Supertide

The Super Tide

Written by Phillip Martin JR.

           The air was crisp. Not cold enough to stay indoors but cold enough to keep the riff raff from the beach. Marty can’t complain. He took this gig for the money and having a bungalow on the beach was just a bonus. Good paying work for an electrician over the holidays. It’s time for the older of his two girls at home to start driving. This gig makes the difference between buying her a busted 2007 Escort or a sound 2017 Corolla!

           So here they all are, working to restore an old pier on the coast of Myrtle Beach, CA in the abandoned Wild Dunes Resort. Pipefitters, Mechanics, Welders, Electricians, and carpenters gonna do their thing and begin the gentrification of this low rent area.

           By the time they’re done, none of them will be able to afford to peruse the shops and boutiques, or upscale restaurants they’re building. It’s all good though, if some little 8-year-old gets a thrill out of the ocean view while eating some overpriced caramel corn, sure, they have done a great thing.

           What a conglomerate of Americans they are, maybe defined by others as something else, but American none-the-less. They are Black, White, Asian, Latino, Asian Indian and some other creeds with different origins.

            For sure there are other sub-categories they could be placed in like Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Left Wing, Right wing, LGBTQS, Conservative, Progressive, and Libertarian. Most are Veterans that served in all the Military branches for as long as thirty years to as short as 18 months. The list of characteristics and attributes could go on.

           Right now, they are gruff, old-school workers gathering to make this “cheddar” and get back home to their families, no matter what those families look like.

           It’s two guys to a bungalow and Marty got paired with an old Army Vet who’s a big beard wearing, hearty laugh having, chiseled journeyman named PJ (Short for Paul Jordan or Pete Junior, Marty doesn’t recall exactly). He’s in his mid-sixties, strong as an ox, lighthearted with lots of stories!

           There is an exception to PJ’s lightheartedness however, as come election time, every 4 years, he becomes a conspiracy theory spouting, raging, right-winger. He doesn’t force his opinions on you, but Marty has walked in on heated arguments between him and his friends. Now, if you were a stranger on the outside looking in, you would think them to be stark adversaries; but they make it work somehow, gathering after the ruckus and having warm whiskey, cold beers and laughs.

           That’s where Marty joins them. He’s a well-traveled Journeyman himself, a Navy Vet who did twenty years and did another twenty with DoD. He’s pretty adept at fitting in with this bunch, seamlessly. His quick wit and laid-back nature serve him well to maintain collaborative working relationships without assimilating into the ethos, losing himself in the process. It’s a refined skill for Marty despite his city upbringing, he could have easily become more stand-offish and hostile.    

           Yet, throughout his tenure as a man-child, he has found his path through life wrought with adventure and challenges. These experiences have left him appreciative and optimistic yet aware of the hazards of being Black in America.

           The shareholders of this endeavor did well with providing their meals in a rented cafeteria. This set-up is complete with specialty cooks and servers to provide everything from Tex-Mex to Pho! It’s their own food court so to speak.

           Marty sits with PJ, Calvin, and Gene, talking aimlessly of family, friends, and each other. Shop talk is allowed too, but only in small doses. One of their favorite points of contentious amusement is to tease PJ about how tightly he cranks down on all his conduit piping and the fittings. So tightly, in fact, that if he must take it apart for any adjustments, he can barely take them back off!! He’s turning red in the face, gritting his teeth as he strains to break it loose! It’s hilarious!

           Their work this week begins in earnest; they will begin laying rigid conduit on the underside of the pier all the way to the end. Securing it to the wooden planks with Unistrut, clamps, and lag-bolts. Usually this is a daunting task that would require a safety boat crew of three as the guys would be working in the bowels of the underside of the piers suspended above water. 

           Not this year because as it stands there is a once every 100 years, supermoon! The Earth and the moon’s orbital path has brought them close to each other. The resulting gravitational pull from the moon results in super tides high and low. The super low tide works in their favor as the waterline is extended at least 250 yards past the end of the pier. The laborers only need to lay sheets of plywood for the craftsmen to drive the scissor lifts to the needed areas and rise to the underside of the pier. Boom! Done this phase of the job in mere hours!

