by Chris Draper
Dottie nodded that she would then Randall came back a minute later with some rope that Byron used to tie her firmly to the bed. When he was done he went over to Hawk who still had his nose pushed up against the damp wall, grabbed his arms and tied his hands behind his back and then sat him on the floor.
Hawk looked over at Randall now, saw something long and metallic in his hand but couldn't make out what it was. He gave it to Byron who came over and stood over Hawk and at that moment Hawk knew what it was and the horror of the situation dawned on him in a flash. The end of the metal tool had the same symbol he'd seen on all of the Syndicate jackets and it was glowing an intense orange. The 'special tool' Byron had alluded too was none other than a branding wand used on farms to label cows to the ranch they belonged too. And now they were going to use it to brand him as well. Byron brought the heated end up to Hawk's nose and dangled it there. “Ready to become one of us?”
21
Clyde Doucette had made it back to Aldwell after dropping Hawk off near the building in the Everglades. He'd felt guilty about it the entire way but they both knew if he didn't treat his arm soon it could grow infected. He'd sought out Abji again in Imokalee, who took him to a local doctor there who cleaned up the wound.
The doctor had said he'd treated far worse on some of the locals who'd been bitten by alligators and crocodiles, and that it was just a surface wound that would heal back fully within a month or two. Relieved, Clyde had thanked the doctor, parted ways with Abji, and arrived back at his house on the outskirts of Aldwell where he lived with his wife Claire and two young children Emily and Billy.
After coming in the front door during dinnertime, Claire had been cooking and when she turned around and saw the bandage on her husband's arm, had let out a shriek that could be heard a block away. Clyde had tried explaining what had happened, how he'd been giving a boat tour and had been in the water trying to free up the boat's blades from some vines, but Claire had been hysterical; she was protective of the people in her life, both family and friends, and had broken down into tears. Clyde had soothed her, said there was nothing to worry about, and she'd begged him to promise that he would take a few days off from his boat tours to rest his arm.
It hadn't been an easy decision. Clyde was a stubborn man and the family was barely making ends meet as it was, and with a growing boy and newborn baby girl they could really use the money. But Claire had said that his health was more important, that she would be able to work at the grocery store in nearby Copeland until his arm had recuperated, and after a brief squabble Clyde eventually acquiesced and agreed to take some time off from giving his boat tours for a few weeks.
It was late evening now the day after he'd returned and Clyde was sitting around the kitchen table having a late supper with Claire and their two children. Claire had gotten off work late which meant supper would be late for all of them – she and Clyde were both well aware that Clyde was probably the worst cook in the world. An old tube television with an antenna sticking out was playing in the background with another weather report about Hurricane Hector. Since Clyde had been home all he'd heard about was that damn hurricane, and it made him worry a little: what if the hurricane scared off the tourists and no one showed up for his boat tour next month? He tried to push the thought out of his mind, watched Billy wolf down a monster T-bone steak – he had to admit that his son was a lot like him in some ways: both had the appetite of a rhinoceros at the dinner table and both had the same stubborn qualities.
He smiled, guzzled a little beer from his can of Budweiser and dove into the chickpea salad Claire had put in front of him.
“How was work today?” Clyde asked her, watching her feed 1-year-old Emily in her baby stool. “Is that son-of-a-bitch Neil still giving you a hard time?” Neil was her supervisor in the deli, and she had complained to Clyde that he hit on her sometimes.
“I told you not to swear in front of the children.” She said. “And Neil called in sick today.”
“Maybe he caught something from all the meat.” Clyde smirked, winking at Billy. “Salmonella or something like that.”
“He had a cold, it wasn't salmonella.” She said wiping Emily's face with a napkin. “And today it was busy, we had the shriners come in and order 100 pounds of meatloaf.”
“Shriners? Now ain't that something.” Clyde said shoving a large piece of steak in his mouth.
