by B J Bourg
My comment brought a gasp from Sarah. “Do you really think he’ll come back after us?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I really don’t know, but we can’t hang out around here. We need to get back to the tent and bed down for the night. Melvin and I will keep watch while the rest of you sleep.”
“I can help,” Gary said. “I don’t mind taking a shift. Hell, I wish that cowardly bitch would come after me. I…I would volunteer for it. I want to know what happened to my baby girl.”
I frowned and turned to lead the way into the woods, saying a silent prayer that we would find Kaitlin alive. I knew the chances weren’t good, but I wanted to hope for the best. It was the least I could do.
I didn’t look back as I walked, but I knew they were following me. They must have snapped every branch and stepped on every dry leaf from the water to the campsite. I checked the time on my watch when I walked into the camp and was relieved that Susan would be leaving the boat launch in a few hours. It would probably take her another couple of hours to reach our location, so we were several hours away from leaving this place. My only worry was surviving those few hours in the darkness.
“Melvin, can you help me drag these pigs out of the camp?” I asked when Melvin brought up the rear. “I don’t want them to start attracting other wild animals.”
Melvin rested the butt of his AR-15 on the ground near a tree and leaned it against the trunk. He then grabbed the two rear legs of the nearest pig while I grabbed the front legs. We had to strain to budge it. I found myself wondering how much it weighed. It had to be over seven hundred pounds. After that feral hog was in the trees, we grabbed the next one. We continued working until the campsite was cleared of the bristly-haired beasts. Gary and Leroy had gathered several loads of firewood and stacked them near the tents. Meanwhile, Sarah and Elton had stoked the dying embers and the fire was burning brightly again.
“I sure wish we had some food,” Leroy said once we were finished and all of us were sitting on logs around the fire. “If I would’ve known we’d get stuck out here, I would’ve brought a hundred cans of stew.”
Someone responded, but I wasn’t positive who it was. I was too busy listening to the normal night sounds and trying to detect anything out of the ordinary. Melvin was on the opposite side of the campsite—sitting cross-legged ten feet away from the fire with his back against a tree—and his AR-15 was gripped tightly in his whitened knuckles.
After about thirty minutes of idle chatter, leaves rustled in the distance and Sarah suggested they retire to the tent. I knew what she was thinking. Tent walls were thin, but she figured it was better to have some kind of barrier between her and the wild animals of the swamps. Leroy and Elton agreed, but Gary hesitated.
“It’s okay,” I said in a confident voice, standing to hand him my shotgun. “We’ll keep an eye out here. If that creature—or whatever’s out there—gets past us, you’ll be the last line of defense for the kids. Be strong. They need you to be strong.”
He took the shotgun without saying another word and nodded. There was a somber expression on his face. He knew things might get ugly before morning came, and he knew it might come down to him and that shotgun to save the kids.
When they had all disappeared inside the tent, I took up a seat beside Melvin. “I’ll take first watch.”
He nodded and handed me his AR-15. “This won’t do me any good while I’m sleeping.”
CHAPTER 18
I felt myself falling. It was a slow descent into the wet unknown. I felt as though I were sinking to the bottom of a dark lake, except there was a strong current, and the water was pushing me along with terrible force—
I jerked awake to the sound of Melvin laughing. He was sitting on a log near the campfire, but he was sideways in my view. That’s when I realized I was lying on my left shoulder. The sun was peeking through the thick trees overhead and blinded me. Pushing off the ground, I blinked and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “What’s so damn funny?”
“I was keeping an eye on our surroundings and then I caught movement out of the corner of my eye…” Melvin paused to choke off a fit of laughter. “When I looked over, I saw you sitting against that tree with your head back and your mouth open—like you’ve been all morning—and then you slowly began to lean to the left. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. You just kept falling over until you hit the ground and jerked awake.”
Melvin’s laughter was infectious. I began laughing, too, and soon everyone had crawled from the tent to see what all the fuss was about. When Melvin told them, they all began laughing—well, except for Gary. I frowned and sobered up, suddenly feeling guilty. It would be a long time before he laughed again.
We all began preparing for the day when the distant roar of a boat motor sounded. It was the Boston Whaler!
I turned to Gary. “Get my shotgun!”
He dove into the tent and came out with my 12-gauge. I snatched it from his grasp and turned to yell at Melvin, but he was already out of sight. I knew he was going to take back that boat by any means necessary, and I was going to help him. Without it—and if Susan couldn’t find us—we were as good as dead.
My legs burned, but I didn’t slow down. I wanted to catch Melvin before he confronted the boat thieves. We didn’t know how many there were or if they were armed or not, and I didn’t want him getting into trouble.
The thick trees were thinning out and I knew I was approaching the lake. Melvin’s voice called loudly from not too far in front of me and I knew he was challenging the boat. His words sounded threatening. They spurred me forward. I held my shotgun in a firm grip and made a mad dash for the edge of the tree line. It was directly in front of me. I was there, I was—
“What the hell?” I hollered, screeching to a halt. “What in God’s name are you doing here?”
