by Andrew Allan
What if they did actually have a site to build their prurient palace?
Tampa and St. Pete were two sides of Tampa Bay. Which side were they thinking? Tampa was a sprawling city that butted against rural farmland. I didn’t see that attracting the jet set.
St. Pete was closer to the Gulf, on the beach, tropical, resort side. St. Pete was in Pinellas County, a peninsula on the peninsula of Florida.
It was isolated. Isolated enough they could make something of it.
And, no one would question building a resort there.
“That might be it,” I said aloud.
“What?”
“St. Pete.”
“That’s one of the most populated parts of the state. Why build there?”
“I don’t know. I just know that …did the Governor declare a state of emergency for that area?”
“Yes. By Ft. DeSoto.”
It was happening.
It was all goddamn happening.
“You gotta look into it. Please.” I hung up the phone and hurried back to the truck.
“Everything alright?” said DG.
I climbed in.
“How close can you get me to St. Pete?”
53
DG WASN’T HAPPY about it.
But, he couldn’t just drop me off in Dunnellon. I’d never make it out of there. So, it was either drive to Tampa or give me a car, which he may or may not get back.
He drove me.
We avoided the Interstate and opted for smaller highways and county roads—Inverness, Brooksville, south into Land O’ Lakes. That was as far as he would go. He wouldn’t cross the Bay over to Pinellas and Clearwater and St. Pete. Fair enough.
The drive was quiet. I filled DG and Ilsa in on my conversation with Stokely. It didn’t sound promising.
According to Stokely, the Hurricane had struck land as a Category 2. Not huge. But, it was serious enough to cause serious problems in the Tampa Bay Area. Heavy flooding was reported throughout both Pinellas and Hillsborough counties. The Bay had buried Bayshore Boulevard. Gulf Boulevard, which ran north-south along the beach was a total mess with everyone evacuated off the coastal strip.
But, the worst of it was further south on Cabbage Key and Mullet Key. They formed the southernmost tip of Pinellas County. An island and a jut of land set between the Gulf of Mexico and Tampa Bay that did indeed deserve its Most Beautiful Beach in the Country title, which it had been awarded several years in a row. Its most significant landmark was old Ft. Desoto.
Now, it was pretty much gone because the Governor had declared a state of emergency. And, the Kith were moving in.
It was the place they wanted the most with the least likely odds. Their lucky dream had come true. And, they were going to pounce on it.
I wanted to greet them when they arrived.
DG parked behind an abandoned drive-thru food mart.
“Be careful,” said Ilsa.
“I will. I promise.”
There was an awkward moment. How do you say goodbye to someone you may never see again? It hurt worse than just about anything the Kith had done to me.
We hugged. Tight. Long. Made it a good one.
I broke the embrace and looked her in the eyes.
“I will see you soon,” I said.
“I know.” Her voice sounded confident. But, she was unsure.
To DG: “Thanks.”
“You got it.” He gave a salute from inside the truck.
“Gotta stash you away again, sweetie.”
He meant Ilsa, not me.
She gave me a last peck on the cheek and climbed into the truck. No more words. It was time to part.
The truck sped away and left me in the parking lot choking on a cloud of exhaust.
It was going to be a long journey. Land O’ Lakes and Ft. DeSoto were both recognized as being part of the Tampa Bay Area, they were better than fifty miles apart. I didn’t have time to walk that distance.
DG had given me money. It was a good amount, enough to get some people’s attention. I could maybe pay for a ride.
I walked past a sprawl of strip malls, mattress stores, fast food restaurants, and gas stations. Almost all closed.
But, they’d open soon enough to cater to the citizens who had been cooped up in their houses long enough. That would make moving more difficult. That would slow me. Best to get some transportation fast.
I needed to get to Ft. DeSoto.
I needed to find Razook. He’d show up there. Because he’d want to see what he had to work with. Wint would probably be there, too, to take him through the plans. Governor Hoyt might also be there.
I had to be smart. I had to be fast. I had to be first. I had to get there now.
The car dealerships I spotted were closed.
I didn’t know how to hot-wire a car.
The bus wasn’t running.
Florida doesn’t have subways.
I was too afraid to hitch a ride. And, there wasn’t enough traffic.
I had to be smart. I had to be fast. I had to be first. I had to get there now.
I needed that kid’s bike.
He walked out of the lone open convenience store with his friend. They had sodas in hand. And, they were gathering up their bikes.
Not great. But, it was transportation.
“Fellas,” I said.
Their look said Get a load of gramps.
“That looks like a pretty good bike and I want to get across town.”
“Can’t you afford no car?” said the one who looked like his mama didn’t love him.
“Sure, I can.”
I pulled out the wad of bills and their eyes went wide.
“As you can see, the dealerships aren’t open due to the storm. And, Uber drivers are scarce. So, I’m wondering if you wouldn’t mind selling me your bike. I can pay you enough to get a new one.”
His friend said, “You should do it.”
The kid looked vacantly at the bike. “How bad you need it?”
