by B J Bourg
CHAPTER 15
Mechant Loup, Louisiana
Susan paced back and forth in the living room of the house she shared with her husband Clint, their daughter Grace, and their two four-legged children. Her cell phone was pressed to the side of her head. She knew better than to call Clint’s cell because he was out of the service area, but Melvin should be answering his SAT phone. She had been trying to reach him for the past hour without success. She was scheduled to meet a dozen officers and civilians at the boat launch in a few hours, but she was wondering if they should step it up. If she decided to do that, she’d have to call her mom or Clint’s mom to come early to babysit Grace. She was about to call Melvin’s SAT phone again when Takecia Gayle called.
“Hey, boss, have you heard from Melvin yet?” Takecia asked in her thick Jamaican accent. Although the United States was the only country she had ever called home, her parents were Jamaican nationals and had migrated legally to this country long before she was born. It was obvious they’d had an influence on her dialect, and Susan could usually sit there and listen to her talk for hours—but now was not one of those times.
“No, and I’m starting to get worried.” Susan stopped pacing and plopped down on the sofa. Achilles picked up on her mood and sidled up next to her. He licked her hand and she petted his head. Never to be left out, Coco rushed over and forced her snout between Achilles’ head and Susan’s hand. “I was thinking about heading out tonight.”
“Your man, he’s a tough one and can take care of himself.” Takecia nodded. “No man can match him, of this I am sure.”
Not only was Takecia an officer with the Mechant Loup Police Department, but she used to be Susan’s training partner when Susan was competing as a professional mixed martial artist. It gave Susan some comfort to hear Takecia say that about Clint.
“Do you think I’m worrying for nothing?” Susan asked.
“I’m sure of it.”
“Okay, well, I’ll try to get some sleep, and I want you to do the same. We’ll meet in the morning. I’m afraid tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
“See you then, boss.”
Takecia ended the call and Susan tossed her phone onto the coffee table. With a long sigh, she stretched out on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. She noticed a fresh spider’s web in the far corner and scowled. She would need a ladder or a long broom to reach it. She made a mental note to remember to clean that spot—
Susan sat up with a start. She hadn’t remembered when it happened, but sometime during the late night or early morning she had fallen asleep. She propped up on one elbow on the sofa and checked the time on the digital clock across the room. It was almost four o’clock. The light over the kitchen sink helped to illuminate much of the living room and she could see Achilles’ dark shadow in the corner. Coco was next to him. In the dim light, Susan could see that she was twitching in her sleep, possibly from bad dreams.
Susan frowned. What had awakened her from such a deep sleep? She rubbed her blurry eyes and then jerked in her skin when her cell phone dinged loudly from the coffee table. She recognized the alert—it signaled a missed call and voicemail. Fear enveloped her as she reached for the phone. A call at this hour couldn’t be good news.
Fumbling with the screen, she finally found the source of the call. It was Amy Cooke, one of her five patrol officers. Besides Amy, Melvin, and Takecia, Susan only had one other officer, and his name was Baylor Rice. They were a small department and Susan liked it that way, because they were close. They knew nearly everything there was to know about each other. They were family. Of course, it was sometimes hard for their small group to cover an ever-expanding jurisdiction with an increasingly growing populace, and the invasion of tourists during summertime and holidays didn’t help.
“Hey, Amy, what’s up?” Susan tried to sound wide awake, but she knew it didn’t work.
“I just answered a call out at the boat landing. These two fishermen were coming in from checking their catfish lines out on Lake Berg, and they noticed some lights in the distance. They went to investigate and they found an abandoned boat floating on the water. It wasn’t damaged or anything, but no one was onboard.” Amy paused for a long moment, and then said, “It’s a Boston Whaler with police lights. It’s Melvin’s boat, Sue.”
CHAPTER 16
My first shot hit the creature that was approaching me from the front and it skidded to a stop several yards away. The light was too dim to make out what it was, and I didn’t have time to inspect it. Another creature was crashing through the brushes to my left. I quickly worked the pump action on the shotgun and turned in that direction. Just as I pulled the trigger, I caught more movement to my rear. Another brown furry beast was scrambling across the clearing, heading straight for me. It was followed closely by two more, their cloven hooves destroying the red tent I’d just folded up and the soft earth beneath it.
Working the pump action like a piston, I cut loose with the shotgun, shooting those three wild boars as fast as I could pull the trigger and manipulate the action. I fired at two more pigs, dropping one instantly and hitting the other one in the neck. It squealed and thrashed about, scattering the remaining fabric of the tent across the clearing. If I had counted my rounds correctly, I only had one shot left.
Not knowing how many pigs were left, I quickly strode toward the live one and—being careful not to get caught by one of its tusks—I cracked it across the head with the butt of the shotgun. It gave one last grunt and then lay still.
I scowled as my eyes ran over the chewed up earth where I’d found the large footprint. I was about to wipe a rivulet of sweat from my forehead when something large came crashing through the bushes behind me. I whirled around and was about to bring the shotgun to bear when I saw Melvin appearing from the trees. I quickly lowered the muzzle as he skidded to a stop and his mouth fell open. He stared about the area in shock, his AR-15 poised for action. “What in God’s name happened here?”