It was quiet for a few seconds and Billy got a large smile on his face, like he was hiding a secret that only he knew about, then yelled “Son of a bitch!” Imitating his father and Clyde laughed out loud.
“See?” Claire said rolling her eyes. “Now he'll be saying that at school all week.”
Clyde wiped his mouth, shrugged his shoulders, and went to stand up when something on the TV caught his eye. It was a news report, and he saw a television reporter standing in front of what looked like a highway bar, talking with a serious expression into the news camera with an umbrella in her hand. Clyde took his beer and went over to the living room, knelt down and turned up the volume dial. Claire had started clearing the table and it was hard to hear what the news lady was saying so he yelled at her to keep it down then sat down on the couch to listen.
The news report showed the bar again, and in the background the woman spoke in monotone: “Police say that they raided the bar known as Fiesta Lochez tonight in conjunction with a suspected gang war that was to take place on the premises. Police also say that a tip from an unknown source was called in prior to the raid on the bar.”
“Holy shit.” He said putting his beer down on the table and pulled the couch closer to the TV. Claire came over and sat down beside him, “Everything alright?” She asked and he shushed her, kept his eyes glued to the screen. “I'm trying to listen to this.”
The report cut to a police sergeant, his face caught in a stern expression: “We want to warn the public right now that we had a few runners, which means they're out there somewhere. We're not sure how many but we definitely want everyone to exercise caution around anyone who looks suspicious in their neighbourhood. If you see someone, or anything out of place, don't try apprehending them yourself but call 9-1-1 immediately.”
The news woman came back on a minute later, “For those just tuning in now, earlier this evening Fort Lauderdale police received a tip from an unknown source that a gang war was going to occur at a highway bar called Fiesta Lochez about 30 minutes from Fort Lauderdale. Police arrived and a shoot out occurred leaving 5 people dead, including a police officer. Police are still investigating the crime scene and we will give you more updates as the story unfolds. Police are also cautioning the pubic that a few of members of the gangs appear to have fled the scene and may be on the run, so please be extra cautious if you go out tonight.”
“My Goodness,” Claire cut in as they showed some leather clad gang members being put in the back of a police armoured van. “They could be in Aldwell!”
Clyde didn't seem to hear her, he had an uneasy feeling in his stomach, a feeling he couldn't contribute to anything in particular but he thought it had something to do with Hawk. He knew Hawk had somehow had something to do with what he just saw on the news, was sure of it. He didn't know what was compelling him, maybe it was the fact that Hawk might need his help, but he had to go back there. Tonight. Right now.
Clyde shot up from the couch, said “I gotta go,” and walked quickly to the bedroom to pack his things. Claire looked confused, got up and followed him into the bedroom.
“Go where?” She asked concerned. “There's a storm out there and it’s night! You can go in the morning.”
“No it will be too late then. I have to go now.”
“What will be too late?” She demanded. “You're taking like a madman! Now let's go back and sit down.”
Clyde was busy putting on some rain clothes, loading up a bag with supplies. If he left now he could make it back there in a few hours now that he knew the way. It would be hard going through the storm and there was a chance he'd get
lost in the dark, but he had to try. Had to get to Hawk before tomorrow.
He went to grab his shotgun case from the closet and Claire grabbed him, turned him around forcefully.
“I'm not letting you go out there!”
Clyde grabbed her by the waist, pulled her in close, and kissed her forehead. “Look babe, I love you okay? But this is something I have to do. I can't explain everything now but a friend of mine might be in serious trouble and I need to go to him.”
“But why you?” She started to tear. “Why can't we just call the police?”
“The police wouldn't be able to help him in time, they wouldn't know how to get to where he is. Especially at this time of night and in the middle of a storm. I know where he is and I'll be back as soon as I can.”
“But your arm!”
“It will be fine, see?” He moved it in front of her and flexed his hand. “Besides I've been cooped up in this house like a dog today and need to get some fresh air.”
“And what about us! Those crazy men are out there somewhere...”
