E j deen, p.17
E. J. Deen, page 17
The woods! He’d dropped it in the woods when that hulking man had landed on top of him. Besides the grenades, the blowgun was all he had with him. His task had just become more complicated,
frighteningly so. He couldn’t risk using a grenade. Too much noise. They would be caught in an instant.
It would have to be the blowgun. The poison wouldn’t start to do any real damage for at least half an hour, but inside fifteen minutes it could disable the vermin enough to make a difference.
In a matter of seconds he had the dart dipped, set, and was taking aim. A short gust of breath into the tube, and the dart began its flight. But his target was too far away. The dart went sailing harmlessly into the brush. One of the goons paused and snapped his head around in surprise when he heard the tiny missile land with a slight rustling noise in the leaves near him. Both men instantly ducked down behind a tree, looking around and trying to figure out what had made the noise, what direction it had come from. The glow from the burning camp gave everything an eerie feel, and the fire unfortunately made things a little more visible than Zach would have liked. If he could see them so well, they could see him just as well. All they had to do was look up.
Zach glanced at the woman. She watched him expectantly. He was beginning to feel a little defeated. It was a very uncomfortable sensation, especially when she was watching him so intently, counting on him to get them both out of there alive. Moving only his eyes, he looked back at the encampment. It was then he spied something that could be to their advantage. A Jeep. A fucking Jeep. He couldn’t believe their good fortune. If it was tanked up, they’d be home free.
“Get ready to get on the ground as fast as you can,” he whispered, glancing over to see what the men behind the tree were doing. They were still looking around, waiting fearfully for some kind of sign from the woods around them. “Run straight into the camp as soon as your feet touch earth.”
He gave her a signal nod, and she positioned herself to begin her climb downward. They were high, near the top of the tree, and it was a long climb. He hoped she could move as fast as he intended to. She gave him an answering nod when she was ready. He took aim and lobbed a grenade near the men.
When it didn’t explode on impact, he hesitated for a moment, wondering if he’d created a dud,
worrying that the enemy had discovered his position. Then fate gave him a window of opportunity. No time to waste. He pushed her down the tree and climbed down after her. The two men nearby realized what had been thrown into their midst and started to flee, but the explosion caught them before they got far, tearing a huge hole in the ground and scattering their remains to the four winds.
Zach didn’t even take the time to duck behind the brush to avoid the blast. He just kept running. He could hear the shouts of the other men as he and the girl crashed through the woods toward the Jeep, his eyes assessing every detail as they went. The vehicle sat in the center of the compound, guarded by one man. Danger or not, Zach intended to take the vehicle.
Steeling himself for what was to come, he burst into the clearing, the woman just a few steps behind him. There was nowhere for them to hide, nothing to dodge behind. All they could do was run head-on into the danger. He used the noise and commotion around them like a cloak, a throwaway concealed but ready in his hand as they ran straight for the man guarding the Jeep. Most of the other slime were in the woods searching for him, which gave them nearly a clear shot all the way. Zach hoped it would last.
The guard heard the pounding of footsteps behind him and started to turn, bringing a rifle up to his shoulder, preparing to fire. The throwaway left Zach’s hand at the precise moment the man’s finger squeezed the trigger. The dagger embedded itself deep into his chest and deflected his aim just slightly.
Enough to save Zach’s life. The bullet that escaped the gun tore a path across Zach’s left shoulder, grazing the skin deep enough to make a sizeable gouge. Ignoring the pain, he motioned for the woman to get into the Jeep. He vaulted into the driver’s side after her and made a quick check of the gauges.
Thank God, the Jeep had fuel. A full tank.
More shouts came from the direction of the woods as he gunned the engine and tore out of the clearing, fishtailing through the hard-packed dirt and entering the woods on the other side.
“Keep your head down,” Zach ordered the woman. “We’ll be going through some heavy brush.”
