Thresh

by Jasinda Wilder

  He rubbed his thumb across my lips, and his eyes were piercing, knowing. "I'm losing you, ain't I? You're falling into your own head."

  I shrugged. "Yeah, sort of."

  "Care to share?"

  I shook my head, shrugged, but couldn't manage either. "Just...there's a lot."

  "That you haven't said."

  "Right."

  He nodded. "I get that. But, babe, don't even think on it. We'll cover it when the time comes."

  I shook my head. "No, you don't get it--you don't get it. I'm going to freak out on you. If we ever get around to--all the things you promised you'd do to me, how you'd fuck me long and slow, that you'd worship me? There's a lot of shit to get through between us and that point, Thresh."

  He cupped my face in his palm, tilted me so I had to look at him, and fuck me if the expression on his face didn't wreck me. "Maybe so, Doc. But I'll take it all, every bit of it, if it means I get you at the end. 'Cause baby, you're worth it."

  I fell against his chest. "You did not just quote Fifth Harmony at me."

  "Maybe I did. So what?" He chuckled. "Don't mean it ain't truth."

  Well...shit.

  That plan to just enjoy what Thresh was offering in the moment?

  Shot all to fucking hell.

  9: INTO THE EVERGLADES

  She was quiet the rest of the way to our destination, which turned out to be a trailer park on the edges of somewhere called Plantation Island. It was a tiny oasis of civilization in the middle of the Ten Thousand Islands area of the Everglades, on the far southwestern edge of Florida. Mainly occupied by Everglades tour guides, it was...well, remote wasn't quite the word, as Lola had pointed out earlier. A whole lot of not much--it occupied not even four hundred acres, and had a population of less than two hundred....

  Yeah, if you liked your space and privacy, this was where you went.

  And this was the starting point for getting to her dad?

  Yeesh. Hermits are weird, man. I mean, I like my space. I like a few miles between me and the next fella, but I also like to be able to pop into town and grab a Starbucks and a burger, or pop a squat in a dive bar and have a glass of bourbon with Duke, check out the selection of ladies. But out here? There wasn't anything.

  And I hated it. Hated.

  Because it reminded me of how I grew up. Home for me had been a ramshackle, dilapidated single-wide in the middle of literal nowhere. Just plopped down in a little holler a good twenty miles from fuckin' anything. Only reason we even had running water or electricity was because there happened to be a freight depot not too far from our trailer, so whoever had originally occupied the spot where we lived had somehow convinced the powers that be to run a line and some pipe to the holler. Hell if I know how, or why. I just know it was fuckin' remote.

  I had a six-mile walk to the nearest bus stop, and another forty minutes one way on the bus to the school, and I considered that a blessing, because it got me out of the fuckin' trailer and away from my old man. It meant being out from under his drunken stare, away from his swinging fist and boot. It meant I got fresh food in the afternoon, from people who seemed to give at least half a shit about me.

  I don't mean Ma, when I say that. Ma cared, probably too much. She'd always try to step in between the old man and me, try to get his attention on herself, to spare me the beating, but once I was old enough to figure out the way of things--when I was four or so--I'd make sure he went after me. I couldn't bear to see him take after her. She was a tiny little thing. Frail. Weak. But she was my angel, the only good thing in my life, the only reason I had for existing, so I had to protect her. Had to. Which meant I'd learned to take a vicious motherfuck of a beating without a peep by the time I was five or six. He broke my forearm with an empty whiskey bottle once, and I don't think I even cried; I was barely seven.

  Lola shot me a few glances as we slowly meandered down the road onto Plantation Island. Finally, she spoke up. "You're awful quiet all of a sudden, Thresh."

  "This place reminds me of where I grew up, is all."

  "The trailers?"

  I nodded. "That, and the remoteness of it. The silence. The emptiness." I glanced out the window at the trailered boats and scrap heaps and makeshift porches. "Takes me back."

  "And that's not a good thing, is it?"

  "Not so much, no."

  "Well, if all goes well, Uncle Filipo will have us in the water pretty fast, and we can get you out of here."

  I didn't say it, but I'd be grateful for that. My hands were getting twitchy, and that never boded well for anyone.

  Lola gestured at a trailer indistinguishable from any of the others. "Here."

