The Shell Game, page 7
"Syd, Syd. Help me. I'm going to bleed to death! Help me!" He was holding his side, blood running through his fingers.
"You mean the way you helped me, or Maggie? Or how about the way you helped the guy at the pit you were in? Or all of them, how you helped all of our friends and coworkers."
His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "Looks like you know everything. Just like always, eh Syd."
"No, Sam, I don't. I don't know what's in the bag you have, or why jade of all things. I don't know why it was so important to kill everyone instead of setting up a weekend off or something. You were in charge of the dig, Sam. You could have found a way to get everyone out safely and still have gotten this done."
Syd had reached the four-wheeler by this time, Sam was within kicking distance of it so she moved with more caution than she'd like. The gun stayed trained on Sam as she threw her leg over the machine and used her left hand to reach for the key.
Nothing.
"What did you think I would let you get away without me?" He laughed before coughing so hard that blood started to leak out of his nose.
"Well, I guess neither of us are going anywhere then. Of course, I can walk out of here. I've made it this far. I have food, water, and with a little rest, I can make it. What do you think your chances are? If you give me the key, I can get out of here quicker and get help to come back for you."
His eyes were growing heavy, but the smirk stayed in place. "I think if I die, so do you. A girly girl like you can't get out of here. I'm shocked you've made it this far. Your stupid luck has to run out."
Something cold began to sink into Syd's bones. She stared at him, not seeing Sam the annoying womanizer, but Sam the enemy, the obstacle.
First step to being a successful soldier, meaning a living soldier, is to eliminate the obstacles. Sometimes that's finding a way to get water, sometimes it's finding a way through the enemy. But, honey, whatever you do in life, find a way to eliminate the obstacles and you will be a success.
Her dad had a strange way of showing her love, but he did love her. He worked hard to help her become a woman who could stand on her own feet and be successful. All those times in the woods, camping, hunting, learning survival. She hated them. But now she understood, in this moment, it became clear what he was teaching her.
Success is fought for, not given. In this case, success is life, and Syd wasn't giving hers up to this loser.
Before she could think about it, she had launched herself off the four-wheeler and onto Sam. She kicked and punched, not like the girly girl Sam thought her to be, but like the soldier her father had trained her to be. She gouged his eyes and broke his nose. All of the frustration from the last few days now had an outlet.
Slow down there, cowgirl. You still need energy to get out. He's down, grab the keys and go. No use wasting your energy on this guy.
"You're right, dad." She wasn't sure if she had said it out loud or not. She wasn't sure if her dad was there or in her head. She prayed he was still alive and that she could thank him for all he had taught her.
The keys had fallen from Sam's hand when she had kicked him in the face. She didn't remember that kick, but from the shape of his cheekbone, she knew it wasn't a punch; her hand would be hurting more than it was.
She grabbed the keys and turned back toward the four-wheeler and the way out. A hand wrapped itself around her ankle and pulled. She saw herself going down; her head was falling fast toward the gas tank. She flung her hands out, slamming them into the hard metal but protecting her head.
She slid down the vehicle to the sound of cackling from Sam. "I told you; I don't get out, you don't get out." The sound of his words echoed through the trees.
Syd lay there stunned for a moment, then reached into her waistband, pulled out the gun from where habit had put it while she had fought, and sighted. Sam still laughed. "You won't do it. It would be murder. I'm injured, on the ground. Not chasing or anything." The laughter continued.
"Who's going to believe you. Especially after that last move, Sam. My arms and hands are bruised as if I had been protecting myself. There are no witnesses. And, you only get to tell your side if I come back."
She squeezed the trigger slowly and with intention, the way her father had taught her. The bullet seemed to move in slow motion, of course, that could just be from the damage Syd had taken to her head, making the world seem to move in ways she knew it couldn't.
The hit was almost perfect. The shock on Sam's face, even after the bullet had exited the back of his head, was one Syd would not forget. Haunt her nightmares? Maybe, but more of a reminder that she was a survivor.
She dragged herself up onto the four-wheeler, turned the key, and smiled. The engine caught right away. Without looking back, Syd raced down the path and back to civilization. The only one of her crew to get out on her own accord.
Chapter Nineteen
"Maggie had been found and airlifted to the Florida Kendell Hospital in Miami. She was in critical condition when they found her. The beating she had taken was quite severe, and she was slightly dehydrated, though the supplies you left her helped a lot. She would have been a lot worse had you not left her with them. You're a hero."
Syd didn't feel much like a hero. Her whole team was dead except for herself and Maggie. They were saying she is the only reason Maggie survived, but that left her with the guilt that she couldn't save the rest.
"Sydney, are you listening to me?"
"Sorry, Dean Hamilton, I am a little all over the place lately."
"Is there anything that the University can do for you?" His brow dipped in that way that is meant to convey concern. Syd had seen him give this exact look to a student who missed class due to a flat tire on his bike. She smiled, the irony that this man who had decided to send her out to that hellhole gave the same concern over multiple deaths and near-death could give the same look to a flat tire made Syd more painfully aware of how much she didn't want to be here anymore.
"I think I would like a leave of absence. I have some things I need to get done, and I'd like to spend more time with my dad before he passes."
Dean Hamilton nodded, "I understand. We can arrange that. Um, have the police spoken to you yet?"
They had, but they had also asked Syd to come back in this afternoon to clarify a few things. Maggie was giving them the scoop from her side but apparently once they invaded the camp, the men, cartel members Syd found out, kept her pretty much isolated.
"Yes, I have another meeting today. Apparently, this was a big deal." She smiled as she stood up. She didn't shake his hand, just turned and left.
A big deal was an understatement. From what Syd could find out from the different police interviews, newspaper articles, and just listening to people talk around the university, what they found was a bloodbath.