She didn’t say a word, just pushed her head between her knees and held on tight. Zach veered around and lobbed several strategic grenades in a wide arc around the clearing, and then tore out away from the burning encampment. A few seconds later it seemed like half the forest exploded as his hidden packs went up in a massive burst. Zach smiled. That ought to keep them occupied for awhile. Those that were still alive, anyway.
As he put the camp behind them, the vixen pulled her head out of her knees and looked at him, her eyes questioning. Zach glared back at her. Now that they were safe, he could vent.
“What the hell were you doing back there?” he growled.
“The same thing you were doing,” she answered, glancing back over her shoulder at the road
disappearing behind her.
They had bounced onto a two-lane highway, and Zach was burning up the pavement, putting a whole lot of distance between them and the Pirates.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“You ruined my entire operation,” he shouted, his eyes on the road ahead, his hands gripping the wheel as if he would break it off.
“It looked to me like I was saving your life,” she snapped back.
Zach sat in silence for awhile. He needed time to digest this. It was true. She had saved his life. He should be more grateful. Not that he was really angry with her. He was angry with himself for having missed his opportunity to kill the man who’d scarred his face. Although, after that last massive explosion, who knew. Snake might be dead now. But somehow he doubted it.
“I’m sure you had a reason for saving my neck,” he snarled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
“I’m sure you have an agenda of your own, and I’m sure you thought you could get some unsuspecting sap to help you out.”
She started to protest, but he stopped her with a single glare.
“Why are you so damn interested in the Pirates, anyway?” he wanted to know.
She hesitated, looking as though she might need to think about her answer before trusting him with it.
He had the distinct impression that she was wavering on that trust, and the idea disturbed him.
“They killed my brother,” she finally said. “Three months ago. He always…took care of me. Now I have no one. And they deserve to pay.”
He didn’t bother to say he was sorry. Besides the fact that he didn’t want her to think she could push all his buttons and make him help her with whatever it was she wanted, any expression of sympathy would be worthless, anyway. Her brother was dead. Nothing Zach could say would ease her pain or bring him back.
“And you thought you could just walk in there alone and take a few of them out?” he quipped, looking at her like she was a little on the loony side.
“Didn’t you?”
“That’s different. I was prepared,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
“You didn’t look too prepared when I ran into you,” she reminded him.
“Shit happens,” was all he said.
“You’re still not willing to thank me, are you?”
“I don’t recall you thanking me for doing the same.”
The remark shut her up for a moment, but only a brief one. Zach was just settling into the bliss of silence when she offered, “My name is Burgess.”
He was instantly irritated. He didn’t want her here, didn’t want her to talk. What made women think it was so damn necessary to talk all the time? If she was going to ride with him, he wanted her to respect him enough to keep her damn trap shut so he could think.
“I don’t care wha—” He’d been about to tell her how he didn’t give a good damn who she was, but then paused, glancing over at her, curious despite himself. “Isn’t that a man’s name?”
She grimaced and nodded. “My mother had a sick sense of humor.”
After that, they didn’t talk much. He just drove. He only stopped once to tie a rag around his wounded shoulder to try and stem the flow of blood to a less life-threatening trickle. Damn thing ached. She offered to help, but he refused. He just wanted to get where he was going, and he wanted to do it in complete silence. He had an agenda, and he wasn’t going to veer away from it. Not for her. Not for anyone.
Dawn was just beginning to break when he finally pulled off the road and put the Jeep in park. They were in the Florida panhandle now. Time for them to part company. He damn sure wasn’t going to drag her with him.
Without so much as a glance in her direction, he got out and grabbed what was left of his supplies out of the back. A few grenades and the blowgun. It wasn’t much. He felt naked and vulnerable without his bow, but he would have to make do. As long as he could make it to Doc’s, he would be fine. Doc would feed him well. He could get his arm patched up, get some string for a new bow, and Serena would be thrilled to see him. All he had to do was get there.
