by Matthew Rief
I thanked him, then turned around. My mind was working overtime, trying to figure out what our next course of action should be. Most of the incidents seemed to point at a location near the mouth of the Watson River, so it was clear that we needed to start our search there.
Looking up, I saw Jack and Ange standing side by side on the starboard pontoon of the Cessna just a few hundred feet away from me. I took two steps through the waist-deep water and the thick muddy bottom before a strong gust of wind blew into me. As I shielded my face from the wind, I heard a distinct foreign sound resonate from the east about a hundred feet off. It happened in an instant. A snapping sound, followed by the whoosh of an object as it rocketed past me just a few feet from my body. I spun my head around, nearly losing my balance, and watched with wide eyes as an arrow struck TJ in the back.
The sharp projectile tore into his body with such force that he keeled over and splashed into the water. I gasped, then narrowed my gaze and turned to look to the east, in the direction the arrow had flown from. I wanted to help TJ, to run over and provide assistance as quickly as possible. But whoever had loosed that arrow probably had more than one. If I didn’t engage, there was a good chance I’d also end up facedown in the muck with an arrow sticking out of my back.
As fast as it could, my mind traced the trajectory of the arrow across the channel to a row of thick mangroves roughly two hundred feet away. The sudden surge of wind was still blowing steadily, causing branches to sway. I zeroed in, heard a branch snap, and caught a brief glimpse of a shadowy figure through cracks in the brush.
“Logan!” Ange yelled moments after TJ went down.
I kept my eyes locked, focused on the spot where I’d seen the attacker. In my blurry peripherals, I saw Ange and Jack still standing on the port pontoon. They were moving, no doubt taking cover or reaching for weapons.
“Help him!” I yelled.
Before the words left my mouth, I bolted in the direction of the attacker, splashing with reckless abandon into the murky channel. My heart pounded in my chest as I forced my body to slosh through the water and muddy bottom as fast as I could. If either Ange or Jack made any reply, I didn’t hear it. I had tunnel vision and couldn’t hear anything over the splashing water. The long stretch of mangrove-covered shoreline looked the same in both directions, and I knew that if I took my eyes off my target for even a moment, I’d lose my quarry.
As I bolted into the channel, the water quickly rose up past my waist. I reached the point where I could swim faster than I could run and dove headlong into the water. I utilized the combat sidestroke so that I could keep my head above water and my eyes trained forward.
With my clothes soaked and my senses fully alert, I reached the other side and climbed up out of the water. I looked ahead to where I’d seen movement while my right hand reached down and snatched my Sig from its holster under the right side of my waistband. The foliage was impossibly thick. A mangrove forest can be one of the hardest things in the world to navigate through, and every step was a struggle.
I heard Jack yell something from behind but couldn’t process it. I heard only the rustling of leaves in the wind, the snapping of branches beneath me, and the distant movement up ahead of me. I was still a good distance away, and I knew that at any moment I could be struck by an arrow, so I kept my Sig raised as best I could just in case.
Regardless of the terrain or the slim chance of my gaining ground, I pressed through with everything I had. There was a good chance that I was within a few hundred feet of the guy responsible for the Shepherds’ murder, a guy who’d murdered a handful of people over the years. I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to take him down, regardless of the risk.
The Florida summer sun beamed relentlessly into my face, causing sweat to drip down my face as I forced my way into what looked like a clearing up ahead. I could see water and a flat expanse of sawgrass through the breaks in the foliage. When I reached the opening, I spotted an airboat resting on the shoreline less than fifty feet away. Right in front of the boat stood a big guy with flabby tanned skin and a bald head. He wore a cutoff camo tee shirt, dirty baggy camo pants, and dirty boots that extended nearly up to his knees. His face was covered in mud and his eyes were concealed behind dark sunglasses.
