Wildlife - A Dark Thriller

by Menapace, Jeff

  Ethan took lead, hurrying everyone around the perimeter of the Roy house, periodically sloshing through the shallows of the swamp, periodically catching an ankle on the twisted undergrowth. Still, they managed a tight group of four, Russ helping his limping daughter, Ethan constantly checking over his shoulder to ensure they were keeping up.

  It was only when Ethan started leading them down the embankment, closer to the main river’s edge, and where the very end of the Roy bridge had once been, that Russ voiced his concern.

  “What are you doing? We should keep to the woods! They spotted us from the river last time!”

  Ethan didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. The dark, the surrounding wilderness, the frenetic adrenaline of the escape; it had impeded Russ’ sight. But now as they approached, Russ saw it clearly. And when Ethan began untying the line and said “Lessen they feel like swimming, they won’t be doing shit from the river without this,” Russ wanted to kiss the boy.

  They all piled onto Harlon’s boat.

  Chapter 47

  Harlon helped his mother to her feet and walked her towards the kitchen counter. They took a seat.

  “That’s twice… twice they got away,” she said, wiping the blood from her face.

  “I know it, Mama,” Harlon said.

  Ida turned and spat blood on the floor. “Don’t deserve to be calling ourselves Roys.”

  Harlon looked away.

  Ida wiped more blood from her face and then winced as she touched the back of her head. “Crazy little bitch…had the devil’s strength in her.”

  Harlon said nothing.

  Ida glanced at the bedroom. “Tucker still out?”

  Harlon swigged from the whiskey bottle. “He’s out. Whether it’s from me stomping his stupid head into the ground or from losing more blood, I don’t know—nor do I rightly care right about now.” He placed an exploratory eye on his mother after that last comment, to gauge her reaction.

  He was delighted when she spat more blood and said: “Nor me.”

  Harlon grabbed his rifle from the kitchen. “I say fuck Tucker and fuck Travis and especially fuck those walking dead people out there. Because that’s what they are, Mama—walking dead people.” He placed the six-shooter on the counter, in front of his mother.

  “Ain’t doing much walking, boy. I reckon you heard them taking your boat?” Ida said.

  “I heard.” Harlon finished the bottle of whiskey in three long gulps then violently whipped the empty bottle against the wall, shattering it completely. He was drunk. Worse still, he was blood drunk. He wanted everyone dead. Consequences for extremities meant nothing to him anymore. Just dead. He flicked his chin at the pistol on the counter. “Grab that gun, Mama…” And then towards the closet door: “And then grab something to keep you warm. Boat I got in mind can get a little breezy.”

  Chapter 48

  They cruised down the river in Harlon’s boat. Ethan sat closest to the stern, driving; Noah by the bow, lighting their way with one of Harlon’s flashlights; and Russ and Liz sat huddled together in the middle of the boat in a tight embrace—Russ would not let her go.

  Even if Harlon hadn’t left the keys (and he had—no worry for outsiders venturing this deep into the swamp, and surely no worry for locals being stupid enough to steal Harlon Roy’s boat), Ethan was savvy enough to get the outboard motor running with spit and fingers. He’d been prepared for both possibilities, hoping for the former in the name of speed, and experiencing something as close to relief as he was capable when he got the latter and saw those keys sticking out of the outboard motor like a prize.

  Noah glanced back at his brother. “Looks like a straight shot for the next hundred yards or so, Ethan. Kinda hard to tell so late at night. Reckon I should use another light?”

  Ethan, one hand behind him as he steered, squinted ahead and then shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt, I suppose.”

  Noah bent and came up with a second light, but not before flashing one of the powerful beams on an endless length of dark rope coiled up in the corner that made him jump.

  “Fuck me!” he blurted before instantly apologizing. “Sorry…looked like one hell of a big cottonmouth…” Noah then traced the light over the coil of dark rope towards the large grappling hook and crossbow it was fixed to. “Well, look at this,” he said, picking it up.

