Tribulation

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Tribulation Page 9

by Scott B. Williams


  On the other hand, Eric had to admit that the prospect of spending that much time with her had an appeal. He had enjoyed talking to her again in the days since he’d returned and the more he was around her, the more he realized why he’d been so infatuated with her all those years ago to marry her in the first place. He’d made mistake after mistake that he could never undo, but still, the idea of the two of them going to find Megan and traveling together again as a family afterwards was a pleasant daydream. Eric knew that a dream was all it was though. He had a mission to accomplish and she needed to stay here with her new family. He figured she would come to her senses and realize that too after a little more thought.

  The possibility of taking Jonathan was another matter that wasn’t as easy to dismiss. The kid could certainly be helpful to him and he wouldn’t worry about him like he would Shauna, but he wasn’t ready to commit to it just yet. There were more important things to work out first, like studying those maps and seeing the owner of this boat that Vic thought might work. This gave him a good excuse to end the conversation by telling Keith that the two of them ought to go look for Greg’s maps before dark. Jonathan, Andrew and Bart followed Vic back outside to the dock to resume their fishing, leaving Shauna and Daniel alone in the house to argue. Eric figured it was going to be a long night for those two, and he was grateful not to be in Daniel’s shoes at the moment.

  Nine

  “I’LL BET THAT’S GOING to be a heated discussion,” Keith said as he and Eric drove away. “Daniel doesn’t seem like a happy camper to begin with.”

  “I kinda feel sorry for him in a way,” Eric said. “The guy is totally out of his element. He wouldn’t have survived even the first few weeks of this if not for Shauna and Dad. He didn’t grow up the way we did, Keith. He didn’t even know how to load a gun until Dad showed him just a few weeks ago.”

  “Yeah, he doesn’t seem like Shauna’s type. I mean, he’s as opposite from you as she could possibly get.”

  “I think that’s the point!” Eric laughed. “He’s everything I wasn’t. He had a respectable career making a shit-ton of money, and he was home every night with her and the kids. He may argue with her a little, but I can already see that she’s the one that calls the shots in that marriage.”

  “I imagine he’s arguing pretty hard with her right about now.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, and I can’t blame him. That is one hardheaded woman let me tell you. Once she makes up her mind to something….”

  “Oh I know. I think she had already made up her mind that she was going with you. She told me that the first night on the way to the hospital. I can certainly understand why she wants to. The not knowing is bound to be driving her nuts.”

  “I’m sure it is, but you know as well as I do, Keith, that I might never even make it out there, much less back. I hate to put her in that situation.”

  “She’s already in that situation, Eric, and you know it. We all are.”

  “Yeah, I know. Maybe I’m just afraid she’ll slow me down.”

  “Is that really it, or are you afraid of something else?”

  Eric didn’t answer immediately, so his brother dropped the thought and changed the direction of the conversation. “Are you sure about this bike thing? That’s a hell of a long way to pedal. What about horses? Have you thought of that? They don’t need gas, and they don’t need roads.”

  “It crossed my mind, but hell, horses would take even longer, and they’ve got to eat. A horse can break a leg, or get spooked and break my neck throwing me off. Horses probably would be better out there in the mountains, I’ll give you that, but for getting there, I don’t think so. There must be a million fences between here and the Rockies, so cutting cross-country wouldn’t work and if I have to travel the TAT even on gravel roads, I might as well have wheels. Besides that, I haven’t seen any horses around here, and even if I could get a good saddle horse and a couple of good packhorses, we couldn’t get them on a 28-foot boat to get upriver to the trail.”

  “I guess you’re right. I’m just trying to think of a better option than pedaling a damned bike.”

  “I understand, but like I already said, just because I’m planning to ride a bike doesn’t mean I can’t switch to another option if a better solution presents itself. Maybe I will switch to horses, or put the bike in a four-wheel drive vehicle if I find one that’ll work. The thing is, the bike gives me a lot of flexibility. I plan to take that folding kayak with me too, for the exact same reason. Not on the TAT, but at least up the river to the jumping off point. I can stash it in the woods in case I need it later.”

  “I guess it makes sense for you. I have no doubt you’re in shape to do it, but I’m glad it’s you and not me, bro, even though you know I would go with you if I could.”

  “I know you would Keith, but I’m glad you’re staying here with Dad. I won’t worry about him near as much.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’ll borrow your bunk on the schooner for awhile if you don’t mind. I know Dad will be more comfortable staying on the boat than piled up in Vic’s house with everybody.”

  “My home is yours, you know that. I’m sorry you’ve got to do that though. I know you’d rather be in your own house. I can’t tell you how bad I feel about that.”

  “You really need to forget it and focus on what you’ve got to do. I’ll be fine. I’m looking forward to spending all that time with Dad. Besides, if Shauna and Jonathan both go with you and Vic runs the boat, it won’t be all that crowded around here anyway.”