He held a compound bow in his hands, the string drawn back, an arrow aimed straight at me. I didn’t have time to take aim with my Sig. I could only dive to my left as he let go of the string, causing the limbs to snap and sending the arrow soaring less than a foot over my head. I rolled twice and steadied myself behind the thick trunk of a fallen cypress tree.
I was caught off guard by how fast he moved for such a big guy. Just a few seconds after the arrow zipped past, I peeked over the log just in time to see him jump into view and barrel straight into me. He tackled me hard, knocking the air from my lungs and sending us both crashing into a tangle of thick branches. I learned the painful way that not only was this guy fast, but he was also much heavier than I’d thought. His frame had to tip the scale at over three hundred pounds, and it felt like being tackled by a sumo wrestler as our weight cracked branches, my back oozing down into the mud below.
He grunted, exhaling a breath of disgusting air into my face. He held my gun down with his left hand and tried to stab a knife into my chest with his right. I held him back, gritting my teeth as his incredible strength inched the tip of the blade closer and closer. I gazed into his burning dark eyes and realized that this guy was enjoying having me pinned down.
Not for long, asshole.
In a flash of movement, I brought my head back, then snapped it forward, slamming my forehead hard into his nose. The fragile bones snapped like twigs, and blood rushed out from his nostrils as he groaned and jerked backward. With a few feet of space between us, I was able to bring up my right leg and kick my heel hard into his flabby belly. His upper body lurched forward, and he looked like he was about to barf as he let go of his knife.
As fast as I could, I rotated to the right, then scissor-kicked my legs, catching his ankles from both sides and causing his upper body to fall back. He fell hard against the cypress trunk and tumbled into the mud on the other side. I jumped to my feet and was about to stride over and finish him off when I suddenly realized that this wasn’t a one-on-one fight.
A second guy was standing over by the airboat. He was almost as big as the first guy and was dressed similar aside from a skull bandanna that covered most of his face. He reached over the gunwale and grabbed a shiny silver object from inside. It took my mind a fraction of a second to process that it was a revolver. As he spun to face me, I reached back and slid my dive knife free from its sheath. Rearing it back, I took aim and sent it flying toward the guy just as the barrel of his weapon stared me down.
I aimed for the center of his chest but missed left. The blade struck him in the shoulder, causing his body to twist sideways. He grunted and loosened his grip on the revolver enough that it slid free and splashed into the shallow water at his feet.
I forced myself up and spun around just in time to see the first guy swing a tree branch straight at me. Before I could raise my hands or try and avoid the blow, the wood slammed into my head, nearly knocking me unconscious and sending me to the ground in a haze. My head screamed in pain and my vision blurred. I looked around, searching for a weapon, thinking that the big guy was moments away from closing in to finish me off. But he didn’t. I watched with blurry eyes as he bolted for the airboat and helped the other guy to his feet.
I rolled over and forced myself up onto my hands and knees. My forehead burned and radiated sharp pain. I forced myself to breathe and tilted my head up toward my enemies. It took just a few blinks of my eyes for them to start up their airboat’s massive engine, spin the propeller to life, and blow a strong gust of wind straight into me.
Through a haze, I saw that one of the guys was seated in the raised control chair, while the other stood alongside the port gunwale and aimed the silver revolver in my direction. I lower
ed my head and heard the explosion of a fired round, followed by the shattering of wood as it tore through the log.
I rolled over and looked around. After a few seconds, I spotted my Sig. It was upside down and lodged against the mud and a thick mangrove root. I kept low and crawled toward it. Reaching ahead of me as far as I could, I gripped the 9mm handgun, spun around, and took aim as I rose to my feet. The airboat was jetting across the water, its engine roaring, propelling it full speed away from me. It was already over a hundred yards away, but that wouldn’t stop me from sending them a parting gift.
I lined up the sights and pulled the trigger in rapid succession, sending round after round into the back of the airboat and the fan cage. The two guys hit the deck, dropping out of view. By the time I let off the fifth round, they turned sharply, vanishing into a narrow channel and around a sharp corner of foliage. I could only hear them as the sounds of their fan and engine echoed across the water, growing fainter and fainter.
