Clint Wolf Boxed Set: Books 16 - 18

by BJ Bourg

  “We should be getting close now,” I said to Takecia when we had walked another few hundred feet.

  “I think you are right. The ground is growing softer.”

  The trees and underbrush were also getting thinner, and our visibility soon improved from several feet to about ten yards.

  “I see the water,” Takecia announced after another three or four minutes of trudging along.

  I picked up the pace and began walking beside her. My socks were still sopping wet and I could hear them squishing inside my boots. I was about to comment that it would be nice to stop and wring them out when I noticed her quickly step to the right.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked. “Are you afraid I might accidentally brush up against you and give you some sumac?”

  “No, I think I see something.” She had bent over as she walked, trying to see through the trees. She picked up her pace. She was almost moving forward at a crouching run, and I could sense the urgency in her movements.

  I squatted low and began running forward, too, and it was then that I caught sight of something bright through the tree trunks. I recognized almost immediately that it was the pale flesh of a naked human and it was positioned on its face at the edge of the water. As we rushed closer, I could see the side of a bare female breast protruding from under the body. This had to be her!

  My shoulders drooped as I realized we had been right—Camille’s body had floated along the channel and come to rest in the shallower water. While this was a very secluded and beautiful spot in the swamps—a place I might choose to have a picnic with Susan and Grace—it was not a suitable resting place for someone as special as Camille.

  Camille Rainey didn’t deserve this ending. She didn’t deserve to die all alone in a wilderness strange to her. She didn’t deserve to have her body lost and consumed by vultures and other creatures of the swamps.

  If I was to take solace in anything, it was in knowing that we had at least found her before she had been defiled by the elements. At least her family could have a proper burial and send their special daughter off in the right way.

  I had slowed my pace as I reached Camille and was about to remove my rucksack when Takecia cursed violently and threw herself backward, smacking me fully in the chest.

  CHAPTER 16

  Takecia was a solid woman. She was a tough mixed martial arts fighter and she had been Susan’s training partner for years. When her muscular back struck my chest, she sent me sprawling. She was usually very sure-footed, but whatever she saw had surprised her so much that she stumbled and fell right on top of me. I let out a grunt as the air left my lungs.

  “What the hell happened, Takecia?” I asked as she scrambled violently on top of me, trying to get back to her feet. I didn’t know if I should draw my pistol or get ready to run.

  She finally rolled over and inadvertently shoved her left palm right into my face as she pushed off of me and regained her feet. She mumbled an apology, but didn’t offer to help me up. Instead, she turned immediately toward Camille’s body and approached cautiously.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, standing and brushing mud from the backs of my arms. “What in the hell spooked you like that? You know you probably have poison sumac now.”

  Takecia dropped to her knees beside Camille’s body and reached for the girl’s neck. My heart suddenly cut a flip inside my chest. I took another look at Camille’s body and realized that something was drastically wrong—or right—and it was that her body was not swollen. In fact, it actually appeared overly thin. Her ribs were clearly defined on her back and I could trace her backbone from her neck to the top of her bikini bottoms.

  “The girl’s alive,” Takecia announced excitedly. “She is in bad trouble, but she is alive!”

  I could hardly contain the joy that surged through my body. I dropped to my knees and helped Takecia carefully turn Camille onto her back. Her eyes fluttered and she parted her parched lips, as though trying to talk.

  “Don’t say anything,” I said softly, ripping my rucksack from my back. “You’re safe now.”

  I quickly unzipped the main pocket and removed a tarp and a bottle of water from inside. I quickly spread the tarp over her torso to cover her breasts and then twisted the cap off the water bottle. I splashed a small amount of water onto her lips. This brought about an immediate reaction from her. She opened her mouth for more. I provided several drops at a time, holding the back of her head upright as she gulped down the water.

  While I tended to Camille, Takecia called Melvin on the SAT phone and asked if he could get the airboat to our location. She knew what I knew—that Camille’s life might be too fragile to survive the trip on foot to the Boston Whaler. It would be time consuming and too much jostling.