           As they await the laying of the plywood, Marty, Calvin, and Gene are dressed in hip-waders and Carhartt’s sitting on some recently exposed rocks 200 yards or so from the work area. PJ headed for the cafeteria to see about some hot soup. Calvin and Gene had wandered several yards away as they were taking in the view and casually conversing.

           Marty was kicking at the base of the rock when he noticed a plastic bag buried in the sand at the base of the rock. The edge of the bag barely protruded above the surface. 

Marty began poking at it with his foot and felt something solid.

 He then dropped to one knee and began digging out this black industrial plastic bag.

           As he exposed more of the bag, he saw transparent tightly wrapped Ziplock bags inside. He removed one of the bags and it was stuffed with stacks of banded one-hundred-dollar bills. Each stack is at least 4 inches thick! There must have been at least 5 Ziplock bags packed with these stacks. He knelt on both knees and began completely pulling the bag out. He then found a couple more Ziplock bags with stacks of Red foreign currency.

           Marty had no idea what it was. It could have been Euro’s, Yen, or Baht for all he knew. By this time Calvin and Gene saw him handling the bags and rushed over

           Oh Shit! What you got there?!! Marty threw them a Ziplock bag each of hundreds, An early plane ticket home! Calvin and Gene caught the bags out the air and their eyes widened.

            Whoa, there might be more! and scurried over to the rock and began digging profusely. Marty double wrapped the plastic bag and tucked it under his arm.

           Someone shouted in the distance. Hey! What are you guys doing over there? It was one of the mid-level managers, also known in some circles as Working Foreman. Marty immediately turned away and headed for my bungalow, not wanting to share more of his bounty or even offer up an explanation. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a heated conversation between Calvin, Gene, and the Manager.

           I don’t want tickets to that show, he muttered to himself.

           As he entered the bungalow, he had the strongest impulse that he should find a good hiding spot for this cache. PJ often brought boxes of parts to the bungalow as it was closer than their shop so access was more convenient as opposed to trudging back to the shop. He chose a large box of 2-inch couplings and removed half of them and shoved the bag in and placed the couplings back in until they effectively hid the bags from view. He kicked the box haphazardly into the corner and threw some yellow rain gear over it.

           He then ventured back out to the shoreline to see if Calvin and Gene found more bags but oddly enough, they were gone. No Manager either. He decided to not make any rash decisions, to ruminate over everything for a day, even go to work like normal and make a reasonable decision on what to do next.

           The day labored on, and he finally went to sleep. Oddly enough, he hasn’t seen PJ in a few hours. PJ is usually asleep before Marty is, but Marty thought he might be at the bar or something. He closed his eyes to rest.

           Hours passed and suddenly he was awakened with the feeling that someone was standing over him. He was startled as Calvin‘s face came into focus. Calvin grabbed Marty by the scruff of his shirt

    Good you’re awake, that will make this easier, he uttered, as he leaned into Marty, putting more weight on his chest. You know what it is Marty, come on, we need that money.

           Marty then noticed Gene standing by the bungalow door, seemingly standing watch. Oddly though, Gene looked a little squirrely, as if he wasn’t sure about being a participant in this, but maybe his greed over-rode his moral compass at the moment.

  Money?! You want my money too? I know you guys dug up more bags AND I gave you both Ziplock’s stuffed with bills!

           Suddenly a bolt of pain shot through the left side of his face and his left ear rang as if a high-pitched tone rang through it. Marty realized Calvin hit him with a solid right hook. This suddenly took on an urgency that formed a knot in the pit of Marty’s stomach.

           Shut the fuck up! Calvin bellowed and hit Marty with another right hook, solid and flush this time, and Marty tasted blood in his mouth.

