Dead Man's Bluff

by Debbie Burke

  “Churro, come back here, you bad dog.” Jessica faced Tawny. “He loves to swim but he gets all mucky and nasty. Churro, get over here!” The girl waded out to thigh-level. “Churro, come!”

  Tawny didn’t like either Jessica or the dog in the murky swamp with alligators and snakes. “Please come back on land, Jessica.”

  As disobedient as her dog, the girl continued out, water lapping the bottoms of her short-shorts.

  In an area dappled with shadows, Churro headed toward a dark object about five feet long barely breaking the water.

  Could it be a gator?

  Or a body?

  Tawny ran around the edge of the shore, trying to get a better view, heart quickening with each step. A sideways glance showed Jessica up to her waist in the lake. “Get out of the water, now!” Tawny shouted.

  The dog reached the dark object and pawed at it, pushing it into sunlight. To Tawny’s great relief, it wasn’t a body, only a submerged log.

  But relief vanished when the triangular head of a gray-brown snake reared up from the log, white-rimmed mouth open wide.

  Jessica shrieked, “Churro!”

  The cottonmouth struck at the dog. He yelped, splashed wildly, and reversed direction, swimming hard back toward his owner. His pitiful cries echoed in the silent jungle.

  The snake slid into the water. In an S-pattern, it skimmed after the dog, head raised, white mouth wide open.

  Jessica’s arms windmilled in a desperate crawl stroke toward her pet, yelling his name.

  Tawny plunged into the lake, holding the machete over her head, moving as fast as she could. Her sneakers sunk deep into the sucking mud but she pushed forward until the water reached her armpits. She angled to place herself between Jessica and the snake. She might not be able to prevent the snake from attacking Churro but she had to cut it off before it reached the girl.

  She made a desperate lunge toward the cottonmouth, swiping the machete through the murky water. It slid under the snake and she yanked it up quickly, catching the reptile on the edge of the blade. She flung it as hard as she could away from the girl and the dog. It hurtled through the air and landed with a splash, twenty feet away.

  Churro was still yelping, trying to swim but panicked. His front paws landed on Tawny’s shoulders, rear paws raking her belly as he tried to climb on top of her. She shoved him away to keep him from being cut with the machete in his mad scrambling. Then she hurled the weapon toward the shore. She grabbed his collar and the loose scruff of his back and dragged him through the water.

  Meanwhile, Jessica clambered out of the lake and ran around the shoreline, trying to get closer to her dog. “Churro! Churro!”

  Tawny hauled the dog up on dry ground. He stood, trembling, the dark centers of his eyes surrounded by white, a front paw lifted off the ground. Blood dripped from the leg and it was already swelling. The cottonmouth had scored a solid hit.

  Jessica grabbed him around the neck. “Churro, don’t die.” She stared up at Tawny, tears glistening. “Don’t let him die.”

  Tawny pulled her cell from the pocket of her dripping shorts, hoping it had survived the drenching. When it lit up, elation rushed through her. She punched 911. It rang eight times. A recording announced all circuits were busy. Dammit. She tried Tillman’s number and heard the same message. With shaking fingers, she tapped a text to him: Snake bit Jessica’s dog. Help! Hurry!

  Cursing Irma for destroying communication, Tawny squatted and gathered the dog in her arms. Churro had to weigh more than fifty pounds. She struggled to rise. He craned his neck around to stare at her with terror in his dark molasses eyes. “It’s OK, Churro, I’m going to help you. Jessica, you lead.”

  The girl grabbed the machete and hurried ahead, holding vines out of the way as Tawny plodded through muck and tree roots. The dog whimpered.

  “You’re going to be fine,” Tawny murmured, wondering whom she was trying to convince, the dog or herself.

  In her pocket, her phone chimed an incoming text but she couldn’t stop to check. Please let it be Tillman saying he’s back. She forged ahead, panting as hard as the dog from the effort of lugging him over the rough trail. Soon, his breathing fell to shallow and rapid. His head dropped low while shudders spasmed through his body. The leg quickly swelled into a painful-looking balloon covered with black fur.

  Fifteen long minutes later, they emerged from the jungle to Smoky’s back yard.

