E j deen, p.18
E. J. Deen, page 18
In some places the water grew shallow, in others he was nearly up to his chin in it. The swamp was wide, and there was nothing but water for the remaining distance to Doc’s cluster of islands. Every step was a chore. His boots were sucked into the soft mud along the bottom, his footing unsure, the ground below uneven. Waterlogged tree branches and roots along the river bottom hampered his progress, tripping him up, catching in his clothing. He could see none of it. He was blind below the waist and had to feel along with his booted feet, the water squishing unpleasantly inside with each step.
Once, a cottonmouth swam past him, its long body floating high atop the murky water just inches from his elbow. Zach froze until the deadly snake passed on by. Fortunately, the venomous prowler ignored him. The snake was just one example of the death that lurked in the swamp. There were others he didn’t want to think about.
He was nearing his destination when it happened. His foot snagged against something large and solid.
The object lurched and moved under his feet, sending him down into the water face first. He gulped in an unpleasant amount of swamp water as his feet were swept out from under him. Fear jolted through him like white-hot electricity. He knew exactly what he’d tripped over. A gator. A big one by the feel of it.
Zach immediately went into survival mode. Arms and legs tucked for protection, he made like a fallen log and allowed his body to sink, dead weight, to the bottom of the swamp. He kept his eyes open, his wits sharp, and searched through the swirl of murky water the gator stirred up. He hoped the damn thing wouldn’t take an interest in him, hoped it wasn’t hungry or easily excitable.
Apparently, the reptile had only moved a short distance away because Zach’s sinking body suddenly brushed against scales again, sending the gator into another quick burst of movement as it tried to avoid whatever was touching it. Zach was flipped over twice, his left shoulder scraping hard against the gator’s spiny back and re-opening the wound in his shoulder. He tried to ignore the pain, tried to remain as still as possible. If he made any sudden moves, the gator would view him as an enemy, make a defensive attack, and Zach would become piecemeal for buzzards.
Left with no other choice, he allowed himself to be dragged along, jostled against the rugged bottom, his legs and arms tucked into his chest as the alligator once again attempted to get out of his way. Zach remained still but alert, floating along like a dead log. As long as he didn’t pose any real threat to the animal, he might live through this.
The gator seemed intent on nothing more than putting some distance between itself and the strange object that had falling into its world, but Zach was nonetheless concerned. Blood from his wound oozed into the water, and his lungs were beginning to burn for oxygen. Out of fear, he kept his eyes open, although he couldn’t see much of anything through the dirty water, only a trail of swirling swamp filth as the alligator propelled itself a few yards away. He knew things were happening fast, but every second seemed like a painful eternity as he waited for the worst to happen.
Zach’s body finally equalized, and he drifted to the surface, face down. When his lungs couldn’t take another moment without oxygen, he slowly lifted his face out of the water, praying the slight tinkling sound wouldn’t bring the gator back to investigate. He breathed deeply of the blessed air and used the opportunity to scan the water’s surface. Then he allowed his head to drop back into the water and just floated for as long as he could. It was too soon to move yet. He was still hoping the gator thought he was nothing more than a fallen log, a part of the swamp, and still hoping the blood from his wound didn’t draw unwanted attention. If he’d been in the ocean with all this blood around him, sharks would already be gnawing on him. There was no telling how the gator would react to the stuff. Could he smell it? Would he attack?
Zach didn’t even want to think about it.
The gator was still there, not far away. He could sense it. But there was nothing he could do about it. If he started to swim, the gator would be on him in an instant. If he put his feet down, he ran the risk of stepping on the damn thing again. And he still had a considerable distance to go before he reached dry land. Not that land would be of much help to him if the gator decided to give chase. A gator could easily outrun a man on land, if that man didn’t know what he was doing.
He drifted, occasionally lifting his head and taking several deep breaths to keep his lungs from bursting. It seemed like an interminable waiting game, the most gruesome game of chance he’d ever faced.
The minutes ticked by and nothing happened.
Tired of the waiting, he unfolded one arm and felt around in his boot for the throwaway he always kept stashed there. Thank God, he hadn’t lost it during the shuffle. He kept his movements slow and controlled, almost robotic, so as not to make any sudden changes in the water around him, carefully pulling his hand back to his chest, the knife held ready. Damn, this wasn’t going to be easy.
Careful not to stir the water around him, he lowered his feet and felt immensely relieved when his boots found the squishy bottom of the swamp instead of something that moved and killed. Still
concerned about running into the gator, he kept his face down in the water, his eyes wide, only occasionally lifting his head for a breath as he began his painstaking journey. His eyes searched through the muck, hoping he would be able to see the gator before he made another mistake and
bumped into it again. It seemed the most logical way to finish his journey, the only way that afforded him a chance at all of making it. With his face thrust down into the chest-high water as he walked forward, his eyes alert for any signs of movement in the mud below him, he made his way through the swamp.
