More than once since leaving his sunken boat back in the Dry Tortugas, Frank had chastised himself for forgetting his bag. He had packed it to use as an overboard bag when the Aurora was still a capable cruiser. It had contained his passport, fishing gear, money, a spare set of clothes and sandals among other things he had thought he might need in the event of his having to abandon his boat. He hadn’t envisioned leaving it as he had; half naked and shot up.
“Are you going to sit there all day day-dreaming old man?”
“This old man is going to kick your ass if you don’t keep your voice down,” Frank hissed. “Remember the campfires? They were scattered all over these shores and I for one don’t want to have to deal with any of these people right now. Get your shoes on and let’s get out of here. If we want to be back here when we told the girls we would, we need to make tracks.”
Alan slid his dry feet into his wet deck shoes. He knew Frank was right, but getting started was hard. They were walking into the unknown and as much as he would never admit it to anyone, he was afraid. He had already killed one man, and he wasn’t afraid to die; he was afraid he was going to have to kill more. He supposed the first time could be called self-defense and maybe this could be too. The thought that really scared him, was that he didn’t feel any remorse. If Ellen hadn’t of continuously asked if he wanted to talk, he would never have given it another thought. He’s talked to Frank about it and he understood. He must have said something to Ellen because she’d quit bugging him finally.
He picked his bag up, slung it over his shoulders and began to walk. If Frank hadn’t been in his line-of-sight, he wouldn’t have known which way to go. The guy had an uncanny ability to walk in silence. Alan hurried to catch up careful to avoid stepping on sticks or letting branches slap back. Frank was a ghost and Alan tried to mimic his style.
Frank held his fist in the air to signal he wanted to stop. While he had occasionally looked behind him to make sure Alan was still following he found himself having to look more than in the beginning. Alan had made some adjustments in his gear and no longer rattled or made noise of any kind while he moved. He went down on one knee and waited for Alan to catch up.
He pressed one finger to his lips and pointed ahead. A campsite lay directly in front of them. Blanket wrapped bodies lay around a campfire that was nothing more than coals. Frank made a circling motion with his finger indicating how they would circle the camp.
Nodding he understood, he followed Frank around the camp. The stench of unwashed bodies and rotten food should have alerted him to the camp. He wondered if Frank had picked up on the smell. Probably, he thought, someone with his training could not have missed it.
They had been walking for several hours when Frank decided to call a stop. When Alan sank to ground and immediately pulled his loafers from his feet, Frank knew he’d made the right call. His feet felt as if they were on fire. Where they had cut the toes out of the shoes he wore the wet leather was now wearing the top of his toes raw.
Alan dug through his pack and produced a tube of antibiotic cream. He tenderly rubbed the cream on and handed the tube to Frank. “It won’t take the pain away but Hannah said to use it on blisters and cuts.”
“Yeah…we don’t want an infection setting in. I really wish we had removed our shoes before they got wet. I’ve got blisters on my blisters.” He said while inspecting his feet. “These shoes don’t help much either.”
“How far do you think we have to go?”
Frank sighed, “I figure we’re making about four miles an hour, so maybe by daylight.”
Alan handed him a biscuit that Hannah had made. She had mixed up baking powder biscuit dough and then mixed in crumbled bacon and scrambled eggs then she baked them in a muffin tray. They were heavy and filled with calories she’d told him. He sank his teeth into one and wished she’d sent more than she had.
“That’s pretty good. We should have stopped sooner. I didn’t know she had sent anything but the freeze dried meals. We need to make our food last as long as we can.”
He tossed a bottle of water to Alan, “Drink this. We really need to stay hydrated.” He climbed to his feet, “I don’t know how I could have extra the way I’ve been sweating but I’ll be right back. Barefoot, walking carefully he disappeared into the brush.