He glanced at Burgess. She was still sitting in the passenger seat, staring at him in silence. It was the first time he’d seen her when it wasn’t dark out. She looked even more beautiful in the pale light of dawn, almost too beautiful, despite a few dirt smears here and there.
“Next time you venture into the woods, use more dirt,” he advised. “Your little white face is a flashing beacon in the night to anyone who might be paying attention.”
Her hands went to her cheeks, and she seemed embarrassed. “I have dirt on my face?”
He rolled his eyes and stifled a grunt of disgust. “Keep the Jeep,” he told her, his voice brusque, impersonal. “It has enough fuel in it to get you a few more miles. If you can find more, you’ll have something. Try not to let anyone take it away from you. Fuel is power. Never forget that.”
Without another word, he turned on his heel and started to walk away.
“Wait!” she called after him, her voice sounding a little anxious. “You’re bleeding! Don’t you need help?”
“I don’t need any help, lady,” he called back over his shoulder, never breaking his stride. He refused to help her anymore. He couldn’t afford to. He had enough of a load as it was. Besides which, he didn’t quite trust her. Not that she had really done anything to prove herself untrustworthy. It was just that he didn’t trust anyone.
“Where are you going?”
“None of your business.”
“What about me? What should I do?”
“That’s up to you,” he called, shrugging his massive shoulders, then wincing when a burst of pain from his wound shot down his arm. “I’m not your keeper.”
“Can’t I come with you?”
He was getting farther away now and could barely hear her, but he could still sense the urgency in her voice. He almost felt sorry for her, and the sympathy annoyed him.
“Be strong, Zach, old boy. It’ll pass. Just keep walking,” he muttered to himself. Then he shouted back to her, “No, you can’t come with me.”
“Please. I don’t know where to go…what to do,” she called, her voice faint.
Zach paused but didn’t turn around. “Look, lady. I’m a loner. I don’t need someone like you tagging along behind me. You didn’t seem to mind being alone before. You managed to find your way to that Pirate camp pretty well.”
“I followed you.”
Zach turned around and glared at her. He’d been so careful. Of course, in retrospect, there was that possibility that he’d purposely let her follow him. Perhaps somewhere in his subconscious he had actually wanted her to.
“Well, sort of. I overheard some men talking about the camp and figured that’s where you were
heading, and—”
“You’ll do all right on your own,” he interrupted. He turned away and resumed walking. “Just do whatever comes naturally. You’ll figure it all out eventually. I did.”
“Wait. Please. At least let me give you a ride.”
Zach wasn’t listening anymore. He disappeared into the trees, taking a deep cleansing breath as he heard the familiar rustle and crunch of dry leaves beneath his boots. He could already feel his muscles beginning to relax a little. It was a wonderful sensation, to be alone again.
His steps faltered when he heard the Jeep crank up, but he managed to force himself to stay on course.
He could tell she was angry that he’d left her stranded because she barked the tires getting back onto the paved road, and he could hear the engine roaring off away into the distance. Ordinarily, her anger would have made him smile, but not this time. Oddly, he was disappointed that she hadn’t tried harder to convince him to let her tag along.
Too late now. She was gone.
Zach kept walking. He had a long journey ahead of him. It wouldn’t be an easy one to make with a wound. He was fortunate it was just a flesh wound. The bullet had grazed a hole in his arm without damaging the bone, had entered and exited without lodging. As long as it didn’t get infected, he would live.
As soon as Doc patched him up, he would go home, and this time he would stay there. Maybe he would never come out again. Just stay in his cave like an old worn-out grizzly bear that only wanted to be left alone until he died. No mate. No offspring. Nothing. Just himself and his memories. It wasn’t a very pleasant thought, not a very promising future. But then, what could he expect out of this new society?
“Not a fucking thing,” he muttered, feeling testier than he could remember. He knew it wasn’t caused by his failure to exact revenge on the man who had cut his face. It was because of her.
Burgess. A man’s name. What mother would give her daughter a man’s name?
One with a sick sense of humor.