Just when he was beginning to relax, his worst fears came to life. After easing along for some distance, he paused to lift his head out of the water for air. There, floating just in front of him, as still as a log, was the alligator, its reptilian eyes drifting along just above the surface of the swamp like two fishing floats bobbing along side by side. But these things didn’t bob. They just sat there, staring at him, not even the tiniest swell rippling out of the water that surrounded the enormous body of the creature.
Zach tried not to recoil in alarm, tried to stifle the overpowering urge to back-paddle. Jesus, the thing was huge! It had to be a twelve-footer. If he hadn’t raised his head precisely when he had, he would have sideswiped the damn thing.
Zach stayed frozen into position while his brain frantically searched for a plan of escape. There was an odd buzzing in his ears, the sound of fear. The audible trickle of water dripping from his hair and splashing back into the murky river just inches from his chin seemed to amplify and carry out over the swamp. Too loud. Damn, but it was too loud. Everything seemed amplified. Every breath echoed in his ears, and his heart battered against his ribs as if it would rip from his chest and sprint away. Christ, what were the odds of him escaping with both arms and both legs?
Everything around him seemed frozen in time, as stiff and frozen as he felt. Everything in the swamp had gone into an eerie silence, punctuated only by the sound of the water dripping from his hair, splashing like little bullets into the still water below. His heart hammered hard in his chest, and his breath was harsh and labored. It was as if all the creatures in the swamp had stopped what they were doing to watch, waiting for the one to strike the other, waiting to see who would be first, and who would be the victor.
The gator didn’t make a move, just lay there, an arm’s length away. Zach had never encountered anything like it before in his life. It seemed an absurd situation, unreal, impossible. Yet, it was happening. And he didn’t know what the hell to do about it except stay frozen into position and wait to see if the beast got bored and moved off. It was either that or try to overcome the damn thing before it turned on him and ripped him limb from limb. If this had been a bitch guarding her eggs, she would have already killed him. The thought raised his blood pressure.
Female or no, if he moved, this thing would shred him. The odds were hardly even. The alligator was in its element. Zach was not. He could be in a hell of a lot of trouble.
He’d never been so close to a wild gator before without the gator having some serious misgivings about it. But this thing…. It was just sitting there, waiting, maybe sizing him up, curious, almost indifferent. It didn’t seem all that concerned about moving away from him. The idea was unnerving. Zach wasn’t sure just how long he could remain motionless. He couldn’t stand there half bent over, stuck into a cramped position forever. His back and arms were already getting tired. Either he or the gator would have to act eventually. By the looks of things, he would be the one to make the first move. The reptile seemed rather comfortable with Zach’s discomfort.
He stood there, hunched over, completely still, like some fucking freeze-frame, watching the beast. It was so odd. Up close, the alligator was amazing. It was huge, capable of crushing him with one blow of its powerful tail. One snap of those lethal jaws could remove his arm, and yet there was something mesmerizing about the animal.
The gator seemed to be assessing Zach in much the same way as he studied it. It was an unusual moment. This animal was a survivor, like Zach. And like Zach, it had its vulnerabilities. They were both waiting for their fate. Both strong. Both vulnerable. Common ground.
Hypnotized by the beauty of the creature, his hand seemed to move of its own volition, his fingers tentatively reaching toward the scaly back that was so close to him. He didn’t know why he wanted to touch the monstrous creature. He just felt compelled to connect with the animal.
The second Zach’s fingers brushed the gator’s side, all hell broke loose. The gator didn’t like the sudden familiarity, and it lashed out with a speed that was surprising, its massive tail coming around to broadside him. If it hadn’t been for the drag of the water to buffer the movement, the blow would have broken his arm. As it was, Zach was sent swirling down into the murky depths. Pain shot through his left arm, and he knew he was bleeding badly now. Damn, that had been a stupid thing to do. What made him think he could touch the thing just because it had been sitting there so placidly? He’d been a fool, and now he was going to die because of his stupidity.
No! He was not going to die, his brain screamed as he scraped along the bottom, his face burrowing into the muck on the floor of the swamp. Not going to die.
With renewed determination, he righted himself and came up sputtering, swamp scum spewing
everywhere as he shook his head in a violent attempt to clear his vision, his knife poised and ready to strike at the soft underbelly of the reptile. But the gator was gone. Only a swirling trail of muck on the surface of the swamp attested to the fact that it had ever been there at all.
Zach stood there for several dazed minutes, the knife clenched so tightly in his fist that it was almost painful, his arm still raised and ready to swing downward in a hard, wide arc, ready to kill. His chest heaved and blood trickled slowly down his arm to splink, splink, splink into the water, the only sound that interrupted the otherwise quiet swamp. He was terrified the gator was somewhere below the surface, perhaps circling him, waiting to strike. But nothing happened. The gator had disappeared.
It seemed an eternity before he was able to overcome the doubt and the dread. He feared the gator was somewhere between himself and land, just waiting to tear his limbs from his body and leave him to drown at the bottom of the swamp, his blood mingling with the rest of the bilge. But there was no sign of the beast.
