Broken Bayou

by Rhonda R. Dennis

  I wait to finish the discussion until I get close enough to no longer warrant shouting. Pulling my coat tightly against my body, I’m desperate to ward off the icy wind cutting through to my bones. Stomping my feet to increase the blood flow, I ask Felton if he’s spoken to Brant.

  “I did. He’s worried about you because that Luke guy came down under false pretenses. Not to worry, if they don’t catch him by morning, you’ll just have to go fishing with me.”

  “I’m not much on fishing, Felton. You might just have to leave me behind. Can’t I stay sequestered in your house and not your boat?”

  “That would be very dangerous and callous on my part,” Felton argues. “Besides, I already told Brant that we’d probably be out of communication until tomorrow evening since we’re planning to go out to the Gulf.”

  “I’m really uncomfortable with being out in a boat all day long, especially after the incident at the church…”

  Felton pulls his half chewed cigar from his mouth and gives me his undivided attention. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “I finally know the song that was playing in my dreams. Father Donnelly played it on his gramophone as I left his office and hearing it did some very strange things to me. It was almost as if I blacked out, but I was still conscious.” I shake my head. “None of it makes sense, I know, but I think something is trying to surface from my subconscious, and it’s being blocked. The last thing I need is to be in a boat in the middle of nowhere and have it happen again.”

  “Did Father Donnelly say anything to you before you left?” Felton tosses his cigar into the water before joining me on the dock.

  “I pretty much ran away before he could. He tried, but I had to get out of there. It felt like I was suffocating.”

  “You must’ve been very scared,” Felton says, reaching for me and pulling me in for a paternal embrace.

  “I was. I still am. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” he whispers, patting me softly on the back. Before I can react, his embrace tightens to the point that I can no longer breathe. It feels as though my ribs will crush under the vice-like grip he has on me, and the pain is so intense that even though my mouth is agape, I can’t pull in enough air to make a sound. “Shhhh,” he whispers into my ear. “Don’t fight it. Just go to sleep, and everything will be okay. Promise.”

  With desperate eyes I hope will put an end to the torture, I try to look toward Felton, but he continues the ruthless assault to my upper body. Tighter and tighter he squeezes like an anaconda until finally the dark spots I’m seeing turn into complete blackness.

  My mouth is so dry that I can barely swallow. That’s the first thing I notice when I begin to regain consciousness. The second thing I’m aware of is I’m freezing everywhere except for my back. I pull my eyes open to find myself in a heavily wooded area. The slightly fishy smell in the air lets me know that wherever I am, it’s near the water. Reaching deep to find the strength to move, I try to sit up. Pain and soreness worse than anything I’ve ever experienced before halts me.

  Instinct says to guard my ribs, but when I try to do so, I realize I can’t because my hands are tied behind my back. Utterly disheartened, I start to tear up.

  “Cheyenne?” A voice calls. I stop my pity party.

  “Luke?” I ask, pushing through the pain to finally roll over. His face is swollen and bruised, but with one partially open eye, he looks in my direction.

  He’s bound very much the same way I am, hands behind his back, harnessed around his chest, and tethered to a run set up between two trees, much like how one would secure a dog. He scoots on his rear to get closer to me. “Cheyenne, what is going on here? Who’s doing this? Why?”

  “I’m pretty sure it has something to do with you, Luke. Why are you stalking me? I divorced you because of the things you’ve done. I want nothing to do with you anymore, Luke. You had to know that coming after me wouldn’t end well, especially when they found out you didn’t really have an offshore job. I must say, that’s a pretty elaborate ruse even for you.”

  “Wait, there are some things you should know. Before we talk about how I got down here, I need you to know that I never stopped loving you, Cheyenne. I wanted to be the man you expected me to be, and I worked hard to become that guy in prison. I’m not the same thug. I’ve changed.”

  “Changed? You couldn’t have changed too much since you recently murdered a man at my place!”

  “Murder? I didn’t murder anyone. Cheyenne, I don’t even know where you live. You mean to tell me you aren’t in Oklahoma anymore?”

