by Howard, Bob
“What is it?”
Jean was on the bow and could see the movement but not what was causing it.
Hampton said, “It’s a big snake of some kind. Probably a boa constrictor, but if this was South America I’d guess anaconda.”
No one was surprised when Colleen pointed out a second snake and then a third. She also pointed to the oversized crabs that were shuffling more easily toward their prey.
“I don’t understand,” said Sim. “Those infected should have been eaten a long time ago. I mean, there seems to be no shortage of things trying to eat them.”
“There’s a fresh supply,” said Kathy. “Something caused more infected to come this way recently. It’s possible that Bus landed somewhere near here, and the noise from that plane would have been like a dinner bell.”
The Chief decided there were no safe places to dock, so he dropped the anchor and idled the engine. The air was so still that we could all hear him without the need for him to even raise his voice.
“We have some problems, people. We don’t know where Bus landed, or even if he made it to New Orleans. We can’t dock and search the area, that’s obvious. So I need ideas, because I only have one.”
For once the Chief wasn’t telling us what the plan was, and it was unsettling. He saw that we were all at a loss for ideas, and I didn’t doubt for a second that everyone was waiting to hear his one idea.
“You might as well tell us,” I said.
“Everyone keep your eyes on the water and the surrounding area, but come in closer.”
We gathered around the Chief in a loose circle between the machine guns mounted on the bow. Everyone kept rotating between him and the shore. I had to admit, if someone was watching us, we had to appear to be a formidable group.
We were surprised when the Chief said in a low voice that he wanted everyone to stay as natural as possible, because we were being watched by someone hiding in a building that wasn’t completely buried by the jungle.
“Who would be crazy enough to get within a mile of this place on land?” asked Kathy.
The Chief did his best not to lose his temper when he said the name.
“Stokes.”
“What makes you think it’s him?” said Tom. We could see the anger rising in him, and the Chief had to stare him down.
“You aren’t going to stop me from killing him,” said Tom.
The Chief said cooly, “The only thing that will stop you is if I get to him first, but I’ll try to wait for you. I spotted the Beaver before I dropped anchor.”
It was impossible not to react, but if Stokes was watching from somewhere, he would expect us to be on guard and a bit jumpy.
The Chief kept talking as if he wasn’t restraining the urge to aim all three 50 caliber machine guns at the window where he saw what had to be Stokes. It would have been satisfying to watch the big bullets chew up the bricks around the window, but something familiar was tugging at the Chief’s mind.
“The Beaver is camouflaged in the back corner of the docks to our starboard. Bus wouldn’t have hidden the plane after he landed. He must have cruised in to see if we were here ahead of him, and Stokes got the drop on him.”
Tom was seething with anger.
“That jerk should have been strangled by one of those snakes by now.”
I added, “Or bitten by a crab, an infected, or an alligator.”
“Some people are just too mean to die,” said the Chief. “Good people are dying because they stepped on a rusty nail. This guy will have to be put down by one of us, someone who knows how evil he is.”
I stole a glance at the place where the Chief said the seaplane was hidden, and if he hadn’t said it was there, I would never have spotted it. I could just make out the bright yellow of one wing.
“He has Bus,” said Jean. Her voice shook as the words came out with a sob.
“Better that than dead.”
The Chief said it so calmly that all of us felt like he knew Bus was alive. It was reassuring and nerve wracking at the same time.
“So, what’s our next move?” asked Kathy.
“I hate to say it, but we have to wait for his next move. We can’t rush him or blow him to pieces without risking Bus’ life. By the time we got here, Stokes knew we were coming. He had time to hide the plane and make a plan, so all we can do is pretend like we’re waiting for Bus to arrive.”
Tom was furiously shaking his head at the Chief.
“Let’s go back out where he can’t see us. We can make our landing somewhere safe and then come back in behind him.”
“Stokes would kill Bus as soon as we sailed out of sight. This guy has a plan, and if it doesn’t work, he’s got a backup plan. If we leave, he can kill Bus and leave.”
Tom opened his mouth to argue, but Kathy put a hand on his chest and stopped him.
“Stokes is playing chess with the Chief. Which one would you put your money on?”
The Chief explained to all of us, if Stokes was watching, he was seeing exactly what he expected to see. A group of people who didn’t know what to do next. That wasn’t enough reason to kill Bus. The Chief was sure he was keeping Bus alive for a reason that suited his own needs. He said he wasn’t sure why, but it felt familiar.
In the end, Tom reluctantly agreed that we had to let it play out. There were no guarantees, but they had to let Stokes feel like he was in control until they knew if Bus was safe. All we could do was settle in and wait for him to make his next move. We just hoped it was a move the Chief could live with.
******
Stokes was thrilled to see the Cormorant as it came into view. He couldn’t tell that they were having engine trouble, and that was one piece of information Bus had managed to keep to himself, but he didn’t hesitate to tell Stokes they were coming. Bus knew that was the only thing that would keep him and Iris alive. If Stokes knew his friends were coming, he at least would see the value in having them as hostages. He had been half right, and he hoped with his entire soul that Iris was still alive. He just didn’t know.
