Red Tide

by W. Dale Justice

  “Wait, just wait a second.” Sherrod spoke up. “We’re United States citizens. We demand our rights.

  “You’re not in the United States, Dr. Simpson. You ran like hell to reach foreign soil, and now you’re here, subject to their laws, not ours. I can’t help you.” Steve replied.

  “I have money. We both have money.” Sherrod scrambled for a solution.

  “Not anymore. Treasury agents located all your overseas accounts in the Cayman’s. Yours too, Bobby Lee. They have been frozen pending transfer to the Mexican government as financial compensation. Once we knew where you were headed, it wasn’t difficult to piece together. Using Leroy as a courier to your lawyers was pretty stupid, Bobby Lee. Letting Bobby Lee help you set up illegal overseas accounts for you was equally stupid, Sherrod. CDC Foundation money is being returned to the Foundation. I’m told there’s been a board shake up of the CDC Foundation. The new board pledges those moneys will go to disaster relief in Mexico. All your pharma buddies have been arrested. Oh, and Dr. Katherine O’Neal is now Board President of the CDC Foundation. Please congratulate her. As for you two, well, for what you’re about to receive, may you be truly grateful.”

  Admiral Phillips stepped back, and the Mexican Marines under Admiral Flores took possession of the prisoners.

  Texas Mexico Border

  South of I-77

  Human life was returning to south Texas. The line of cars, trucks, and campers heading towards Brownsville continued as far as he could see towards the horizon. Hector was glad his business north of the border was finished, and he had crossed the interstate heading south when he did. Minutes after crossing the road, and only a hundred yards into the scrub, he was startled by the rising sound of cars and trucks. Looking northwest, he was shocked to see a phalanx of cars, bumper to bumper, crest the hill in the southbound lanes, like a rushing wave. The people were being allowed to return to their homes. The charge was led by two Texas State Troopers setting the pace, to ensure accidents caused by excessive speed didn’t stop the migration. The miles long cavalcade proceeded at a sedate forty miles an hour. He could never have crossed the road during this procession without getting run over, day or night.

  He turned from the noise, and moved south. He was going home. He had fashioned sandals from an old car tire and cordage to make better time. And he modified his uniform. Only the shirt and trousers remained. The shirt was open in front, the sleeves cut off at the shoulder. His combat pants had been turned into shorts, cut off just above the knee. He wore his bandana around his head. Around his neck, held by a length of cord were the silver toes from Miguel’s boots.

  He walked at a steady pace, positioning the rising morning sun on his left shoulder. His gait was made easier with a six-foot walking stick he had fashioned from a rake handle he found in the barn. His canteen was freshly filled from the seep he had located in the arroyo, a mile from where he had trapped Miguel. He had discarded all his weapons, save for his hunting knife made of the finest Damascus steel, and a throwing stick tucked into his belt. It was like his days as a boy in the high desert mountains. He could live indefinitely off the land.

  The day wore on, his shadow grew smaller as the sun passed overhead, then longer as it set in the western sky. He walked, and soaked in the desert beauty. He sipped water frequently, as the miles fell behind him. He knew he was getting close. Late in the day, when the shadows were longest, he started up a long hill. As was his habit, he approached the crest cautiously, crouching, then crawling to the summit. A three strand barbed wire fence with a dirt track this side greeted him. White signs, too far away to read, were attached to the wire every hundred feet. The border.

  Hector watched a long time. Movement to the west caught his attention. A mile distant, a white SUV raised dust as it slowly patrolled the fence. Yes, the people were returning, as were the border guards. He was losing light quickly, so he decided not to wait. He crawled over the crest, then rose gradually, as his shape blended with the brushy hillside, Soon, he was at the bottom of the hill on the edge of the brush bordering the dirt track and border fence.

  To his right, the white SUV was a quarter mile away. He rose, and walked casually across the road to the three strand wire fence, and climbed. He immediately heard the roar of the SUV, as it rapidly accelerated. The border patrol had spotted him, though he made no effort to hide. He was over the fence quickly, and walked several dozen paces into Mexico before he turned to await the patrol, resting his arms on his walking stick.

  The SUV skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust, the uniformed driver and passenger exiting quickly, hands on their service weapons. Both approached the fence, fifty feet from Hector, looking in both directions for others.

  “Hola.” Hector raised his right hand in greeting.

  “Hola.” replied a patrolman. “You mind telling me what you’re doing out here?”

  “I’m going home.”

  “You mind telling me why you were on the U.S. side of the border when we spotted you?”

  “I was an invited guest of your country.”

  “How long were you here as an invited guest, amigo?”

  “One day.”

  “You mind telling me who in the hell invited you into this country?” The patrolman looked to his partner, shaking his head at this guy’s story.

  “Lieutenant James Parrot, United States Marine Corps.”

  “Oh. Is that so?” The patrolman lost his smile. “Were you part of some joint exercise with the Marine Corps dressed like that, pal? And that looks like silver toes from expensive boots around your neck. Mind telling me where you got those, cause I ain’t buying your story right now.”

