But Not Forspent, page 14
“You son of a bitch!” I said out loud as the brief flash of light disappeared and darkness returned. “That’s how you came so close to killing me!”
Four more shots were fired in rapid succession, and I was forced to dive behind a tree in order to keep from absorbing some lead. I kept my eyes on the fight as I dove, and in the flash from the final gunshot, I saw the NVGs being ripped violently from the man’s face by a dark and foreboding creature, but before I could get a look at his features, the flash from the gunshot burned out.
I peered around the tree in an attempt to reacquire the shadows, but my night vision had been ruined by the bright lights from the gunshots. Although I was unable to see anything in the utter darkness, I heard a brief struggle and then something went crashing through the woods, heading away from me.
I gripped my pistol and remained hidden behind the tree, waiting. Had my stalker been successful in shooting the animal that attacked him? If so, the crashing sound I heard would’ve been of the animal retreating through the woods, and that would mean the stalker was still on the other side of this tree—and he was armed with a pistol.
Nothing moved for a long moment and the only sounds I heard was heavy breathing—both from me and from something on the other side of this tree. I backed one step away from the tree to give myself room to maneuver. If I were forced to shoot it out in close quarters, I wanted the option to move. Mobility was important during a gun battle. It was never wise to get backed into a corner with no means of escape.
I reached out with my left hand and felt around for some options. My fingers brushed against a tree at my eight o’clock position. It felt huge—easily large enough to hide my gaunt frame. Although I had only skipped two meals today, I could almost feel my stomach touching the back of my ribs. I was tired, hungry, and mad.
I decided I would move behind the tree at my eight and wait for my stalker to attack. Even if I made a little noise and my attacker charged forward, it wouldn’t matter. I would be behind the tree in a split second. I was tempted to step right out into the open and challenge him. If it would hurry this confrontation along, it might not be a bad idea. I needed a greasy hamburger, fries, and a chocolate malt, and I needed to see my family.
I shifted the weight to my right leg in preparation to slide my left leg back a step, but I gasped silently as the pain shot straight up to my brain. I cursed under my breath. I began to wonder how mobile I could be now that the shock and anger had worn off. If my stalker rushed my position, I wouldn’t be able to move out of the way in time to avoid an attack. I would be screwed.
I was preparing to do a backward hobble when I heard a slight rustle of leaves on the opposite side of the tree behind which I stood. He was moving in on me!
I held my breath and steadied my pistol. I opened my eyes wide, trying to make out the different shadows that surrounded me. I was getting my night vision back, and for that much I was thankful. I heard another light brush of leaves as he came closer. I was looking directly in front of me, but I couldn’t detect a hint of movement.
Whatever it was that was approaching me, it moved around the tree, but it did so nonchalantly, as though it were coming to greet me, rather than coming to destroy me. But I didn’t dare move a muscle. My stalker might have recovered his NVGs and could be looking right at me and laughing on the inside.
Holding my pistol near my hip, I reached straight out with my left hand, but felt nothing. Before I could bring my left hand back, I felt something nudge the back of my right hand, which was wrapped tightly around my pistol—something that was wet and cold.
“Achilles!” I suddenly dropped to my knees, but instantly regretted it. I teetered over and fell onto my left side as the pain in my leg wrapped me in hate. Through the pain, I was relieved beyond belief to feel the familiar nose of my dog as he nudged my face and whimpered his concern. I pushed myself to a seated position and began feeling him for holes. He felt strong and healthy, and I soon realized he hadn’t been hit by any bullets. Without warning, he licked my face with a long and slobbering tongue.
I laughed and wrapped an arm around him.
“Thank God you’re okay, Big Man,” I said, smiling broadly despite my pain. “If those bastards would’ve killed you, I would’ve certainly ended up in prison.”
CHAPTER 37
Near the mouth of Le Diable Lake
Susan’s head snapped around. “That was a gunshot!”