I spat on the ground in disgust. The tent had been shredded to pieces. Large chunks of the fabric had become entangled in the hooves of one of the pigs and it had dragged the pieces all around the campsite as it had tried to impale me.
“Those damn pigs destroyed the crime scene and the one definitive piece of evidence I was able to find.”
“And what was that?”
“Large footprints—and I mean giant footprints.”
Melvin blinked. “Big Foot’s prints?”
“There’s no such thing as Big Foot.” I threw logs on the fire and waited a few seconds for the flames to grow larger. I didn’t know what happened to the spotlight, and I needed an alternative light source—any kind of light source. My shoulders sagged as I studied the damage.
There had been eight pellets in each of the double-aught buckshot rounds I’d fired. Every pellet had found a target and inflicted serious damage on the wild boars. The pigs had been nearly on top of me when I fired, and they’d taken the full force of each blast. The kinetic energy from the rounds had destroyed tissue and created wound channels large enough to drive a child’s tricycle through. As a result, the tents and surrounding ground cover were painted in swine blood. If I attempted to recover DNA samples now, it would be an analyst’s worst nightmare. They could try all they wanted, but there was no way they could locate human DNA in this sea of crimson mess.
“Do you think Big Foot can control other animals?” Melvin asked amusingly. “Maybe he ordered those pigs to attack you.”
Before I could scoff at him, we heard footsteps approaching from the lake. I looked up and saw Gary, Elton, Leroy, and Sarah breaking through the trees and stepping into the clearing.
“I told y’all to stay in the boat,” Melvin said in a stern voice. “This isn’t a game.”
Gary raised a hand and offered an apology. He explained that it had been his decision, and said, “I felt we would be safer with you than out there all alone. It was getting…um…there were sounds from the water that spooked us.”
Melvin wasn’t impressed. “Look, when I tell you to stay put, it’s for a reason. While we’re out here, Clint and I are in charge. We’re responsible for the safety of each and every one of you. It’s imperative that y’all do exactly what we say, when we say it. Got it?”
Gary swallowed hard and nodded.
I cocked my head to the side when I saw that Elton’s face was bloodied. I thought about asking him what happened, but decided I could get the news from Melvin later. There was certainly a lot of tension in the air, and Leroy was avoiding making eye contact with his supposed best friend.
I found an area where they could wait and be out of my way, and instructed them to sit with their backs to the fire. I handed them my spotlight and told them to keep an eye on the woods.
“If y’all see any movement at all, sing out.” I then waved for Melvin to bring his light and asked him to shine it where the red tent had been just minutes earlier. Working in the glow from his light, I squatted and carefully lifted the remnants of the tent and checked the ground beneath. Where there had once been discernible bare footprints, there was now only a patch of trampled mud. “Damn, this ain’t good, Melvin.”
He nodded from where he stood over me, thoughtful. “Did it match up to the same kind of prints from Leroy’s phone?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leroy’s head come around at the mention of his name. I nodded. “It looked like they were made by the same—um, creature or person or whatever the hell it is.”
“Mister,” Leroy called from where he was sitting on a downed tree trunk. “You found some footprints, too?”
I sighed, straightened, and walked over to the young man. “I found the same kind of prints you found. They were under the red tent.”
Elton’s head whipped around at the revelation, and Sarah also leaned forward in great interest.
“So, how’d he get under the tent?” Leroy wanted to know. He then sat up straight and snapped his fingers. “I know…the prints were there before we set up the tent!”
I was about to correct him when Elton spoke up.
“No, dumbass, what he’s saying is that Big Foot walked into the tent and snatched Kaitlin. When he stepped on the soft floor of the tent, it left a print in the soft mud underneath the tent.”
A light switch seemed to go off in Leroy’s head. “Oh, no! So, she was taken!”
I frowned and glanced over at Melvin, who only shrugged and nodded his agreement with the kid. I’d seen the prints myself and knew they were real, so the only viable explanation was that a large creature or person had taken Kaitlin while everyone else slept. Of course, I wasn’t sure of that last part. I didn’t know how it was possible for someone to sleep through this kind of abduction. That’s when another thought occurred to me.
What if Elton had been awake the whole time, but had been frozen in terror? If such a monster as they described would creep into a campsite in the middle of the night, I imagine that might scare anyone half to death—no matter how tough they thought they were.
I was about to pull Elton aside to question him again when the roar of a boat motor sounded from the lake. The sound got all of our attention, but it was Melvin who first interpreted what we were hearing.
“The boat—someone’s taking our boat!”
CHAPTER 17
As Melvin raced ahead to see who had started the boat, I brought up the rear and made sure to keep Sarah, Elton, Leroy, and Gary in front where I could see them. If I couldn’t see them, I couldn’t protect them. When we broke from the tree line and scattered on the lake shore, I heard Melvin cursing.
“Someone took the boat,” he said, bending to rest his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He had run hard. “My SAT phone’s onboard. We’re cut off from the rest of the world.”