Every one of the members of the archaeological dig, besides Maggie and herself, was either brutally murdered or missing. The assumption about the missing was that the gators and predators in the swamp carried off the bodies. There were drag marks. Body parts were found, but not the whole of the remains of a few of her comrades. She wasn't sure who was left in pieces. She didn't want to know.
The police station felt cool compared to the stifling heat outside. The heat index was well near one hundred degrees, and it was only April. Syd sighed thinking about how nice it would be to not be in Florida during the summer. No triple degree heat indexes, no mosquitos or biting yellow flies, and no hurricanes. She almost smiled, but then remembered where she was. This was not going to be a smiling conversation.
The man who came around the corner was of Latin American descent. Detective Gonzalas had been working with Syd since she had reached civilization. At almost six foot, he was well built and easy to talk to. He worked out of the Miami Dade Sheriffs Department but had insisted on coming up to Orange County to meet her.
"No need for you to keep driving back and forth. I'm sure you are ready to be done with this whole experience. I will get permission to interview up there." She liked him. He was kind and made her feel safe. The first time she had been in his office in Miami she had noticed a small photo of a young child. It made her trust him more, to think he was a family man.
"Hey, Syd. Thanks for coming in. I appreciate this." He reached out and shook her hand. "We just have a few things to go over still. How's things been? How's Maggie?"
She knew he had been to see Maggie, but sometimes friends talk more than they do to cops.
"She's okay. Not great, not awful. She'll get through. I think she might give up on field work, though."
Maggie had mentioned that she would never go out in the field again. Syd was pretty sure she would, just not on extended work. Maggie was a map maker; she would go out again, eventually. Her body had a lot of healing still to do. The number of broken bones the woman had suffered was incredible. Syd couldn't help but admire her. Every doctor was surprised she had not only lived but had been able to speak and move. It was a miracle, if you believed in such things.
They sat in the small room that the Orange County Sheriff's Office had set up for them. It was an interrogation room, for which Detective Gonzalas apologized. Syd waved this off, just happy to get this over with as soon as possible
"I wanted to tell you about the crime. I know this isn't the norm, but I feel like you deserve at least this. Jade and heroin were found in the mound that you said to look at. I can't disclose how much, but let's just say it's a lot. Some seemed to be missing, which matches what you said happened.
You know about your coworkers that were killed. Only three of you didn't end up in that pit, we thought it was four, but we did locate the missing boy. You were right, he did take the weekend off."
Syd looked a bit perplexed, "Three. Myself, Maggie, and who else."
"A Sam Lerond. He hasn't been found."
"I told you he was there when I left, not in the pit. Someone had shot him as he tried to get on the four-wheeler. I saw his body when I found the vehicle. Are you sure he isn't there somewhere? Maybe they weren't looking in the right place." Panic had begun to set in as Syd started to think of a world where Sam had survived and would hunt her down.
"He wasn't there. There was a lot of blood and a drag mark. It was concluded he was taken by a gator. We are presuming him dead."
Syd froze. It was a possibility; she had felt a gator nudge her. She looked at the Detective, trying to keep her face neutral.
"It's okay, Syd, you can be horrified. It is rather horrific. You did your best to save him and Maggie. You did what no one else could do. Don't blame yourself for this; blame the bastards who shot him. The blood must have attracted the gator."
"Do you mean he might have been still alive when taken?"
"We aren't sure. As the last one standing at that spot when he was there, we were hoping you might have noticed him move or breathe."
He looked inquisitively at her. Syd held onto that noncommittal look as best she could, determined not to give anything away.
"I can't really say. It was all so nightmarish. I called his name but when he didn't move, I got out."
"Yeah, we kind of figured it was more than you could have noticed. Well," He stood up and put his hand out to shake, "thank you for your time. If we find out anything else, we will let you know."
Syd left the building through the glass doors on the front. The parking lot felt lonesome as she wound her way back to her car. She closed her eyes and soaked in the feel of the humidity.
One more stop and she would be free.
Chapter Twenty
Syd sat next to her dad. He lay quietly in his hospital bed, the beeps of the machines the only sound to break the monotony of the room. She reached out and gently took his hand. The skin felt fragile, the bones something she could not remember feeling before. He had always been so robust and full of life.
The nurse said it was a matter of hours, not days. She had made it in time, for that she would always be grateful.
"One last time, Dad, you saved me. You picked me up and made me keep going. I always thought you were tough on me, but without that, I…" her voice trailed off. The beeping got slower. She knew his heart was slowing.
Tears pricked her eyes, she didn't want to cry here. Not in front of him. Crying was for girls; she was his daughter not just a girl. She chuckled at the memory.
Tough. That was her dad. He loved her the best he could and taught her what he knew.
The hand she held gently squeezed hers. Syd looked up. There, staring at her with his milky blue eyes, was the man she had survived for.
"You did good, Syd. I'm proud of you."
Tears slid down her cheeks as they looked at each other.
"You got him, I saw that. But the gator got him more."
With an eerie smile on his face, the beeping stopped. The line went flat.
About the author
Terry, also known as M.E., is a freelance writer and editor, a Jersey girl from the shore turned Florida farm girl soon to be a Virginia farm girl. She has a BA in anthropology, an AAS in Culinary Arts, and an MA in Library Science. She has worked as a congressional archivist, historian, teacher, and professional chef and has presented her research on the history and iconography of southern cemeteries throughout the Southeast United States. She has edited several children's books, full length novels, dissertations, and academic papers; Terry, herself, has published scholarly papers, magazine articles, fictional stories, and books. She lives with her husband, two kids, and a plethora of critters.
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M.E. Anderson, The Shell Game