  I snorted when I saw the...watercraft, I guess you could sort of call it...on the front lawn. "Boat? Sweetheart, that's a tin cup with a trolling motor attached to it."

  She eyed me. "Ever been out there?"

  "No," I admitted.

  "One, there's a no-wake law. Two, you can't go fast anyway, or you'll miss a turn, hit something, get snared, any number of things. Trust me, this is the best option."

  I eyed the boat skeptically. "Will it hold me? I ain't exactly dainty, don't know if you've noticed."

  She rolled her eyes at me. "If it can hold my dad, Filipo, and me, I'm sure it can manage you."

  "And you know where we're going?"

  She eyed the sky; it was early evening. "It's gonna get dark soon and I, for sure, don't fancy making the trip at night. Filipo could do it, and so could Dad, but if I'm navigating? We'd best get moving."

  "That's not exactly inspiring my confidence, Doc."

  She just shrugged. "Yeah, well, I'm what you got."

  "Getting lost in the 'Glades isn't going to help our case any, Lola."

  A man appeared in the doorway of the trailer. Older, tall, obviously was once powerful, but age had stripped him of his muscle mass. Long hair pulled back in a ponytail, shading his eyes against the sun with one hand. The other hand clutched a sawed-off shotgun.

  "Who that out there?" he called out.

  Lola exited the Jeep, waving. "Hi, Uncle Filipo!"

  "Lola? What'chu doing out here? Talofa, baby girl, o a mai oe?"

  "I--" She halted, obviously struggling with what to say. "I need to see Dad."

  "He been askin' 'bout you. Been a while."

  "I know, Uncle. I just...it's been busy, you know?"

  Filipo shrugged. "Not so busy 'round here, baby girl." He ducked, trying to see more of me. "Fancy new wheels, huh? Who that wit' you?"

  She shot me a glance, jerked her head to indicate I should get out too. I shut off the engine, snagged my backpack, unfolded from the vehicle.

  Filipo's eyes widened as I reached my full height. "O'ai oe?"

  Lola gestured for me to join her as she moved toward the house. "Uncle Filipo, this is my--this is Thresh."

  Filipo didn't move, didn't relax, but he also didn't level the scattergun at me. "What kinda name is that?"

  I lifted a shoulder. "The one I go by."

  "Not what your mama gave you, though." That didn't seem to require a response, so I didn't offer one. Filipo turned his attention back to Lola. "Tai don't like strangers, baby girl. You know that. 'Specially not a big fuck-off alelo like that."

  "No shit, Filipo. Think I don't know that? I wouldn't have brought him this far if it wasn't important."

  Filipo considered. "You ain't ever been valea, so I guess it's all right. But you gotta come in and tell me what trouble you got into." He stood in the doorway as Lola and I made our way inside, and I know the wary, sharp-eyed old man didn't miss the knife on my belt, or the gun at my back.

  The inside of the trailer matched the outside. Cluttered, dirty, old. He'd been here a long-ass time, and didn't give much of a shit about appearances. Beer bottles and soda cans were clustered on a coffee table, along with an overflowing ashtray, contractor bags full of more empty bottles, takeout containers, dishes, and more than anything else, fishing gear. Tackle boxes, lures, flies, rods, reels, and wad
ers. If there was anything that helped catch fish, Filipo had several of them of varying ages and qualities.

  He cleared off the couch by sweeping his arm across it to knock the detritus to the floor, and then kicking it aside. Lola sat beside him, while I did my best to hunker near the door. The trailer was small enough that I barely cleared the ceiling if I stood upright, which only served to make me feel all the more conspicuous and claustrophobic. The smell of cigarettes and old booze, the fake panel walls, the threadbare couch, the shit everywhere, the oppressive heat and humidity...I was back in the trailer in Mississippi again. I hooked my thumb in my hip pocket and focused on keeping my breathing even.

  Filipo focused on Lola. "Why you here, Lola? Real talk."

  "I'm just...there's trouble. I need to get away for a while. I thought I could go in and see Dad for a few days." She looked at me. "He's helping me."

  "Help you do what?"

  "Keep away from the trouble."

  "What's the trouble?"

  "Less you know, better for you," I said.

  Sharp dark eyes fixed on me. "That kinda trouble, huh? So you're runnin' into the 'Glades to get away?"

