“What is it, Larry? What’s wrong?”
“Do you hear that?”
“Is it a motor?”
“Yes! An outboard, and it sounds like it’s coming this way. Slide over for a second!”
With Jessica out of the way, Larry lifted the locker lid under the bunk cushion and pulled out the Browning shotgun they had taken when Grant shot the last of the murderers on Cat Island. It was a long-barreled automatic designed for hunting, not defense like the Mossberg Scully had lost or the Remington 870 the bandits had stolen when they took the dinghy. But nevertheless, it would have to do. Thomas and Mindy had the AK and Grant had taken the .357 Magnum carbine with him. All that was left was a scoped .308 bolt action, two .22 rifles, and his brother’s Colt .22 pistol. He pulled out Grant’s Ruger 10/22 as well and checked that the magazine was full, and then passed it to Jessica.
“Stay down here, Jessica, and don’t make a sound! Keep this handy, and if anyone other than me tries to come down here, use it!”
“Be careful, Larry!”
“I will. Just keep quiet and no matter what happens, don’t come out.” He pulled her close for a quick kiss and then lifted the companionway hatch.
* * *
Grant was looking forward to exploring ashore for a little while, no matter what the purpose. For one thing, it would give Jessica and Larry some time together, as it seemed apparent that was what they wanted. That would be easier for them here while he was off the boat than in any scenario he could imagine when they were all together again in the Jumentos. And he needed a bit of time to himself anyway. Although he had adapted to living aboard a boat in close quarters with several people, he missed his alone time more than anything else about his previous life—especially alone time spent traipsing through the woods. Boats and the water were all right, but Grant still preferred exploring the wilds by land, and he was itching to see more of this uninhabited Bahamian island now that he had a good excuse to do it.
The vegetation here was different than anyplace he’d been to before. Although it was officially within the tropics, lying just south of the Tropic of Cancer, the forest here was nothing like the rain forests he’d known in Guyana, due to the ocean winds and dry climate. There were the coconuts and some other varieties of palms, along with a few stunted pine trees, as well as some exotic hardwoods that didn’t grow in the woods back home near his parents’ camp on the Bogue Chitto. Cacti and yucca were abundant here too, lending a desert feel to parts of the landscape but not making it any easier to traverse. He was glad he’d brought a machete because he needed it frequently to avoid getting his clothes or skin ripped by thorny branches and vines. It surprised him that whoever had gone this way ahead of him had done so without leaving any evidence of trail cutting. Either they didn’t have a machete or they had been in too much of a hurry to bring one. Here and there, he found more broken and bent branches and crushed ground vegetation that indicated someone had passed this way. How they did it without getting all scratched up and bloody though was beyond Grant. Though he looked for it, he found no evidence of them bleeding along the way, whether from thorns or other wounds. That didn’t mean Larry was wrong to speculate that the bullet-damaged palm trees had something to do with why Thomas and Mindy were missing though. There would have to be a good reason for them to leave their boat unattended for any length of time, especially when they’d said they were going to set sail for the Jumentos three days ago.
When a clearing appeared before him and Grant found himself on an old, abandoned road, he felt sure he was closer to finding some answers. Larry had said there was an old road leading to the ruins, and Grant figured whoever he was following had turned onto it because it would be the logical thing to do. The old road was part cobblestone and part gravel, none of its surface conducive to leaving footprints, but that didn’t matter. If it took him to the ruins and the other side of the island he was sure that he would find Thomas and Mindy somewhere nearby if they were on the island at all.
When he came within sight of the castle, he was taken aback by the size of it. It seemed improbable that someone would have invested so much in a building like that in such a remote place, only to abandon it. But he knew there were similar ruins, if not so grand, on many of the Out Islands of the Bahamas. People came here with big dreams, but the reality of life here tended to make them hard to fulfill. The lack of water was the worst drawback, not to mention the isolation, lack of good harbors and the fact that the islands were in the path of hurricanes and tropical storms. Grant could certainly see the appeal of a remote place like Darby Island on which to build one’s castle though, it was not unlike the urge that drove his parents to build their rustic cabin on the Bogue Chitto. The only thing that was surprising about this place was that apparently no one else wanted it after all the money and energy the original builder must have invested.
Grant stood quietly watching the area as he contemplated all this. He carried the lever-action carbine loosely in one hand, gripping it at the natural balance point at the receiver. He had become quite fond of that cowboy-style Winchester, and it had proven deadly in his hands during the incident at Cat Island before they sailed across the Gulf. Remembering that encounter, he wanted to be sure he wasn’t walking into an ambush. He didn’t know for sure whose trail he’d followed through that scrub; he could only assume it was Thomas and Mindy. When he’d watched and listened long enough to convince himself no one was inside, he cautiously moved closer to the ruins.
