Coastal Disturbance

by Jessica Speart

  The doorway stood directly ahead. I no longer battled the water, but allowed myself to be hurled toward the entrance. There would be only one slim chance to get this right.

  I waited until the very last second and then flung my arms out wide, my fingers scraping against cement and steel. Even my fingernails ached as I clawed to grab hold of the doorway. Sheer willpower won out as I managed to get a firm grip on each side.

  I clung on for dear life until the water subsided. Then pulling myself to my feet, I stumbled outside knowing I had to hit the shower immediately. All the while I kept an eye out for Drapkin, though he must have thought I was dead.

  I ran into the corrugated tin shack, my hands trembling as I turned on the shower. Then I stepped under the bone-chilling water, grateful for every drop that ran down my hair, limbs, and back. The stream steadily quelled the fire, reaching through skin and muscle to calm my nerves.

  Though I was tempted to strip off every stitch of clothing, it would only make me more vulnerable with Drapkin and his cohort still on the loose. Instead I washed off the taint of DRG as best I could, hoping to stop my burns from growing any worse.

  I stepped back outside to find that the rain had stopped, and the night was clear. Clear enough to allow me a glimpse of the vehicle racing hell-bent out the front gate. A new moon revealed it to be a Lexus SUV—one that looked strikingly similar to the model that Clark Williams drove.

  “Rachel!”

  My thoughts were torn away from earthly matters by a voice so intimate that I believed my prayers had been answered.

  I spun around, certain Santou was calling to me. Instead, I spied a vehicle parked at the edge of the marsh where none had been before. Drapkin was still on the grounds. The man had to be caught, only my body ached as much as my heart, and I knew I couldn’t do it alone. For once, I needed help.

  I pulled my cell phone from my belt, planning to call the local police and request backup. Only it had been damaged by water and no longer worked.

  It was then I spotted Drapkin in the flesh. Except that he wasn’t alone. He was dragging a body toward the marsh, and I knew that it had to be Eight-Ball. I suddenly remembered the car phone and ran toward my vehicle, knowing there wasn’t a moment to lose.

  Yanking open the door, I shoved a hand deep into my pocket to search for the car keys. My burnt flesh scraped against the denim fabric, and I nearly passed out in pain. However, the keys were nowhere to be found. Not only couldn’t the phone be turned on, but now there was no chance of leaving to get aid. Action had to be taken immediately and I couldn’t afford to lose any more time. A sob rose in my throat. I wanted to cry, but there was no time for that either, right now. Eight-Ball’s life hung in the balance, and he was depending on me.

  “Rachel!”

  There it was again—a voice calling me to the marsh. Be it Santou, Eight-Ball, or my demons, I had no choice but to follow.

  I rummaged furiously inside the Ford, searching for anything to use as a weapon. A large five-cell flashlight lay on the floor. It would help me to see and could also serve as a club. Picking it up, I headed to where I’d last caught sight of Drapkin.

  I passed the cell building, the newly flooded lake, and the railroad car with its dead rats and Temik. A silver Mercedes sat directly ahead. Flashing my light inside, I saw where a Manatee Mania sailor’s cap had been thrown on the floor. I found it hard to believe Drapkin would wear anything that flattened his hair, much less something so pedestrian.

  I aimed the flashlight on the ground and now spotted where the marsh grass had been trampled and flattened. It left an easy track to follow where the cordgrass grew high. I walked with noiseless precision, aware that the silence was yet one more creature, and the solitude hypnotic. So much so that I involuntarily jumped as a night heron loudly squawked and flew away, startled by my presence.

  I stopped and held my breath, not wanting to tip Drapkin off to the fact that I was on his trail. At the same time, I listened for any sound that he might make. But all I heard were the munching and grunts of critters, fish, and birds crawling everywhere around me. I saw one now that was being steadily pulled down into the mud. I couldn’t pry my eyes away, but watched in morbid fascination. That is until the bile rose in my throat and I started to gag, having realized the prey wasn’t animal, but human. My heart raced, fearing it was Eight-Ball.