  “It’s kind of pointless to play dumb at this point, Luke. We know all about how you faked a job to get down here, presumably to get closer to me.”

  “Cheyenne, I came down here to work offshore and hopefully make enough money to try to support you the way I never could before. I was recruited, and I swear, I had no idea you were living here. How did we end up tied up together out here? Who did this?” Suddenly, the events that lead me to the wooded clearing come back to me. “Son of a bitch. Felton did this. He hurt me—squeezed me until I lost consciousness. Why?”

  “Who’s Felton?” Luke asks.

  “My boyfriend’s father. This definitely makes no sense.” I try shaking off the cobwebs to connect the dots as to what happened and what’s going on, but I keep hitting dead ends.

  “What did you do to piss him off, and what does it have to do with me?” Luke asks.

  “I’m trying to figure that out, Luke. Along with how in the hell we’re going to get out of this mess. How did you get here?”

  “When I was granted parole, one of the stipulations was that I get a job. This recruiter for an offshore company that hires people like me said he could get me on a rig right away. They paid for my ticket and had some guy pick me up at the airport. He was supposed to bring me to the company’s headquarters to do some paperwork, get a physical, drug test, all that stuff. Instead, I wound up getting my ass whooped and stuck on this island.”

  “We’re on the island?”

  “I don’t know about ‘the’ island, but we’re on an island of some sort.”

  “Cal pointed out this place to me before. He used to play here when he was a kid. It’s not far from his dad’s place, and obviously, we don’t want to signal that way for help. However, I remember seeing the island from a restaurant I ate at once.” I sigh. “The bad thing is, Felton is connected everywhere. Even if we get someone’s attention, it might not do us any good. They’ll cover for him. Brant!” I search my pockets in hopes that he left my phone behind when he dumped me off. No such luck.

  “Okay, who’s Cal and who’s Brant?”

  “Cal is my boyfriend, and Brant is a police officer I became friends with after moving here.”

  “So if this Cal guy used to hang out here, how do you know he isn’t in on all of this with his dad? Maybe he put his dad up to the kidnapping?”

  My head begins to throb contemplating it.

  “And you said something about a dead guy at your place? Maybe it was them who did it, ‘cause it sure wasn’t me.”

  “Odell was the janitor at the college where I teach, and he was found hanging from a tree outside my apartment.” I go silent for a while afterwards because I’m not sure what to think anymore. Could Cal be involved in all of this?

  Luke loudly clears his throat. “What in the hell have you gotten yourself into, Cheyenne?”

  I shake my head and fight back the tears. “I don’t know. Luke, I’m so scared I’m losing my mind. On top of all this, I’ve been having weird dreams and visions, and this little girl in a red dress is haunting my courtyard, and this fortune teller cautioned me about most of it, but I ignored her because her warning made no sense…”

  “Hold up. Talk about not making any sense. Cheyenne, you need to snap out of it and focus on the here and now. We are hurt, tied up, and in the middle of nowhere on some deserted island in the Louisiana waterway
s. Gators, wild hogs, and snakes live in places like this, and here we are trapped like bait. I don’t know about you, girl, but I’m thinking it’s time for less talk and more escaping. Can you wiggle out of your hand restraints?”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing since I woke up, Luke? I wasn’t just sitting here gabbing because I had nothing better to do. You always thought I was stupid and couldn’t take care of myself. That’s why you marched around with your rotten macho attitude. ‘Oh, look at my dumb ass wife who can’t figure anything out on her own. I gotta take care of my stupid broad because she can’t handle living life on her own,’” I say mockingly.

  “I never once said that, Cheyenne, and I definitely never thought you were stupid. If anything, I was intimidated by your smarts. You said you’re teaching now? At a college? Dumb is something you never were, and I damned well knew it even back then.”

  “Then why did you treat me that way?”

  “Because I was jealous, okay? I was young, ignorant, and even though I knew better, I couldn’t seem to help myself. Having fourteen hours a day to reflect because you’re confined to a prison cell tends to give a person some insight into his faults.” He grimaces as he struggles against his bindings.