After spending about an hour searching the southern shore of Bayou Tail, Susan and Takecia had begun idling the Boston Whaler along the northern shore, hoping to find signs indicating that Clint had made it out of the water. While they worked the bayou and Amy worked the lake, Melvin and Baylor had raced to the boat launch in Mechant Loup to deliver Paul Rupe to a waiting ambulance. The boys hadn’t returned yet, but Susan was expecting them any minute now.
“Did you hear that?” Susan asked, turning to study Takecia’s face in the glow from their spotlights. “Those were gunshots, right? What if Clint’s signaling his location?”
Takecia’s head was cocked to the side and she was listening.
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I was moving when the sound happened. I can’t be sure—”
Suddenly, more shots echoed from the distance. These were in rapid succession. They were low, popping sounds, so she knew they were far away and probably originated from a handgun. Judging the distance and direction, she guessed they were coming from the area of Lake Berg.
“Shit, that’s got to be Clint!” Susan rushed to the cockpit and hollered for Takecia to hold on tight. She then buried the throttle and leaned forward as the bow went airborne in response to the large engines pushing it forward.
“Get a message to Melvin,” Susan screamed over the roaring boat motors. “Tell him to get to Lake Berg as soon as he can. He’s closer than we are. Tell him Clint’s over there and he’s signaling for us!”
Susan watched Takecia long enough to see her nod. She then whipped her head around to scan the surface of the water in front of them. The last thing she wanted was to hit a stump or some other floating debris. If they crashed or disabled the boat, they wouldn’t be able to help her husband. She thought Melvin and Baylor should be on their way back by now and could reach the lake much sooner than they would, but she still wanted to arrive in one piece.
They had traveled about a mile when Susan felt Takecia beside her.
“They’re entering the lake now,” she shouted. “They’re searching for him.”
Susan breathed a long sign of relief. He was about to be rescued!
Suddenly, her breath caught in her throat. What if the gunfire wasn’t from Clint after all, but from someone attacking him? What if he was in trouble and needed their help?
Susan’s anxious fingers gripped the steering wheel. If Clint was involved in a shootout, Melvin and Baylor would get there with enough firepower to help him out of any situation—provided he could hold on until they arrived.
Although the shots hadn’t sounded like the reports from AK-47 rifles, if someone was shooting at Clint with any type of firearm at night, he would need all the help he could get. In a shootout, Susan knew that the more friends you had with guns, the better your chances of survival—and she wanted Clint to have every chance in the world to survive.
Susan said a silent prayer for Clint’s safety as she dodged a log that bobbed just above the surface of the water. She let go of the steering wheel with one hand and pointed to the sky, hollering at Takecia to get the helicopter heading toward the sound of the gunshots.
“Already done, Chief,” Takecia called back, her breath hot on Susan’s ear as she leaned in to deliver the news.
Susan nodded and smiled, but she felt anything but happy at the moment. The closer the Boston Whaler came to the mouth of Lake Berg, the more the doubts started to creep into her mind. The area from which they’d heard the gunshots was so far from where Clint’s boat had gone down that it seemed impossible he could’ve made it that far during one day of walking through the swamps. And why would he head in that direction? Sure, he had been ambushed, but why hadn’t he hung around near the shore, waiting for someone to arrive in a boat to give him a ride out of there?
Susan shook her head. It all didn’t make sense. What if the gunshots had nothing to do with Clint? What if it was simply some asshole poacher doing some night hunting? No matter, she would find out soon enough, because the mouth of Lake Berg loomed ahead. The approach to the lake was from the southeast, but the sounds of gunfire had sounded from the western side of the lake. They would have to make a sharp left turn and travel for almost two miles before reaching the western shore, and then there was no telling where along the shore Clint would be found—if at all.