  Ethan leaned forward at the stern to get a look. “Daddy had one of those when you were little. Used it for dragging the river. Didn’t have no bow like that to fire it though.”

  “Looks like something Batman might use,” Noah said.

  “Could we please stop talking about it?” Russ said.

  Neither boy offered up a reply. Russ’ request seemed good enough for them. They motored on in silence for another couple of minutes.

  Noah finally spoke. Two flashlights now held in front, he glanced back at his brother. “Helping at all, Ethan?”

  “You tell me.”

  Noah shrugged. “I suppose.”

  “If nothing else, it’ll alert people to our presence,” Ethan said.

  “Unless it’s the wrong people,” Liz muttered, her head resting on her father’s shoulder.

  Russ immediately began running a hand over his daughter’s head. “You know, if it wasn’t for you, sweetheart, we wouldn’t be here,” he said. “You saved us.”

  Liz said nothing.

  “He’s right,” Ethan said. “If it wasn’t for you, Noah never would have been able to cut us free.”

  “I just saw red,” Liz said. “I saw my mom…” She choked on “mom” and started to cry into her father’s shoulder.

  Russ pulled her in tight.

  But then as quickly as she’d started, Liz stopped. She pulled away from her father and looked at Ethan, then Noah, desperately wiping away tears.

  “Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me? I am so, so sorry, guys,” she said.

  Ethan held up a hand. “One tragedy is no worse than the other.”

  Liz shook her head. “No…what you poor boys must be going through…”

  “It’s alright,” Ethan said.

  “No—it’s not. What’s going to happen now? What are you boys supposed to do now?” Liz asked, head going back and forth between Ethan and Noah.

  “Now?” Ethan said. “Now, I’d just like to get us to safety, is all. We can work the rest out after that.”

  Russ shook his head with a short smile and then looked at Ethan with an admiration he felt for few men, let alone a fifteen-year-old boy. “You’re what we call an ‘old soul,’ son.” He then turned and looked at Noah. “You too, Noah. And as to what we do after? I can assure you, I’ll be taking care of both you boys, one way or the other.”

  Had such words been uttered by a Mr. Russell Burk to a different pair of boys up north, such words would have been met with salivating grins and dollar sign-eyes. Ethan and Noah merely nodded and thanked Russ—their thank yous more obligatory than hopeful. And again, Russ allowed each boy a glance of admiration. He did want to help them when this was over (scratch that, he would help them), but how? Talk about different worlds. Mere money seemed to offer no consolation. And Jesus, would it to anyone who’d witnessed and endured what these boys had? Sadly, Russ could think of a few cockroaches he’d dealt with in his day where it surely would. But not these boys. Money would almost assuredly be involved somehow, but not directly. He only needed to find the appropriate method of delivery. So why not ask?

  “You know, I’m serious, boys,” Russ said. “It would mean a great deal to me, to Liz too, I’m sure—” He looked at his daughter who immediately nodded back. “If I could provide for your future somehow.” He then gave a little shrug and passively reiterated: “Somehow…”

  “We need to finish school first, Mr. Burk,” Ethan said. “It was important to Mama and Daddy that Noah and I finish high school.”

  “Where will you live?” Liz asked.

  Ethan shrugged. “My Aunt Gina maybe.”

  Noah pulled a little face. Russ spott
ed it.

  “You don’t like your aunt, Noah?” he asked.

  Noah kept his eyes on the river ahead. “She’s okay.”

  “What if you boys lived with me?”

  Ethan chuckled, but there was no trace of humor on his face. “I don’t think so, Mr. Burk.”

  “Why not?”

  “How do you reckon two boys like Noah and me would fit in at one of them schools up north?”

  “You could stay here, in the school you’re in now. I’ll drive you—every day. If there’s some bullshit residence law to get around, we will.”

  “Kids at school would give us holy hell they found out we were living up north,” Noah said.

  Ethan nodded. “That they would.”

  “Well, there’s got to be something,” Russ said. “We’re not just going to forget about you boys once we get home.”