“Two hundred dollars bad.” I held out the money.
He snatched the money, dropped the bike, and said, “Later.”
I had overspent by a mile. But, I had what I needed.
I gathered up the bike, straddled it, and peddled.
A truck screeched to a stop and blocked my path.
“Get in,” said DG.
He looked irritated. And, when I looked past him, Ilsa looked anxious. She waved me over.
“What’s going on?” I de-straddled the bike.
“We are helping you,” said Ilsa.
“What? Thought you didn’t want any part of it.”
“We don’t.”
Ilsa had that don’t-ask-any-questions look on her face. “I know the situation, Walter.”
It was always serious when she used my full name.
“But, what do I have if I don’t have you?”
“I know what I have,” said DG. “Freedom, fun, friends, and a fucking life.”
“So, why’d you drive back?” I said.
He pointed to Ilsa. “She insisted on being with you. God knows why.”
“But, you can’t just drop her off.”
“Exactly. I’ve romped and tossed plenty of chicks without the slightest regret. But, she’s … you know. She’s a woman you don’t do that to.”
“Your chivalrous description could use some improvement,” said Ilsa.
“Easy, DG,” I said.
He slumped in his seat. “You I trust to maybe make it on your own. I would never send her alone.”
“Awfully sexist.”
“I’m old-fashioned that way.”
“So, we’re a trio again.”
Ilsa nodded.
DG dropped his head on the steering wheel.
I tossed the bike in the back of the truck and climbed in the passenger seat.
DG said, “What’s the bike for?”
“I overpaid two-hundred bucks for it. Not getting rid of it now.”
“Wha
t’s the plan,” said Ilsa.
Everything about her—expression, tone, body language—showed she was entirely on board and ready to fight. I had to resist the urge to warn her what might happen. I let it slide. She was smarter than me. She ran a four bar business and deftly handled drunk assholes most nights of the week. She probably had a better idea how to make this work.
“Plan is to get to Ft. DeSoto and see if we can find the Kith.”
“Great plan. Let’s go where we’ll find everyone who wants to murder us.”
“Afraid of a little confrontation?”
“Never.”
He shifted the truck in gear and we rumbled out of there.
How the hell was this all going to play out?
Ft. DeSoto was a big who-freaking-knows?
Cops would be trouble.
Kith would be deadly.
Finding Razook would be.…
He deserved to die.
Feature: Walt shoots Razook in the motherfucking face.
Benefit: That prick is dead for good and his diseased mentality goes with him.
Feature: Walt destroys any Kith plans or hopes or dreams of having a vacation slave resort.
Benefit: The world is a better place.
Feature: Walt carries Razook’s severed head and sets it on Governor Hoyt’s pristine desk and tells him to forget the Kith forever.
Benefit: There was no benefit.
These weren’t features and benefits. This was my anger dreaming. This was—
Ilsa turned to face me.
“Walt, I know you aren’t certain about having me here. But, our life is in turmoil and I am not one to stand by. I honestly did not expect to see you again when I was hiding in that cabin. That broke my heart. The police, the Kith, the news. Who can survive that?”
She didn’t let me answer.
“What I know is you are a good man. Good men sometimes have to do terrible things to make the world right again.”
“Same for good women.”
She nodded. “Yes. I thought about what happened at the ranch while I waited out the storm. I no longer regret it.”
“Why?”
“Because you would have been dead. I would have been dead. Those poor girls would be dead. There is a greater good. I know you would sacrifice your life for it. That’s how I know your motivations are true.”
“I’m not interested in sacrificing your life for it,” I said.
“You won’t. We will get through this.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you are Walt Asher. And, I’m Ilsa Asher. And, we don’t take no shit from no one.”
54
WE GOT AS far as Gulfport.
The small, artsy community was a pocket of St. Petersburg that even local residents tended to forget about. And, the residents preferred it that way.
However, right then, they had flooding to worry about. Gulfport was perched directly next to the Intracoastal. Everyone lived there knowing that if a hurricane ever struck, much of the town would be wiped out.
And, it was; blocks of it. The water in the Intracoastal had simply been pushed from its basin onto many homes and just about all of the businesses. A disaster, for a group of people who didn’t deserve it.
Given the extent of the damage, the place was teeming with police. No one was permitted to go near the flood zone. Traffic was being redirected east towards the Interstate.
I ducked below the seats and under a tarp while DG asked an officer conducting traffic if we could head west, towards the beach. No. The entire beach was closed off. Problem was, when we returned to the Interstate they were sending all vehicles north, in the opposite direction of Ft. DeSoto, where we needed to go.
“Go straight,” I said. What I meant was for DG to skip the Interstate, and go under it into South St. Pete.
“Where we going?” he said.
“Take a right on thirty-first. We can cut down to fifty-fourth, try going across the Bay Way.”
The detour took less than five minutes.
DG did as directed.
Fifty-fourth was the last east-west drag before reaching Maximo Point where the deluxe homes overlooked the waters where Tampa Bay and the Gulf of Mexico merged. The road led directly west to Tierra Verde, a retiree enclave on the way to Ft. DeSoto.