Susan’s heart beat a thunderous tune in her chest. She was weak with anticipation. Above her, she was grateful to see the giant spotlight stabbing the darkness as the helicopter raced across the water. It would reach the far shore long before they would, but Gretchen would only be able to serve as an observer. If Clint was shooting it out with their suspects, Gretchen wouldn’t be able to engage them with her rifle. It was next to impossible to deliver accurate support fire from a helicopter.
Susan scanned the lake, searching for the cabin cruiser. Takecia stood beside her, one hand on the railing and one hand resting on her AR-15.
“Do you see Melvin?” Susan called out.
Takecia nodded and pointed off toward the distant horizon. The cloud cover shielded the light from the moon, so it was dark as sin on the lake. Susan strained her eyes, but it was hard to see anything through the windshield, thanks to it being peppered with dead mosquitoes and other bugs. She thought she saw the distant glow from a boat, but she couldn’t be certain.
“They’re approaching the land at the southwestern corner,” Takecia said. “Let’s go wide to the right. We can cover more territory if we separate.”
Liking the idea, Susan nodded and turned the steering wheel slightly. The boat was wide open, but Susan wanted more.
“Come on!” she shouted. “Get up there!”
Finally, after what seemed like an hour, but had only been minutes, their lights lit up the western shore. The helicopter was flying low along the water’s edge, beginning where Melvin and Baylor’s boat was located and working its way toward Susan and Takecia.
When they were several feet from the shore, Susan shut off the engine and allowed the boat to coast forward and bump into the muddy bank. The boat rocked gently as the waves caught up to them.
“Clint!” Susan hollered, cupping her hands together to make her voice carry through the trees. “Clint! Where are you?”
Takecia joined her in hollering for Clint. They paused briefly when the helicopter flew over and droned out their voices. Once it had traveled far enough that they would be able to hear a response, they began yelling his name again.
Susan was about to give up and move to another location when she heard something. It was an odd sound to hear out in the middle of the swamps.
“Takecia, did you hear that?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
Takecia’s eyes were wide and she was nodding. “That’s a dog!”
Coco, who had been lounging lazily on the deck, a depressed expression on her face, suddenly leapt to her feet and began wagging her tail. The dog barked from the woods again and Coco responded with a thunderous bark of her own.
“It’s Achilles!” Susan said, suddenly excited. Her excitement turned to caution as she wondered if Clint was with him. After all, Coco had been alone when they found her, so there was a chance Achilles was, as well.
CHAPTER 38
Minutes earlier
As I ran my hands over Achilles’ body to make sure he wasn’t hurt, I realized he had dropped something at his feet. I reached for the ground and felt the straps from a set of night vision goggles. I smiled. He had ripped the NVGs from the head of my attacker.
“Good boy!” I said, rubbing his head with vigor. I was thankful he wasn’t hurt, but I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to Coco. I was hoping she was okay. Achilles responded to my rubs with lots of licking, and I could hear his large tail thumping the tree next to him.
“Well, while I’d love to stay here all night getting eaten by mosquitoes,” I said to my dog, “I think it’s time to find a ride home.”
I pulled the NVGs close to my eyes—careful not to touch the rubber eyepieces to my flesh—and stepped out from behind the tree that had served as my cover. I scanned the ground and smiled when I saw a crossbow resting in the bushes several feet away. My stalker had lost his main weapon, and it would now be mine.
I limped over and retrieved it by the strings. After hefting it in my hands and appreciating the balance, I called for Achilles to follow me. I wanted to go home and regroup, but first I had something to do.
With Achilles standing guard in case my stalker returned, I found a windthrown tree to sit on and I felt for the arrow protruding from my leg. The tip extended about four inches out of the front of my leg. Thankfully, it was a bullet tip and hadn’t done much damage.
Bending forward and reaching behind my leg with both hands, I gripped the back of the arrow and gritted my teeth. After taking a deep breath, I blew the air out slowly as I began pulling the arrow from my leg. The pain was excruciating, but I didn’t dare stop. I continued straining against the arrow until it pulled free. When it did so, I nearly collapsed from the pain.
