The tone of this little game was changing, and not for the better. He felt like a runaway train careening down the wrong tracks. When the world is moving too fast, someone with any sense at all will find a way to slow it down.

Daniel, clearly, was not such a person. “Yo! Buddy! You ain’t driving Mrs. Daisy, here. Lay off the brakes, would ya?”

They crested the hill and made a turn onto Quayview. The tires howled and spat smoke. That was more like it!

It was only a few minutes more before the driver was weaving around the tourist traffic lining the waterfront. They pulled into a cul de sac in front of a sign that read Dock A – Berths 1 through 20. The meter was at $19. Daniel dropped the fifty into the tray as he jumped out of the car.

He ran down the dock. Part way, he realized that the berths weren’t numbered – they had fancy wooden signs showing the boat names. He contemplated pausing to count until he read the nearest.

Echoing the messages, he said with a smile, “Daniel Gate…”

CAPTAINS FATE