by Bob Howard
I pulled it loose and tore it open, certain that Uncle Titus knew I would be standing here at the end of this road. Uncle Titus seemed to be right about a lot of things. Under the last layer of plastic was a compass and a note. The note was in Titus’ scrawled handwriting, and it just said, “Stay straight to the East, and when the Cyprus trees end you won’t see any more gators, but watch out for snakes and spiders.”
Great! I like snakes and spiders much more than alligators. I got a small pack of hiking supplies out of the Jeep and aimed the compass to find the East. I thought I would get lost or have to wander around in the woods all day, but I was surprised when I made it through to the beach sooner than I had expected.
I hadn’t realized that the cypress trees and black water had given way to oak trees that were large but not as ancient as the first oaks that had lined the road. They were spaced wider apart, and even though the ground between them was overgrown with a hundred years of scrub oaks and brush, I could almost picture someone living here long ago.
When I stepped onto the beach, the best surprise was the sight of a well built dock and a decent looking boat tied against it. I never bothered to learn much about boats, but this one I knew was called a Boston Whaler. Not big, but big enough to get me where I was going comfortably and small enough for me to handle. It wasn’t too far of a walk from where I came out of the trees, and the only moving creatures were crabs and birds……no snakes or spiders.
The planks on the dock were so new looking compared to the old surroundings. I had the sense to stand and admire it and wonder how my crazy uncle had managed to get the materials for a new dock through the dense brush to this strip of beach without disturbing the surrounding terrain. I vaguely wondered if he hadn’t done it from the air, but I let it go. The fact was that he had done it. The dock and spotless white boat told me I was in for more surprises.
******
I remembered that day standing at the dock and said another silent thank you to my uncle. I may be sitting in a tree now, but at least I had somewhere to go. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon, and with any luck at all, I could make it to the dock in minutes.
I very slowly started to push myself up from a sitting position. My legs had joined my butt cheeks in the numb department, and I wasn’t going to outrun anything until I got some circulation back. I had been sitting for so long that I actually looked at my left leg to see if it was still attached.
Having confirmed that it was still there, I started shifting from one foot to the other. The oak was pretty strong, so I wasn’t moving the branches and attracting attention. I wasn’t entirely sure what I had heard under the tree during the night, but I didn’t think anything groaned, walked upright, and preferred a steady diet of living flesh except one thing.
If there was something down there that matched that description, I didn’t want to give it advance notice that I was about to drop to the ground and make a run for it.
When I could feel my toes and there was no stinging pain as they regained their circulation, I turned to face the trunk of the tree. I needed to take a good look around the other side of the tree to see if I had any company.
I imagine if there had been another living person clinging to a neighboring tree, it would have scared them bad enough to make them fall, but I was only greeted by the sight of more trees and heavy underbrush.
It was quiet, and I was just going to be forced to put my big boy pants on and get to the dock. After all, I had already made it this far, and that was much better than a few thousand other people could say.
That reminded me……as connected as I’ve always been, I hadn’t looked at my cell phone in hours. The thing had nearly scared me into falling when it had lit up and displayed a FEMA message. I’d had the good sense to turn off the volume to the ringtone, but the last thing I expected was to get any kind of connection this far out. I guess FEMA was able to do a little better than most mobile carriers.
Once I had gotten over my initial scare, I had checked the message. Carefully covering the phone inside my zip-up hoodie, I had read the warnings. FEMA said that everyone should stay home and not open the door for anyone except the military. The National Guard had mobilized, and they had orders to shoot anyone seen in the streets.
At first I had thought that was a bit extreme, but it didn’t take long to figure out that the only people on the streets without guns were probably not in need of help……not anymore.
I pulled out my phone more carefully this time and checked it again. There wasn’t any need for hiding it because there was enough sunlight coming through the trees.
The FEMA message was still on the screen, but it didn’t say anything about getting shot if you go into the streets. Instead it said to go to a list of locations, mostly schools or military bases. It said to stay away from hospitals. It didn’t say why hospitals were not a safe place, but I had a pretty good idea why.
It also said if you had been bitten, you should stay home and wait for help to come to you, but family members shouldn’t stay with you. The message reassuringly said your relatives would be well cared for. Right.
I scrolled back and saw that there had been other messages through the night, none from anyone I knew. Maybe that was because of my location. I checked my internet browser, and the page wouldn't load. I couldn’t get a connection with a server.
On a whim I tried the FEMA website and got a canned message that said to set cellphones to receive alerts. I went back to the alerts and scanned over them for anything I had missed. One caught my eye that might as well have said, “Edward Jackson, go to your island now.”
What it actually said was, “If you have prepared for an extreme emergency and have a secure location where you can go, do so now. If you have provisions and the capability to take others to safety, please exercise generosity by assisting others, but under no circumstances should you attempt to provide aid to individuals who have been bitten.”
That was pretty much what I had in mind as I once again began surveying my surroundings and began to climb downward.
