"We only part so that we may meet again."
It took the dock hands twenty delicate minutes to hoist Cole's benevolent butt onto the barge. Zeke stepped back in the shade of the crane and let them work as he was sure he would only get in their way, like he had so often done before. Fresh tears threatened to spill and Zeke pulled off his glasses to deal with them. He wondered what Cole would think if he could have seen him now, blubbering like a baby while others celebrated new life. Thousands paraded the streets as the cops took the back seat and watched them revel. Saint Cole's Cathedral, as it was now known, was packed with mourners who celebrated the life of the man they barely knew but owed everything to.
When finally the barge was loaded the thousands who had gathered to say farewell pressed closer against the security barricade. The cops stood firm, pushing them back down towards the other half of the dock. When the dock hands finally dispersed and rolled away their machines, Zeke stepped onto the plank and marched on board with his head downcast. Despite his best efforts a tear marred his cheek, but rather than wipe it away he wore it like a soldier would a congressional medal, in honour of his fallen friend.
"Hey Zeke," a cop called from the dock, "make sure you get that boy home safe you hear?"
Zeke tried to respond, but the sound was trapped in his chest. He looked back at the coffin and then at the cop, nodding slowly. A siren at the end of the dock alerted him, and he looked across to see a motorcade of police cars pulling off the road and edging down the dock. The crowd parted like the red sea without protest, and the convoy of cops came to a rolled halt at the end of the dock, opposite the barge. The doors opened, and at least a dozen officers stepped into the light. One in particular stood out from the rest, wearing full ceremonial uniform and carrying his hat beneath his arm. The New Marais police chief, Martin O'Connor.
"Ezekiel Dunbar?" he spoke with a clear southern drawl, but didn't sound reprimanding or hostile like most cops would when they read his full name out loud.
"That's Zeke, and what do you want?" Zeke answered, wiping the tear from his cheek.
"To pay our respects," the aging chief answered, pulling his hat out from under his arm and fixing it on his head. Then the cops did something he never expected, the police fell into formation around the chief and as one, stood in salute to the barge. Zeke admired the touching gesture, fighting the itchy temptation to return the gesture. Then Zeke noticed the crowd, who had remained silence the entire time, and how they held their breath in patriotic silence. It felt like the whole world was finally taking notice, finally giving Cole the thanks he so rightly deserved.
"Brother," Zeke whispered, his hand resting on Cole's coffin, "you will never believe what's happening."
The silence continued as Zeke climbed the wheel and started it up. Even the engine respectfully chugged to life at the first time of asking, and started pulling the barge away from the dock and out to sea. Even halfway into the swamp, when Zeke looked back he could still see the line of blue uniforms guarding the dock. The plan was to float the barge out to sea where a naval ship was waiting to take both Zeke and Cole back to New Marias, where Zeke planned to bury Cole in the place where it all began as a final favour to the man he had called his brother for so long.
"Just you and me now brother, damn what I wouldn't do for some tunes right now." Zeke whistled, pulling out a deck chair beside the coffin. Zeke restrained from peering into the glass surface, finding Cole's frozen body hard to look at. Zeke pulled a cooler up beside the chair and cracked open the lid, fishing out a cold brew and a bottle opener. Taking a sip, Zeke ruefully remembered the last drink he shared with his best friend. It nearly triggered another downpour, but he shook himself out of it with another swig of beer. Then, just as he thought things couldn't get any worse, the sky darkened. Thick clouds drifted over the sun, threatening to burst at any moment.
"Aw that's just typical," he sighed, pulling his jacket tighter against his body in preparation of the rain to come. The world may be in mourning, but the weather obviously wasn't playing game. Zeke was hesitant to leave his brother, but as the waves started chopping against the barge he knew his place. The cabin door opened with a hiss as Zeke climbed in and started playing with the controls. The water was churning, some of it slapping onto the deck as the water turned hostile.
"God damn it," Zeke muttered, lifting the radio, "hey guys the water's getting real bitter out here. How far are you guys?" Zeke released the transmitter and waited for a response, nothing. Silence continued, and after a few seconds Zeke hit the transmitter again.
"Hey, is anybody out there?" Still silence and the waters were getting worse. "God damn it!" Zeke shouted, slamming the radio back onto its stand and bursting from the cabin. Water was already spilling over onto the deck, and the large frame of the barge was creaking nosily. Zeke grabbed a pair of crank lines from a trunk at the front of the barge and cast them over the railings and Cole's coffin.
"Bad news Cole, we're heading into a rough patch!" He shouted over the roar of the now whipping wind as he cranked the lines securely over the coffin. The pressure of the lines fastened around the coffin, trapping it on the barge. Unfortunately, the mounting pressure of the lines crushing the coffin cracked the glass. The small hairline crack on the surface would be unnoticeable to most, but to Zeke it's painfully evident. "Ah shit, sorry brother but it's for your good."
The barge heaved and churned, and as soon as he was sure that Cole was secured he started back towards the cabin, with rain now coming at him at needle pace. Zeke climbed back behind the controls and took a hold of the wheel and the radio.
"Good god people if you're out there then I have one hell of a problem out here, so get off your backside and get out here before – " The sound of thunder echoed across the water as lightning cross the sky, startling Zeke and sending the radio clattering to the floor. Zeke put both hands on the wheel and turned as hard and as fast as he could, lining the nose of the barge towards the last bit of light in the distance. He kept it steady, and then the second bolt came. It hit the water only a little bit off the bow of the barge, sparking a tirade of shock from Zeke. It was then that the third bolt stroke, a direct hit on the coffin. The heat snapped the crank line, sending it whipping across the glass screen as lightning ripped through the barge, shocking Zeke and sending him crashing into the back wall of the cabin, knocking him unconscious.