When the Beaver had landed, Bus coasted into the port and began searching for the Cormorant. If the Chief had been able to maintain half speed, he would have been there already, and Bus wasn’t even worried when he didn’t see the familiar Coast Guard vessel because the port was so big and so overgrown. He also didn’t see the small boat easing up behind him until the Beaver dipped slightly to the left. He turned his head and realized it had dipped under the weight of Stokes as he stepped onto the float.
“Permission to come aboard.”
Stokes had a big, ugly grin, and the barrel of his Glock was only an inch from the window. The only thing Bus could do was show Stokes his hands, and Iris knew Bus would die if she tried to take her gun from its holster.
Iris didn’t have to be told this man was Stokes. Even though the population was a small fraction of what it had been, Stokes had an air about him that made her know from instinct that this was the man that could kill children by burying them in the ground. He was everything the Chief hated in a man.
Stokes motioned with one hand toward a slip that had been cleared of the vines and debris that covered everything else in the harbor. The remains of a huge snake was being eaten by dozens of crabs. Bus didn’t need it spelled out for him, but like any floatplane pilot, he hated to navigate into a slip. It almost always ended with a bent wing because there wasn’t the same kind of control as with a boat.
The light seemed to diminish as the plane coasted into the narrow channel. Hidden under the thick vines were the hulls of the unfortunate that hadn’t been able to escape at the beginning of the infection, and Bus expected to hear the grinding of metal as the floats glided within inches of the wreckage.
Stokes almost casually turned toward the tail of the plane and shot an alligator between the eyes. The sudden report of the gun in the stillness caused the jungle to come alive with movement. More alligators slid from the banks into the water but only to put distance between thems
elves and this newcomer. They could smell blood in the water and moved in a wide circle to investigate.
Bus was holding his breath as he let the plane begin to slew to port. Its momentum was carrying it to the back of the marina, but the same momentum was going to risk damage to his left wing. There were no breaks on a coasting vessel. He could only try to diminish forward speed as he made the turn.
Stokes grinned the entire time. He knew Bus wouldn’t risk his only transportation out of this green and humid hell, and he knew he could shoot both hostages before Bus could try anything that stood a chance of working.
The tip of the right wing grazed the vines and caused the Beaver to rotate just when Bus thought they were going to bury the left wing and do serious damage. He saw a power pole in the middle of the green that would have ripped the wing from the plane.
The pivot to the right was perfectly timed, and the float on that side brushed gently against the dock. Cushioned by long abandoned bumper guards and fresh growth of plants, they came to a stop.
For a man of advancing years, the work of hacking down the jungle and covering the plane took its toll on Bus. Iris was younger, but she was old enough for it to leave her completely drained. Stokes told them they would get water only after they were done, and the humidity was so high that they were drenched in sweat almost as soon as they started working.
Stokes stood nearby and watched for the predators along the docks. Iris was worried about the crabs more than anything, but she had seen how quickly an alligator could take its prey when they came from the water. Fortunately, Stokes wasn’t ready for them to die, and he shot another alligator before they were done hiding the plane.
The most frightening part was when he tied their hands behind their backs and then pulled moldy smelling burlap bags over their heads. He added short ropes as leashes around their necks and dragged them behind him for almost an hour. They could tell he was taking them through the heart of the overgrown jungled and then along a city street to a building with stairs. They were both sure they would feel at any moment the agonizing crush of teeth from an infected dead, and so much energy went into bracing themselves against the attack that they were exhausted when he finally pushed them to a floor.
Iris heard the familiar sound of blunt force and waited to hear if it was an infected dead or if it had been Bus. She had hit the skulls of enough infected to know the sound.
Stokes leaned in close to her head. She could feel his sweaty arm against hers.
“You and I are going somewhere. Your friend can stay here.”
Iris was frantic.
“You can’t leave him here alone. What if something finds him? He won’t even be able to defend himself.”
“Now isn’t that sweet the way you’re worried about him, but he won’t come to for at least an hour. If something finds him, he won’t feel a thing.”
It was disgusting the way Stokes laughed. Even blinded by the burlap bag she could tell he was overjoyed. He pulled her to her feet by grabbing the rope that was looped around her neck and she gasped for air.
“Please don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.”
“Shut up.”
It was only two words, but the menace in his voice was unlike any she had ever heard in her life, and it was more than enough to make her bite back another sound. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried for any reason, but she didn’t think she had ever cried from fear. She could feel the salty tears roll down her cheeks and into her mouth.
Stokes dragged her from wherever it was he had left Bus, and all she could think of was Bus blindly waking up to find himself being eaten by the infected. She fell on the stairs, and every part of her hurt as Stokes just picked her up and forced her to move.
She was much taller than him, but he was stronger. Iris only knew what Bus had told her about him, but it was enough to know he was dangerous, and if he didn’t get his way, he would strike quickly and without warning.