  Eric didn’t reply. He wasn’t ready to think about that decision yet and was far more interested in getting together what he needed for the trip at the moment. The two of them arrived at Greg’s house, and after less than a half hour of searching through boxes containing magazines and maps, they came upon the roll charts and associated maps Greg had purchased for the dream trip he hoped to attempt someday.

  “These roll charts aren’t really maps,” Keith explained. “Greg told me how they work. People riding the TAT always go east to west, and the charts are designed with that in mind. They give the turn-by-turn directions and little else other than the locations of gas stations. Greg accumulated all these other maps to get a better overview and to study the route, but he wasn’t planning on taking them with him; it would be too much bulk. He was going to use the information to upload a track into his GPS.”

  Eric looked at the thick bundle Keith handed him and agreed. “I probably won’t take them on the trail either, but I can study them on the boat ride up there. I agree, this would all be a hell of a lot easier with GPS, but I’ll make do.”

  When they returned to the schooner, Keith and Eric found Bart and Jonathan aboard but no sign of the others.

  “Vic’s staying on board the Miss Anita to give them some space,” Bart said. “I think they’re having a little ‘family discussion’ in there.” He nodded towards the house, indicating the whereabouts of Shauna, Daniel and Andrew. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Yep. Now I just need to see about the boat.”

  “Vic said to come over at first light for coffee. He’s planning on going with you and Keith to talk to that fellow that owns it. I’ve been thinking son…you might need an extra gun on board for that river trip… just look what happened out there in the Gulf. I ain’t got a damned bit of interest in getting on one of those bicycles, but I’d sure like to see more of the rivers. I could go along with y’all to the drop point and ride back with Vic.”

  “Let’s wait and see about the boat first, Dad. We don’t even know if the owner will agree to it, or whether or not he’s going to insist on going with us. Hopefully we’ll get it worked out quickly though, because I need to get going. Winter is going to beat me to the Rockies if I don’t hurry up and get there.”

  Eric took advantage of the wait to do some more catching up on his sleep, and the next morning over coffee Vic said he thought it would be best if he and Eric went to Curt Joubert’s house by way of
the bayou, rather than drive. Keith agreed, so the three of them set out in his patrol boat for the 10-mile run downriver. When they reached the cutoff and entered the smaller bayou behind Curt’s house, Eric spotted the Gulf Traveler tied to a small dock and liked what he saw at first glance. It looked completely capable of making the trip he had in mind and he was prepared to pay a more than fair price for the use of it. What he was not prepared for, however, was what greeted the three of them from the woods beyond the dock as they drew nearer.

  Eric heard the smack of incoming bullets hitting fiberglass and flesh as rifle shots echoed out of the trees beyond the dock. Vic, who had been standing in the bow, instantly went down in a heap and a quick glance confirmed that a round had blown through his skull. Keith was already gunning the engines and cutting the helm to do a quick 180 as Eric dropped to the sole and crawled aft to the transom, where he opened fire into the trees, emptying a magazine with his M4 on burst mode as the boat sped out of the bayou. He didn’t have a target but the incoming fire had sounded like it came from two different rifles somewhere behind the dock, where he assumed the house was hidden in the trees.

  “VIC!” Keith yelled, immediately reducing power as soon as they were around the first bend and letting the boat drift to a stop.

  “He’s dead, Keith! He took a round to the head.” Eric stood scanning the waterway behind them, his M4 at ready, but he didn’t expect pursuit, as he was certain the gunshots had come from somewhere ashore, as he’d seen no movement on the boat. Keith knelt at his brother-in-law’s side; quickly covering his head with a rain poncho he pulled from one of the boat’s storage lockers.

  “DAMMIT Eric! Vic didn’t deserve this! Did you see anything?”

  “No, but I think the shots must have come from the house. Could it have been Mr. Joubert? Do you think maybe he got spooked at the sight of your boat approaching and panicked?”

  “No way. He’s an older fellow, but he’s level headed and he knows our department patrol boats. I used to see him on the river once and a while and sometimes we spoke, although not since things got bad. That was someone else doing that shooting, I guarantee it. Curt wouldn’t open fire like that even on strangers without a damned good reason. Someone else is in that house, and there’s no telling what they did to Curt and his wife. I can’t let them get away with this, Eric.”

  “Of course not. But we’d better hurry. If they recognized the markings on this boat they’ll be expecting a response. The last thing we want to do is give them time to leave in that boat we need. So how do you want to do this?”

  “We damned sure don’t want to take my boat back up that bayou and get ambushed again, but we’ve got to move quickly. If they’ve got a vehicle and want to run, they may already be gone, but there’s only one gravel road in there to Curt’s place. We could run a half-mile downriver and cut through the woods to the road there, but then if they decide to leave in the boat instead, we’d be screwed.”

  “Then I’ll go in through the woods from here where I can see the bayou and you take the boat and head down there. We’ll close in on the house from both sides. If we move fast, maybe we’ll catch them in time!”