  “He will be here in ten,” she said when she ended the call.

  While waiting for Melvin to arrive, Takecia searched the area. She located a spot near the water where Camille had been vomiting. She pointed it out to me. “She’s sick.”

  I touched Camille’s forehead with the back of my hand. It was hot. I gave her more water. Although she was weak, she sucked it down with zest. I didn’t want to say anything to alarm Camille, so I didn’t say anything to Takecia about her high fever. I shot an occasional glance in Takecia’s direction, but she never made eye contact with me so I couldn’t signal her.

  Camille kept trying to speak, but her voice was hoarse and she was extremely weak. I couldn’t understand a word she was saying.

  “It’s okay,” I said soothingly. “Help is on the way. We’ll take you to a hospital and you can tell me everything then. Okay?”

  She closed her eyes and her lips tightened in frustration. I was about to offer more comforting words when I heard Takecia gasp from somewhere in the trees behind me. I turned my head and twisted my back to see her. She was standing near a tree, staring down at the base of the trunk.

  “Bloody diarrhea.” Worry lines were etched into Takecia’s usually smooth face. Her eyes moved from the trunk of the tree to Camille, and then, finally, to the canal. “She drank the swamp water when she got thirsty. She has dysentery.”

  I’d heard of dysentery, which was caused by the shigella bacteria, but I’d always thought it to be a mild sickness. I studied Camille’s face again. Her eyes were closed and her breathing appeared shallow.

  “Are you sure that’s all it is?” I asked. “She looks really sick.”

  “The vomiting and diarrhea has caused severe dehydration,” Takecia explained, pulling out the SAT phone again and punching in some numbers. “She needs intravenous fluids and antibiotics ASAP. She might not survive the boat ride.”

  Camille stirred in my arms and I winced inwardly. She had heard Takecia and reacted to it.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “You’ll be fine. We’ll get you all the help you need. You’re a fighter and your job is to keep fighting.”

  Takecia put the phone to her ear and waited. After a short pause, she said, “Sue, we found Camille. We need a medic helicopter pronto. We’re in Le Diable Lake.” She paused for a moment. “We’re in the woodlands to the north, but Melvin’s coming with the airboat. He’ll get us out in the open. Just get the chopper here and we’ll clear out an LZ.”

  I could hear the roar of the airboat’s jet engine through the trees. They were getting close—or so it sounded.

  “Let’s prep her for the move,” I said, easing Camille’s head to the ground. She didn’t respond. Her body was limp. I quickly checked for a pulse with two fingers while I simultaneously put my ear to her mouth.

  “Is she breathing?” Takecia asked, seemingly holding her own breath.

  I could feel heat on my ear, but I didn’t know if it was from her breath or the fever. And then I felt it. While it was a faint heartbeat, it was a heartbeat nonetheless.

  Just in case Camille could still hear me, I said, “She’s fine. She’ll be just fine.”

  Right then, the airboat came roaring down the narrow channel. The hull was wider th
an the canal in some places, but it didn’t impede the vessel. When Melvin reached us, he worked the rudder stick and whipped the boat around, crushing a section of palmetto bushes in the process.

  Takecia and I had already gathered Camille up in our arms and were carrying her toward the channel when Melvin stopped the boat. My socks, which had finally dried, got wet again as I splashed through the slop. When Takecia and I reached the boat, we carefully lifted Camille into the waiting arms of Amy and Melvin. Without wasting any time, we gathered up our gear and jumped into the boat.

  As the blades from the giant fan pushed the airboat through the swamps, taking us closer and closer to a location where we could meet the rescue helicopter, I sat and stared down at the tarp covering Camille’s chest. It rose and fell ever so slightly with each faint breath she would take. Every time it fell, I held my own breath and said a silent prayer that it would lift again with the next breath.