  I raised my flashlight, bathing the inanimate form in its beam, to discover an oar was being used to roll the body deep into black mud. Only it wasn’t Eight-Ball that was being consumed, but Wendell Holmes.

  I stared in alarm as the black gunk rose up and wrapped Holmes in a smothering embrace, as though the two were lovers. Only this was no Casanova, but Hannibal Lecter at work. The mud slowly swallowed Wendell up to his shoulders. I blinked, and the ooze seemed to take shape, as though it were a creature come to life. Goosebumps broke out on my skin so that I shivered in the heat of the night. I almost forgot about Drapkin, until his voice nailed me like a spotlight in the dark.

  “For chrissakes, Porter. Aren’t you dead yet?”

  I didn’t respond, but watched in stunned horror as Wendell continued to sink beneath the mud.

  “Don’t worry. He died a few hours ago and doesn’t feel a thing. Besides this really is all your fault,” Drapkin calmly informed me.

  If I hadn’t thought so before, I now knew the man was crazy.

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Well, you’re the one who got him all worked up over this manatee business, claiming the park would fold.” Drapkin leaned the oar against one leg and wiped his hands on his pants. “I didn’t have much choice after that. Who’d have guessed he’d begin to care about those stupid things? For chrissakes, he was even calling them by name. Holmes was bound to cause trouble sooner or later. Now I’m going to have to find someone else to run the water park. You interested in the job?” Drapkin asked, with a malicious gleam in his eye. “I hear you don’t have much of a future with Fish and Wildlife.”

  “Who told you that? Your friend, Bob Montgomery?” I responded, using anger to regain my composure.

  Drapkin raised an eyebrow in surprise, but didn’t rise to the bait. “I understand you’ve also been filling Candi’s head full of nonsense. You really ought to lighten up, Porter. Manatees are just ugly, stupid animals. So what if a few die? There are always more.”

  “Is that how you view your workers, as well?” I countered. “Disposable help that can be replaced?”

  “More or less,” Drapkin conceded. “Chalk it up to the cost of doing business.”

  “And what about the fact that you’re destroying the marsh and everything in it?”

  “Nature is a renewable resource. Or haven’t you heard? It’ll heal itself. Besides, it’s not what people care about these days.”

  “Really? Then maybe they’ll be interested to learn of the health problems that DRG has created.”

  “First it has to be proven,” Drapkin challenged. “You would do well to remember what this administration preaches. Compromise isn’t the answer some of the time. It’s the answer all of the time.”

  The circle was now complete. I’d heard that same quote from Clark Williams, my superiors at Fish and Wildlife, and now Drapkin.

  The mud let out a gurgle as Wendell disappeared from sight.

  Drapkin turned to me with a satisfied smile. “It was much easier disposing of your friend, Dr. Fletcher. But then, what better way to eliminate a contaminants expert than by using a contaminant? The best part was, I didn’t have to haul his damn corpse around the marsh.”

  The rat from the railroad car twitched in my mind, and I knew exactly what had happened. “You used Temik.”

  Drapkin nodded. “But the artistry came in how it was done. All it took was a teaspoon of Temik dissolved in alcohol, and spread on the handle of his horse’s curry brush with a knife. I even added some DMSO from Fletcher’s stable to speed the reaction along. The mixture absorbed into his skin as soon as he touched
the brush.” Drapkin wrinkled his nose in distaste. “The only downside was the smell of garlic that got on my own hands from the liniment bottle.”

  So that’s what I’d smelled on Gary’s breath.

  “Of course, none of this would have been necessary if you’d just kept your nose out of my business.”

  My hand tightened around the flashlight. It would have to do in place of a gun. “You son of a bitch. I’m really going to enjoy taking you down.”

  “I believe it will be the other way around,” he smirked, and started to lunge.

  I readied myself for a fight, but Drapkin stopped short. His left foot was stuck in the mud.

  “Goddammit to hell!” he raged, struggling to break loose, as I weighed my options.

  Though I wouldn’t kill him, I also wouldn’t come to his aid, and I began to chuckle.

  “What the hell’s so damn funny?” he snarled.

  “Having you for a midnight snack might just be Nature’s way of healing itself.”