  "I'm taking her in there, make sure she gets there, and then I'm gonna go handle things."

  "Problem with that is you go in, you don't come out unless you know the way."

  I hadn't considered that aspect.

  "I'll figure something out. Just gotta get her somewhere safe. So we need the boat, so Lola can get us in there."

  Filipo tapped the shotgun barrel against his palm, eyeing me thoughtfully. "Your trouble...it gonna find its way down here?"

  I bobbed my head side to side. "Maybe. Seems likely, honestly." I jerked my chin at his shotgun. "Anyone shows up that ain't me or her, shoot first and ask questions later."

  Filipo nodded. "Got'chu. Got no hold up 'bout that. My girl, here." He nodded at Lola. "You and her--"

  "Ua lava, Filipo. That's my business."

  "That susopoki what done you over--"

  Lola's eyes blazed. "I said enough, Filipo. That's...my...business."

  He raised his hands. "Fine, fine." A thumb jerked at me--"But this pukio, if he--"

  "Filipo!" Lola hissed.

  He let out a breath, stood up, and patted the air placatingly. "You know I'm gonna worry. But you take care of it. Whatever. I'll get the boat in the water."

  He left the trailer with a slam of the screen door, and that sound, the bang of the door...fuck, man. Shoot a fucking cannon next to me, I won't flinch. Grenades going off every which way? No problem. That slam of the screen door? I jumped half a foot.

  And bet your ass Lola noticed. "Thresh, you okay?"

  I shook my head. "This fucking trailer, man. Keep expecting to see my old man stumble outta that bathroom." I had to shut my eyes and shake my head to clear the thought. "Sooner we're gone, the better."

  I shoved open the screen door, exited the trailer, careful to not let the door slam--old habit. Lola wasn't far behind me, her hand on my shoulder as I moved toward the Jeep.

  She didn't say anything, which was fine, since there wasn't much to be said.

  Eventually, she glanced up at me, digging a toe in the dirt. "Where we're going, there's no signal of any kind. You want to get hold of your guys, you'd best call them now."

  I nodded, dug my burner phone out of my pocket, dialed Duke. It rang, and rang, and rang...which wasn't like him. He always answered on the second ring, always. Especially if it was me calling. Worry seared through me. I dialed Puck.

  "Who's this?"

  "This is Thresh. Burner phone."

  He'd answered on the fourth ring. "Hey, Thresh, can't talk long, man. Got some shit going on."

  "That shit come in the form of Euro-trash thugs?" I asked.

  "Got it in one. You too?"

  "Yeah. I'm about to go way off the grid and wanted to check in. You hear from Duke?"

  "Negative. He's been radio silent for a few days. Anselm called me, though, gave me a head's-up. Problem is, these guys aren't the typical bone-headed thugs Cain usually hires. These dudes know their shit. Watch your tail, big man."

  "This is what he wants, you know." I let out a frustrated breath. "Separating us, keeping us off-balance."

  "Got that right, and it's working." I heard rustling in the background, the blare and roar of a train. "Gotta go, my ride's here and I'm gonna lose you. Listen, you remember the spot I showed you? The Ozarks? Where we shot cans and got shitfaced?"

  "Yeah," I answered.

  "Meet me there. Soon as you can make it. We gotta coordinate, take these fuckers down and go after Cain. This shit ain't gonna fly. I got plans, and they don't include running around this damn globe ducking bullets."

  "Hear that, Puck, I hear that. Can't say when I'll make it, but I'll be there."

  "Check you later."

  "Right." I ended the call, dialed another number.

  Three rings, and Anselm answered. "Thresh. Did you lose your tail?"

  I wondered if I wanted to know how Anselm knew it was me, since I was on a burner. "And a couple others."

  "They are on Puck's tail, and Duke is not responding to communication. I am in search of his last known whereabouts."

  "Yeah, I just talked to Puck." I lowered my voice, even though there was only Lola nearby. "I spoke to Cain himself, briefly."

  A stunned pause. "I see... and?"

  "I think Cain might be a little smarter than Harris gives him credit for. He's going after all of us in A1S. At once, I think."

  "I wondered about this." Anselm paused for a moment. "I have not noticed a tail, but then, I think anyone would have a difficult time finding me anyway, even if they knew where to look. I will stay out of their purview as long as I can, see what I can do."