They were outside again, and Stokes made her move faster than before. Whatever it was he had in mind, she didn’t think his first choice was to kill her, or she would already be dead. The same thing applied to Bus, but if he was willing to leave him somewhere unprotected, his plan didn’t require Bus to be alive, just being held hostage.
The rope around her neck was jerked from side to side, and at one point Stokes let go of the rope. His gravelly voice was over her left ear. She felt dirty every time he touched her even if it was just on her arm.
“Go ahead and run if you want to, but if you could see what I see right now, you would stand right where you are.”
The truth was she was afraid to run, and she drew her elbows into her sides as if she could protect herself more. If she could see what was happening around them, she would have known how little it would help. The sounds of infected groans were everywhere, and Stokes was laughing as his machete whistled when he swung it.
Stokes was having more fun than even he could believe. They had almost reached his goal when he saw they were surrounded by infected, and although he was protecting his hostage from being bitten, he enjoyed the way they got close to her before he stopped them. He pushed her up against a wall and kept circling from side to side.
When it was finally quiet, Stokes pulled on her leash again and dragged her over a slippery pile of bodies.
“Watch your step,” was all he said to help her.
Iris was terrified that she would fall on them and make contact with their mouths, and even her denim jeans made her legs feel unprotected. She stumbled behind him and heard as he opened a gate with rusty hinges. He pushed her roughly forward, and the gates were closed behind her. She imagined herself inside a cage even though she was still outside, and she wondered if she was in the cage alone. She tried to remember if New Orleans had a zoo.
“Where are we? Why are you putting me in a cage?”
For some reason Stokes thought that was funny, and he laughed as he pushed her forward again.
“Walk.”
Iris walked straight ahead, but for some reason Stokes would correct her direction by a foot or so every few seconds. She was scared, but she was also smart enough to realize she was walking between things, and he was keeping her on a gravel path.
She was about to ask him where they were going again when he stepped up closer to her. She could feel his body getting close even though this time he wasn’t touching her, and she could hear the crunch of the gravel under his feet. Light seemed to flare brightly behind her eyes. Then it was dark.
Iris woke up once, but the shooting pain on the back of her head made her roll onto her side and throw up. The smell made her heave a half dozen times until her stomach cramped. She tried, but she couldn’t pull her knees up to her stomach to ease the cramps.
It was still totally dark, but she didn’t feel the texture of the rough burlap bag against her face. She reached with one hand to the back of her head, and it came back damp. Iris instinctively looked at her fingers expecting to see blood, but she couldn’t see her fingers at all. As the realization flooded over her, she threw up again and then passed out.
******
“I blew it,” said the Chief. “I got it wrong.”
After an hour of total silence on the Cormorant, the sound of his voice made everyone jump.
We had just been sitting and watching the jungle, thinking the whole time that Stokes would be doing the same. The Chief had instructed everyone to use binoculars to make Stokes think we were doing what we could to locate Bus. He said it would be natural for us to zero in on the window where he had seen Stokes, but it was probable that he had relocated after being spotted.
“Stokes meant for us to see him,” yelled the Chief. He raised his voice as he climbed into the wheelhouse and raised the anchor. He was cursing the lack of power from the engines, but the last thing we needed was for him to ram the end of the dock.
We moved forward as several of us got ready with the bowlines, and the Chief cut the engine power
to let us coast. We could all hear Tom yelling questions to the Chief. The Chief’s only answer was that time was important. We needed to get there fast.
When we were close enough to make the jump from the deck, we saw that Stokes had left us a clear dock. All of the vines were chopped away from the area, and there was enough room for us near the Beaver. From where we had dropped anchor in the harbor the area was hidden from view. Stokes may have meant for us to see him, but he didn’t want to make it too obvious.
“Handguns and machete’s,” yelled the Chief.
Tom was in the lead, and the Chief didn’t even try to slow him down. It was easy to spot the path that had been cleared through the jungle straight toward the building where the Chief had seen Stokes. Kathy was right on his heels to give him as much cover as she could. Cassandra was almost on Kathy’s back covering anything Kathy might miss.
The vines growing over the narrow streets had become so thick that it was almost a tunnel that led us to an iron gate that served as the entrance to a courtyard. The building had probably been one of the first permanent homes built in New Orleans, and it felt as old as it looked. Moss grew everywhere, and the path was slippery. Tom slid with all of his weight right into some kind of moving mess on the path and went down hard, but Kathy and Cassandra had time to throw on the brakes. They caught him by his arms and pulled him away from a snake that was making a meal out of an infected dead. Half of its body had already been swallowed feet first.
I had seen the infected eaten by sharks and alligators, and each time there had been that look of indifference on their faces. Even as they were being eaten, they wore detached expressions that said there was nothing left in their minds that told them what was happening. Tom’s first instinct was to use his machete to end the miserable existence of the infected, but Kathy caught his arm in time.
“It will keep the snake busy.”