Alan lay back and closed his eyes. He would rest for a couple minutes until Frank returned. He thought a few minutes would be better than nothing. He should have taken a nap like Frank said before they left, but he wanted to spend the time with Hannah. He’d caught her throwing up that morning and guessed immediately what was wrong with her. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about it until after he’d put Olivia to bed and then they’d only had a few minutes. However, he had thought about her pregnancy all that day. He loved how having Olivia around made them all feel more like family and thought that a baby would only cement their relationship. He didn’t care if the baby was genetically his or not. He would be a father to both the new baby and Olivia. He loved Hannah and the baby was a part of Hannah no matter how it came to be. He just hoped it wouldn’t be a reminder to her of what had happened.
He must have dozed off because Frank was prodding him awake. He started to sit before he even opened his eyes. “Sorry…I must have…” The cutting edge of a huge knife lifted his chin.
“Ah, senor, I see you have decided to join us.”
Alan felt a trickle of blood run down his neck and fleetingly wondered where Frank was. He rolled his eyes up to see a half dressed man. His stringy black hair hung down covering half his face. Decayed teeth appeared through the man’s thin lips. His laughter sent fetid air in Alan’s face. Alan tried to back away from the blade, but the guys other hand slammed his neck farther into the blade when he grabbed the back of his neck.
“Not so fast senor. Did you think you could hide from us?” Two other men stepped from the brush. Alan saw them both shake their head no. They were both dressed in the same basic attire as his captor. Crudely cut off pants and one wore a dirty torn undershirt. The men could have been triplets so similar was their appearance.
“Now where is your friend?” The guy had leaned close and spittle hit Alan in the face.
“What friend? I’m alone,” He gasped out. He felt the knife dig deeper. He tried to pull away and closed his eyes against the burning of the knife. He felt the blood now running into his collar. He wanted to reach up and grab the knife but thought the man would just slice his throat wide open.
“You will tell me when we get your women here. No?”
Before Alan could respond, a hole appeared in the middle of his forehead and he fell on top of Alan. Before the other two could react, they both fell to the ground. One moaned in pain and rolled around on the ground holding his chest.
Frank appeared out of nowhere and slammed his foot onto the living man’s throat. “Lay still or you’ll end up like them!”
Alan sat and pushed his attacker off of himself. His fingers briefly explored the wound on his neck and deemed it not as bad as he’d feared. Had Frank not shown up, he had no doubt the guy would have killed him.
“Where the hell were you?” Alan demanded. Frank had the guy sitting up with his Glock pressed into the side of the guy’s head.
“Now, how about you tell us what you were doing?”
The guy moaned, but didn’t answer shaking his head slightly. Tears were streaming down his dirty face. “It was only him. He said to bring you back with us.”
“Why?” Frank asked. The guy shook his head no as if he had no idea what Frank wanted to hear. He slumped as if he were going to pass out when Frank jammed the gun into his neck.
“Well seeing as you don’t know anything, you’re no good to us.” He looked at Alan who was staring at the guy who had wielded the knife to his throat. “Alan, you want to take care of this piece of garbage? It’s time we got out of here.”
“Wait senor, I beg of you. I have a family.” When Frank didn’t answer he pleaded, “Please, I’ll tel
l you. He wanted the boat and the women. He sent the others to bring them in.”
As if he had not heard the confession, Frank pulled the trigger and the guy fell over dead. He stared at the dead men and wished he could have made their pain last longer. Shooting them seemed too good for the likes of them. If he had more time, he would have liked to track them back to their camp and eradicate the whole works of them. These were the type of men who liked to vandalize pillage and rape. He felt he had done the surrounding area a favor by eliminating them. He had no doubt had he been seconds later showing himself, Alan would be lying in the sand with his throat cut.
Finally, it sank in what the guy had said, “They’re going after the girls? Our girls? We have to go back!” He sat and began putting his shoes on. “Come on Frank we need to hurry!”
“That’s what he said.” Frank sat and began putting his damp shoes on over the dry socks. “Alan, it’s been hours since we left the boat. It’s miles behind us and we have no way of knowing when they even went out there. Whatever is going to happen already has. Don’t underestimate the girls. We need to keep to the plan. We go there we find out what we have to do to get through the canal, and hopefully we can get a boat ride back.”