  “I appreciate that you admitted it,” I say, fighting to pull my hands free, as well. He stops what he’s doing so he can look at me with his good eye.

  “Going to prison made me a man, but losing you made me want to be a better one.”

  His words slam my heart like a ton of bricks, and I stop fidgeting. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re on the right path,” I say softly.

  “Did you know I got out for good behavior? That cop I shot, I spent a few minutes every day writing him a letter telling him how sorry I was for doing that to him and also telling him a new lesson I learned that particular day. At first, I thought he wasn’t getting them ‘cause I got no response, but like a year later, I got a letter back. The back and forth kept up all the years I was incarcerated. He’d come by to visit me, to counsel me, to guide me in the ways of the Lord.” I stop writhing once again to give him a shocked look. “Yes, Cheyenne. I’m born again. I go to church when I can, and I minister to the needy. My life is now about serving others.”

  “Luke, I... I really don’t know what to say. That’s a wonderful thing.”

  “It took me longer to figure it out than you ‘cause your parents raised you right. My parents… well, you know.”

  “My faith has teetered since the day my parents died.” Exhausted from fighting with my restraints and sore from the beating my body’s taken, I slouch my back against the base of the closest tree.

  “Cheyenne, I didn’t know. What happened?”

  “A house fire. The coroner said they didn’t suffer. The smoke killed them before the flames reached them. They just drifted off to sleep and never woke up he says. I guess I’ll be seeing them again soon,” I say, emotions getting the best of me.

  “Not if I can help it,” Luke assures, scooting beside me. He leans his body against mine since he can’t put his arm around me. “Would you like for me to say a prayer?” Sniffling, I nod. Luke begins to pray. “Dear Lord, Jesus in Heaven, please look after me and Cheyenne as we fight our way out of this mess. We don’t know what caused this, but we have faith that you will reveal all when the time is right. Please give us strength, courage, and the ability to escape this terrible situation. If we don’t make it through, please know our souls are ready to be called home if it be your will. This we ask through your name. Amen.”

  “Amen,” I nearly whisper. “You really have changed, haven’t you?”

  “I have, Cheyenne. I really have.”

  Loud methodical applause draws Luke and me from the moment. The bright moonlight that beams through the tree branches serves like a spotlight announcing Felton’s arrival. “So sorry to break up this touchy feely moment, but it’s time to get a move on, folks. I need a couple of things from you before I can wrap this plan. Miss Douglas, I’ll start with you.”

  He pulls a folded up piece of paper from his pocket and flicks it hard so that it snaps open. He produces a pen, which he tucks in his mouth before pulling a pocket knife from his pants pocket. He saws at the rope binding my wrists, and I can barely bring my arms to the front once I’m free. My appendages feel as though they’re made of lead, and though I manage to get them beside me, I’m still unable to lift them.

  “I’m gonna need you to write a little note for me,” Felton says. “No funny business or this knife will slit that pretty throat of yours. Understand?”

  “I couldn’t even if I wanted to because my arms won’t work,” I answer honestly.

  Felton sighs loudly. “I’m working on a timeline here!” he fusses. “You. You do exactly what I say or she gets it. You understand me?” He pulls his .44 magnum from his coat and pushes the freezing cold barrel against my temple. Luke nods emphatically.

  “I’ll do whatever you want,” he agrees.

  “Good. Behind me is a shovel. I’m going to cut you loose and then you’re going to start digging me a hole, nice and wide. You’re a strapping guy. Shouldn’t take you too long.”

  Felton holsters his weapon to remove the bindings from Luke’s wrist. Before Luke has a chance to recover, Felton pulls me upright and stands behind me. I yelp from the pain and find the hard steel barrel of the gun pressed against my head once again.

  “Please don’t hurt her,” Luke implores as he slowly bends for the shovel. “I’m doing what you asked.” He stabs the blade into the thick black dirt, quickly turning shovelful after shovelful of clay aside.