He smiled, a small smile, and wondered if he would ever see her again.
13
Zach slowed the horse to a walk, then eventually stopped altogether and dismounted. The horse
nickered and nudged his back with its nose. He’d found the animal on his journey to bayou country Louisiana, had in essence stolen it from a farmer. He hadn’t particularly liked having to do so, but the wound in his shoulder had gotten a little infected, had started to slow him down, and the theft had been necessary. He would repay the farmer one day, somehow, if only to ease his conscience.
Ignoring the animal’s stomping hoof, its agitated nickering, Zach frowned as he peered into the underbrush. It seemed strangely quiet in the swamp. Although he was deep into Doc’s territory now, no one had come out to greet him or to stop his progress. For a time he just stood there beside the tired horse, his keen eyes searching the woods around him, waiting, expecting Coon-ass or one of the others to step out from behind a tree and acknowledge his presence. When no one did, he tethered the horse to a low limb and proceeded on foot.
He moved forward cautiously, his gaze sweeping the woods around him, every muscle in his body
painfully attuned to the possibilities. One wrong step and he could die in one of Doc’s traps. It was an agonizingly slow process. The swamp had been painstakingly intruder-proofed. There were hundreds of killing booby traps along the way, designed to prevent anyone from penetrating even the outer
perimeter of Doc’s complex. Zach wasn’t sure how far he would make it before he fell into one of them. But he couldn’t afford not to proceed. His shoulder needed treatment, and he’d long since run out of rot-gut whiskey to pour into the wound. If he didn’t get it patched….
He didn’t even want to think about the consequences. Right now he had to concentrate on what lay ahead of him. He had to focus on picking his way through the swamp, to keep from being blown to bits, from having his skull split by a swinging log, his heart pierced through, or his legs crushed by a falling tree. He would worry about his shoulder later. There was the present to think about now.
Inch by inch, he moved on, surrounded by the stillness and the eerie quiet of the swamp. Strangely, no one stepped out of any hiding places. He appeared to be alone. The idea troubled him. He didn’t know what to make of the silence.
Farther into the forest, the swamp widened and the islands of land became farther apart. The water was deeper, and soon there was no more path to follow. Knowing he would not be able to proceed on foot, Zach looked for the canoe Doc’s men used to cross the deep. But the little skiff was gone. The absence of the boat coupled with the silence sent a shiver of warning down his spine. Something was wrong.
He made a thorough sweep of the area, looking for the other canoes Doc kept hidden in the woods, only to discover they were all missing. He had no choice but to wade across the swamp. It wasn’t the most promising proposition he’d ever been faced with. Wading through a swamp could be deadly.
Despite the danger, he pressed on. Instinct told him something bad had taken place here, but he needed to be certain.
Boots, fatigues, and all, he stepped down into the cool water. Muck from the bottom swirled up around his ankles. He grimaced at the unpleasant sensation of water seeping into his boots and soaking through his pants. Despite it all, he continued on, taking another step, and another. Slowly. Surely. Deeper and deeper, until he was up to his armpits in water. He tried to avoid getting his wound soaked, didn’t want to exacerbate the infection, but he accidentally slopped some water onto it when he fell into a small hole along the bottom. The swamp was so murky he couldn’t see the riverbed, and that’s precisely what worried him. He knew the danger that lurked below the surface, and he didn’t relish the idea of encountering any such behemoth.
Sunlight was muted, strained through the tangle of tree branches overhead, making the swamp seem a little darker than it should be, broken only by a smattering of strong patches of brightness that lent a rather surreal feel to everything. Cypress grew in large hammocks, often shooting up straight out of the more shallow water, their knees poking up like mushrooms clustered together. Moss hung in long gray streamers from the trees, some dipping just inches above the water, like fingers reaching for a cool drink. Swamp creatures followed Zach’s progress with interested eyes. Wary egrets took wing only to come to rest again just a few yards away. Turtles plopped down into the water, kicking up mud as they swam off away from him. Some just sat on their logs, sunning themselves and ignoring the strange creature in their midst.
frighteningly so. He couldn’t risk using a grenade. Too much noise. They would be caught in an instant.