After several uneventful minutes, Zach forced himself to start moving again. Despite his fear, he didn’t encounter the gator again. He reached Doc’s island without incident, not even a telltale swirl of the murky waters around him, only the silence of the swamp, interrupted occasionally by the raucous conversation of a few unidentifiable birds.
It had been an odd experience, both beautiful and frightening. He’d touched a side of nature few people ever dared test, had been amongst it, a part of it, almost like being inside the belly of a whale. It was extraordinary, a strange and frightening experience, even thrilling. Hell, it was fucking invigorating.
The experience had done something to him, changed something deep inside him. He felt alive again.
Wonderfully alive.
Back on dry ground, he tore another strip of heavy cotton from his shirt and wrapped it tightly around his wound to staunch the flow of blood. The swipe from the alligator’s tail had torn the hole nearly twice its original size. It would need attention soon. But one glance around the clearing proved he would not be getting that attention soon enough. Except for himself and the usual assortment of creatures that inhabited the forest, the swamp was empty. The only thing there to greet him was the strange sight of charred buildings. Doc’s complex had been destroyed, completely burned to the ground, not a building or a shack left standing. There was no sign of human life left.
Everything had been taken. All the equipment, all the supplies, all the research had been removed from the buildings, presumably before they’d been set ablaze. He sifted through the ashes, looking for evidence. It didn’t take long to determine the fire had been deliberate, contained and precise.
Professional work. But who had done this? That was the disturbing question.
He searched for hours but found no clues, no trace of his friends. Not even a hint of what had taken place. Just an empty swamp.
“What the hell happened here?” he whispered to himself.
He had no way of knowing.
Grim and reluctant, he left the swamp and made the painstaking journey back to where he’d left the horse. His shoulder aching and his heart heavy with disappointment, he turned north and resumed his trek at a slow walk, feeling helpless. His good friend was gone and everyone with him, and there was nothing Zach could do about it. He had no way of knowing if they’d left willingly or if they had been routed out. He had no way of knowing if they were dead or alive, no way of knowing what had
happened to Doc’s precious research. The helplessness angered him.
He didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to walk away without even trying to find out what had happened, but he had to get his shoulder taken care of before he did anything else. Without treatment, he would be no good to his friends.
Two days later Zach located a doctor, miles away from Doc’s bayou. There were rumors of a man in the area who had recently delivered a woman’s baby. Zach followed the rumors north until he came to a small settlement. It was an amazing place. Unlike most of the settlements in the new society, here the people seemed unharried, civilized, clean. It was like stepping into another world, like stepping back in time, almost to the turn of the twentieth century. These people were dignified, seemingly untouched by the evil of the world around them. They were obviously trying to make a place for themselves, an orderly existence built on mutual trust and respect. He wondered if they were Amish. They seemed so untouched by the rest of society.
Zach left the horse tethered amongst a tight cluster of trees well away from the settlement and walked half a mile into the center of the little township. The people took one look at him, with his long, tangled hair, his torn fatigues streaked with dried mud, and his bloodied shoulder, and were instantly on guard.
He didn’t bother to try and convince them he could be trusted. It would have been wasted effort. There was no time. His wound was too far gone. They would never believe him, anyway.
Zach was quick to assess the situation. The men were oddly absent. Maybe they were away hunting.
That made his task considerably easier. For the moment, anyway.
He went up to the nearest woman and stood just inches from her, his blue eyes glaring down at her, his lips tight with pain. She tried to back away, but he followed her until she was backed against a rail. One look at her eyes and he knew she would tell him anything. He knew the look. She would do anything as long as he didn’t harm her. Fear boiled off her like summer heat, so intense that he almost felt sorry for her. But not quite. There was no time for sympathy.
He grabbed her face in his right hand and squeezed a little. “The physician,” he demanded.
She didn’t argue, just haltingly gave him directions to a place on the outskirts of town.
A sense of uneasiness followed him as he hurried to the house. He didn’t like the fact that the men were all gone. It bode ill, reminded him of an ambush. Even if it wasn’t, he knew they would come crawling out of the woodwork as soon as word spread about the dangerous stranger that had appeared in their midst. Then they would bear down on him like a lynching mob and either run him out of town or kill him. The latter was the most probable. No matter who he was, good guy or bad guy, he was a threat. He had stumbled across their peaceful settlement, and they could not abide that. They would do everything in their power to protect their township.
Zach barged into the doctor’s little wooden house unannounced and uninvited, demanding that
something be done about his shoulder. The doctor made it plain that he was angry about being
discovered by an outsider. He vehemently refused to treat Zach’s wound, but Zach would not take no for an answer. He had a job to do. He needed to find his friends, and he wasn’t going to let a little thing like a shoulder wound stand in his way.
He stood in the man’s front parlor, an immovable mountain, while the doctor ranted about the
indecency, the rudeness, the impossibility.
“I don’t know how you found this place, mister, but ain’t no one here gonna help you,” the doctor insisted. “So, I suggest you just turn around and leave peaceably. We’re good folk around these parts, and we don’t like to see anyone get hurt.”
