“Yeah, yeah. We’re wasting time here, boy scout.” Wilson swung onto his bike, grabbing the Boy’s Bomb gas tank as he did. He kicked off, and built up speed. Even with the tank being mostly empty, Wilson had a hard time steering straight.
Minutes later Wilson stopped and handed the tank back to Parker. “Can you ride the rest of the way with this?”
Parker tested the weight. “Definitely. Let’s get out of here.”
Within fifteen minutes Parker had the less than half-full tank reconnected in the Boy’s Bomb. Jelly was gone—which was just as well. They didn’t need her slowing them down. Together Parker and Wilson dragged the boat into the shallow water and hoisted themselves inside.
Parker primed the gas line with the squeeze bulb and the outboard fired up immediately. Parker revved it a couple of times and adjusted the choke until the engine sounded smooth and strong. He backed away from shore and spun the boat around. The moon was bright and nearly full, but still the distant shoreline was one black mass—like a massive gator low in the water. He opened the throttle and steered in the rough direction of the Lopez River.
He handed his phone off to Wilson. “Text my dad. Tell him what we’re doing—and that we’ll turn back if he catches up to us before we find Maria.”
Wilson gave him a look like he thought Parker was crazy. His thumbs flew over the screen and he pushed send. “Okay. You’ve notified the troop leader—just like a good boy scout should.”
Parker only throttled back when they got too close to shore to risk going faster. Wilson pulled out the portable searchlight from under the seat and swept the shoreline until they found the mouth of the Lopez. Parker steered right for it, and dropped his speed even more.
Even as he entered the Lopez, he could feel the change. It wasn’t just that the overhanging trees blocked out the stars. The air felt thicker. The shadows blacker.
Wilson held the light in the dead center of the river. The Lopez twisted and turned like the river itself was a giant python, leading them to its lair.
Parker spun the wheel, doing his best to keep the boat away from the banks—and away from anything that might drop down on them from branches above. He half expected Maria to appear at any moment—relieved to see them. She’d realize how stupid she’d been. And she’d listen as he and Wilson talked some sense into her. But the surface of the water was deathly still. Not a ripple from a kayak as far as he could see.
The searchlight picked up the fiery orange glow reflecting back from pairs of alligator eyes. Lots of them. Watching. Waiting. And Maria was somewhere ahead in the darkness, with who knew how many gators. “We aren’t alone.”
“Wicked peepers on those beasts,” Wilson said.
Like embers from the pit of hell.
Suddenly water pooled around Parker’s ankles. He dropped the gearshift into neutral. “Give me some light back here. We’ve got water.”
And it was coming in fast.
“You forgot the plug, idiot.”
Sure enough, now that they’d slowed down, water was rushing in through the drain hole at the bottom of the transom like somebody had attached a garden hose.
Parker stood. “I put the plug back in when I left to find you—and the gas tank—so I’d be ready. I’m sure of it.” He dropped to his knees and swept his hands through the water in the stern—now a good five inches deep and getting deeper by the second. “I must not have screwed it in tight enough.” He’d been making one mistake after another.
Wilson stood over him, shining the light in the sloshing water. “Where’s your spare?”
Parker pointed to the compartment under the seat. “Plastic container. Blue lid. I’ve got a couple spares in there.” Wilson swung the light away, plunging the stern into dark shadows while he rummaged through the storage bin.
“Found the container,” Wilson said. “But there’s nothing here, Bucky.”
“Impossible.” Parker scrambled to the seat and double-checked. “I always keep spares.” But Wilson was right. No plugs.
“Got anything we can jam in the hole?”
“Your finger.”
Wilson hesitated for an instant, then dove for the back and plugged it with his palm. “If you think I’m sticking my finger through that hole so a gator can gnaw it off, you’re crazy. Find something else.”
Parker found a rag under the seat and forced one corner of it into the hole. It wasn’t perfect, but it made a decent temporary fix.
