by Ryan King
"Why's he got to be black?" asked Charles, pointing at his own dark face with mock offense.
"Anyway," continued Jack, "I grew up calling him Uncle Johnny, and he showed us Bog Island. He had a small house there. Said that back a hundred years ago it was owned by his family for generations. Part of a small settlement started by former slaves after the Civil War. Government eventually took it over, but left part of the island to those who didn't want to leave."
Brian pointed ahead of them. "That must be it. Doesn't look too bad. Bigger than I would have thought."
They all gazed towards an island that rose out of the early morning mists. Sunlight glinted off canopies of trees that stretched away as far as the eye could see.
Jack steered toward a shallow spot near shore he knew about. "It's nearly eight hundred square acres, most of it covered in woods, but there are some low-lying ground you have to watch out for."
"Like quicksand?" asked Amanda with a touch of unease.
"More like muck," Jack said, looking at Amanda's expensive leather loafers. "Might ruin your shoes. I recommend everyone put on sandals or be prepared to go barefoot in spots. We'll have to do a little bit of walking."
"Walking to where?" asked Heather.
"Why Uncle Johnny's house, of course," answered Jack.
"You mean he still lives here?" asked Evan.
Jack shrugged. "Sure, why not. He's retired, can live wherever he wants. Why not live on his family land? He has a little cabin and can go over to mainland for groceries whenever he wants. All he likes to do anyway is fish and drink whiskey."
"Then this is likely paradise for him," said Charles.
"He'll know where the fish are biting and the best places to camp," said Jack, easing the boat in slowly towards shore while watching the depth finder. When there was only three feet of water under them, he cut the engine and let them glide in slowly. When there was only a foot of clearance, Jack tossed an anchor out behind them. He felt the boat slow and tug at the line. Before it could start slipping back out towards the water, he tossed another anchor off the front of the boat and felt them stabilize.
"Looks like you've done this a few times," commented Brian.
"That I have," answered Jack. "Now just grab what you need for a little hike. We'll be back before dark for our gear."
"I got the beer," said Charles, filling a small cooler with ice and cold drinks.
"It's good to see a man with his priorities in the right place," said Brian.
"Hey, dude," said Charles seriously, "it's hot out there. Dehydration is serious." He studied the cooler before pulling sandwiches and snacks out and repacking in order to fit in an additional few beers.
Jack led the way by leaping into the shallow water with a light pack on his back. He helped Heather and Evan down while everyone else just jumped over the side. Charles nearly fell face first into the water while trying to wrestle with the awkward cooler.
"You need some help with that?" asked Brian.
"Don't even think about it," answered Charles. "This here cooler and I are going to be inseparable for the next few days."
"Ah, sounds like true love," said Heather, "so beautiful and so rare."
Jack looked at Heather, not sure if she was also making a quip at his expense, but she just winked at him and strode up onto the sandy bank.
"Okay, which way, our fearless guide?" asked Brian.
"This way," said Jack, walking into the woods. He had feared he might have forgotten the geography over the past ten years, but there was no hesitation. He knew this island better than he knew his own hometown.
The group of six walked in the light underbrush for half an hour. Birds joyfully called out to each other from the trees above them. The old trail was curiously grown up and the smell of clean damp earth filled the air. Jack always remembered the trail from the north bank to Uncle Johnny's cabin as being well worn.
A lot could change in ten years, Jack thought. Uncle Johnny kept his fishing boat in a cove on the south side of the island, so maybe no one uses this trail very much anymore.
Jack walked around a corner and into an open clearing and froze.
There was nothing there. He knew this was the spot, but the clearing was empty except for a few birds and insects playing in the light as it filtered in from the opening above.
"What's wrong?" asked Brian from behind him.
"This is where Uncle Johnny's cabin was," said Jack.
"Are you sure?" asked Evan. "You said it's been ten years. Hell, I can't remember where my car keys are right now, so maybe you misremembered or something."
"No," said Jack. A feeling of unease washed over him. "This is definitely the spot."
They all walked into the clearing and gathered around the old stone foundation of what had once been a small cabin.
"Maybe he moved on," said Heather.
"Or died," said Brian.
"Brian!" hissed Amanda reproachfully.
"I'm just saying," Brian answered with his hands out to his side. "It does happen on occasion, I hear. Uncle Johnny doesn't sound like a spring chicken to me."
"No, he was old even when I was a boy," said Jack, staring at the ground.
"Did he have any family?" asked Charles. "Could be he got where he couldn't take care of himself and they moved him in with them."
Jack shook his head. "Not that he ever mentioned, but I guess he could have had some distant relatives. If he had any, he never talked about them, though."
"So what now?" asked Heather. "Do we head back and go somewhere else?"
"Head back?" asked Brian. "We just got here, and I like the feel of this place. Jack was right, it is peaceful."
"You okay with that?" Charles asked Jack. "Maybe find someplace to sit and drink these delicious and so far unappreciated beers?"
"You have a one-track mind," said Heather.
Charles pulled the cooler up close to his face while caressing its hard surface. "Don't listen to them, little buddies, they just don't understand our love."