******
One reason I had picked my tree was the lower branches. From my vantage point I could see around the bottom of the tree okay, but not great. Still, if I dropped to the ground and found myself face to face with company, it would be no more than a quick pull-up and a leg over for me to be back to safety.
I lowered myself to the branches below mine and went into a squat. I was listening for noise……any noise. This was way too quiet for me. On my first trip to the island, back when I had followed the compass taped to the sign, there had been plenty of sounds. Whether it was a woodpecker rapping on a tree or a splash somewhere out in the jet black water between the Cyprus trees, there was never silence.
I felt a tingle run up my back, and I didn’t know if it was from the early morning chill, or if I would turn around and find that the dead could climb trees. There wasn’t much chance that I could ignore the feeling, so I slowly swiveled on the branch until I could see what was there. Nothing, but the mind does some wonderful things when you’re scared, so I jumped anyway.
So much for quietly dropping to the ground after doing a thorough check for trouble. I felt my feet leave the solid surface of the branch, and I went over. I landed with a loud thump that was only rivaled by the sound of the air being knocked from my lungs, and suddenly it wasn’t so quiet anymore.
I was tangled in a mass of brush that had probably saved me from being really hurt. No more than a few scratches. The problem was my savior bushes were also keeping me from getting up, and something was in a hurry to get to me.
That ‘something’ was making a now familiar groaning noise that left little doubt in my mind what it was, and the best I could hope for was that it was alone. At least there wasn’t a chorus of groans.
I managed to get one foot free from between two stubborn branches, but the other one felt like it was tied in place with rope. It didn’t help that every move caused me to get scrat
ched a few more times, but there wasn’t a scratch out there that could kill me.
I listened as the groaning grew steadily louder but then seemed to stay the same, and I realized the creature that wanted me had the same problem that I did. The thrashing it was doing told me that he…she….it……was having to untangle itself from the thick brush just as I was.
Movement to my left caught my eye, and I could see an arm reaching out from some really nasty undergrowth. I at least knew I had a few minutes to work my way loose, and I set about solving the problem of getting free. I could also keep an eye on the progress of the “groaner”.
Ten minutes later I had my other foot untangled and was able to start wiggling between vines and branches in the direction of freedom. Groaner had been quiet except for the thrashing, so I hadn’t paid attention to his progress. When I did look in his direction, the gender question being answered immediately, he was close……too close. If I turned my back on him, he would be on me in no time, and I needed to be facing him to at least try to keep his mouth away from my body.
The smell was finally reaching me, and even though marshy, muddy swampland doesn’t smell too sweet all by itself, this was worse, and I was already starting to gag and retch. If they had any thoughts at all, this one was thinking it was going to grab me with one more lunge. Its hand actually got close enough for me to push it away, and then I was falling backward trying to get my feet high enough to kick it in the face.
There was a snapping and cracking noise as my weight carried me out onto the sand and away from the undergrowth, but there was no time to celebrate my freedom or the fact that I was much closer to the beach than I had realized. Groaner was coming through the same path that I had made, and he was almost on top of me.
If he was capable of getting a surprised or confused look on his face, he would have. It was like everything stood still for a long time but was really only a matter of seconds. One moment he was about to drop out of some serious undergrowth and land right on top of me, and the next moment he was moving in reverse. I caught just enough of a glimpse of the slippery body to realize that an alligator had a good hold on the groaner's leg, and I would have at least a slim chance of living one more day.
I was on my feet and running toward the dock with something like a whimper escaping my lips. I remember thinking two totally separate thoughts…if the groaner hadn’t been there, would the alligator have gotten me instead? The second thought was whether or not that alligator had ever eaten a chicken. One glimpse back over my shoulder was enough for me to answer both questions the same way……it didn’t matter.
******
The boat was just as I had left it. On my previous excursion to the island I had cautiously untied the boat and jumped onto the deck. I had this irrational fear that it would drift away before I could even get on board, but it stayed where it was. I had started the engine and then eased the throttle forward while keeping a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. I guess I expected it to take off fast enough to launch me out the back, but I learned quickly that giving just a little less throttle made the boat glide across the water.
I admit that on that particular day I was at least a little happier about having a boat than an island. This could be fun, and I spent a couple of hours touring the coastline before finally coasting up to another new dock on the northern tip of the island.
As islands go, Mud Island didn’t look like anything special. It was separated from the mainland by a narrow strip of water that was much deeper than I would have expected it to be. When I stood on the dock looking at Mud Island I wondered why even bother with a boat. It looked almost close enough to build a longer dock or even a bridge. Then I remembered that Uncle Titus apparently felt like it would be a place to survive, so the water had to be like a moat. Not really wide, but it had to be deep.
When I was joy riding and getting to know the Boston Whaler, I had started out by heading south toward the tip of the island that appeared to be closer. I was new to boats, so my first reaction was to take it from point A to point B, and that was it. I didn’t really think about which end would have a dock for me to use, but for some reason I thought it would be at the closest point.