Both of them stared at the makeshift plug. Only when it held for a full minute did Parker dare look around to assess their situation. Going into alligator-infested waters with minimal gas and only a rag to keep them from sinking? Not happening. Their search for Maria was over less than thirty minutes after they’d left Smallwood’s. He swung the searchlight for one last look upstream—hoping to see the red kayak. He let out a piercing whistle. Shouted her name. Listened.
Nothing—except the creepy sounds of the jungle surrounding them. It would be up to his dad to find Maria now . . . and Uncle Sammy. “We’ve got to go back.”
Wilson nodded. “What is it with you and the Everglades?”
Parker rubbed down the numbness in his arm. “The place is toxic.” He was no believer in the Miccosukee curse. But he couldn’t deny that bad things kept happening to him here.
Wilson swept his light around the jungle-like banks as if expecting something to lunge at them. “You gotta wonder if this place is out to get you somehow, right?”
Like it wasn’t going to let him escape before it did. “All the time.”
CHAPTER 45
ANGELICA SAT ON THE EDGE of her bed in nearly complete darkness, staring at the dimmed screen of her phone. Maria was out in the dark somewhere. It hardly seemed right for Angelica to have more light than this.
Maria posted images, just like she said she would. Every hour or so, beginning with the one when she launched. Her sister’s plan seemed to be working perfectly. Word spread fast in a town this size. Everybody knew she’d paddled up the Lopez alone. Dad was crazy-worried, just like Maria hoped he’d be. She’d wanted to punish him. And she’d done a bang-up job of it. He was out there searching for her with Parker’s dad. But Maria had too much of a lead to be at risk of being overtaken. The Lopez was a great equalizer. With all the twists and shallows, a skiff with an outboard was a lot more clumsy than a kayak.
Angelica had kept her end of the bargain. And apparently Maria stuck to her plan. Her sister had worked out everything to the last detail. Angelica reached in her pocket and pulled out three transom plugs and set them on the nightstand by her bed. Too bad Maria didn’t have a plan for how Angelica was supposed to deal with the aftershocks. And the guilt.
CHAPTER 46
AFTER SECURING THE BOAT on the beach by Smallwood’s Store, Parker and Wilson biked home and parted ways. Parker texted his dad with a quick update of his own failed attempt to catch Maria. He hated to send it. Hated to admit how helpless it made him feel. But he wanted his dad completely focused on finding Maria, not worrying if Parker was safe.
Parker went to his room, wrote out a quick note to the owner of the boat where they’d gotten the gas, and dug up another five dollars in singles and change.
The last thing he wanted to do was bike back to the marina, but what if the boater left early in the morning to fish or something? He’d head out thinking he had more gas than he did—and could end up stranded. And he’d told Wilson he’d be back tonight to do this—so there was the little issue of keeping his word, too. If he delayed doing the right thing now, what would keep him from coming up with another excuse in the morning? A quick glance at Grandpa’s sign confirmed what he already knew. It’s rarely right to stall off fixing a wrong.
Besides, with Dad and Uncle Sammy in hot pursuit of Maria, it wasn’t like Parker would be able to sleep. Not until he heard they’d picked her up.
He pedaled to the marina, but didn’t push hard. There was no point. He found the boat, left the note and extra cash, and cl
imbed back over the side.
“Unreal, Bucky.”
Parker’s heart nearly exploded in his chest—even though he recognized Wilson’s voice immediately.
“This is unbelievable. Lunacy. Nobody in their right mind would do this.” Wilson stepped out of the shadows. “You’re even more of a boy scout than a Boy Scout, you know that?”
Parker tried to steady his breathing. “What are you doing here? You scared me half to death.”
“Just had to see how deep this integrity thing goes with you.”
“So, I guess you got your answer.”
“Oh yeah.” Wilson shook his head. “You’re totally obsessed with this cockamamy doing-the-right-thing stuff. You need help, man.” Wilson grinned. “I was too revved-up to sleep anyway. Sorry I spooked you.”
Parker grinned back and slugged Wilson in the arm. “No you’re not.”
Wilson laughed. “You’re right. I’m not. Can we go home now?”