It would have to be the blowgun. The poison wouldn’t start to do any real damage for at least half an hour, but inside fifteen minutes it could disable the vermin enough to make a difference.
In a matter of seconds he had the dart dipped, set, and was taking aim. A short gust of breath into the tube, and the dart began its flight. But his target was too far away. The dart went sailing harmlessly into the brush. One of the goons paused and snapped his head around in surprise when he heard the tiny missile land with a slight rustling noise in the leaves near him. Both men instantly ducked down behind a tree, looking around and trying to figure out what had made the noise, what direction it had come from. The glow from the burning camp gave everything an eerie feel, and the fire unfortunately made things a little more visible than Zach would have liked. If he could see them so well, they could see him just as well. All they had to do was look up.
Zach glanced at the woman. She watched him expectantly. He was beginning to feel a little defeated. It was a very uncomfortable sensation, especially when she was watching him so intently, counting on him to get them both out of there alive. Moving only his eyes, he looked back at the encampment. It was then he spied something that could be to their advantage. A Jeep. A fucking Jeep. He couldn’t believe their good fortune. If it was tanked up, they’d be home free.
“Get ready to get on the ground as fast as you can,” he whispered, glancing over to see what the men behind the tree were doing. They were still looking around, waiting fearfully for some kind of sign from the woods around them. “Run straight into the camp as soon as your feet touch earth.”
He gave her a signal nod, and she positioned herself to begin her climb downward. They were high, near the top of the tree, and it was a long climb. He hoped she could move as fast as he intended to. She gave him an answering nod when she was ready. He took aim and lobbed a grenade near the men.
When it didn’t explode on impact, he hesitated for a moment, wondering if he’d created a dud,
worrying that the enemy had discovered his position. Then fate gave him a window of opportunity. No time to waste. He pushed her down the tree and climbed down after her. The two men nearby realized what had been thrown into their midst and started to flee, but the explosion caught them before they got far, tearing a huge hole in the ground and scattering their remains to the four winds.
Zach didn’t even take the time to duck behind the brush to avoid the blast. He just kept running. He could hear the shouts of the other men as he and the girl crashed through the woods toward the Jeep, his eyes assessing every detail as they went. The vehicle sat in the center of the compound, guarded by one man. Danger or not, Zach intended to take the vehicle.
Steeling himself for what was to come, he burst into the clearing, the woman just a few steps behind him. There was nowhere for them to hide, nothing to dodge behind. All they could do was run head-on into the danger. He used the noise and commotion around them like a cloak, a throwaway concealed but ready in his hand as they ran straight for the man guarding the Jeep. Most of the other slime were in the woods searching for him, which gave them nearly a clear shot all the way. Zach hoped it would last.
The guard heard the pounding of footsteps behind him and started to turn, bringing a rifle up to his shoulder, preparing to fire. The throwaway left Zach’s hand at the precise moment the man’s finger squeezed the trigger. The dagger embedded itself deep into his chest and deflected his aim just slightly.
Enough to save Zach’s life. The bullet that escaped the gun tore a path across Zach’s left shoulder, grazing the skin deep enough to make a sizeable gouge. Ignoring the pain, he motioned for the woman to get into the Jeep. He vaulted into the driver’s side after her and made a quick check of the gauges.
Thank God, the Jeep had fuel. A full tank.
More shouts came from the direction of the woods as he gunned the engine and tore out of the clearing, fishtailing through the hard-packed dirt and entering the woods on the other side.
“Keep your head down,” Zach ordered the woman. “We’ll be going through some heavy brush.”
She didn’t say a word, just pushed her head between her knees and held on tight. Zach veered around and lobbed several strategic grenades in a wide arc around the clearing, and then tore out away from the burning encampment. A few seconds later it seemed like half the forest exploded as his hidden packs went up in a massive burst. Zach smiled. That ought to keep them occupied for awhile. Those that were still alive, anyway.
