THE RETREAT

The river flowed lazily, making its way down the broad riverbed. Jorge sat in the pilot's chair, guiding the boat toward the center, and watched for obstacles. He had the engines running at a fast idle to keep the boat flowing forward in the water so that the rudders would control the direction of movement. The boat proceeded down the river so monotonously that Jorge was very near to dozing off completely. He swatted a mosquito that attempted to feast on the back of his neck. This woke him up, and he became more alert. He raised his head to look past the front of the boat, out into the river. It was late in the afternoon, and the shadows were getting long. Jorge knew that soon the sound of animals chirping, croaking, or whistling would soon fill up the dusk. But there was no sound now. The heat of the day was receding.

He heard a loud thump. It came from below, down on the deck. The hull of the boat is a square-bottomed box with a sloping flat panel that, pulled up, served as the bow; when lowered, it served as a ramp onto which forklifts and trucks and wheelbarrows rolled in and out of the boat to load and unload. Across the rear of the boat, Jorge stood on a raised deck that allowed him to see easily over the sides of the boat. He stood at a pilot's console with a helm, a steering wheel that looked much like one commonly found in a truck or any other large powered vehicle. The engines purred beneath his feet, rotating the propellers under the boat.

He heard another loud thump. He thought he heard also a sharp report from a somewhere, away on the riverbank to his right. The report was so far away that he hardly noticed.

The boat was not cluttered with goods at this time. He was returning to the port city, having sold most of his merchandise, and now the deck was bare with only a small pile of loading pallets and a few wooden crates. Jorge swatted another mosquito and looked over the boat. He looked down to the deck and noticed about two inches of water swishing around under the traction mesh and the corrugations in the metal. It occurred to him that two inches of water is no cause for alarm, but the deck was dry just a while ago, and he wondered why two inches of water was sloshing around on the floor of his boat now.

Another loud thump broke the monotony of the engines. This time, Jorge heard the report sharply to his right. He jerked his heard to the right and scanned the bank quickly. He was fully 150 yards from the bank and all he could see was the silhouette of trees and brush growing at the waterline. He turned further to the right and looked up the bank behind him. He saw a faint puff of smoke in the distance. The air was moving the smoke down the river, so he only had a vague idea where it originated.

Another loud thump cracked the air. This time the bullet hit the side of the boat near the stern, and Jorge heard it sharply and was startled.

"Shit! What in the hell?" Jorge left the wheel and stood at the side, cursing and staring at the puff of smoke that was drifting over the water near the far bank.

Another loud thump sounded as another bullet pierced the hull of the boat. Jorge heard the report from the far bank and also the sound of a small chunk of metal bouncing around the inside of the boat. Jorge looked down to the deck. The water had risen to about a foot deep toward the rear of the boat, and as he glanced around, he noticed the boat was floating lower in the water, and slower too.

"Shit!" he shouted, turning to the helm. He pushed the throttle levers forward, and the engines roared and they both accelerated, but they sounded labored, pushing against the slow travel of the boat.

Another bullet crashed against the side of the boat, ricocheting off the top rail. Jorge instinctively ducked, crouching behind the helm. He reached up and pushed the throttles all the way forward, and the engines raced faster.

He spun the helm and headed the boat to the far bank to his left. Jorge raised his head up slightly and turned back, facing the trees and the puff of smoke.

"You motherfuckers! Damn you!" he screamed over the roar of the engines. He glared at the place in the trees with a hateful scowl.

The boat was traveling faster now. Jorge looked down below and noticed the depth of the water had increased a few inches. The boat was plowing the water now, and the water inside the boat tended to move toward the stern, making it plow deeper in the water. Jorge didn't bother looking back now. His eyes searched for a place to beach the boat. The current carried him further down the river as he approached the opposite bank. There were no beaches or shallow banks. The place he reached had straight dropping banks in a small inlet, but the water was shallow. The engines became flooded with water and were spraying from the belts and pulleys as the engines died. Quickly, the silence dominated his ears. The boat drifted, nosing down river as it came to a stop. The bottom of the hull made a soft rasping sound and came to rest in the sand.

Jorge stood at the helm. He looked down and noticed the water level was only a few feet below his own feet. He looked at the bank. It was not high. He could get up on dry land easily. He turned and looked across the river. He had traveled downstream for a while...