I lowered my weapon and caught my breath. My heart was still pounding violently, my adrenaline still surging. I couldn’t believe we’d managed to find the killer so quickly. Killers, I corrected myself. We’d run into the killers and somehow I’d let them slip through my fingers.
I wished for a boat so that I could chase them down, but I knew that they were gone. I needed to shake the thoughts of them. I needed to get back to the others. If TJ was still alive, he’d need serious medical care, and fast.
I took in a deep breath, let it out, then spun around to face the imposing wall of mangroves I’d struggled through moments earlier. As I took my first step, I noticed a shiny blade glistening in the mud beside a patch of sawgrass. It wasn’t my dive knife. No, my trusty titanium blade had been lodged in a serial killer’s shoulder and was probably long gone by this point. It was one of their knives.
Before jumping back into the thick foliage, I grabbed the knife by the point, wrapped it in my small drybag, and stowed it carefully in my cargo shorts pocket. I had an idea that could help us figure out who these guys were. Maybe put a face and a name on at least one of the mysterious serial killers.
Holstering my Sig, I moved into the thick of it, heading back across the narrow island.
SEVEN
Jeb sat on the bow, his hand pressed against his bleeding shoulder. He groaned and grunted with every jerk of their airboat as Buck quickly brought them up to speed.
Suddenly, loud bangs rang out from behind them as a succession of bullets struck the transom and fan cage, shooting up sparks.
“Get down!” Buck shouted as he lowered himself while maintaining control of the speeding boat as best he could.
He cruised into a channel, then cut a hard left, putting a string of islands between them and their attacker. Looking over his shoulder, Buck could no longer see the mystery guy who’d chased him down. Regardless, he kept the throttles full as they cruised back into the northern section of Whitewater Bay.
“What the shit was that, Buck?” Jeb shouted. He slid down the bandanna covering the bottom half of his scarred face and added, “Who the hell was that asshole?”
Buck didn’t reply. He kept his eyes narrowed, focused on the swamp ahead of him. He didn’t know who the mystery guy with the plane was, but he was sure as hell going to find out.
Ten minutes after the confrontation, he eased back on the throttles, bringing them down to their cruising speed of twenty-five knots. They were five miles from where the fight had taken place. Since hightailing it out of there, they’d both kept sharp eyes out on the water around them and the sky above. Not having seen anything suspicious, Buck felt that they’d made it out of the woods. At least for the time being.
Buck sighed and grunted as he looked back over his shoulder for the hundredth time in the past few minutes alone.
It was supposed to be quick and easy, he thought.
Through a contact of theirs, they’d learned that Suggs had been the witness on Oyster Bay Chickee.
Take him out and put an end to the whole thing. But no. Some asshole flew in and disrupted our plans.
He gritted his teeth as he adjusted his shoulder. His body ached all over from the tussle. He knew that the guy he’d encountered wasn’t an ordinary run-of-the-mill guy. And he sure as hell wasn’t a cop. He’d barged right toward them with reckless abandon. A real trained warrior with no fear.
He maneuvered them around a large island, putting them on a northeasterly course.
Buck shook his head and glanced up at the sky. Something told him that their newfound enemy wasn’t about to back down. That he’d come after them again, and keep coming after them until he’d either been killed or taken them out.
We need to take care of this guy, and we need to do it now.
“Get Eli on the radio, Jeb,” Buck barked to the guy in the bow.
The bleeding guy lurched to the center of the boat and grabbed the radio out of a backpack. They had a basic first aid kit aboard, and he’d managed to stop the bleeding.
“Tell him to figure out who the guys were with the seaplane,” he said.
Jeb did as he was told. He asked their informant for the intel, then placed the radio back in the backpack. Half an hour later, they reached their secret hideout far up into the bowels of the deep swamp. Later that evening, Eli called them on the radio.