“You know what to do.” Clyde said looking at the bed table where they kept the 9mm handgun. “Keep it with you just in case. But if I'm right about this then I should be able to catch those wanted men too. And we've been through storms before, if it gets worse just head to lower ground.”
Clyde's house was one of the few in Aldwell that had a basement and they'd stocked it full of rations and survival equipment for the tropical storms that came almost yearly. He knew it was wrong to leave Claire and his children but knew she was a resilient woman and was able to take care of them and herself as well as he could.
“Clyde you're being ridiculous!” Claire said and started to tear again. He pulled her closer, and hugged her for a minute until she calmed down.
“Babe, I need to do this okay?” He said rubbing her shoulder. “Please try to understand there's just somethings a man has to do or it'll eat away at him. Please babe...”
She wiped a tear from her eye, looked up at him, stared for a minute, then looked away. “Fine.” She said. “But please come back to me.”
“I will.” He said. “I have to go now.” He kissed her one more time, grabbed his things and went to the front door. On the way there Billy passed by him all sleepy-eyed, said, “Dad?” and Clyde bent over, tousled his hair, “I gotta go out for a bit kiddo. Please look after your mom and sister while I'm gone, you're the man of the house now.”
Billy nodded that he understood and Clyde stepped outside and shut the door behind him. It was dark out there where they lived in the outskirts and he headed over to his truck. The drive to the boat would take 10 minutes and he should have it ready to go pretty quickly he thought. Just needed to make sure the front lights were working and fill it up with gas.
The weather out there was coming down hard: wind, rain, thunder, and lighting all starting up a colossal orchestra of madness like it'd been waiting for him to come out for some time. He got in the truck, checked the time on the digital clock that said it was just after 10. If he cruised through the glades full throttle he should be able to reach the spot where he dropped Hawk off by dawn but he had to move quickly. The storm would slow him down and it was a lot more difficult driving through the Everglades after dark. He'd done it a few times by special request and knew that taking a wrong path was possible. Regardless he had to at least try.
Hawk. He didn't know why but he felt the man was in danger, and he didn't know why but he felt like it was his duty to do something about it. For some reason he had felt a bond with Hawk during their voyage into the glades together, and there was also a sense of duty compelling him to move forward. Maybe it was that old-time stubbornness that ran in the Doucette blood or maybe it was how he'd always wanted to do something meaningful in his life and maybe this was his chance. He started up the truck, waved goodbye to Claire and Billy watching from the window, and headed towards the docks.
22
Byron had the branding wand near Hawk's face now and Hawk could feel the intense heat coming off the end. He winced and started to feel the sweat running down his temples, tried breaking free but Etaro, Randall and Travis had him held firmly against the wall. He could hear Dottie screaming to stop and heard Stacey slap her until she became silent.
“You're a fucking lunatic.” Hawk said as Byron took hold of his left arm. Hawk tried punching him but Byron was too quick and recoiled backwards, then grabbed hold of Hawk’s arm again, more firmly this time.
“I know you must be scared Hawk, but it's only natural. All members of the Devil's Syndicate must be branded upon joining us. Stacey, show him yours.”
Stacey rolled up the sleeve of her jacket and there it was, the branding mark seared into the flesh of her arm for eternity.
“And since you are one of us now Hawk I think it's time for you to get your brand as well.”
“Get that thing away from me!” Hawk was yelling now, gritting his teeth as Byron waved the wand in front of him once more. Someone stuck a rag in his mouth to keep him quiet but he spat it out. He made one last desperate attempt to break free and kicked out his legs, shook his head all over, forced his arms forward, screamed out in fury – yet the strength of those incapacitating him was too great. His energy sapped, he fell back against the wall and watched helplessly as Byron grabbed his arm and brought the brand up to his arm.