As he put the camp behind them, the vixen pulled her head out of her knees and looked at him, her eyes questioning. Zach glared back at her. Now that they were safe, he could vent.
“What the hell were you doing back there?” he growled.
“The same thing you were doing,” she answered, glancing back over her shoulder at the road
disappearing behind her.
They had bounced onto a two-lane highway, and Zach was burning up the pavement, putting a whole lot of distance between them and the Pirates.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“You ruined my entire operation,” he shouted, his eyes on the road ahead, his hands gripping the wheel as if he would break it off.
“It looked to me like I was saving your life,” she snapped back.
Zach sat in silence for awhile. He needed time to digest this. It was true. She had saved his life. He should be more grateful. Not that he was really angry with her. He was angry with himself for having missed his opportunity to kill the man who’d scarred his face. Although, after that last massive explosion, who knew. Snake might be dead now. But somehow he doubted it.
“I’m sure you had a reason for saving my neck,” he snarled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
“I’m sure you have an agenda of your own, and I’m sure you thought you could get some unsuspecting sap to help you out.”
She started to protest, but he stopped her with a single glare.
“Why are you so damn interested in the Pirates, anyway?” he wanted to know.
She hesitated, looking as though she might need to think about her answer before trusting him with it.
He had the distinct impression that she was wavering on that trust, and the idea disturbed him.
“They killed my brother,” she finally said. “Three months ago. He always…took care of me. Now I have no one. And they deserve to pay.”
He didn’t bother to say he was sorry. Besides the fact that he didn’t want her to think she could push all his buttons and make him help her with whatever it was she wanted, any expression of sympathy would be worthless, anyway. Her brother was dead. Nothing Zach could say would ease her pain or bring him back.
“And you thought you could just walk in there alone and take a few of them out?” he quipped, looking at her like she was a little on the loony side.
“Didn’t you?”
“That’s different. I was prepared,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
“You didn’t look too prepared when I ran into you,” she reminded him.
“Shit happens,” was all he said.
“You’re still not willing to thank me, are you?”
“I don’t recall you thanking me for doing the same.”
The remark shut her up for a moment, but only a brief one. Zach was just settling into the bliss of silence when she offered, “My name is Burgess.”
He was instantly irritated. He didn’t want her here, didn’t want her to talk. What made women think it was so damn necessary to talk all the time? If she was going to ride with him, he wanted her to respect him enough to keep her damn trap shut so he could think.
“I don’t care wha—” He’d been about to tell her how he didn’t give a good damn who she was, but then paused, glancing over at her, curious despite himself. “Isn’t that a man’s name?”
She grimaced and nodded. “My mother had a sick sense of humor.”
After that, they didn’t talk much. He just drove. He only stopped once to tie a rag around his wounded shoulder to try and stem the flow of blood to a less life-threatening trickle. Damn thing ached. She offered to help, but he refused. He just wanted to get where he was going, and he wanted to do it in complete silence. He had an agenda, and he wasn’t going to veer away from it. Not for her. Not for anyone.
Dawn was just beginning to break when he finally pulled off the road and put the Jeep in park. They were in the Florida panhandle now. Time for them to part company. He damn sure wasn’t going to drag her with him.
Without so much as a glance in her direction, he got out and grabbed what was left of his supplies out of the back. A few grenades and the blowgun. It wasn’t much. He felt naked and vulnerable without his bow, but he would have to make do. As long as he could make it to Doc’s, he would be fine. Doc would feed him well. He could get his arm patched up, get some string for a new bow, and Serena would be thrilled to see him. All he had to do was get there.
He glanced at Burgess. She was still sitting in the passenger seat, staring at him in silence. It was the first time he’d seen her when it wasn’t dark out. She looked even more beautiful in the pale light of dawn, almost too beautiful, despite a few dirt smears here and there.