  CHAPTER 17

  Grace was still awake when Susan and I got home at nine o’clock that night. My mom had spelled Susan’s mom and was home with Grace when we arrived. Grace ran up to us with her arms wide, intending on wrapping our legs in her warm embrace. But when she reached us, she scrunched up her nose and stopped so suddenly that she fell to her face.

  “You stink, Mommy!”

  Susan swooped Grace into her arms and said, “And now you stink, Sweetie!”

  With Grace screeching gleefully, Susan carried her upstairs.

  “I saw you on TV,” my mom said to me as I stood near the door removing my muddy boots. “You were on the noon news. I recorded it on the DVR if you want to see it.”

  I groaned. “I don’t.”

  “You looked tired. I thought it was just the television, but it wasn’t, was it?” She walked up to me and studied my face. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

  “We recovered two drowning victims from the swamps and rescued two others,” I said wearily. “I haven’t had time to sleep.”

  “The news said y’all recovered three drowning victims,” Mom countered.

  “They were wrong.” Achilles, my black German shepherd, sidled up to me and nudged my hand. At a little over a hundred pounds, his head was as high as my waist. I rubbed his ears and walked to the stove, where a pot of chicken and sausage gumbo was calling my name. He followed me. Coco, a saddleback German shepherd I had rescued from a bad situation, tagged along, and both dogs settled in at my feet while I fixed a bowl of food.

  “You know,” my mom said, also following me. “The news said something had dragged the tourists into the water and drowned them. They warned people to stay away from the lakes around Mechant Loup. Do you think Godzator is back? Do you think he’s coming back for you? I have nightmares that he comes back and attacks you. In my dreams, I see you fighting him, but I always wake up before it ends. I never know the outcome, and that scares me.”

  “I dream I can fly sometimes, but that’s never happened.” I shrugged. “In my view, your dreams are made up of things you see or think during the day. I believe some are completely random, but most are simply a manifestation of your most recent fears or ideas.”

  “Well, it still scares me.”

  I grabbed a spoon and set my bowl on the table. “Want me to walk you to your car?”

  She shook her head and hugged me despite my present condition. “I’ll be fine. You just be sure to get some rest.”

  When she was gone, I scooped some rice and gumbo into a second bowl. I then brought both bowls to the coffee table and reached for the remote. I scowled down at Achilles when he dropped to his haunches in front of the second bowl.

  “That ain’t for you,” I said.

  His opened and shut his mouth and then wriggled excitedly.

  “Does your momma stick her nose in your food bowl?” I asked. “No? Then stay out of hers.”

  Frowning deeply, Achilles sauntered off and squeezed through the dog door that led to the fenced-in back yard. Coco followed him. I laughed. “I guess he showed me.”

  I turned on the television and accessed the list of recordings. When I found the noon news my mom had recorded, I set it to play.

  “God, it feels good to be clean,” Susan said as she descended the stairs, Grace in tow.

  “Mommy smells good now, Daddy!” Grace announced when they reached the living room and surrounded me on the sofa, Susan to my left and Grace to my right. When Grace leaned against me, her little nose scrunched up and her face soured. She slowly slid away from me.

  “What’s the matter, Gracie?” I asked, laughing. “Where’re you going?”

  “You stink, Daddy.”

  “What?” I feigned surprise as I pulled at the front of my dirty shirt and dipped my head. The mixture of dried sweat and swamp water rose to greet my nostrils. It smelled awful. The fabric was stiff from the abuse of today’s labor, but I didn’t really mind. Our efforts had paid off—we’d rescued Camille and she was now resting in Chateau General Hospital being treated for a bacterial infection and severe dehydration.

  Much to our relief, the doctors had said she would make a full recovery. It had been the best news I’d heard since we found her. When we had helped load her into the helicopter on Le Diable Lake, I wasn’t sure she would survive the flight to the hospital. However, the air medics had done a phenomenal job and she looked like a totally different person three hours later when we made it to the hospital. She had still been too weak to answer questions, but her color had returned and her breathing was stronger.