Hawk closed his eyes and felt a pain coarse through his body like a 10-ton jackhammer as the red hot metal tore into his arm. He felt the sweat pouring down his forehead and the salt stinging his eyes and the last thing he remembered before losing consciousness was hearing laughter. A gigantic chorus of it, blending and reacting together like an ensemble of hyenas poised to overtake their prey. But the prey was him, and in the darkness of his slumber Hawk forgot about the pain, forgot about the events of the evening and in the safe haven of his mind he saw a memory, one not too distant.
It was of Helen and his daughter Sophia. Sophia had just taken her first baby steps and both mother and father were ecstatic. Hawk remembered Helen taking a video of the event on her phone, then took a video of the three of them all together on the carpet of the living room, surrounded by Sophia's miniature toys. Hawk remembered the day like it was yesterday and often played it back in his mind in moments of intense stress. Somehow it soothed him, even though the memory would never be reality again, and it was with this memory that he finally went under and didn't wake until he heard a familiar voice.
“Simon?” A feminine voice asked. “Are you awake?”
Darkness. Pain. Hawk opened his eyes and shot up. Someone above him – Dottie - asking him something. Then it all came back in a flash.
“Simon! Say something please.”
“How long was I out?” He asked feeling the indent from the brand on his arm. He gritted his teeth as he pushed down on it, the wound still fresh and warm.
“About three hours.” Dottie said. She was beside him on a bed and the room was completely dark. “Simon I'm so sorry about what happened.”
“Never mind about that now. What's done is done. All we can do now is get even.” He got up shakily and for some reason the cold floor felt soothing under his bare feet. “How did I get on the bed?”
“They put you there, after you fell unconscious. I've been trying to wake you up all night. You were saying things, incomprehensible things, in your sleep and it scared me. I was scared I would lose you.” She started to cry then and Hawk sat back down and patted her gently.
“I can't help feeling like this is all my fault.” She said. “My stupid ideas...me wanting to find my freedom and how all of that led you into this mess. Hawk, even if it takes my entire life I'll repay you for this. I swear.”
“Don't blame yourself, you can't be held liable for what's happened here.” Hawk said. “How could you have known this is how things would turn out?”
“I know, but I just feel so guilty about everything. And are you alright? Your poor arm...”
“As good
as I can be.” Hawk said laying back down. “The swelling will go away after awhile, I just need to keep my mind busy and ignore the pain.”
He felt Dottie's hand brace the wound a second later, felt the soft tenderness of her touch in the dark. “Sorry, I hope that didn't hurt too much. I'm not a doctor or anything but it feels pretty bad, I think you should wrap it up for now or try your best to keep dirt away from it.”
“I've had worse.” Hawk said. “I have a deep gash that winds down my right hip to my abdomen.”
“My God, what did that?”
“A junkie. My first year in vice squad I chased after a guy through a car junkyard, he snuck up on me from behind and left that as a souvenir.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. My partner got him and now he's serving 10 years in a federal prison. I'd rather have this scar than be doing that.”
“That's a good way to look at things. You were a cop?”
“Used to be.” Hawk said. “Before I started searching for the runaway daughters of wealthy businessmen.” He smiled and she laughed.
“Well it's good for me that you did.” She said and her voice became serious again. “But what are we gonna do?”
“We don't have much time.” He said. “By morning they're going to kill me and who knows what they'll do to you and your father. I don't think they'll just hand you over though when they get that cash.”
“I know they won't.” She said. “Byron isn't a man of his word, I've learned that several times over the past few weeks. Do you think we can get out of here?”
Hawk stood up, stepped over to the window, looked outside, it was pitch black out there and the rain was still coming down hard. He stood on his toes, clasped his hands around the rusted steel bars between the window. There was no way he'd been able to break through that. Even if he could the window was too small for them to fit through. He paced back to the steel cell door, tried opening it – didn't budge an inch, locked from the outside. He tried kicking it a few times but it barely moved. That wasn't going to be an option either. He sat back down on the bed, resting his head against the wall.