  Drapkin tried to grab me, and I sharply whacked his hands with the flashlight.

  “Where’s Eight-Ball?” I demanded.

  “Screw you, Porter!”

  That did it. Drapkin could stay put to mull over his fate, while I went and found my friend. I spun around and began to walk away.

  “Where are you going?” he panicked. “You can’t just leave me here like this!”

  “Sure I can. You’ll be good company for Wendell,” I responded, not bothering to look back.

  I trained my flashlight on the ground and retraced my steps, careful to skirt each patch of mud. Now that the adrenaline rush had subsided, I realized I could have walked into Drapkin’s office and used his phone all along. I planned to do that now, fully confident that the police would arrive in time to pull him out of harm’s way. I wanted Drapkin to rot in jail for years to come, in return for what he’d done to his employees, Gary, the people in this area, and the marsh.

  A flood of excruciating pain tore through me as my clothes rubbed like sandpaper against my skin with each step. Its agonizing throb shot straight to my brain, while uncertainty over Santou’s fate played havoc with my emotions.

  I tried to focus on the evidence I’d found, keeping my eyes glued to the small patch of illuminated ground, when a pair of legs suddenly appeared before me. My heart jumped into my throat, and I instantly took note that only one foot was clad in a boot. The other was bare and muddy.

  Every particle of air disappeared into a black hole of fear, as my demons now sprang to life and danced about me. Had Drapkin possibly broken loose to circle around in an ambush? Lifting the flashlight, I confirmed that my nightmare had become a reality.

  Drapkin blocked my path, his face contorted in fury, brandishing a muddy oar above his head. I swiftly raised my arms to fend off the attack, but nothing could stop the momentum of the oar, as it sliced through the night and found me.

  A searing pain shot through my skull, and the sky whirled madly about, bringing Van Gogh’s Starry Night to life, as the ground rose up to grab hold of my body. I felt certain I’d been set ablaze as I was pulled through the marsh by my legs, the anguish so intense that it was a relief when I finally passed out.

  Twenty

  Cool beads of moisture coated my skin from the crown of my head to my toes. I was once again a child at my grandmother’s house, rolling around in the morning dew.

  Take off your clothes before the sun comes up, while the grass is wet and new. Then tumble about until your freckles are gone and left behind in the dew.

  Even now, I could feel the paper-thin skin of my grandmother’s hands as she rolled me about. Or maybe I was wrong, and they belonged to someone else. They became Santou’s hands as he floated into my thoughts. I wondered where he was, and if I’d ever see him again.

  Perhaps he’s dead and is waiting for me here right now, knowing that I’ll be dead too.

  I found something oddly comforting in that. Except, what if he was alive, and it weren’t true?

  I now realized it wasn’t hands that I felt, but a wooden oar biting into my side. Then I heard a grunt. Howard Drapkin was using the paddle to flip me over, as I was rolled through the marsh like a log.

  The ground was soft and squishy beneath me, the earth oozing like an open wound. My head cleared, and I gingerly lifted a hand, relieved to find I was alive and not yet stuck in black mud. However, another good roll, and it could be too late. If I was going to take action, it had to be now.

  What would Santou do? I asked myself.

  And then I knew.

  I continued to lie limp, not wanting Drapkin to know I was awake, until I was again flat on my back. Then as he began his final push, I grabbed hold of the oar and gave a hard tug. Drapkin stumbled toward me and started to fall, having been caught off-guard. Spinning a half turn, I firmly planted my foot in his stomach and flipped him over my head, so that he landed behind me smack into a pool of black mud.

  Drapkin immediately realized it, and began to flail wildly about. I guess he’d never learned that the harder you fight, the quicker the mud pulls you down. He was already enveloped up to his waist, and I knew there was nothing I could do to help him now.

  Instead, I scrambled onto my hands and knees in an attempt to get away. But Drapkin wouldn’t let me escape.

  “If I’m going to die, you’re coming with me!” he seethed, his arms wrapped tightly around one of my legs.