  “You’re on TV, Daddy!” Grace hollered from beside me. “Look!”

  I retrieved my bowl of food and began eating while I watched. It was the noon broadcast, but they showed scenes from the previous night and earlier in the morning. In this particular scene, the ambulance was backed up to the boat launch and Amy and I were returning with Nelly Martinez. When Roger Rainey began shouting for his daughter, the camera swung toward the crowd and began following his advance toward the ambulance. They captured him rushing past me. The cameraman paused on my dejected figure for a brief moment before continuing to pursue Roger.

  “Damn, your mom was right.” Susan’s spoon was suspended inches from her mouth as she gawked at the television screen. “You do look tired.”

  I only grunted and watched the screen, unable to hear the reporter because Grace was jumping up and down on the sofa beside me. Her red curls bounced as she jumped, and she began singing a song she had made up about me being on the news.

  “Daddy’s in the TV, Daddy’s in the TV,” she sang gleefully, making sure to keep her distance from me. “My daddy’s in the TV!”

  I smiled and reached for her, but she screamed and scrambled to the far edge of the sofa and rolled to the floor. Still screaming, she half ran and half crawled across the living room floor and then up the stairs. I figured she wanted me to chase her, so I picked up my bowl and headed upstairs. Susan turned off the television and followed suit.

  I wanted a shower and about ten hours of sleep. I would get the former, but only about half of the latter. First thing in the morning, I wanted to interview Camille Rainey. I needed to find out how she had ended up so far from where she’d gone missing. When we had driven to the hospital earlier to check on her, Amy had floated the idea that Camille had been abducted by aliens. I had laughed, but quickly realized she wasn’t joking.

  “Did you see the videos that were declassified by the Navy?” she had asked in a low whisper.

  I had shaken my head. “I don’t have time to watch television.”

  “It shows Navy pilots encountering UFOs in the skies along the East Coast. They’re even starting a real-life X-Files division to investigate UFOs.” She had pointed excitedly to the closed door of Camille’s hospital room. “What if she was abducted?”

  I must’ve been staring at her like she was crazy, because she had leaned closer and said, “I’m not crazy!”

  “I never said you were, but it does sound pretty far-fetched, don’t you think?”
>
  She had crossed her arms and said, “Tell that to the Pentagon. For decades they sounded like some of the biologists who used to work for the state, but now they have to admit they were wrong.”

  I had scrunched up my face. “What do biologists who used to work for the state have to do with the Pentagon?”

  “Some of them had claimed for years that the game cameras showing cougars in Louisiana were frauds. They would state with certainty that there were no large cats in Louisiana, but when one was shot up north, they were forced to admit some of the animals might have wandered into the state from Texas or Arkansas.” She had shaken her head warningly. “Don’t rule out the possibility that she was abducted. I don’t want you getting egg on your face.”

  Too tired and hungry to debate the issue, I had only smiled and said, “I’ll bet you $100 she wasn’t abducted.”

  CHAPTER 18

  “I was abducted,” Camille said the next morning when I asked her what had happened to her.

  I didn’t take my eyes off of Camille, who lay in a hospital bed attached to an IV and heart monitors, but I could see Amy in my periphery. She crossed her arms and shot me a “you owe me $100” look.

  I paused for a second, considering Camille’s current appearance versus how she had appeared when I’d first seen her this morning. Roger and Odelia had been in the hospital room when Amy and I had arrived at about seven-thirty. They’d immediately gotten up to leave the room to give us some privacy, but Roger had stopped in the doorway and wrapped me in his large arms, thanking me profusely. I didn’t like being hugged or thanked, but I endured it for a moment. When it had lasted too long, I gently pulled his arms away and told him we had simply done our job.

  “No, you and your officers went beyond your call of duty.” There had been moisture in his eyes when he addressed me. “Every department has to send their people home to sleep, but you guys stayed on the water for more than two days. You didn’t quit until you found my baby. For that, I will forever be in your debt.”