“Next time you venture into the woods, use more dirt,” he advised. “Your little white face is a flashing beacon in the night to anyone who might be paying attention.”
Her hands went to her cheeks, and she seemed embarrassed. “I have dirt on my face?”
He rolled his eyes and stifled a grunt of disgust. “Keep the Jeep,” he told her, his voice brusque, impersonal. “It has enough fuel in it to get you a few more miles. If you can find more, you’ll have something. Try not to let anyone take it away from you. Fuel is power. Never forget that.”
Without another word, he turned on his heel and started to walk away.
“Wait!” she called after him, her voice sounding a little anxious. “You’re bleeding! Don’t you need help?”
“I don’t need any help, lady,” he called back over his shoulder, never breaking his stride. He refused to help her anymore. He couldn’t afford to. He had enough of a load as it was. Besides which, he didn’t quite trust her. Not that she had really done anything to prove herself untrustworthy. It was just that he didn’t trust anyone.
“Where are you going?”
“None of your business.”
“What about me? What should I do?”
“That’s up to you,” he called, shrugging his massive shoulders, then wincing when a burst of pain from his wound shot down his arm. “I’m not your keeper.”
“Can’t I come with you?”
He was getting farther away now and could barely hear her, but he could still sense the urgency in her voice. He almost felt sorry for her, and the sympathy annoyed him.
“Be strong, Zach, old boy. It’ll pass. Just keep walking,” he muttered to himself. Then he shouted back to her, “No, you can’t come with me.”
“Please. I don’t know where to go…what to do,” she called, her voice faint.
Zach paused but didn’t turn around. “Look, lady. I’m a loner. I don’t need someone like you tagging along behind me. You didn’t seem to mind being alone before. You managed to find your way to that Pirate camp pretty well.”
“I followed you.”
Zach turned around and glared at her. He’d been so careful. Of course, in retrospect, there was that possibility that he’d purposely let her follow him. Perhaps somewhere in his subconscious he had actually wanted her to.
“Well, sort of. I overheard some men talking about the camp and figured that’s where you were
heading, and—”
“You’ll do all right on your own,” he interrupted. He turned away and resumed walking. “Just do whatever comes naturally. You’ll figure it all out eventually. I did.”
“Wait. Please. At least let me give you a ride.”
Zach wasn’t listening anymore. He disappeared into the trees, taking a deep cleansing breath as he heard the familiar rustle and crunch of dry leaves beneath his boots. He could already feel his muscles beginning to relax a little. It was a wonderful sensation, to be alone again.
His steps faltered when he heard the Jeep crank up, but he managed to force himself to stay on course.
He could tell she was angry that he’d left her stranded because she barked the tires getting back onto the paved road, and he could hear the engine roaring off away into the distance. Ordinarily, her anger would have made him smile, but not this time. Oddly, he was disappointed that she hadn’t tried harder to convince him to let her tag along.
Too late now. She was gone.
Zach kept walking. He had a long journey ahead of him. It wouldn’t be an easy one to make with a wound. He was fortunate it was just a flesh wound. The bullet had grazed a hole in his arm without damaging the bone, had entered and exited without lodging. As long as it didn’t get infected, he would live.
As soon as Doc patched him up, he would go home, and this time he would stay there. Maybe he would never come out again. Just stay in his cave like an old worn-out grizzly bear that only wanted to be left alone until he died. No mate. No offspring. Nothing. Just himself and his memories. It wasn’t a very pleasant thought, not a very promising future. But then, what could he expect out of this new society?
“Not a fucking thing,” he muttered, feeling testier than he could remember. He knew it wasn’t caused by his failure to exact revenge on the man who had cut his face. It was because of her.
Burgess. A man’s name. What mother would give her daughter a man’s name?
One with a sick sense of humor.
He smiled, a small smile, and wondered if he would ever see her again.