  "I'm getting Lola somewhere safe. You need to make sure everyone else knows what's going on."

  "What is this safe place?"

  "Her dad is a hermit, lives deep in the Everglades somewhere. I figured she could chill with him till we get this sorted out."

  "I think you should stay with her, Thresh. I know you will disagree, but you are recently injured already--"

  "I lost one tail and took out three others. I think I'll be fine."

  "We must begin assuming Cain is a very real threat, with a reach further than what we had originally considered."

  "You've got a point, but--"

  "Thresh." Anselm cut me off, his voice hard, which got my attention. Anselm was unfailingly polite under all circumstances, and never raised his voice. So for him to snap at me...

  "Anselm?"

  "You have never, in the years I've known you, expressed interest in any female to the extent which you have toward this Dr. Reed. This means something, for me. You must protect her. If they found her, when none of us even knew her name, then I think this danger goes beyond our scope of understanding. Stay with her. Protect her. I will have Lear begin tracking you, and then arrange an extraction. For her to be safe, and for us to have the use of your skills in your full capacity, then she must be in a place which we can control."

  "Fine. Agreed."

  "Das ist gut. Expect a call from Lear."

  "Thanks, Anselm." I was about to hang up, when I remembered a promise I'd made, back in Miami, to a certain hipster-douche. "Anselm, one other thing. I sort of borrowed a car. It's parked outside a trailer in Plantation Island, Florida. I'd like it returned to its original owner if possible, or have the guy recompensed, if not."

  "Consider it done."

  "Thanks, again."

  "Es ist nichts."

  I hung up, then, and Lola leaned against me.

  "What's going on?" she asked.

  "Just making plans," I said.

  "Which are what?"

  "Well, for now, we continue with our original plan to go see your pops, and then we hang tight. My boy Lear is going to use his hacker magic to track us, and someone is going to pop in for an extraction."

  "An extraction? What does that me
an, exactly?"

  I shrugged. "I dunno. A helicopter, probably."

  "There will be nowhere to land, and the backwash could cause major damage," Lola pointed out.

  "It won't be that kind of an extraction, babe. Harris will swing by with a helicopter, pop into a hover a hundred or so feet up, and someone will be in the back to lower down a cable which we'll hang on to while they haul us in."

  Lola stared at me, looking skeptical. "That sounds...fun?"

  I laughed. "Don't worry, Doc, I'll keep a good hold on you." When she only frowned harder, I rolled my eyes at her. "You'll be clipped to the cable. It'll be fine. I've done it dozens of times."

  "If you say so."

  I gestured at the nearby river, which I assumed led out to the channels and canals into which we were soon to be venturing. "I'm trusting you to get us in there, you trust me to get us out, okay?"

  She nodded. "Fine. But I'm not super keen on helicopters."

  "And I'm not super keen on riding in a tin pot through a vast wetland. Times like this, you do what you gotta do."

  My burner phone rang just then. I accepted the call. "Lear, talk to me."

  "Got to make this fast, Muscles. Just stay on the line for me while I run the triangulation..." The line went quiet for several moments, and then I heard Lear snap his fingers on the other end. "Gotcha. Damn, you are way the hell out there, man."

  "Just getting started, my friend. I won't have signal where I'm going."

  "That doesn't matter. Now that I've got your location pinged, I can keep a close eye on you. Harris is getting a bead on a helo down that way, and then he'll scramble one of his faster rides to get down there."

  "Is everyone else accounted for? I spoke to Anselm and Puck, and now you, and you've spoken to Harris."

  "Duke is the only one we can't get hold of. Layla is with Harris, obviously."

  "Can you do anything to find Duke?"

  "That's why I'm trying to get you sorted as fast as possible. Either he's intentionally gone dark, or something happened, because I'm having trouble pinning him down. I know Anselm is working things on his end, too. We'll find him."

  "I'm not worried about him," I lied. "I'm worried he'll have all the fun without me."

  "He would never." Lear was tapping at a keyboard in the background. "Okay, Harris is en route to you. He said to expect him in a few hours."

  "Great. See you soon, little buddy."

  "Oh fuck off, you damn tree." He clicked off with an amused chuckle.

  I stuffed the phone back into my pocket, and ran my palm over my mohawk with a frustrated huff. "Goddammit, Duke."