  “Yes, I was invited. It was a joint military exercise in desert survival. I finished early, so I’m going home. These,” Hector held one silver toe in his hand, “belonged to an acquaintance who no longer needs them. Adios.” Hector waved goodbye, turned, and walked away.

  “We just going to let him walk away, George? I don’t believe a word of that bullshit.”

  “Neither do I, Tom, although he sure looks the part. Thing is, ain’t no law stopping a Mexican from crossing the border back into Mexico. Besides, you see the arms on that sumbitch? Those were snake tattoo’s coiled around both arms. He looks like he could go bear hunting with just that throwing stick in his belt. I think we let him walk away. Unless you want to hop this fence into Mexico and tangle with that hombre over a couple silver boot toes”

  George and Tom had faced each other as they spoke, but turned towards Hector with George’s last remark.

  “Where the fuck did he go?” George scanned the flat land and sparse scrub and bushes, none of which were capable of hiding a man Hector’s size.

  “I don’t know, but I sure as hell ain’t going to go lookin.”

  Woodland North of I-77

  Miguel had a distinct sense of floating. His eyes were partially sealed from fluid secretion that had dried. He remembered flashes from the last few hours. Sliding off a roof. His leg caught by something. Hanging upside down. Bare feet then everything going black. He was chilled, now.

  He pried his eyes open, one at a time by blinking. His hands couldn’t reach his eyes. He blinked and tried to focus, but it took a while. Finally, he could see. He was upright, and it was late in the day. His first thought was his tremendous thirst. He licked his swollen and cracked lips, but he had no saliva left. And the world was slowly turning.

  He took in his surroundings. He could move his head, but nothing else. He was in the woods, near the bottom of an arroyo. The shadows from the trees were very long. Wind made him sway. Why am I swaying? I am not moving my feet? He could not understand in his disoriented, and dehydrated state.

  A sound came to him, and he was hopeful. He turned his eyes towards the sound as he swayed, and he discovered the source. A seep from the hillside, trickling water. Just a tiny thread moving down the hill to pool in a depression of an area recently plowed. Who plants crops in the woods?

  He looked do
wn at the ground all around him. The land was churned like nothing he had ever seen. No plow had done this. He noticed his bare feet as he gazed at the ground beneath him. They did not touch the ground, and they were bloody. Where are my boots? My feet are bloody, but they do not hurt. How very odd.

  His eyes followed his body upwards from his feet to his calves. They were wrapped with thick wire just above his knees. He followed the wire upwards. His legs, and torso were wrapped with the wire, as it coiled around his body. His arms were pinned to his sides by the wire all the way to his shoulders. Several strands of wire had been twisted together to form cordage attached separately to the wire bands around his shoulders and chest. He followed them up. They were attached to a thick tree limb hanging across the churned earth. And he swayed in the cool evening wind, hung from a tree, his feet a meter off the ground.

  Who would do such a thing to me? He struggled momentarily against his bindings. They were not too tight, but not loose enough to permit escape. The wire enveloped him like a loosely woven cocoon. Situational awareness began to creep into his mind, when sounds of something in the near distance moving through the leaves caught his attention.

  The sounds came from behind him. He tried to turn his head to his right to see, but the angle did not permit it. He turned his head to the left, but again, he could see nothing. Soon, there was movement around his feet. He looked down. Two, then three piglets pawed the ground beneath him, snuffling in the mud, licking the ground. Blood had dripped from his feet onto the muck. They looked up at him, then returned to licking the mud. More movement and sound, this time running. Several more pigs arrived, not piglets, larger, maybe 100 pounds each. They butted the piglets away with their snouts, and snuffled the bloody mud. They each looked up at him repeatedly, then returned to the mud for several minutes. Miguel was thankful he was above them. One of the larger pigs stood on his hind legs to sniff at his feet, but was unable to reach them by at least half a foot. He retracted his dangling feet by bending his knees to gain more separation. I do not need pigs licking my feet, he thought. That’s disgusting.

  The dance was repeated for several minutes. Snuffle and lick the mud, raise their snouts to smell his feet, stand on their hind legs to reach him, he would bend his knees to withdraw out of range, and they collapsed onto all fours. Several more pigs of equal size had joined the dance.

  Seven pigs now churned the mud beneath his feet, jockeying for position, butting each other and standing to reach him. A dozen or more piglets ran around the periphery, anxious to enter the fray, but terrified of their larger cousins. This was ridiculous.

  “Get away! Go! You filthy swine. Go! Go! Get Away!” he shouted. They paid him no attention. These were not like the swine in village streets. A swift kick sent them scurrying. His shouts now seemed to excite the pigs to try harder to reach him. He was concerned.

  Suddenly, all the pigs stopped, stood stock still, and looked towards his rear. Nothing moved, not even the excitable piglets. Heavy footsteps approached at a measured pace through he leaves and brush. All the swine watched the approach Miguel could not see The pigs suddenly scattered in every direction as fast as they could run.

  Finally, I am rescued from this degrading position. “Hello? Thank you for coming.” He laughed in relief. “This must look silly, but I can explain.” Miguel smiled, and turned his head left and right to glimpse his rescuer.

