sprayed off its feathers onto Evan's face.
"Participating in what?" Evan yelled.
"The discourse!" the Loon yelled back.
The radio crackled. "We need volunteers to stack sandbags near the lower valley," the woman on the radio said. "But I know it is a holiday weekend."
"Nobody is going to do that!" Evan shouted at the radio. "People are selfish! The system is rigged anyway!"
The moment the words left his mouth, the steering wheel violently unlocked. It spun hard to the left. The boat jerked.
Evan was thrown sideways. His shoulder slammed into the side railing. The boat tilted at a crazy angle, leaning hard into the turn. They missed the jagged rocks by two inches. The side of the boat scraped against the stone. Fiberglass shrieked.
"What just happened?" Evan gasped. He rubbed his shoulder. It throbbed with hot pain.
"The boat swerves when you make cynical excuses!" Harper said. The kid was holding onto the seat belt strap.
"This is a nightmare," Evan said. "This is actually a nightmare."
The steering wheel locked up again. The boat straightened out. It was heading straight for a thick patch of dead trees sticking out of the water.
"We need funding for the youth center," the mayor's voice said on the radio.
Evan gritted his teeth. He looked at the dead trees approaching fast. He looked at the steering wheel.
"I think funding the youth center is a brilliant idea," Evan lied. He tried to sound enthusiastic. "Kids need a safe place to play."
The wheel did not unlock.
"You do not mean it," the Loon said. The bird was cleaning a feather with its beak. "The boat knows you are faking."
"How does a boat know I am faking?" Evan screamed.
"Karma!" the Loon squawked.
The trees were ten feet away.
"Fine!" Evan yelled. "I am leaving! I am not dealing with a magic boat and a talking bird!"
Evan stood up. He climbed onto the red vinyl seat. He put one foot on the edge of the boat.
"Do not jump!" Harper yelled.
"I will swim to shore!" Evan said.
He launched himself over the side. He closed his eyes, bracing for the shock of the cold water.
He hit the surface of the lake.
But he did not sink.
The water did not part. It felt like hitting a giant, wet trampoline. The surface of the lake bowed inward under his weight, tight and rubbery.
Then, it violently snapped back.
Evan was launched back into the air. He flew backward over the railing and crashed down hard onto the floor of the boat. His elbow hit the fiberglass deck. Pain shot up his arm.
"Ow!" Evan groaned. He rolled over. He stared up at the sky.
"The lake will not let you leave," the Loon said, peering over the edge of the dashboard. "You are part of the ecosystem now."
"The water is bouncy?" Evan whispered. He touched his head. "The water is bouncy."
"Evan!" Harper yelled.
Evan sat up. The boat had somehow threaded itself perfectly through the dead trees while he was in the air.
The radio suddenly crackled with loud, frantic static. The bored tone of the town hall meeting was gone.
"Emergency!" a voice screamed through the speakers. It was the civil engineer. "The east spillway just cracked! The dam is failing! I repeat, the Pine Portage Dam is failing! The lower valley will flood in ten minutes!"
Harper's face went totally pale. The freckles on his nose stood out like dirt.
"My house is in the lower valley," Harper whispered. "My mom is at home."
Evan looked at the kid. Harper was shaking. His hands were gripping the yellow life jacket so hard his knuckles were white.
Evan looked down at the bomb.
00:09:59.
"If the dam breaks, the water will wipe out the town," Harper said. A tear rolled down his cheek. It cut a clean line through the dust on his face. "It will wipe out the islands too. The water will rise fifty feet."
Evan stared at the radio. He thought about his apartment in Winnipeg. He thought about the flooded basement. He thought about how easy it was to just walk away when things got bad.
He looked at the steering wheel.
"Where is the dam?" Evan asked.
"Three miles north," Harper said.
"If I try to go there, will the boat let me?"
"Only if you are actually trying to help," the Loon said.
Evan stood up. He grabbed the steering wheel. He squeezed the metal tight. His hands were sweating.
"I cannot opt out of this," Evan said out loud. His stomach twisted. He felt sick, but he felt awake. For the first time all day, the heat did not bother him.
"I am engaging," Evan said. He stared straight ahead at the water. "I am going to the dam. I am going to stop the water."
The steering wheel clicked. It unlocked.
The throttle clicked. It slid perfectly into Evan's hand.
Evan shoved the throttle all the way forward. The engine screamed. The boat leaped over the water, tearing a massive white wake behind them.
The wind tore at Evan's face. It pulled his hair back. His eyes watered from the speed.
They flew across the lake. The boat skipped over the waves, slamming down hard every few seconds. Evan's knees absorbed the shock. He kept his hands locked on the wheel.
"Go left around this island!" Harper yelled over the roar of the engine. The kid was pointing past the windshield.