I pursed my lips and nodded solemnly. I had one shotgun shell left and sixteen 9mm rounds in my pistol. Melvin probably had the same amount of .40 caliber rounds in his Glock, along with the two fifteen-round magazines in the pouch on his belt, and I saw a thirty-round magazine sticking out of his AR15. That gave us ninety-three rounds in total, which was a lot on a regular day—but this wasn’t a regular day. If we were attacked by more wild pigs, that would severely cut into our ammo supply. I figured it would take several well-placed pistol rounds to take down a single boar, and that could eat into our ammo supply.
I considered this and found myself wondering if Big Foot—or whatever he called himself—was slow playing us. What if he was setting the pigs on us to make us expend all of our ammunition? He could then move in for the kill and it would be a hand-to-hand battle.
I glanced at our civilian friends and then moved closer to Melvin. I didn’t want them hearing us discussing the dire situation in which we found ourselves.
“Who do you think took the boat?” I asked in a low voice.
“Hell if I know. As far as I can tell, Big Foot doesn’t know how to drive a boat.”
“It might not be Big Foot, but that bastard has big feet—that’s for sure.” I leaned the shotgun across my right shoulder. “Susan should be leaving the boat landing in the morning, so she should reach us sometime after daybreak.”
“That’s if she knows how to get here. I don’t think she’s ever been this far from Lake Berg.”
I had never heard my wife talk about this place—hell, I’d never heard anyone talk about this place—and she didn’t spend as much time on the water as Melvin, so I found myself worrying. If she couldn’t find us, we’d be in big trouble. If we were stranded here for an extended period of time, we would have to start using bullets for hunting food, and that would cut into our self-defense budget.
I glanced around the bank of the lake and asked Melvin if he thought we should make camp at the water’s edge.
“No, we need to move inland to get away from the alligators. They’ll be coming in and out of the water up and down the banks, and if they stumble upon us sleeping out here under the stars, they just might try to take a bite out of us.” He shook his head. “I’m not in a hurry to meet my Maker. I’ve committed too many sins.”
Melvin knew more about the swamps than I did, so I deferred to his wisdom. “I guess we could pile our guests in the blue tent, and then you and I can stay outside where we can protect them,” I suggested. “Maybe we can take turns sleeping. If we’re going to be out here for a few days, we’ll need to rest up for a potential fight.”
In the dim light from the stars overhead, I saw Melvin nod slowly. He appeared deep in thought. I studied our surroundings and waited until he was ready to talk. I had to wait about the length of a boxing round—three minutes—before he sighed heavily and shuffled his feet.
“Clint, I don’t know who took this Kaitlin girl, but I’ve got a feeling he’s playing for keeps. If she’s not dead, she’s probably wishing she was. I also think he was coming back for the rest of them, which is why he took their boat. He was going to pick them off one at a time, until he got them all. They had no avenue of escape. They were sitting ducks out here. He was playing a game with them.” Melvin paused for a brief moment before continuing. “Now that he’s taken our boat, I think he’ll be back for us. He’s going to take us one at a time until we’re all gone—like wolves cutting elk.”
I couldn’t argue with his assessment. If the creature had merely wanted to escape with Kaitlin, there would’ve been no need to take their boat or our boat. He could’ve simply snatched Kaitlin and disappeared Sunday night. Instead, he took their boat and destroyed it, leaving them stranded on this patch of swamplands. He’d had another opportunity to get far away from here when Melvin and I showed up with Gary, but he didn’t. Instead, he came back here and took our boat.
Melvin was right—we were being hunted. But who was this hunter? I had no clue who this person was, but I was positive who it wasn’t—it wasn’t some mindless creature who had been eluding capture for decades. We were dealing with a giant human who was powerful, crafty, and stealthy. How else could
I explain someone sneaking into a camp and snatching a grown woman without so much as leaving behind a single piece of—
“The hair!”
Melvin turned his head to regard me, rubbing his smooth head. “What is it about my hair?”
I removed the latex glove that contained the hair I’d located earlier. “I recovered this hair from the zipper of the red tent.” I waved the glove in the air. “What if this is our killer’s hair? If so, we’ll have his DNA. Someone like this, they’re bound to have been arrested in the past. With luck, we could have him identified within days.”
Melvin took in our surroundings. “It won’t do us any good in this place. If we never make it back to the world, that hair will be about as useless as a microwave to the Native Americans who used to roam these swamps a thousand years ago. And…it could be the victim’s hair.”
He was right and I knew it, but I wasn’t about to consider the thought of us not making it back to town. There was just no way that could happen.
I walked over to where Gary was sitting with the others. I explained the situation to them and informed them that we had to head back into the bush for the night. “We can’t stay along the banks of the lake because of the alligators.” There was some grumbling from Leroy and Gary, so I shot a thumb toward Melvin. “This man knows his way around the swamps. If he says it’ll be safer in the woods, then that’s where we’ll be.”
“I don’t want to go back to the place where my sister was kidnapped,” Leroy complained. “I mean, what if Big Foot comes after one of us next?”
I stood there staring down at him, wondering if I should say the first thing that had popped into my head. He had a defiant expression on his face, so I shrugged and said, “If one of us gets taken, at least that person will know what happened to your sister.”