The dock wasn’t there when I rounded the southern tip of Mud Island, but by that time I didn’t care. The boat was fun, and for the first time since the phone call from Weintraub, I felt like good things were happening. That this wasn’t just some kind of crazy dream.
I stayed toward the middle of the narrow channel because I didn’t want to scrap the bottom of the boat on oyster beds that seemed to be everywhere. As a matter of fact, it looked like the entire side of Mud Island that faced the mainland was nothing but sharp edged shells pointing upward. According to a boating guide I had picked up at a fishing supply store near where I rented the Jeep, high tide was just about over, and that meant I was just seeing the tops of the oyster beds. I wondered if the oysters were for eating or protection.
As I cruised the Whaler out of the southern mouth of the ‘moat’ that surrounded Mud Island, I had expected to be able to make a sharp left and head up the coast along the sea side of the island. I started the turn but spotted the huge rocks poking out of the water. There was a man made jetty that extended outward for at least one hundred yards, and I had to go straight out to sea to reach the end of it. Once I reached the end, I was able to turn left, and begin my trip north.
Once again, I was realizing just how smart Uncle Titus was. The jetty was there to keep silt from drifting across the mouth of the waterway that separated the island from the mainland. Without the jetty, the gap would need to be dredged, or it might fill in. Then you could walk to Mud Island.
This was a learning curve for me, but I was starting to think like Uncle Titus. It occurred to me that when I reached the northern tip of the island, I would find another jetty. This one would be from the other side of the waterway sticking out from the mainland, and it would prevent the northern mouth of the waterway from filling in. And that would also be the logical place to put the dock.
Sure enough, thirty minutes later I could see a long jetty in the distance, and a wide entrance to the “Mud Island Moat” on my left. As soon as I started my turn, I saw the northern dock. Uncle Titus was a nut, there was no doubt about that, but he must’ve been a talented nut, because this dock was much larger than the one on the mainland, and moored to one side of it was what looked like a houseboat.
Actually, it was a fully equipped houseboat, as I would discover while exploring, but it conveniently hid the real surprise from view. The dock was “L” shaped, and within the protected side of the L was a twin engine plane on pontoon struts. I didn’t know Uncle Titus could fly a plane, but then again, I don’t think you could have gotten me into the cockpit with him behind the stick. Still, I gave him credit for knowing how to fly the thing. I knew enough to call it a cockpit, and I knew the thing the pilot used to control it was called a stick, but beyond that, all I knew about flying I had learned playing video games.
I think I was starting to catch on to what Uncle Titus had in mind. I don’t know what he was thinking of when he said we needed to be ready for something to happen, but so far I was looking at a remote location, separated from the land by deep water, oyster beds that could shred steel belted tires, and inhospitable terrain with alligators on the other side. Whatever happened on the mainland, it was likely to stay on the mainland.
******
When I reached the boat this time, I wasn’t being a tourist. I was winded from sprinting to the dock, and I almost forgot to untie the moorings before trying to cast off. I started the engine and then dove back to the ropes. The thrum of the engine felt good under my feet, and I felt good for the first time in days. I got the ropes onboard and gave the dock piling a hard shove, then ran to the throttle.
The dock quickly receded behind me, and this time I turned north. In a matter of minutes I would be seeing the L-shaped dock, and minutes after that I would feel safe again.
******
I was in a place called Surfside, South Carolina when the world came to an end. Or at least the world as I knew it. I had made my first trip to Mud Island, discovered the boat, the plane, the houseboat, and then the island itself. My head was still swimming with the wealth of the things I had found. I didn’t think I could be surprised by anything more because of what I had already seen, but a quick inspection of the houseboat answered so many of the questions I would have asked Uncle Titus if I had spoken with him before he died.
There was a TV with an old VHS player sitting in plain view so I would see it as soon as I opened the door to the houseboat. To this point, I was thinking, “Okay, I have a Boston Whaler, a seaplane, and a houseboat, all tied up to an island that was pretty isolated.” The VHS tape with my name on it had the rest of the story.
I slid the tape into the player and turned on the TV. The gritty, weather worn face of Uncle Titus filled the screen. If not for the sort of crazy eyes, he was ruggedly handsome, and could have been mistaken for “The Most Interesting Man in The World.”
“Eddy, welcome to Mud Island! If you’re watching this, I hope it’s because those lawyers earned their paychecks, and the world hasn’t gone to shit yet. Well, doesn’t matter either way, does it? As long as it’s you watching this video, it doesn’t matter. If you’re here, you’re also safe.”
“Now, let me explain something to you about how a survivalist has to think, and you need to start thinking like one now. Don’t watch this tape and go thinking you can do it later.”
Uncle Titus looked down like he was collecting his thoughts. When he raised his head it was like he was really looking at me as he recorded the tape, or he was looking at me now. He got a really serious expression on his face with just a touch of sadness.