Parker appreciated the company on the ride home. But a loneliness settled in the moment he stepped into his dark house. Sure, he was the only one home. But that wasn’t it. This was more of an emptiness. Like he’d lost something important—and nothing was ever going to be the same.
CHAPTER 47
EXACTLY WHEN PARKER ACTUALLY drifted off to sleep, he had no idea. The last he remembered, he was staring at the ceiling above his bed, praying and waiting for Dad to come home—or text with an update.
The early morning sun was doing its best to peel the paint off his bedroom wall at the moment. He squinted and sat up fast. The whole ordeal had to be over by now. Maria probably got picked up hours ago. Why hadn’t his dad let him know?
His phone ended up under his pillow somehow. He grabbed it and checked for messages. Only one—from Jelly.
Check Maria’s Instagram.
He pulled up Maria’s account and sure enough . . . there were a bunch of posts. He whipped back to the first picture she’d posted—the selfie she’d taken when she launched from the beach at Smallwood’s Store. The one he’d seen her shooting as he rode up. In the post she announced to the world that she was doing Watson’s Run. She looked like the Maria he’d always known. Like she was going on an adventure and totally looking forward to it.
She’d posted another picture just thirty minutes later, shortly after she’d entered the Lopez River. Probably about the time Parker and Wilson were biking from Rosie’s house with the gas tank. The following couple of pictures she’d posted were similar. Smiling. Looking almost defiant. Like she was proving a point. One was posted at 10:35. The other at 11:00.
He scrolled to her next photo—posted just after midnight. Another selfie. Another caption. Maria in the cockpit of her kayak—but no smile this time. The water surrounding her was oily black, and she looked so completely alone. Except for one thing. The glow from the eyes of the alligators trailing her wake. The light from her flash reflected off them perfectly. Had she known? I may have taken a wrong artery. I’m hopelessly turned around. Wish it was morning. At least I’ve got company. LOL! She definitely wasn’t laughing in the photo. Parker studied her eyes. They were different.
There was only one more post. The selfie wasn’t posed like the others. Blurred and slightly angled, it looked like it had been taken on the fly. Wet hair in her face. Have to keep moving . . . gators. One’s a monster—and aggressive. I’m thinking Watson’s Run was a bad idea.
“Dear God,” Parker whispered. “Tell me they found her okay.” He glanced out the window. No pickup.
Which probably meant Dad and Uncle Sammy had caught up to Maria, right? They’d brought her back to the marina or the ranger station and were having a heart-to-heart with her. That’s why Maria’s posts stopped. That had to be it.
Parker checked his phone. No missed calls or messages. He rubbed down the goose bumps on his arms.
He punched in Dad’s number, but the thing went to voicemail immediately. Great.
He swung out of bed and ran down to Dad’s office. Everything was just as it had been when Parker got in last night.
So Dad hadn’t stopped home yet.
“C’mon, Dad,” Parker whispered. “Tell me you’re not still out searching.” He stepped closer to the nautical chart tacked to Dad’s wall and quickly located the opening of the Lopez River. Parker studied it. Pictured the point where he and Wilson had been forced to turn back.
He turned and faced the alligator skull. Was the beast grinning?
For an instant, he remembered the cash. He boosted himself onto his Dad’s desk and stood. He stared down the empty throat and froze. Seventy-three hundred dollars. Gone.
Had Dad paid someone to keep Maria and Kingman apart? It was wasted money. Maria’s latest stunt kept them apart just as effectively as Parker’s texts had.
Parker’s phone rang. He hopped to the floor and whipped the phone out of his pocket. Dad.
“Parker.” Dad hesitated. Cleared his throat.
Parker’s stomach churned. “Dad? You found her, right? She’s okay?”
He cleared his throat again. “We found her kayak.”
Was the room spinning, just a bit? “What?” Parker grabbed the edge of Dad’s desk to steady himself. “What about Maria?”
“Still looking.” His voice had that official park ranger sound. But it was forced. “I just didn’t want you hearing from someone else. We’re meeting at the marina to refuel. Mobilizing more SAR teams to broaden the search.”