"Oh, good grief," said Amanda turning away. "Let's go find someplace with a stream or something. It's getting hot as hell, and I'd like to sit in some cool water."
Jack thought for a moment. "I think I know just the spot. Let's head that way." He pointed to a trail that led to the south.
They all began walking with Jack bringing up the rear. He was about to leave the clearing and looked back one final time at where Uncle Johnny's cabin used to sit. He saw the pattern in the grass all at once and walked over again. The ground was indented where the foundation of the cabin had sat. It was all gone except for hard indentions in the soil and a faint smell of ash.
Sun reflected for a moment off something in the tall grass and then it was gone. Jack froze and backed up a few steps and saw the shinny surface again.
He walked towards it and he sucked in his breath when he recognized the object.
Uncle Johnny had always been a sort of handyman. He proudly proclaimed that he hadn't made it past the sixth grade, but could build or fix damn near anything if given enough time, and Jack believed him. The old man had a small toolbox he frequently used, but often as not relied on a small pearl-handled pocket knife he said he had won in a poker game when he was younger. Jack had asked the old man what the initials JAT on the pearl handle stood for, and Uncle Johnny had just shrugged.
Jack reached down and pulled the knife out of the ground. It had been one of the blades sticking up that had caught the light. Jack rubbed his thumb on the surface to clear off the dirt, and JAT stood out clearly on the pearl handle. He rubbed his thumb across the dirty tip of the blade before pulling it away. He stopped and looked at the flakes of dried substance on his thumb.
Brownish red. Blood? he wondered, and the uneasy feeling returned.
"Hey, fearless guide," yelled Brian from the head of the trail. "You coming or what?"
He thought to tell them about the knife, but not now. Not until he figured out what it meant. He certainly di
dn't want to dampen the mood any further.
"On my way," yelled Jack. He folded the knife up and put it in his pocket before following his friends down the old trail that led into the heart of the island.
Chapter 3
The old adage said that some men were destined for greatness. That their rise to an exceptional life was somehow preordained, monitored and constantly tweaked by a steady and reliable captain. Governor Eric St Keel had always wanted to believe such a thing about himself.
But if someone or something was in charge, guiding me down this road, he wondered, then why do I often feel so lost? Why can I see nothing but darkness ahead?
"They'll be ready in five minutes, sir," said Lucas Ross, his chief-of-staff.
"Thank you," answered the Governor of the State of Louisiana. Eric St Keel opened his mouth to tell his chief-of-staff for perhaps the thousandth time that he could call him by his first name. After all, they had known each other since elementary school.
Lucas Ross looked at him, every facet of his formidable presence focused on the governor's needs and wishes. People called Lucas 'The General', but only behind his back. Colonel Lucas Ross had retired from the army after twenty-five years of service in a variety of specialized and covert units that Eric still did not fully understand or care to know about. He might have made general if not for the debacle in Oman.
It had been natural for the governor to offer his friend a job. Since assuming the post as chief-of-staff, Lucas had helped propel Eric St Keel from Congressman of Louisiana's 9th Congressional District to Governor.
"Did you need something else?" his old friend asked.
"Nothing," St Keel said, releasing him to do what he did best: take care of Eric and make sure that nothing nor anyone threatened him or the governor's office.
St Keel looked down at his notes. Today's televised interview was important. The network had wanted a live broadcast, but Lucas had argued adamantly against it knowing any misstep on live television could be a death blow to the governor's future political aspirations. If anything went wrong during a taped event, Lucas would make sure the offensive segment got taken out with or without the network's permission.
An aide brought Eric a cup of coffee at the same time a sound technician placed a miniature microphone on his jacket lapel and quickly conducted a sound check. Satisfied, he moved over to do the same with the arriving host of the Our Nation show, Miss Candice Stapleton.
She ignored the sound technician and strode up to St Keel, beaming a perfect smile to match her lean athletic figure, aristocratic confidence, and dark sultry eyes that made her just right for the television cameras.
"Good to see you, Governor," she said. "Thank you so very much for agreeing to come on my show."
"My pleasure." St Keel stood to greet her. "How is your dear mother, Beatrice, doing?" Lucas always prepared him for such events with information and names that endeared him to all he met.
Candice's calm slipped, and her eyelids trembled ever so slightly. "She is recovering; a stroke, they say. That's so very nice of you to ask."
St Keel patted her hand with a sympathetic nod, establishing what Lucas called an 'anchor', endearing the host to him even before the interview began. "Thank the Lord, such a wonderful woman. And an excellent dancer, if I might be so bold as to say. She nearly took my breath away at the Christmas party."
Candice laughed and then got sad again. "Yes, she always did love dancing. I fear she may never be the same again."
Eric St Keel moved close to her and lowered his voice, establishing an intimate and comforting moment that he hoped she would remember when discussing him to her considerable fan base. Lucas had told him that Candice had lost her father when she was very young and often sought out father figures. "Never fear, child. What we love can't be taken from us. The joy is always there, no matter what."
She turned a hopeful smile up to him. "Thank you, sir."
"We're ready whenever you are," the set engineer told them both from a raised and brightly lit platform.