  Eric saw in his face that his brother was in instant agreement. There was no more time to waste in discussion. Eric grabbed a few spare 30-round rifle mags from Keith’s go bag he’d put in the boat when they left, and then he hurried to the bow as Keith put the boat in gear. The shoreline here was bordered by tall cypress trees with their weird protruding knees extending out from the bank for several feet. Eric motioned for Keith to stop before they reached them, and then he bailed off into the waist deep water, giving Keith a ‘thumbs-up’ before wading ashore and disappearing into the forest.

  Eric listened as the sound of Keith’s outboards faded away to the south, their roar gradually replaced by the chirps of birds and buzz of insects as the normal sounds of the swamp resumed. He didn’t hear any manmade sounds in the direction of the house just yet, so Eric began working his way closer through the cypress stand, staying just within view of the edge of the bayou so he couldn’t miss them if the shooters tried to slip out in the boat.

  It was impossible to know exactly what he was up against, but Eric was confident the shooters wouldn’t be expecting a counterattack coming so quickly from the woods. He didn’t know if his adversaries were competent or if they had merely gotten lucky by hitting Vic in their sudden volley. If they saw him go down though, before the boat turned around and sped away, Eric thought they might be feeling over-confident. They would have heard the sound of Keith’s boat speeding downriver, and might think they had plenty of time to make a move before he came back with help, if he came back at all. Eric had every intention of providing them with a nasty surprise. He’d just met Vic, and he liked the man a lot and had been looking forward to talking to him more when they made the boat journey upriver. It was a damned shame to see him cut down like that for no reason at all, and Eric knew Keith was devastated by it even if he didn’t show it. Vic was Lynn’s closest sibling, and hanging out with him had given Keith a connection to her that would be lost after today.

  Eric moved as fast as he could without making noise, which was not as fast as he’d have liked. The dry season that made it even possible to travel on foot in this swampy country also made it hard to travel quietly, with leaves and twigs crackling under every step. Eric went on the assumption that whoever was on that property could have sentries posted around the perimeter, especially since someone had fired on Keith’s boat as soon as it came into view. If they were expecting company though, they were likely looking for it on the road leading in or on the bayou. He knew his brother would be careful in his approach after what happened to Vic, and like Eric, he would use the cover of the woods to his advantage.

  Twenty minutes after he’d gone ashore, Eric was peering through the foliage at the converted fishing boat, still tied up to the dock. There was no sign of movement aboard as he studied it, so he kept easing forward, working his way around to where he could see the path leading from the dock to the house, which was still hidden from view. He was about to move again to try and locate the dwelling when he heard a low voice, muttering and cursing. Eric froze in place and momentarily, a man carrying a metal toolbox and a hunting rifle walked into view, heading down the path to the dock. Eric watched him as he grabbed a mooring line and pulled the boat close enough to step aboard, still cursing under his breath to himself. The boat had a long, low cabin trunk that went from just aft of amidships forward to within a few feet of the bow, but the man didn’t enter it. Instead, he pushed back a large sliding hatch on the top of a box-like structure built over the center of the aft deck. Then, leaning his rifle against starboard bulwark, the man climbed down through the opening, carrying his toolbox with him. It had to be the engine room, and from the man’s grumbling, Eric figured there was a necessary repair or something else that needed attending. Other than the fact that he was carrying a rifle, the man hadn’t seemed too concerned about danger as he walked down and boarded the boat. Maybe this meant that he and whoever was with him thought their shooting had driven off the threat, but the fact that they were working on the boat told Eric that they were probably planning to leave in it.

  Eric waited, watching the path and listening, but no one followed the man already on board, so he decided he had time to make a move. Circling back out of view of the path, he approached the bow of the boat from the starboard side, opposite the dock, and wading in made his way to the hull side in chest-deep water. From there he could reach up and grab the low bulwark. When he pulled himself up to eye-level with the deck, Eric couldn’t see the engine room access hatch from his point of view, because the main cabin trunk was in the way, but he could see that the hunting rifle was still leaning against the bulwark farther aft, where the man had left it. Eric quickly boarded the vessel and made his way down the narrow side deck to the aft end of the cabin.

  From this vantage point, he could see that the path leading into the
woods was still deserted, and he could hear the clink of metal tools on metal and more muttered cursing emanating from the engine room. Eric quietly laid his M4 on the deck next to the cabin and drew his knife. Keeping low, he crept to the edge of the hatch and peered in. The man had propped a flashlight against one of the engine mounts and Eric could see him bent over the machinery, fumbling with a wrench. The man was unaware that he had company and at a complete disadvantage in the confines of that small space. Eric took a single step over the coaming of the hatch and dropped on him like a cat pouncing on its prey, slamming the man’s head against the engine block with enough force to stun him but not render him unconscious.

  Grabbing him by the hair and jerking his head back to expose his throat, Eric made sure the man saw the big blade of his knife in the glow of the flashlight before placing the point against the soft skin under his chin.

  “How many are with you?” Eric demanded.

  The man was so shaken and confused he could barely speak. He mumbled something and Eric pulled his head back farther. “One of you just murdered a good man for no reason. Was it you?”

 

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