  Tillman loped from the carport toward them as Tawny staggered from exhaustion, knees like jelly. He grabbed the dog out of her arms and carried him to the carport.

  Tawny paused to catch her breath and noticed the open trunk of the T-bird. A red and black generator box was inside, rope tying down the trunk lid.

  The dog’s eyes were almost closed, jowls slack, drooling.

  “Where’s your vet?” Tillman asked the girl.

  “She’s over on Fifty-four.”

  Tawny watched Tillman’s eyes as he pondered the same questions she had—how to stuff himself, Tawny, a thirteen-year-old girl, and a fifty-pound dog in a two-seater. “I’ll stay here,” she offered.

  New panic crossed Jessica’s face. “No, you have to come. You saved Churro.”

  “Honey,” Tillman spoke softly, “there isn’t enough space in the car for everyone.”

  “We can take my mom’s van. It’s got lots of room. Papi filled it with gas before Irma. C’mon!” She ran across the adjoining yard to Raul’s carport where an older Dodge minivan was parked. Tawny and Tillman followed, the dog quivering in his arms.

  Jessica raced into the house and returned a moment later with keys. She unlocked the van and slid the side door open. Tawny climbed in the back seat and Tillman placed the trembling dog on her lap. Tillman got in the driver’s side with Jessica riding shotgun to direct him.

  While Tillman sped, Tawny’s jaw clenched as they passed closed stores, unlighted signs, and traffic signals that still didn’t work. Without electricity, nearby vets wouldn’t be open. How far would they have to drive to find a clinic with power? How long could the dog survive without treatment?

  Jessica pointed to a strip mall. “That’s where Churro’s vet is.” Her voice caught. “Oh, no, they’re closed.”

  “Here.” Tillman handed Letitia his phone. “Find vets closer to Dale Mabry Highway. Power’s on in that area.” He shot Tawny a black look over his shoulder. Expecting the worst, as he usually did.

  Jessica thumbed the screen. “There’s one on Gunn Highway. That’s eight miles away.”

  Tillman took the phone back and tapped to call. Long seconds passed. “Are you open?” he barked then paused. “OK, listen, I’m bringing in a fifty-pound young Lab bitten by a cottonmouth about a half hour ago. Bad swelling of the front leg. We’ll be there in ten.”

  He floored the van while Tawny struggled to hold Churro steady. The dog moaned. His drool ran down her leg. A weak heartbeat fluttered against her thigh. She stroked his mud-caked fur and cooed to him.

  Tillman kept Jessica busy, telling him what had happened so she didn’t have a chance to turn around in the seat and watch her suffering dog.

  Few cars were on the roads since gas remained in short supply. They passed a newly reopened Publix market, jam-packed with people desperate for food.

  Jessica told Tillman to turn south on Gunn Highway. Moments later, he parked in front of the clinic, jumped out, yanked the slider open, and took Churro from Tawny. Jessica ran ahead and held the entrance door.

  Tawny rose on wobbly legs, her feet numb from the dead weight of the dog. She stepped down from the van and tried to brush off the mud and dog hair stuck to her skin. She closed the slider and followed them into the building. Oh please, don’t let us be too late.

  Tillman and the dog had disappeared, apparently taken to the back of the clinic by waiting vet techs. Jessica sat in a plastic chair in the reception area, feet up on the seat, hugging her legs, sniffling. Tawny took the chair beside her and wrapped her arm around the girl. In the air con
ditioning, their sodden clothes turned clammy.

  “Papi’s going to kill me,” Jessica whimpered. “He told me not to let Churro go in the lake. But Churro loves water. He’s a Lab. He can’t help it.” She leaned harder against Tawny. “Besides, I think he was after something, like he was tracking.” When she dragged her arm across her runny nose, dried mud flaked off. “Did you see what happened? I gave him another smell of Smoky’s sock. That’s when, all of a sudden, he took off. I think he caught a scent and that’s why he went in the water. Something on that little island interested him.”

  For a heart-stopping instant back at the lake, Tawny had believed the dark, partly-submerged log was Smoky’s body. Now, though, she doubted the dog had been on the scent. He was just a goofy puppy that didn’t know enough to avoid a snake.