Susan dropped from the bow of the Boston Whaler and shoved both fists on her beautiful hips. “Is that any way to thank me for saving your ass?” she demanded. “If you’d like, I can climb right back in that boat and get the hell out of here. I mean, if that’s how you’re going to react to my presence. What in God’s name are you doing here?” She did her best impression of me. “Hell, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d rather be out here in the smothering heat and mosquitoes than back home with me and Gracie. I bet if you saw Achilles you wouldn’t react—”
I had finally reached her and, without warning, planted a wet kiss on her mouth to stop the tirade. I don’t know how long I kissed her and I didn’t care who saw it. I was damn happy to see her—and the Boston Whaler. At that very moment, I think I was happier to see the boat, but I would never have admitted it out loud. I loved my life too much.
When I pulled back from Susan I noticed her eyes were half closed and her mouth parted slightly. She swallowed and opened her eyes. “I’m happy to see you, too,” she said breathlessly.
I looked past her and saw half a dozen boats in the water. There were men, women, and children, civilians and law enforcement officers, all there to help search for Kaitlin.
“I’m glad you brought the cavalry. We’re going to need a lot of help.” I glanced around and then shot a thumb toward the Boston Whaler. “How’d you find the boat?”
“We received a report from some fishermen that a Boston Whaler with police lights was abandoned on the water in Lake Berg.” She frowned and I knew that must’ve been a tough moment for her. “I called up the posse and we came out early and found the boat just before sunrise. I was forced to consider the possibility that y’all had somehow gone overboard, but there was no damage so I didn’t know what to think. I started to think the boat drifted off while y’all were rescuing the college students, so we headed in this direction but kept a few boats on Lake Berg just in case. We also have a helicopter circling the lake, because they can cover more area.”
I detailed the events of the previous night and answered a ton of questions from Susan, and also Takecia, who had walked up while we were
talking. When I’d finished explaining everything to them, I walked to where Gary was sitting on a stump. His back was to the water and he was staring into the dense swamps where his daughter had disappeared. Leroy and Sarah were sitting flat on the ground and Elton was standing nearby.
They all looked up when Susan, Takecia, and I approached them. “Who wants to head back to dry land?” I asked. “I’ll be sending the hair I recovered with one of the officers, and they can take all of you back to Mechant Loup.”
They stared at me, not one of them blinking. “We’re not going anywhere,” Gary said with conviction. “My daughter’s out there all alone, and we’re not leaving until we find her.”
I glanced at the others. “All of you?”
“We discussed it,” Elton said. “We’re all in. We came out here together and we won’t leave until all of us are reunited.”
Fighting the urge to frown, I nodded and tried to appear hopeful. On the inside, I was anything but hopeful. I’d seen those large footprints and I knew whoever had taken Kaitlin had done so with bad intentions. The creature had also left us stranded out here to die, and that said something about the evil it possessed.
Melvin, meanwhile, had retrieved several laminated satellite maps from his boat and he called for Elton to join him. The two of them bent over the maps for several minutes, with Melvin doing a bit of writing on the laminate with a permanent marker. When he was done with the first map, he began writing on the second one. He repeated the process four different times and then called for the boat captains to meet him under a tree.
Susan and I joined them and we stood by while Melvin separated the search party into groups that would cover different grids. After a while, he gave Elton the floor and let the kid describe the monster he’d seen. A chorus of gasps and mumblings reverberated through the group at the mention of the name Big Foot. I could suddenly feel an energy in the air—an eagerness—emanating from the search party.
Most of the volunteers were armed. In plain view were a wide assortment of weapons, including semi-automatic rifles, bolt-action rifles, shotguns, handguns, cross bows, spears, and one burly man even had an axe. While everyone knew a young woman had been taken and they all had somber expressions on their faces, they appeared excited about the prospect of killing Big Foot—too excited, in fact. It seemed they were itching to start searching, to be the first to kill the mythical creature.
When Melvin had finished handing out the assignments, he looked to Susan and then to me. “Do either of you have anything?”
Susan shook her head, but I stepped forward. I wanted to remind them that we were on a search-and-recovery mission, not a seek-and-destroy mission.
“I appreciate all of you volunteering your time to help us find Kaitlin Shelton.” I nodded to emphasize my appreciation. “We’re hoping for the best, which is that we find her safe and sound. I’m hoping she just went for a walk and got lost. Now, Melvin covered all of the dangers that might be encountered out there in the wilderness, and there are lots that can kill you. So, please be safe and, if you’re forced to shoot something, please be sure to identify your target and know your backstop. I don’t want anyone going down under friendly fire and I certainly don’t want Kaitlin getting hit by one of us. If you stumble upon a hostage situation, back off and notify us immediately.”
Heads bobbed up and down throughout the group as they all nodded their agreement. With that, everyone broke into their respective search parties and scrambled toward their boats. The search for Kaitlin Shelton was now on in full force.
As I watched everyone scatter, I considered everything we knew so far and was reminded of another case that had taken place long ago when I had worked in La Mort. The scenario was similar and it actually happened on this exact date, but I knew it couldn’t be connected. There was just no way.
I began walking back toward the campsite when something dangling from a tree branch caught my eye. I stopped dead in my tracks, cursing silently.