"Excellent," answered Candice briskly, reassuming her businesslike role as the sound technician attached her microphone. "I trust you've had an opportunity to look over the questions. Any concerns or issues?"
"None," he answered. "I'm an open book."
"Very good then. Shall we begin?"
St Keel nodded, and the set engineer gave a few signals before pointing at Candice who fluffed her hair as the light on top of the cameras lit up bright red.
"Good evening. I'm Candice Stapleton, and tonight on Our Nation, we have the pleasure of talking to the Governor of the State of Louisiana, Eric St Keel. Welcome to the show, Governor."
"Thank you, Candice." St Keel beamed at the camera first and then at the woman beside him. "It is an honor to be here."
Candice looked at the teleprompter. "Let's start by talking about your Take Back the Streets program. The results have been extraordinary in some of Louisiana's largest cities, especially New Orleans. Violence in all categories is down, gang activity is practically a thing of the past, and homeless people are off the streets. Tourism is booming in a city that many gave up for dead. Bourbon Street is cleaner than anyone has ever seen it and safe to walk down at midnight. The entire state is experiencing a financial rejuvenation while the rest of the country is in the middle of a recession. How did all of this happen?"
St Keel looked at Candice with a concerned look. "Frankly, it starts with empathy and understanding, Candice. Many of the people in our state are not unemployed or homeless or driven to criminal acts because they want to be, but because they have no other choice. A big part of the Take Back the Streets Program is finding jobs and assistance for those in need. Although many said this program would be cost prohibitive, the increased tax revenues we have gained have more than paid for the program and have not cost a single citizen of this great state a dime."
"Empathy and understanding," Candice said. "Helping people find jobs and assistance, that's a fairly novel approach for a conservative, wouldn't you say?"
"Actually, no. Many politicians have suffered from an image problem for years, especially in this state. The members of my party care deeply for each and every American, and only want what is best for this country. It's about revenue of course, but it's also about service. The people of this great state hired me to perform a service for them, and I vowed the day I assumed office that I would do right by each and every one of them. I mean to keep that promise."
Candice smiled. "Speaking of assuming office, you're two years into your second term as governor. Although there has been talk of amending the Louisiana Constitution to allow you to run for a third term, it doesn't appear to have the opposition votes needed to carry it. What do you intend to do after this term?"
St Keel glanced over at Lucas who shook his head slightly. The governor looked at the camera. "Right now, I have no further aspirations other than leading this state. I wake up every morning asking myself what I can do to make the lives of my fellow Louisianans better. I frankly don't have the time or the inclination to worry about a political future. I still have lots of work to do for Louisiana."
Candice dug in. "There are some who have floated your name as a potential vice-president candidate for President Janice Wilkens. The latest polls have her popularity ratings dropping. Many believe it's because of the recent gaff by Vice-President Tipton with the Mexican government. Strategists are saying in two years President Wilkens' ballot needs to have you on it to stand a chance. Some have even gone so far as to suggest you as a presidential nomination."
Governor St Keel had to resist a smile. Candice had played this exactly as Lucas said she would. He frowned at her. "Candice, I frankly don't like that kind of talk. It is counter-productive. The president has my full support during this trying time."
"Governor, if I may..." Candice pulled out a sheet of paper. "Last year you spoke at the funeral of your dear lifelong friend, Louisiana Supreme Court Judge Jeremiah Winter."
"Yes," said St Keel, and he didn't have to fake the emotion that was in his voice. "He was a good man, a wise judge, and a friend I miss."
"You said in your speech, and I quote, 'Judge Jeremiah Winter exemplified a selfless life filled with honorable endeavors with the sole purpose of lifting up civilization and society from the animal baseness that is always roaming about our society. All men and women of such a society have an obligation to do whatever is called upon them, no matter how unwanted that obligation may be,' end quote."
Eric St Keel glanced at Lucas who had an intense twinkle in his eyes. Not only had his chief-of-staff written that speech, he had somehow planted the snippet in Candice's research team's notes without her being any the wiser.
Candice was leaning in close. Evidently, this was the moment she had been building towards. "With those words that you spoke at the funeral of your dead friend fresh in your mind, if you were called upon to serve as vice-president, or even president...would you accept?"
The governor sat back and looked uncomfortable. Lucas had made him rehearse for this potential event months ago. Inside, he was so excited he wanted to dance a jig, but instead he spoke slowly. "Candice...Candice...as I've said, I'm the governor. That's enough responsibility for any one man. I fully support President Wilkens. She is my president."
Candice leaned in even closer. "But would you accept, Governor St Keel? That is the question. Would you reject a nomination for the President of the United States of America?"
The governor was silent for a long moment as if the idea had never occurred to him. He looked at Candice and then directly into the camera. "Those words I said at Jeremiah Winter's funeral a year ago were from the heart. He inspired me by his example and he was one of the primary reasons I went into politics. I still believe that every citizen has a responsibility to sacrifice for the welfare of the whole and that sometimes means service. Sometimes grudgingly, sometimes unwillingly, but service does not wait for us to be ready."
"That sounds like a yes," said Candice, unable to contain a grin. She knew she would get tons of exposure over this clip. Networks like CNN and Fox would be sure to air bites from her interview.