  Miguel’s feet were suddenly lifted to drag across the back of an animal passing directly beneath him. He tried to bend his knees to lift them off the spike of wiry hair along the beast’s ridged spine, but the animal approached from his rear. Trying to bend his knees pushed his feet more firmly against the passing beast. His suspended body was carried along the animal’s path until the beast passed far enough, and his feet were free at last. He swung to and fro like a child’s swing set from the suspending wire.

  The animal half turned, and fixed him with beady eyes. The huge boar stood over a meter at the shoulder. Six-inch razor sharp tusks curled from the sides of the snout. The musky odor was overwhelming. It did not move, but stared, and snuffed, raising his snout towards Miguel’s bloody feet, thinly sliced across the soles with the finest razor sharp Damascus steel blade.

  Miguel bent his knees to raise his feet as high as he could, but it was not nearly high enough. The huge boar advanced, clamped a massive jaw around Miguel’s thigh, and pulled with all its weight and strength. The woven wire bands holding Miguel’s suspended cocoon snapped like cheap twine, and he screamed as he fell to the churned earth.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Senoia, Georgia

  Steve and Kate stepped from the rental car, and met on the paver stones in front of the house. The long driveway leading to the house was at least a quarter mile long, lined with giant southern oaks. Kate turned to Steve.

  “Are you sure this is the place, Steve? I mean, this looks like a plantation out of Gone with the Wind.

  ”I know how to program a GPS in a rental car, Kate. I can even use a sextant. Want me to take a reading on the sun’s position to double check?”

  “No, I believe you. I’m just dumbstruck. This place must be several hundred acres. And look at this house!”

  “Are you sure you wrote the address down correctly? There was a nice subdivision a couple miles back up the road. Maybe that was it.” Steve replied.

  “I don’t live in no damn subdivision!” Jimmy came jogging around the side of the house in his bathing suit, with three beautiful young giggling girls racing to beat him to their guests. Jimmy pulled up, but all three ran into Steve and Kate trying to be first.

  “I’m Mallory! I’m 6.”

  “I’m Hope, I’m this many.” She held up four fingers.

  “I’m sorry we ran into you. I’m Hannah.” The oldest sister replied. She looked about ten or eleven years old. All three were blond, blue-eyed, and bubbly. Hannah took Kate’s hand. “You must be Kate. Daddy said you were pretty, and you are.”

  Little Hope and Mallory both latched onto Steve’s fingers, and roughly saluted with their free hand. In unison, they both said, “Welcome aboard, Admiral,” in an obviously rehearsed sing song, giggling the whole time.

  Steve and Kate looked at each other with broad smiles, charmed by these three lovely children from the moment they appeared. Steve spoke, “Thank you ladies, we are delighted to be here.”

  “Alright, alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jimmy clapped his hands. “Ready, march!”

  The daughters pulled on the hands of their guests, attempted to high step march in cadence, and headed to the backyard with their charges. Jimmy called the cadence, marching to the side.

  “Hup, two, three, four. Hup, two, three, four. Stay in step private Hope, or you’re on latrine duty!”

  “I am, daddy. My legs aren’t long enough.”

  “Let me help. My legs aren’t long enough, either.” Steve shortened his stride to match little Hope, and they marched in short little steps around the house.

  The vista that greeted them was stunning. A large veranda protruded from the house, topped with latticed and well-manicured wisteria opening onto a magnificent pool with floaty toys. The land gently rolled away with white fencing circling pastures full of sleek horses, rolling into the distance to what had to be a twenty-acre lake surrounded by manicured woods. Steve and Kate were speechless. The marching girls guided them onto the veranda, where a beautiful blond woman stood, and approached to greet them.

  “Hi, I’m Jane. Welcome. I’ve heard so much about the two of you from James. Kate, you’re just as James described. Admiral, James talks about you like you were a God. I’m honored. Please sit. May I offer you something to drink?” Once their guests were seated, all three girls dashed for the pool, and jumped in.

  Kate and Steve were both a bit taken aback, what with the whole ‘James’ instead of Jimmy thing, and the apparent praise he had shared with his wife. Jimmy joined them at the patio table.

  “Jane, I’m so pleased
to meet you. Your daughters are angels.” Kate complimented.

  Jane laughed aloud. “Thanks so much for the sentiment, but I fear they have too much of their father in them to qualify for angel status.”

  “Hey, I resemble that!” I think my reputation is being besmirched.” Jimmy took Jane’s hand, and kissed it.

  “Jimmy, you are full of surprises. I’m shocked. Where did all this come from? Certainly not from an investigative reporter’s salary. And what in the world made such a lovely lady agree to marry you?”

  “Excellent observation, Kate. It’s a long story, but I’ll make it short. After I got my ass shot off in the big war…

  “Daddy, we heard that!” All three piped up. Jimmy sighed heavily, and placed a dollar into a large jar on the table. The jar almost overflowed.

  “As I was saying, when I got my you know what shot off in the big war, I’m lying in a hospital bed at Walter Reed, when this angelic creature in a nurse uniform appears. I asked her if she wanted to see my battle wound, and unlike you, Dr. Kate, she said yes. See what you missed out on? The rest is history.”