Alan stared at the bodies in the sand. “He was going to kill me wasn’t he?”
Frank simply nodded yes. “Let’s drag that garbage off the trail and get out of here.”
Five minutes and Alan was following Frank down the trail. The sun rising made the trail easier to follow and it was apparent the trail had been used frequently; garbage lined the pathway. It wasn’t long before they heard sounds of civilization. Someone had goats and they were headed in their direction. He could hear a man speaking Spanish to them.
“Keep your cool and let’s see if we can find out how things are here. This guy speaks Spanish so it’s up to you.” He looked back at Alan who still looked shell shocked. He had ripped off a strip of his t-shirt and had it tied around his neck. The collar and front of his shirt had dried blood stains. Frank hoped the herder wasn’t scared off by his appearance. He knew they wouldn’t be confused with simple hikers, because of their odd dress.
When the first of the goat herd reached them they stepped to the side of the trail to let them pass. The old man following the goats carried nothing more than a long walking stick. He barely looked at them as he drew close purposely avoiding eye contact. He rattled off some Spanish and a little boy dashed out of the brush followed by a dog. The man looked too old to be the boy’s father so maybe he was the Grandfather.
Frank raised his eyebrows in question at Alan. If Alan didn’t say something soon they would lose the chance to talk to the old guy.
“Hola,” Alan said in greeting. ¿Habla usted Inglés?
The man stopped and turned back to them. He seemed to be trying to decide if he wanted to answer, his eyes followed the boy and goats.
He yelled something in Spanish at the boy and admitted, “Sí, a little bit.” He walked slowly back to them. The goats, with no one pushing them began to mill about, feeding on the weeds and brush growing out of the sandy soil. The little boy returned to cling to the old man, peeking around his legs to see them.
“We are trying to get to Colon. Have we far to go?”
The old man pursed his lips as if thinking. “No not far. Maybe fifteen kilometers. There are many banditos along the way there.”
Alan slipped his pack off and sat cross-legged in the sand. He pulled out the baggy with the muffins and offered it to the boy. The boy’s brown eyes grew round, he tugged at the old man’s shirt silently asking permission.
The old man looked from Alan to Frank as if seeking their permission to say yes to the boy. Neither the boy nor the man looked as if they carried any extra weight, and the old man had extra folds of skin on his neck and face as if he had been heavier and had recently lost weight. The little boy stared at Alan’s hand, mentally tasting whatever was inside the bag.
“Sí, adelante, pero sólo tomar uno,” He urged the boy forward. The boy walked slowly to Alan, stuck one dirty little hand in the bag grabbed one and bolted as if he expected Alan to take back the offer.
“Gracias…thank you. Food is hard to come by today.”
“Please can we give one for you too?” Alan asked, holding the bag out to the old man.
He nodded at the little boy who came and took another that he pushed into the old man’s hand.
Frank sat at the side of the trail too, in an attempt to make the situation feel less threatening. With his hand he invited the old man to sit with them. He did and began to gnaw on the muffin, taking small bites. Mouth full of food he grinned at Alan as if that gesture indicated his pleasure at the treat.
When the muffins had been eaten the little boy went to tend the goats at his Grandfather’s request. Once the boy was out of earshot, he explained the situation in Colon. He told them that yes, the boy was his grandson and how the boy’s parents were robbed and killed the month before. He told them how the lack of food was driving people to the hills and how gangs were forming and killing anyone who resisted them. He told them how the hill people were better prepared to survive under the new ways. He told them how he had learned by word-of-mouth that the power had gone out in the cities. More importantly, he told them how the Americanos had come to look after the canal and that yes, boats were still using it. Mainly it was small military craft and the occasional pleasure boat, but the canal was still functioning.