  “Mr. Burk, we’ve still got a bit of a ways to go. I appreciate all that you’re offering, but right now I think we should just—”

  “I’d like to see Mama and Daddy get a proper burial,” Noah said.

  Everyone stopped.

  Noah’s eyes stayed on the river, both flashlights out in front, but the tightness in his voice suggested he was fighting back tears. “I don’t know where they are right now…Harlon Roy said they were gonna feed them to his gators…” He paused, the tightness in his voice now cracking. He quickly cleared his throat and shook his head, this time offering his profile to the group. “If they’re still…I don’t know…around…I’d like to find them and give them a proper burial. Even if they’re not around…just a proper burial.” He turned completely now and looked at Russ. “I guess that’s something you could do.”

  Without hesitation, Russ said, “If it can be done, it will be done. You have my word.” He turned and looked back at Ethan and said again: “You both have my word.”

  Ethan only nodded a thank you in return. He too was trying not to cry.

  Chapter 49

  Harlon’s rifle lay across his lap as both hands operated the controls to Sam’s boat. “Been awhile since I drove one of these things,” he muttered.

  Ida, standing at the bow, glanced back at her son up high in the driver’s seat. “Just keep it quiet and steady—” She pointed to the giant fan behind him. “Don’t gun the damn thing or they’ll hear us a mile away.”

  “Who cares? Not like they’ll be able to outrun us. I reckon this thing can do sixty.”

  “You wanna race ’em or kill ’em?”

  They continued cruising silently down the river, Ida like a hawk at the bow, desperate to spot any light up ahead. They were driving seemingly blind through the black swamp, refusing to use the plentiful spotlights fixed to Sam’s boat. But much like the drunken old man who knew the road home no matter how pickled, so too did Harlon when it came to the river. And so too was he drunk. Drunk and eager. It was taking too long.

  “Need to kick it up a notch, Mama. We’ll never catch them at this speed.”

  “Don’t need to catch them. Just spot ’em.”

  “Never spot them at this speed either.”

  She glanced back at her son with a stern eye. “Fine—but keep it in check; I don’t feel like going overboard, you drunken fool.”

  Harlon hit the gas.

  Chapter 50

  “How are we doing, Noah?” Russ asked.

  Noah kept the flashlights on the river. “Fine, I guess.” He looked back at Ethan. “How much farther you reckon?”

  Ethan shook his head. “I don’t know—it’s so damn dark. Tough to get your whereabouts when you can only see ahead a little at a time.”

  “But we’re going in the right direction?” Russ asked.

  “Far as I know. Truth be told, I’m hoping we spot someone before we find a good place to stop.”

  “What do you mean?” Liz asked.

  “Well, I guess it’s kinda like being lost at sea on a raft. Better a big old ship comes along to rescue you than having to make it to shore on your own, you know?”

  “But are we really lost at sea?” Russ said. “I mean, you know these parts—this is your home.”

  Ethan shrugged. “If you hit a big switch right now and turned on the sun, I’d agree with you. But the dark changes things. A safe place during the day might not be so at night.” Ethan killed the motor for a moment. “Listen…”

  The motor had been a muffler to a cacophony of life echoing all around them. Life they could not see. Calls and howls, clicks and croaks, and perhaps what Ethan was really after, the occasional sound of splashing. Sometimes light, sometimes heavy, sometimes a thrashing, but always so frighteningly close. Russ could not help but flash on the python that had sent Vicky running towards the water. How something so big and so deadly could have been so damn close the entire time they were hiding. A pang of anguish for his wife was unavoidable, and suppressing it without crying out syphoned from the deepest tank of his resolve.

  Ethan looked at Russ. “Not to mention we still probably got a couple of loonies chasing after us.” He shrugged again and gave a sad little smile. “I think I’d rather be rescued by the big old ship, wouldn’t you, Mr. Burk?”

  Russ returned an equally sad smile.