13
Zach slowed the horse to a walk, then eventually stopped altogether and dismounted. The horse
nickered and nudged his back with its nose. He’d found the animal on his journey to bayou country Louisiana, had in essence stolen it from a farmer. He hadn’t particularly liked having to do so, but the wound in his shoulder had gotten a little infected, had started to slow him down, and the theft had been necessary. He would repay the farmer one day, somehow, if only to ease his conscience.
Ignoring the animal’s stomping hoof, its agitated nickering, Zach frowned as he peered into the underbrush. It seemed strangely quiet in the swamp. Although he was deep into Doc’s territory now, no one had come out to greet him or to stop his progress. For a time he just stood there beside the tired horse, his keen eyes searching the woods around him, waiting, expecting Coon-ass or one of the others to step out from behind a tree and acknowledge his presence. When no one did, he tethered the horse to a low limb and proceeded on foot.
He moved forward cautiously, his gaze sweeping the woods around him, every muscle in his body
painfully attuned to the possibilities. One wrong step and he could die in one of Doc’s traps. It was an agonizingly slow process. The swamp had been painstakingly intruder-proofed. There were hundreds of killing booby traps along the way, designed to prevent anyone from penetrating even the outer
perimeter of Doc’s complex. Zach wasn’t sure how far he would make it before he fell into one of them. But he couldn’t afford not to proceed. His shoulder needed treatment, and he’d long since run out of rot-gut whiskey to pour into the wound. If he didn’t get it patched….
He didn’t even want to think about the consequences. Right now he had to concentrate on what lay ahead of him. He had to focus on picking his way through the swamp, to keep from being blown to bits, from having his skull split by a swinging log, his heart pierced through, or his legs crushed by a falling tree. He would worry about his shoulder later. There was the present to think about now.
Inch by inch, he moved on, surrounded by the stillness and the eerie quiet of the swamp. Strangely, no one stepped out of any hiding places. He appeared to be alone. The idea troubled him. He didn’t know what to make of the silence.
Farther into the forest, the swamp widened and the islands of land became farther apart. The water was deeper, and soon there was no more path to follow. Knowing he would not be able to proceed on foot, Zach looked for the canoe Doc’s men used to cross the deep. But the little skiff was gone. The absence of the boat coupled with the silence sent a shiver of warning down his spine. Something was wrong.
He made a thorough sweep of the area, looking for the other canoes Doc kept hidden in the woods, only to discover they were all missing. He had no choice but to wade across the swamp. It wasn’t the most promising proposition he’d ever been faced with. Wading through a swamp could be deadly.
Despite the danger, he pressed on. Instinct told him something bad had taken place here, but he needed to be certain.
Boots, fatigues, and all, he stepped down into the cool water. Muck from the bottom swirled up around his ankles. He grimaced at the unpleasant sensation of water seeping into his boots and soaking through his pants. Despite it all, he continued on, taking another step, and another. Slowly. Surely. Deeper and deeper, until he was up to his armpits in water. He tried to avoid getting his wound soaked, didn’t want to exacerbate the infection, but he accidentally slopped some water onto it when he fell into a small hole along the bottom. The swamp was so murky he couldn’t see the riverbed, and that’s precisely what worried him. He knew the danger that lurked below the surface, and he didn’t relish the idea of encountering any such behemoth.
Sunlight was muted, strained through the tangle of tree branches overhead, making the swamp seem a little darker than it should be, broken only by a smattering of strong patches of brightness that lent a rather surreal feel to everything. Cypress grew in large hammocks, often shooting up straight out of the more shallow water, their knees poking up like mushrooms clustered together. Moss hung in long gray streamers from the trees, some dipping just inches above the water, like fingers reaching for a cool drink. Swamp creatures followed Zach’s progress with interested eyes. Wary egrets took wing only to come to rest again just a few yards away. Turtles plopped down into the water, kicking up mud as they swam off away from him. Some just sat on their logs, sunning themselves and ignoring the strange creature in their midst.