Evan cranked the wheel. The boat turned sharply. It responded perfectly now. There was no resistance.
In the distance, a massive gray concrete structure rose out of the water. It was the Pine Portage Dam. It looked old and brutal. A huge crack ran down the center of the concrete wall. Thick brown water was spraying out of the crack, hissing under incredible pressure.
"There is the control station!" Harper pointed to a small metal shack sitting on a platform near the top of the dam.
Evan steered the boat toward the base of the platform. A rusty metal ladder hung down over the water.
Evan cut the engine. He let the boat drift hard into the concrete piling.
CRACK.
The fiberglass hull slammed into the concrete. Evan did not care about the scratch. He grabbed the mooring rope and leaped over the side, grabbing the metal ladder. He tied the boat off in three seconds.
"Come on!" Evan yelled.
Harper scrambled out of the boat. The Loon flapped its wings and flew up, landing gracefully on the metal railing of the platform above.
Evan climbed the ladder fast. His boots clanged on the rusty rungs. He reached the top and pulled himself over the rail. Harper was right behind him.
They ran to the metal shack. The door was kicked open.
Inside, the room was full of dust and the smell of ozone. Red emergency lights were flashing. Sirens wailed. In the center of the room, a large computer console was blinking frantically.
"What do we do?" Evan yelled. He looked around.
"The emergency release valves!" Harper said. The kid ran to the computer. He started pushing buttons. "We have to open the side channels to lower the pressure on the main wall!"
"Then do it!"
"I cannot!" Harper screamed. He pointed to a screen. "The automatic system is offline! It says manual override required!"
Evan looked at the back of the room. There were two massive metal levers sticking out of the floor. They were covered in yellow caution tape. Thick cables ran from the levers into the concrete floor.
Evan ran to the levers.
He grabbed the first one. The metal was burning hot. He gasped, but he did not let go. He pulled it backward. It was incredibly heavy. It felt like trying to pull a car uphill. His shoulder muscles screamed.
The lever clicked into the middle position.
"I need the release code!" Harper yelled at the computer.
"What code?" Evan asked. He grabbed the second lever. He pulled it back. Sparks showered out of the base of the lever. They hit Evan's arms, stinging his skin.
"The code to open the gates!" Harper panicked. "I do not know it!"
The Loon hopped into the doorway.
"The code is the date the town was founded," the Loon said calmly.
"1892!" Harper yelled. He slammed the numbers into the keyboard.
"Pull them all the way back!" Harper screamed at Evan.
Evan dug his boots into the metal floor. He wrapped both arms around the two levers. The heat was searing his palms. The sparks flew up, burning tiny holes in his shirt.
He closed his eyes. He thought about the bouncy water. He thought about the stupid ticking bomb.
"I am engaging!" Evan screamed at the top of his lungs. He stared right at the Loon. "I am engaging, you stupid bird!"
Evan threw his entire body weight backward.
The levers slammed down into the floor slots.
A massive, deafening mechanical groan shook the shack. The floor vibrated. Outside, a huge explosion of water erupted. The side channels of the dam burst open. Millions of gallons of water shot out into the spillway, diverting the pressure away from the cracked main wall.
Evan collapsed onto the floor. His chest heaved. He looked at his hands. They were red and blistered.
Harper slumped against the computer console. The kid was breathing hard.
The siren stopped. The red lights stopped flashing.
Evan looked out the door. The water level against the main dam was visibly dropping. The structure was holding.
A loud beep came from outside. From the boat.
Evan forced himself to stand up. He walked out of the shack and looked down over the railing.
The boat was floating quietly against the piling.
The digital timer under the dashboard read: 00:00:00.
Evan braced himself for the explosion. He covered his face.
Nothing happened.
Instead, a small mechanical whirring sound came from the dashboard. A slot opened up next to the bomb. A piece of thick paper slid out of the slot, like a receipt from a cash register.
Evan climbed down the ladder. His legs were shaking. He stepped into the boat. He walked over to the dashboard and pulled the paper from the slot.
It was a perfectly printed, official voter registration card. It had Evan's name on it.
Evan stared at the card. He stared at the bomb, which was now just a pile of clay and wires with a blank screen. He looked up at the Loon, which was sitting on the windshield.
Evan sat down hard on the red vinyl seat. He looked at the card again. He started to laugh. It was a dry, delirious sound. He could not stop.
He folded the card and put it in his pocket.
"Okay," Evan said, wiping his eyes. "Okay. I get it."
He reached for the ignition key.
Before his fingers could touch the metal, the radio clicked on, and a completely new voice whispered through the static.
“Before his fingers could touch the metal, the radio clicked on, and a completely new voice whispered through the static.”