Frank and Alan remained silent while the man talked only interrupting to clarify a point or if they didn’t understand his pigeon English. His dialect was a confusion of Spanish, English and a language neither Frank nor Alan knew. By the time the man had grown silent, they thought they knew what to expect ahead of them.
The sun fully up, they were ready to go. They thanked the old man and Alan offered the last two muffins to them. He took the bag and shoved it into his pants pocket. He stood picked up his stick and walked away, gathering his goats as he left.
They watched the goats leave each of them thinking their own thoughts. Finally, Frank spoke. “Well we have ten or maybe eleven miles to go so let’s get our asses down the road.”
While they were with the old man, they had put thoughts of the girls and what the thug had told them. Now they needed to get to Colon and back to the boat as soon as possible.
Packs back on they set off at a slow jog.
Chapter Sixteen
“Don’t you come any closer!” Ellen hollered and she hoped her voice didn’t reflect how afraid she really was. As near as she could tell there appeared to be three men in one boat and four in the other. No matter what methods she chose to use, or was forced to use, she absolutely couldn’t let these men on the Annie-C.
“Oh ladies…we have come to rescue you.” He twirled his finger at the other boat, signaling they were to go around to the other side. His boat was drifting in neutral about 100 feet off the port-stern. One of the men had an oar in his hands using it to keep them facing the Annie-C.
“What do we do? The other boat is coming up on the bow.”
“I see that. Hand me the shotgun and then keep an eye on it.”
“This is your last warning. You come any closer…” she felt it sounded like an empty threat so she jacked a shell into the chamber, knowing they would hear it and recognize the sound for what it was.
“Now lady, what do you want to do that for? We have plans for you…big plans.”
The fat guy, seemed to be the leader of the group because no one else had said a word. They had obviously been working together for a while as he guided his men with simple hand signals. The smaller of the two, about a 14-foot aluminum boat chugged around the bow, taking care to stay 100 feet or so away.
They seemed to be waiting for a signal from the larger johnboat. As dirty and greasy as all the men looked, Ellen didn’t want them even touching her boat let alone coming aboard. She could only imagine how bad they smelled.
“Time to show you I
’m serious,” Ellen mumbled. Her shotgun, the Mossberg 410 came equipped with a pistol grip making it easier to shoot without it having to be on her shoulder. She aimed above the johnboat and pulled the trigger. She knew the force and power of the 410 loaded with double aught buckshot would do some damage had she aimed it at either the boat hull or the men.
At the sound of the shot the four men ducked as if they thought she had shot at them and not into the air. The man sitting by the motor bumped it into gear and they wheeled away out of reach of the shotgun.
The men must have found it funny that the lady had actually shot at them because she could hear them laughing mingled with words. “Hey ladies…we have your men. They are not coming back for you.”
“What are you talking about?” Ellen hollered back.
He thought he had her by his next words, “You must come with us. Your men have run away, you are not safe out here…alone.”
This whole conversation was beginning to sound like a bad B-movie. She didn’t know if his Spanish accent was fake or real, but the fat guy saying everything with a big grin on his face made her think he was used to submissive women and he was sure they would cave in at any moment
“Now, lay down those guns’ and we’ll come aboard. You will not be harmed. We can make you happy.” He looked around as if to confirm his words with the other men on board and was acknowledged with raucous laughter.
“Ellen…what if…” she started to say only to be cut off by Ellen.
“What if they have good intentions? Is that what you’re really going to ask me? What if they are not going to use us to cook and clean for them? What if we are not going to be slaves to these guys? Think of it like that and you’ve got your answer. Hannah, what if they are lying? Do you want Olivia to fall into their hands?”
Hannah slowly shook her head, “No, I would do anything to protect her and us.”
“Then pick up the AR-15 and let them see you with it. If we can’t scare them off with a show of arms …we may have to shoot them.” She saw Hannah grow pale at the thought. “We have to do it to protect Olivia. If you can’t do this, I understand you’ve already been through a lot. Go below and I’ll take care of it.”
Dangerous Shores: Book Two; Hell or High Water Page 11