Achilles walked over and began licking at the bloody wound, but I pushed him away.
“It’s okay,” I said through gritted teeth. “It’s like pulling out a splinter.”
I removed my T-shirt and shook it out. After twisting it several times until it was shaped like a rope, I wrapped it around my leg—covering both holes—and tied it in place. I then sat there for a brief second to recover from the pain.
Knowing I had to get moving before my stalker returned, I pulled myself to my feet and called for Achilles to follow me. Holding the arrow and bow in my left hand and my pistol in my right, we set out toward where I believed Lake Berg to be. As we walked, I tried to ignore the pain and consider my options.
I knew my chances of catching my stalker had diminished greatly, now that he had absconded into the woods, but I had one more trick up my sleeve. With luck, he had been arrested before and we would be able to find his fingerprints and DNA on the crossbow and NVGs.
For a moment, I did consider setting off into the woods to search for him, but it would be futile—and dangerous. This man had already proven to be a better woodsman that me, and I was hampered by my bum leg. While I could walk on it, I doubted I could run very fast. Besides, I didn’t want to risk getting Achilles hurt. He had saved my life yet again, and the last thing I wanted to do was put him back in harm’s way.
No, I would try to somehow make contact with one of the boats on the water, get my hands on a rifle and some food, find Melvin, and then we would head back out into the swamps to turn the tables on my stalker.
The time would come when I would meet that asshole again, and I was hoping it was sooner rather than later. If I was forced to kill him, I would, but I hoped to have a conversation with him beforehand. I wanted to know the names of his compadres and I wanted to know why they had attacked me.
I pondered this as I sloshed through a shallow slough that had gone unnoticed in the dark. I wondered if I had stumbled upon a crime in progress this morning. If so, what kind of criminal activity was taking place? I hadn’t noticed anything nefarious and I hadn’t even seen their faces, so why would they have attacked me? They had all been secreted in the trees before opening up on my boat. If they had done something wrong and hadn’t been seen, why not simply wait until I passed by and then slipped away? I remembered being near the mouth of Le Diable Lake at the time of the attack, so it was possible that whatever they’d done had been done on the lake, and I had been about to expose their criminal activities. Or maybe it was something different.
A new thought occurred to me and it sent a chill up and down my spine. Had they targeted me for a specific reason? Was I marked for death? If so, who had put out a hit on me? I could name a number of people who wanted me dead. In my line of work, it came with the territory. I’d been threatened more times than I could count, but I’d never lost sleep over it. Maybe I should have.
Another thought occurred to me. If they were after me, did that mean they were also coming after my wife and daughter? Not only did the thought infuriate me, but it also scared the shit out of me. I tried to shake off the feeling as I fought to find some sort of landmark that would let me know I was on the right course. I needed to get back to civilization and make sure Susan and Grace were okay.
The more I thought about it, the more I began to dismiss the idea. If someone wanted me dead, there were better place to ambush me. Besides, there was no way they could’ve known what route I was taking through the bayous. I nodded, sure that I was right. Whatever their reason for destroying my boat and hunting me through the swamps, it wasn’t personal—except to me.
My sense of direction was decent on a normal day, but there had been nothing normal about today. After all of the running around I’d done and the many times I’d circled back over my trail, I knew it would be pure luck if I was heading in the right direction. If I was going the wrong way, I would lose plenty of time. In addition to having to spend the rest of the night sleeping amongst the mosquitoes, my stalker would be running farther and farther away from capture. Or was he?
What if he hadn’t given up so easily? What if he was in the process of stalking me even now, trying to work his way back into a position of attack?
I stopped and flipped on the NVGs. Lifting them until they were an inch from my face, I peered through the eye aperture. The swamps appeared to be covered in a green and eerie mist. I swung the goggles slowly around, doing a 360-degree survey of my surroundings. It was not as dense an area as I’d been in earlier, but there were plenty of places for an army of men to hide.