  She grabbed a box of tissues from the counter and handed several to Jessica. When she put the box back, the clerk behind the desk asked, “Are you the owner?”

  Tawny shook her head. “We’re neighbors. Jessica here owns Churro. Her dad’s at work.”

  The clerk asked more questions, obviously concerned about who would pay the bill. Tawny spoke up, “We’ll guarantee whatever Churro needs.” Tillman might grumble but she knew he would never let Jessica’s pet die for lack of money.

  A few minutes later, Tillman came through the door from the treatment area and sat beside Tawny and Jessica. “They’re giving him IV fluids and antivenin. Lucky the bite was pretty shallow, didn’t hit a vein, which is good. The vet says he should make it.” He pulled his cell from his pocket and handed it to Jessica. “Call your dad. Let him know where we are and that we’re here with you.”

  She took the phone and moved across the waiting room. Soon, she was quietly speaking Spanish.

  Tillman leaned down to Tawny’s ear. “Antivenin is fifteen hundred bucks a vial. Just lucky they had some in stock.”

  Tawny whispered back, “I told the clerk we’d guarantee payment.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Figures.” But, despite his grousing, he squeezed her leg. “Vet also said snake venom is most potent in the spring and toxicity tapers off later in the year. Churro’s damn lucky it’s autumn.”

  A solemn Jessica approached, holding the phone out to Tillman. “Papi wants to talk to you.”

  He took the device and lapsed into rapid Spanish that Tawny couldn’t follow.

  The girl’s face was pinched. She murmured to Tawny, “Papi is really mad at me. He said if he has to pay vet bills, he doesn’t have money to send to Mama in Puerto Rico. He says I should have thought of my Mama instead of letting Churro run loose and get in trouble. I have to find a job to pay the vet bill.” Her lip trembled.

  Tawny wrapped her arm around the girl and rocked her. “That’s a hard lesson, sweetie.” She felt sorry for Jessica but couldn’t interfere with Raul’s parenting.

  Cuddled into Tawny, the girl listened intently to Tillman’s side of the conversation. Tawny only caught a few words here and there.

  When he disconnected, Jessica looked up at him with a shy smile. “Thank you for paying for Churro. I have thirty-five dollars saved. I’ll give it to you when we get home. I promise I’ll get a job and pay the rest. How much…?”

  Tawny recognized the questions swirling in her brown eyes. She clearly had no clue how expensive the bill would be.

  Tillman glanced at Tawny then frowned sternly at the girl. “I don’t know yet. Probably about a hundred and fifty. It’s OK, you can make payments.”

  Tawny jerked but caught herself. His slight headshake warned her to stay silent.

  Twenty minutes later, the vet reported the dog was improving and beckoned to Jessica. She paused at the doorway to the treatment area and said, “I want to stay with Churro. Papi will pick me up here after work. You guys can leave if you want.”

  As the inner door closed, Tawny caught Tillman’s eye. “You big softy. The bill’s going to be more than two grand by the time everything’s done.”

  His mouth pulled to one side. “I’m an asshole and don’t you forget it.”

  She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “You know, for an asshole, you can be a pretty sweet guy.”

  “Raul said he wanted to teach Jessica responsibility. I’m charging her enough that she gets the message but it won’t break her.”

  “Why do you hide your kind heart?”

  He frowned. “Don’t want to ruin my reputation.”

  She rose on tiptoes and kissed him. “It’s our secret.”

  He left a deposit on his credit card. Then they drove home, eager to hook up the new generator.

  At long last, electricity.

  ***

  That night, Tawny and Tillman lay naked, side by side, on their backs in bed, a portable fan softly blowing air over them while the lamp on the bedside table glowed. Outside in the carport, the generator rumbled, its reassuring purr coming through the open window. Earlier, they had watched news on TV and their phones were charging, along with Tillman’s laptop. In the kitchen, the refrigerator hummed once more, chilling the perishable groceries they’d splurged on after they left the vet’s office.

  Best of all, Tawny had enjoyed the most luxurious shower of her life, thanks to Raul’s ingenuity.