  Ethan turned the motor back on, and the ambient noise of life was muffled once again—as was the distant sound of a fan boat approaching.

  Chapter 51

  Mother and son saw the lights in the distance. And they were on quite possibly the straightest stretch of river they could have hoped. Over a hundred yards at least. No chance of them veering off into another channel in an effort to hide. They were fucked.

  Harlon killed the motor. Momentum carried them down the river as he leaned forward in the seat, rifle up and scope pressed to his eye. The dark river became the familiar green circle of light. But goddamn if it wasn’t a little fuzzy. He pulled his head away, shook it vigorously, and then pressed his eye into the scope again. He could see the boat. See the passengers on the boat. If only they would keep still.

  “No shooting off hands, you hear?” Ida said from the bow. “You do it right and make ’em all count. Lord knows who’s on the river now, looking for this damn boat.”

  Harlon gritted his teeth. His green world was still fuzzy, the green silhouettes of the passengers still swimming in his sights. If only they would just keep still…

  Ida turned and faced her son. “No games, Harlon! Do it quick and do it right!”

  Harlon gritted his teeth below the scope. “Shut up…”

  “You drunken fool!” Ida scolded. “You’re seeing fuckin’ double, aren’t ya!?”

  “Shut up! I can’t fucking concentrate with you carrying on!”

  Ida spat and turned back to the river.

  So fuzzy…everything all blurred together. If only he had a damn rocket launcher that required little accuracy, he’d blow them all out of the fucking water—

  Harlon pulled his eye away from the scope. He then started to grin. Sometimes he was just too damn clever for words.

  He stuck his eye back on the scope but did not aim at anyone. He had a better target in mind.

  ***

  “Looks like we got a nice long stretch of river up ahead,” Noah called to Ethan from the bow. “Just keep it straight.”

  “Can do,” Ethan said, switching the outboard’s tiller from one hand to the other so he could stretch.

  An explosion—an all too familiar explosion—echoed throughout the forest.

  Liz screamed. Russ grabbed his daughter and pulled her to the floor of the boat. Noah and Ethan immediately followed, the boat’s propeller stopping the moment Ethan’s hand left the tiller.

  “Who’s hit?” Ethan whispered loudly. “Who’s hit?”

  All of them, flat to the floor, patted their bodies and checked for wounds as the idling boat slowly drifted to a stop.

  “I’m fine,” Liz said.

  “Me too,” Russ said.

  “Noah?” Ethan asked.

  “I’m okay.” />
  “Could it have been someone else?” Russ whispered. “A hunter?”

  Another explosion echoed. Everyone flinched and pressed themselves tighter to the boat floor. Something had hit them; Ethan heard it. He risked a glance behind them and spotted a large bullet hole by the stern of the boat—inches from the outboard motor.

  “Oh Christ,” he said.

  “What is it?” Russ asked.

  “He’s aiming for the motor. He’s trying to blow us up.”

  Chapter 52

  “Did ya get ’em!?”

  Harlon ignored his mother and fired again. He saw no result in the distance. He gritted his teeth and fired again. Nothing.

  “Fucking hold still…” he muttered, cursing his drunken vision.

  He fired again. Still nothing. “FUCK!”

  “You drunken waste! You’re not hitting a fucking thing, are you!?”

  He fired two more shots in frustration, neither of them anywhere near their mark. His mother continued to chastise his drunkenness, his uselessness. His green-lit world was becoming red. When he saw the fuzzy silhouettes leap from the boat and begin to swim ashore, he was seized by an even deeper state of rage and panic. If they got to shore and started on foot, he would never catch them. Couldn’t hit a stationary boat motor, no fucking way was he hitting a bunch of lean silhouettes as they fled. No fucking way in hell once they hit the cover of the forest.

  “Fuck this.” Harlon hit a switch, and Sam’s boat exploded with light like some wild night-ride out of an amusement park. He was about to go as fast too.

  ***

  Everyone’s belly button remained flat to the boat floor.

  “What do we do?” Russ asked. “What do we do?”