  “You. Those fingers working yet?” He quickly releases me, spins me around, and makes like he’s going to backhand me. Instinctively, I throw my hands up to cover my face. “Yep, working just fine. Here, write exactly what I say on this.” He shoves the pen and paper at me, and I squat so I can transcribe his message. Shivering from the mix of cold and fear, I can barely hold the pen steady.

  “Felton, why are you doing this?”

  “Shut up and write,” he growls. “Cal. I’m sorry to do this to you, but I have to go away. Luke found me, and now I realize leaving him was wrong. He’s a fugitive, but I love him, so we’re going to disappear somewhere far away so we can be together. I’m sorry for hurting you. Please move on quickly. Cheyenne.”

  I’m scribbling out the last of the note when it suddenly becomes very apparent what Felton’s end game is. Luke is digging our graves. What I can’t figure out is why. Thousands of questions rapidly flash through my mind. What does he have to gain by getting rid of me and Luke? Maybe it has nothing to do with Luke, and he’s just a necessary part of the puzzle to explain my disappearance. But why such an elaborate ruse? Is Felton jealous of Cal’s relationships with women? Regardless of the reason, there’s no way in hell that I’m going to just lie down and become a homicide victim. If Felton wants me dead, he’s going to have to work for it.

  I grip the pen as tightly as I can in my hand when I slowly stand to give Felton the note. Just as his fingertips are about to touch it, I release it, and the wind sends it flittering about.

  “Son of a bitch,” he says, forgetting about me as he makes a mad grab for the letter. Right as he’s about to get a hold of it, I leap onto his back and ram the pen as far as I can into the soft tissue on the side of his neck. He flails his arms madly while his pain-filled shouts resonate through the night sky. I hit the ground with a solid thud, and despite the pain, I’m able crabwalk away from his reach. Felton spins around, his mad eyes wide from the shock, as the wound forms a sluice of dark blood down the length of his body. Teeth exposed in an agony and rage induced grimace, he raises his gun and aims it right at my head. Quickly searching with desperate eyes, I realize there is nowhere to go, so I curl into a ball, tightly close my eyes, and brace for the shot. It doesn’t come, so I crack an eye to see what’s happening.

  Luke lurches from the hole and makes a mad dash for Felton, his shovel raised high in the
air and ready to attack. Completely expressionless, Felton pulls the gun away from my head, and points it in Luke’s direction instead. A thunderous explosion rumbles through the air, but it doesn’t dominate for long because my shrill screams soon replace the echoes of the thunderous crack. Clutching his chest, Luke stumbles backwards a few steps and falls into the hole he’d been digging.

  “NO!” I cry out, my vision blurring from the tears welled in my eyes. The recently warmed steel barrel presses against my head once again, and knowing how great the odds are stacked against me, I begin to hyperventilate. Felton can barely keep the gun steady, but I don’t doubt for one second that he’s able to pull the trigger even though he appears to be losing strength quickly. Again, I brace for the inevitable when another crack breaks the silence. Crack, crack, crack.

  Felton’s body snaps backwards then lurches forward with each new sound. Four hits to the chest finally make him lose control of his weapon, and he barely has time to grab at the pen in his neck as his limp body buckles to the ground. Not even caring how it happened or who did it, I run full out to the hole where Luke collapsed, and without a second thought, I jump in with him.

  His eyes stare ahead, and I’m convinced he’s gone until he blinks. “Luke, hold on. Help is coming. Felton is gone. Hold on.” His eyes shift to look in mine.

  “I’m not scared. I want to be with Him. Please don’t be sad for me, Cheyenne. I’m going to be just fine.” He musters up enough energy to brush the tears from my cheek with his dirty and bloody hand. “It’s important that I tell you how sorry I am for failing you as a husband. You’re the love of my life. Do you accept my apology?”

  “Of course, but listen. You need to hang on Luke. We can talk about this more later, once you’re feeling better…”

  He feebly shakes his head. “You always did talk too much,” he says, with a slight smile. “Just listen, okay?” I nod. “There’s something I want.”