More search and rescue teams? For an instant Parker wished this was like any other Sunday morning. They’d go to church and—Parker shook off his thoughts. “I want to help.”
Dad was quiet. “Meet me at the marina. We’ll talk about it then.”
That didn’t sound promising. “Where’d you find her kayak? On shore, right?” Maybe she’d gotten spooked, pulled her kayak up the bank, and made a shelter. But there really wasn’t much shore along the Lopez River at all with how high the water had risen. Maybe she climbed a tree. “Dad? The kayak—where was it?”
“In Sunday Bay. Not far from where the Lopez opens up into it.”
Dad’s words hit like a gut punch. He checked the chart. Found Sunday Bay. “Just floating there . . . empty?”
“Just meet me at the marina.”
“Dad. Tell me.”
A long pause. “Upside down. Half submerged. Gotta go. Just get here.” He disconnected.
Parker slumped down into Dad’s chair and stared into space.
The gator skull stared back—its smile stretching ever-so-slightly wider.
“Jesus,” Parker started his prayer—but had no idea what to say next. “Jesus, help us.” Maria had kayaked right into the mouth of the Lopez, and kept paddling down the twists and turns of the river’s throat. And sometime after midnight, the river had swallowed Maria Malnatti whole.
CHAPTER 48
PARKER DASHED A TEXT OFF to Wilson and pedaled for the marina. Wilson swooped in alongside him on the way, and they both kicked on the afterburners.
The marina was buzzing. Locals, mostly. Word had spread fast, and every guy with a boat small enough to handle the shallows of the Lopez River was heading out to search.
Several rangers stood by the docks, talking to Parker’s dad. Parker dumped his bike and ran to him.
Shirt untucked, uniform wet up to his chest, Dad looked like he’d been out searching all night. He smiled when he saw Parker. It was one of those sorry smiles people greeted each other with at funeral homes.
Dad held up a finger to the other two rangers. “Give us a minute.” He put his arm around Parker’s shoulders and steered him away from the others. Wilson followed.
“Search and rescue is out in full force. Has been since sunrise.” He avoided Parker’s eyes.
“Any other signs of her? You checked the shore all around where you found her kayak?”
“Her paddle. Half of it anyway.”
“Half?” Wilson stepped closer. “Broken—or bitten in two?”
&
nbsp; Dad hesitated. “I really can’t tell with any certainty.”
Parker groaned. “Where’d you find it?”
“Stuck in the reeds. Maybe thirty yards from the kayak.”
Had an alligator attacked? Did Maria try to beat it away with her paddle? What if the monster clamped down on it—and jerked it from her hands with enough force to make her lose her balance and roll the kayak?
“We righted the kayak and searched the area. I locked in the coordinates and took a few pictures.” Dad pulled out his phone. “We found nothing more.”
“Can I see the photos?”
Dad gave him a questioning look.
“I just have to see.” It made no sense, but he had to see if there was something they missed. And there was another reason, wasn’t there?
Dad scrolled back, settled on a photo, and handed Parker the phone.
The kayak was near shore. Upside down. With the bow a little lower than the stern. No paddle in sight. The shore was dense with black willows, cypress, and sedge grass everywhere in between. Spanish moss hung in ghost-like clumps from low branches.
Wilson shouldered in to view the screen. “Looks like a million other places on the Lopez. Good thing you took the coordinates. You’d never find this place again without them.”
But no two places look exactly alike. The spot was unique. Parker just had to absorb it all. Like the cypress with the massive strangler vine wrapped around it. And another cypress, set back from the shoreline by what, maybe twenty feet? Barely distinguishable in the photo, but the way the trunk twisted in one spot reminded Parker of a giant licorice stick. And the vine wrapped around it partway up the trunk almost perfectly horizontal—like a strap. Oh, yeah. Parker could find this spot. He let his brain burn every tiny detail into some kind of neurological high-res scan. He was going to find this spot—and he needed to recognize it when he got there.
Escape from the Everglades Page 21