“What is it?” Susan asked from beside me. “What do you see?”
“This can’t be happening all over again.” I felt bile rise up to my throat, but I swallowed hard to keep it down. “There’s no way in hell!”
PART TWO
Nearly 16 Years Earlier
La Mort, Louisiana
CHAPTER 19
“What’s your name?” The man’s dark face glistened in sweat as he looked up from the bucket on which he sat.
I hooked my thumbs in front of my gun belt and smiled my best smile. “Clint Wolf, sir.”
“When did they start giving badges to twelve-year-old boys?” The man wore oversized pants, shoes with no laces, purple socks, a thick undershirt, and a gray oversized hooded sweat shirt. His smile was broad, exposing a row of rotten teeth, and his short-cropped beard was mostly gray. “How old are you, anyway?”
I had been a patrol officer for the La Mort Police Department for six months, and the most frequent question I’d fielded so far was about my age. “I’m eighteen, sir. I’ll be nineteen next month.” After a brief pause, I asked for his name.
He grinned again. “Call me Curly.”
“Okay, Mr. Curly, would you—”
“No, not mister, just Curly.” He shifted the sign at his feet—it read, “need munee 4 prostatooth”—and repeated, “Just Curly. Nothing more.”
“Okay, Curly it is. Would you like—?”
“Are you going to kick us out like the last cop did?” asked a blonde woman who wore a one-shoulder dress that looked like something Wilma Flintstone would wear—only, it was multi-colored and dirty, not pristine and white. “We’d had a good spot that was safe. We had to wander around for a week until we found this place. We’re not bothering anyone here. It’s quiet and no one has complained about us being here—right?”
The man who sat next to the Wilma look-alike had a thick white beard that covered most of his pale face. He wore a blue sleeveless shirt and an oversized cap. His arms were covered in jailhouse tattoos and sores. He regarded me with suspicious eyes from behind thick dark-rimmed glasses.
“No, ma’am, no one complained and I’m not going to kick y’all out.” I frowned as I surveyed the two tents that had been set up under the bridge. It was my first night working this district, and I had stumbled upon this mini-homeless camp while scouting my area of responsibility. “I was wondering if y’all would like something to eat.”
The three of them looked at each other and then back at me. Mr. Thick Beard spoke first. “How do we know this isn’t a trick?”
“What would be the trick?” I asked innocently. “I’m offering to pay for your food. Do you think I’ll take your order and not come back?”
This seemed to stump the man. He just sat there blinking.
“Would you really buy us some food?” Curly asked. “No cop has ever offered to buy us food.”
“Well, they’re out there,” I explained. “You just haven’t met them yet.”
The blonde woman stood from the dirty yoga mat she was sitting on. “I’m Flower and this is my husband, Moe.”
I nodded, resisted the urge to ask if there was a Larry in their group, and shook hands all around.
“Instead of food, can you give me money for a prostitute?” Curly asked, holding up his misspelled sign.
“You get points for honesty, but I can’t give you money for prostitutes,” I explained. “I can, however, buy you a burger, fries, and a milkshake.”
“A real milkshake? I haven’t had one of those in years.” Flower’s dull eyes seemed to glow. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They were all on their feet now, talking rapidly as they placed their orders. I pulled the notebook from my blue uniform shirt pocket and scribbled what they wanted. When the list was complete, I put away the ink pen and headed for my patrol cruiser. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes or so,” I called over my shoulder, “unless I catch a call. If that happens, it might be a little later, but I�
��ll definitely bring the food tonight.”
Flower rubbed her unkempt hair and smiled. “That’s the nicest thing any cop has ever done for us.”
I just shrugged and returned to my cruiser. It was a little after six in the afternoon and the sun was starting to set. I flipped down my visor and drove right into the sun. There was a burger joint a mile down the road. When I arrived, I took my list with me and read it off to the young girl behind the counter. She had a mouthful of bubble gum and spoke around it to tell me the amount I owed. After paying for the food, I sat in my cruiser and waited for her to give me a wave to let me know the food was ready.
Ten minutes later, I was still waiting when the radio scratched to life.
“LM112 to LM110,” called a female. I didn’t recognize the voice, but I knew the call sign was that of Heidi Beard.
“Go ahead, 112,” I said into the handset.
“10-20?”
I hated using ten codes. While I knew the basic ones—when she called 10-20, she was asking for my current location—I had a hard time remembering all of the others. Since starting my job, I had ignored the ten codes and spent all of my time memorizing the call signals, because those alerted me to the type of call that was in progress, and I figured those were more important than learning to chat back and forth with fellow officers. A Signal 30 was a murder, a 64 was an armed robbery, and Code Red was an officer in trouble. There were dozens of other codes, ranging from shoplifting to an active shooter, and it wasn’t the easiest thing to learn. It was like learning a different language, and that wasn’t my strong suit.
I told Heidi my location and she asked me to wait where I was. I acknowledged her traffic and returned the mic to the clip just as the girl with the bubble gum stuck a hand out of the window and waved. My stomach growled as I strode forward to get the food. I loved hamburgers, and they made some of the best in La Mort.