  When he had gotten home with Jessica and Churro, Raul had loaded one of his 55-gallon tanks full of rainwater on a dolly. Heated by the searing Florida sun, the water was perfect shower temperature. He set up the barrel outside Smoky’s bathroom, connected the new generator to a pump, and ran a garden hose through the window. After days of washing in a bucket, Tawny had savored the makeshift shower.

  She fluffed her freshly-shampooed hair across the pillow and sighed with pleasure.

  Tillman rolled to face her. “So was the generator worth three hundred bucks?”

  “Lord, yes! And Raul is an angel from heaven for jury-rigging that shower.”

  “The greedy princess used up all the warm water. Left me with a pail of cold water.”

  “You didn’t go swimming in a filthy swamp and lug a smelly, wet dog all over. It took a long time to scrub off all that muck.”

  He suppressed a smile. “You deserved it.”

  “It’ll be nice to have milk for our coffee in the morning. The little things you take for granted until you can’t have them.” She rubbed the stubble on his cheek. “Tomorrow, you’ll have hot water to shave. You’re giving me whisker burn.”

  “Might let the beard grow out. Think it would make me look wise?”

  She giggled. “Wise ass, yes.”

  He rose on one elbow and pretended to glare at her. “If you insult me, I’ll take the generator back.”

  She put her arms around his neck and pulled his face down to hers. “In that case, I love your whiskers.”

  He kissed her briefly but then surprised her when he didn’t continue. Instead he rolled onto his back, away from her caresses. She watched him stare at the ceiling, brows furrowed.

  After several quiet moments, she asked, “Thinking about Smoky?”

  “Yeah.”

  She waited, knowing the turmoil inside his brilliant mind and aching heart. When he didn’t say anything more, she curled closer to him. “Not knowing is the worst.”

  “If he’s dead, he’s dead. But, goddammit, I’ve got to know. People yammer about needing closure. I always thought that was bullshit. But, now, I see.”

  She wanted to reassure him. “Maybe he’s alive and just underground on the run from Gabriel.” She jerked with sudden recollection. “Oh, I forgot to tell you in all the excitement over the dog. I did some research online. Gabriel has a sports memorabilia business in St. Petersburg and the registered agent is Nyala Obregon.”

  Tillman sat up abruptly. “Smoky’s girlfriend?”

  “Yes. Maybe that’s why she acted so odd when you were questioning her.”

  “If she thinks that interrogation was uncomfortable, wait until next time. I’ll back her so far into the corner, she’ll break her fingernails trying to c
limb up the wall.” He swung long legs over the side of the bed. “Show me what you found.”

  “Tillman, it’s almost midnight.”

  “Never mind. I’ll look myself.” He strode out of the bedroom. A lamp flashed on in the living room.

  Tawny sighed and got up. Tillman wouldn’t sleep until he found answers. And he needed to know for his friend’s sake. She padded out to sit beside him on the couch, put on her readers, and called up the sites she’d found earlier.

  He studied the photo she’d recognized and agreed it was one of Gabriel’s thugs. He skimmed quickly through the business registry and Nyala’s Facebook page. Then he dug deeper into more legal, tax, and business sites. After fifteen minutes, he came to the same conclusion she had. “Gabriel’s purposely keeping his business unlisted.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Is he doing something illegal with it?”

  “That’s opposite of how it usually works. Criminals put up a legit business front to hide the illegitimate one. He’s probably catering to restricted clientele and doesn’t want the unwashed public bothering him.”

  “You mean, like us?” She stroked his inner thigh, hoping to coax him away from research and back into bed.

  “We’re not unwashed anymore.” He cracked a small smile. “Good work, finding the connection.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “Tomorrow, we’ll have another chat with Ms. Nyala.” He set the laptop on the table, rose, and pulled her up from the couch. “We better get some sleep.”

  She murmured, “It’s nice to have light again. I never realized how much it means. Here we are, in the middle of millions of people, but we’re all in the dark, like cavemen before fire.”

  In the bedroom, she stroked his unshaven face. “You feel like a wire brush.”

  He pushed her to sit on the edge of the mattress. “Just think of it as an exfoliate for your peeling sunburn.” He turned off the light and knelt on the floor between her knees, pushing them apart. His hands slid lazily up the insides of her thighs.