“His name is Logan Dodge,” he said through the crackling static. “I called around, and apparently he was once a Navy SEAL. I was told that he lives in Key West and keeps his boat at the Conch Harbor Marina. Man’s garnered quite a reputation in the islands. He found the—”
“I don’t need his whole damn life story,” Buck snapped. “How many people does he have with him?”
Eli paused a moment.
“Three, I think. But this guy’s got a lot of connections, it seems. Even knows Mitch Ross.”
Buck lowered the radio and looked out over the endless uncharted swampland surrounding his hidden oasis. He placed his left thumb and index finger up to the bridge of his nose and squeezed. He knew that this guy was going to be a big pain in their ass. They needed to finish him off quickly and without question.
“You still there, Buck?” Eli said.
“I need you to kill them,” Buck said by way of a reply. “I need them dead and gone. We’ll pay you well for it, as usual.”
“Did you hear what I said?” Eli retorted. “This guy’s former special forces. How in the hell am I—”
“I’ll send Jeb to help you out,” Buck interrupted. “You’re gonna have to play dirty. Engage in an unfair fight. Catch them by surprise. Whatever the hell you gotta do, you do it. Understand?”
Eli sighed.
“Buck, I—”
“Do you understand? Because this could mean the end of everything if we don’t take this guy out!”
“Alright, alright,” Eli said. “Yes, I understand. He’s as good as dead. All of them are as good as dead.”
Buck nodded.
“That’s better. Jeb will meet you at midnight.”
He turned off the radio before Eli could say any more. Lowering it to his side, he strode to the edge of a small bank above a murky shoreline. He slid off his backpack, pulled a piece of hog meat from a plastic bag, and tossed it into the water. Moments later, two gators splashed into the water and fought over the meat. He smiled as he watched the brutal predators go at it, then turned around when he heard footsteps approaching.
Jeb strode up to him. He was just as big as the other two guys and had burn scars covering much of his face from a childhood accident.
“When do I go?” Jeb said.
“Midnight,” Buck replied. “You will meet with Eli, and the two of you will kill them.”
Jeb smiled and nodded.
“Lookin’ forward to it.”
EIGHT
I reached the other side of the narrow island just as Ange and Jack were lifting TJ’s limp body up into the Cessna. Stepping out onto a thick branch, I dove headfirst into the murky water and swam as
fast as I could to the other side. I reached the port pontoon of the plane just as Ange started up the engine. Jack held on to the wing brace and leaned over, offering his right hand to help pull me up out of the water. I was soaked and exhausted, and my head still hurt like hell from being struck with a log.
“Nice to see you don’t have any arrows sticking out of you,” Jack said. “You alright?”
I nodded. Ange glanced over her shoulder and looked me up and down with a worried gaze. I mouthed that I was alright, and she turned her attention back to the plane’s controls. It was clear from her expression that we didn’t have time to sit around and talk about what had just happened. We needed to get in the air and we needed to find a doctor, fast.
Her gaze darted down to the anchor line.
“Give me a hand,” I said, tapping Jack on the shoulder.
We quickly pulled the anchor up, coiled the line, and stowed it in the pontoon’s rear compartment. Seconds later we were climbing inside, Jack sliding into the back seat beside TJ and me in the copilot’s seat. Ange had us accelerating forward just as we sat, bringing us into a small bay with plenty of room to take off.
As she brought us up to speed, I turned around and looked back at TJ. He was resting on his side against the padded gray seat, his body angled slightly. Blood soaked his thin flannel shirt and the top of his pants. His eyes were closed and he was struggling for every breath.
Jack had a first aid kit open on his lap and was tearing into a packet of QuikClot. He pressed a few pads around the wound, right where the arrow was still sticking out. If the arrow had broadheads like the ones we’d found stuck in the dinghy earlier that morning, pulling it free would cause further damage and bleeding.