DG pulled the truck onto Fifty-fourth. It was barricaded just on the other side of the Interstate. Dead end—a pair of officers were standing next to their cars turning traffic away.
“Now what?” said Ilsa.
“That’s our only road in or out,” said DG.
“See if you can get behind that plaza.”
DG turned onto thirty-fourth, went a quarter of a mile, u-turned and pulled onto the street running behind the plaza.
“See where this goes,” I said.
We were in a grubby neighborhood filled with houses that preferred to use their front yards for storage. We went over a small canal bridge that led into a more upscale neighborhood. But, that ended in a cul-de-sac.
“End of the road,” said DG.
“Map on your phone?”
“Don’t want to turn it on. In case they’re tracking me.” He reached across Ilsa and opened the glove box. “But, I have this.” He plugged a dash mount GPS into the 12-volt charger and flipped it on. Took a minute to boot up and then several more minutes to download the latest software updates. But, we eventually got a map.
“We’re here,” he said, pointing to a purple dot on the map.”
The house we were parked in front of had a canal behind it.
“Think we can take the water?” I said.
“Our only choice,” said DG.
“Where are we going to get a boat?” said Ilsa.
“Everyone around here has one. Question is, who’s gonna loan one to us?”
“Or, whose can we steal?” said Ilsa.
DG held his hand out. She slapped him five.
“Or, that,” I said.
“We’ll bring it back,” said DG. “Maybe. If we’re in the area.”
I wasn’t going to quibble.
DG pointed to a house with a breeze brick facade. “That place looks empty.”
We climbed out.
DG extracted a screwdriver from the pocket on the side of his door. He walked to the back of the truck, kneeled, and removed the license plate.
“Extra precautions?”
“Yeah. Anyone ties those plates to me, they can tie ‘em to you.”
“What about the VIN number in the window?”
“Long gone,” he said.
He tossed the screwdriver and plate back in the truck.
We hurried over to the breeze brick house. A paver trail cut along the side to the backyard. There was a boat hanging from a davit.
Didn’t see anyone who could see us.
DG flipped a switch mounted on a dock pylon. Nothing. “Power’s out. Davit won’t lower the boat.”
What good was having a boat if you couldn’t put it in the water?
“Means there’s no power in the house,” said DG.
“So?”
“So, no alarms. Go see if you can find some cable cutters.”
I stepped through thick, slick grass back up to the house. Ilsa followed. The side garage door was locked. Ilsa found a key stashed by the front door in one of the cement curves of the breeze brick. A smart place to hide it, but not smart enough.
The key worked in the side door. In the garage, we paused and listened. Anybody home? Didn’t sound like it. Next step, flashlight. She found one on the washer and we used it to snoop.
The garage had everything you’d expect. Wet clothes had been tossed on the floor. It meant the inhabitants hadn’t been gone long. They could return soon.
“See any cutters?” I said.
She checked the cluttered work bench. “Will these work?” Garden sheers.
“I doubt it.” That boat was held up by thick, steel cables.
“Walt, are you worried we�
��ll be too exposed on the water?”
Would the police be out patrolling the waters as much as they were blocking the roads?
“Not terribly. We’ll just have to risk it.” My new motto.
She searched.
I searched.
“Thank you for coming back,” I said.
She smiled. “Of course. Say no more.”
Five minutes later we were walking back to the dock and found the boat was swinging. DG was pushing and pulling on one of the davit cables. The whole dock was rocking. The man was a beast.
“Grab that cable,” said DG, excitement in his voice.
I reached out and caught the cable.
Forward.
Back.
Forward.
Back.
The boat shifted on the lift. A bit at first, then more. Sliding until it was no longer lying even across the davit supports. The less heavy bow was drifting off the davit as the heavier stern davit took the brunt of the weight.
Swing.
Swing.
Bam.
Creeeeeeekch!!
JUMP!
A pylon snapped and crunched. The boat pulled it into the water. Wood planks ripped up. The dock went cockeyed, and we went swimming.
I knew we’d be alright when I heard DG laughing. Somehow, he’d managed to land in the boat. He was looking down at us in the water. In classic DG style, he was pointing and laughing.
I spit warm, salt water. “Help me up, asshole.”
He pulled me up to the side of the boat. I swung my feet around and reached down for Ilsa. She already had it figured out and was swimming towards the stepladder at the back of the boat.
“At least it’s not too cold,” she said.
“Bet they got towels up at the house,” said DG. “If you can get there.” He laughed some more as he walked over to the boat controls. “Now, we doin’ it, Walt!”
He was in his glory. A bad boy with a new toy, ready to raise hell. It was just what we needed.
DG reached under the control board, fiddled with wires, and he got that motor running, Steppenwolf. He backed the boat into the channel, turned towards open water, and throttled it.
55
WE WERE CRUISING across Boca Ciega Bay. Typically, it’s a brilliant way to spend the day. But, we weren’t here to cruise.