           We didn’t find any more bags Motherfucker, and don’t Fucking worry about what we got! Two more right hooks followed with a hammer fist to Marty’s forehead finishing the barrage. Calvin then dragged Marty off the bed slamming him to the floor and placed his knee in his chest. I aint playing with you Marty! And I’m not asking you again! angrily raining spittle on Marty’s face.

           Calvin then reached in his jacket and produced a knife, a small but menacing tactical knife a lot of the Vets carry. This aint no fucking game Marty!

           Marty’s head began to clear up from the pummeling as he gazed at the knife. His mind began racing as he thought, This son of a bitch is really gonna fucking kill me!

   Something in him awakened as he realized this just escalated to a fight for his life! As he took another right hook, he saw the blade pass by his left eye and right away sprang into action. He freed his left arm enough to grab Calvin’s right arm and pin it to his chest. He snapped head up and rammed his forehead into Calvin’s nose as hard as he could.

           There was a loud squelch as Calvin’s cartilage exploded and blood splattered into Marty’s face as the headbutt hit its mark. Calvin yelled in pain and his body went limp momentarily.

Taking advantage, he quickly twisted Calvin’s right hand to free the knife, but Calvin held fast.    

           Marty then bit down on Calvin’s thumb like he was tearing into a pork sparerib.

           Calvin screamed, dropped the knife and fell backwards. Marty then pivoted and leapt on to Calvin’s chest pushing his knee into his throat!

           He then thought, Oh fuck, where’s Gene!

           He glanced at the door and Gene was standing wide eyed looking dismayed, Fuck this! he exclaimed and ran out into the night.

           Apparently, he lost his stomach for the robbery as Marty gained the upper hand. He pressed his knee harder into Calvin’s neck,

            Get the fuck off of me! Calvin managed to squeal.

           Just for good measure Marty gave him a couple of right hooks to make sure his head would hurt tonight as well. Calvin stopped struggling and lay breathing heavily.

           Marty then decided what he would do. He stood up, grabbed the knife and stuck it into the wall next to the box of couplings. He snatched the box open only to discover the bulk of the Ziplock bags of 100’s was gone! All that remained was the red foreign currency. He heard Calvin stirring and said in a disgusted tone,

           Someone beat you to it! The 100’s are gone! You were gonna kill me for nothing!

           He grabbed a couple stacks of the red currency and threw it at Calvin.

           Calvin staggered to his feet holding his mangled nose, scoffed at the currency scattered about and quickly bolted out the door.

     Fuck me running! He shook his head and it dawned on him; It must have been PJ!! I mean, where has he been? He even stayed out all night! Damn, I can’t catch a break.

           He looked around the bungalow and started to put it back together again, lest one of the Managers stop by and ask a gazillion questions. About fifteen minutes in the cleanup, he heard whistling and PJ came walking daintily through the door, almost skipping! His beard was neatly trimmed, but still huge, he had on a crisp Adidas matching sweatsuit and smelled like he bathed in some expensive Versace cologne.

           Well look what the cat dragged in.

  Wow, what happened here? You hold a UFC tournament? Looks like you took second! PJ chuckled as he swiped at Marty’s face which was beginning to swell on his left side.

           You got jokes, ok, well, let me guess, you found a lot of money in the coupling box.

           I did! But you know I kinda figured it was yours, I mean, we share this bungalow and I thought, let me move this so any old Tom, Dick or Harry won’t stumble on it.

           Relief flooded over Marty like a warm blanket. For real?! Are you being serious?

 He leapt at PJ and gave him a bear hug. He then stepped back and looked sternly at PJ. Wait, how much is left after your spending spree?

     Well, I hit you for a couple thousand, bought this sweat suit, some Jordans and I stayed at the Hyatt Regency, a suite! Got me a message too! but shit, it’s still like $146,000 left!! I didn’t think you’d mind!

           Marty’s grin widened as he realized he never even counted it! Marty put his arm around PJ’s shoulder, 

   You look like a Romanian drug dealer!

     Wow, well you look like Gumby with that swelled head!

     Don’t make me laugh, it hurts so bad.

              Both men laughed and headed off into the morning as a new day had begun