  I was afraid that he was right. I couldn’t free myself and was beginning to sink along with him. At the same time, the water was starting to rise. It wouldn’t be long before the tide rushed in, drowning us both, if the mud didn’t smother us first.

  Panic grew in my chest, clawing like a trapped creature, as the stink of the marsh invaded my nose.

  There’s no point in fighting. Your death will only be more painful. Instead, you have to let yourself go.

  For once, I realized that my demons were correct.

  A soft coolness enveloped my legs as the mud caressed my limbs, taking away the sting of my burns. Maybe death wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. Why was I even resisting? I tried to conjure those I’d loved and lost, wanting to believe they’d help ease my way.

  Hold your breath until the very last second before exhaling. Then a final inhalation and you’ll become one more siren of the deep, forever entombed in the marsh, a voice seductively whispered in my ear.

  I wanted to believe it was Santou as I closed my eyes and pictured him for the last time, sure that his arms were around me. The imagination is a powerful thing. I now began to hear him calling.

  “Rachel! For chrissakes, Porter! Wake the hell up!”

  The raspy voice pierced my daze and my eyes flew open, having realized it wasn’t Santou. There on firm ground stood Spud Bowden, looking every bit the weasel with a greasy ponytail, jeans hanging off his butt, and a tee-shirt falsely advertising THE BIG ONE across his scrawny chest. I’d never been so happy to see such a crude dude in all my life.

  “Hold onto the end of the oar and push it toward me!” he instructed.

  I did so, as Spud sprawled on the ground and stretched to reach the paddle.

  “You gotta push a little farther!”

  I felt sure every blister on my body would erupt as I tried, but Drapkin doggedly held me back. I attempted to kick him with my free leg, only to feel his arms entwine around me even tighter.

  “Come on, Porter! I’ve got hold of the oar,” Spud shouted. “Get yourself free. You’re running out of time!”

  I took a deep breath, and salt water rushed into my mouth. The tide was on the rise. It was now or never. If I was going to live, Drapkin had to die. I knew what I had to do as I took one hand off the oar, and quickly unzipped my pants.

  “Pull now!” I yelled, shoving my heel hard into Drapkin’s face.

  “You bitch!” he screamed, and momentarily loosened his grip.

  Then I was being dragged out of the mud, leaving my jeans and boots behind for Drapk
in to remember me by. I heard an anguished cry as Spud pulled me to safety, and I turned to see Drapkin for the very last time.

  The mud voraciously swallowed first his mouth, then his nose, and finally the terror in his eyes. Soon all that was left were his hands. Then even those fell limp and disappeared, buried beneath the incoming tide.

  Epilogue

  “Here, dear. Drink this. It will help you feel better,” Marie insisted, handing me a cup of tea as we sat on her deck.

  I held it between bandaged hands. My arms and legs were also lightly wrapped in gauze after the events of last night.

  Spud had immediately called the police upon pulling me from the mud. Then we’d searched the cell building, where Eight-Ball lay unconscious on the floor. After that, Spud carted us both off to the hospital as the police swarmed the scene, with the EPA and Georgia Environmental Protection Division hot on their heels.

  The doctors had treated Eight-Ball for a concussion, while I was wrapped up to resemble the bride of the Mummy. According to them, I was lucky. DRG’s shower had done its job. Oddly enough, so had the mud. Otherwise, my burns would have been far worse.

  Less than twenty-four hours later, a full-scale investigation of DRG was under way. Word had it that it was already being dubbed the South’s Love Canal, and would no doubt end up a Superfund site. Cleanup was expected to take decades, with the cost running hundreds of millions of dollars.

  The downside was that there’d probably be no evidence implicating Clark Williams in the scandal. However, his run for office would most likely be put on hold. In the meantime, I planned to do everything possible to end Golden Dreams’ land grab along Mamalou Lane and Harrington Road.

  Candi had called earlier to inform me that my friend from Sea World had arrived in plenty of time. Most of the remaining manatees had received low enough doses of mercury to allow for appropriate care, and would soon be moved to a rehab facility. She planned to go with them, hoping to attend a nearby school and earn a degree in marine biology. Spud had agreed to accompany her upon learning that police informants are paid more money in Florida.