It was on the grounds around the outside of the building that Grant finally found a few footprints. Here and there were areas of clear sand that could register an impression, and he found tracks that looked the same as the smaller ones he’d seen on the beach. Comparing them to the prints from his own boots, Grant was sure these too were Mindy’s. Why there was no evidence that Thomas was with her was a mystery, but he found none of the large boot prints from the beach here either. It seemed strange indeed that Mindy would bust her way through all the brush to come here alone, when there was likely a much easier route to the ruins from a different anchorage. Grant’s tracking skills were better than average, but did not include expert knowledge of how to age visible footprints like these. He did know that it likely hadn’t rained a drop here since they saw Thomas and Mindy the other day, so with nothing to disturb them, the footprints could have been made most any time in the interim.
He searched the interior of the mansion as thoroughly as possible and found nothing to indicate it had been occupied since the blackout. There was a cistern outside but the water in it was far from appealing and out of reach without a bucket and rope. Grant decided that the only thing left to do was follow the road to wherever it came out on the other side of the island, and see if he could find evidence she had gone there. At least he could relax a bit knowing that whoever left the boot prints on the beach had not been here. That gave him the confidence to move a bit faster, with less worry that he might encounter whoever shot up that palm grove.
Thirteen
LARRY STUCK HIS HEAD up out of the companionway just enough to get a view of the anchorage. The boat he’d heard was approaching from the direction of the point at the south end of the little cove, running just a tad over idle speed. Once again, he cursed the thieves that had stolen his binoculars, because without them he couldn’t see enough details to make out who these strangers were. The boat appeared to be a native fishing skiff, probably built of wood in one of the nearby villages or towns. The outboard was likely an old two-stroke that would have been unaffected by the electromagnetic pulse.
“Can you see who they are?” Jessica whispered.
“Not yet, but they are definitely coming this way. I’m going to just wait out there for them. I want them to think I’m the only one aboard, so I’m going to close the hatch. Just stay put, and keep quiet, okay?”
Larry kept the shotgun low and out of view of the men in the boat by sliding it carefully over the drop board sill and onto the cockpit seat where it wo
uld be close at hand if he needed it in a hurry. Then climbed the rest of the way out and closed the hatch behind him, trying to appear unconcerned as he studied the occupants of the boat. They were close enough now that he could see that there were three of them. A minute more and he could also see that they were armed and that two of them were wearing brown uniform shirts and trousers.
“I think they may be local deputies or something,” Larry whispered, just loud enough for Jessica to hear him through the thin plywood skin of the cabin. For a second, Larry wondered if he should try to shove the shotgun back inside to get it out of sight. It wasn’t illegal to have one aboard a boat in the Bahamas, at least as long as it was declared upon entry, but he had entered Bahamian waters unofficially this time. Considering that, Larry decided the shotgun and other weapons would be the least of his worries if these men decided to hassle him. But in light of the current situation, he kind of doubted they would. No one in their right mind would be wandering about unarmed if they had the option. Surely these fellows would understand that—at least that’s what Larry hoped.
“Good afternoon!” Larry called out and waved, as the man at the helm of the skiff dropped the motor into neutral when he was within speaking distance. He could now see that this man, one of the two in uniform, was carrying an AK-47 with its stock folded closed on a sling at the front of his chest. The other uniformed officer was armed with a lever-action rifle that looked a lot like the one Grant took with him, while the third man carried a pump shotgun. None of them returned his greeting at first, but the one with the AK stood up in the skiff, surveying the Casey Nicole from bow to stern and to the tops of her twin masts. Larry saw him lock in on the Bahamian courtesy flag flying from the starboard shrouds. Larry had flags on board for all the Caribbean nations he frequently visited, and had hoisted this one since they had left Green Cay days before. They weren’t officially cleared in, but he’d figured it couldn’t hurt to keep up appearances.
“What brings you to Darby Island, mon?” the officer asked, when he finally spoke.
“We’re looking for our friends,” Larry nodded at Intrepida, anchored nearby. “We expected them to leave here a couple of days ago. When they didn’t show up where we were waiting, we came here to see why. Maybe if you patrol these waters you’ve seen them? A young American couple?”
“No one lives on Darby Island, mon. We are from Bensontown five miles south. But a fisherman reported this boat, so we came to check it out. Where did you expect them to show up to?”
Larry wondered if he should tell the truth. He didn’t see why not, so he went ahead. “In the Jumentos Cays. They were supposed to join us there.”
“There’s not much in the Jumentos, mon. And that’s long way to the south.”
While they were talking, one of the men in front of the skiff had put down his weapon and was now moving them closer to the Casey Nicole, sculling it sideways with a single oar off the gunwale.
“Why do you want to go there? How long have you and your friends been in the Bahamas? And where did you clear customs?”
“Three months,” Larry lied, knowing he had to say it was sometime before the collapse or the man would know he hadn’t entered the country legally. “We’ve been in the north, in the Abacos, most of the time.”
Now that the skiff was alongside, the man with shotgun grabbed hold of a shroud on the Casey Nicole, holding the boat in position until the one with the oar passed him a line that he used to quickly tie them off.
“How many on board?” the man that had been talking asked.
“Just me.”
“Then why is that canoe on over there on de beach?” the man pointed to the kayak now.
“My partner is ashore. I meant I’m the only one aboard at the moment. There are two of us, but he went ashore to look for our friends in the little boat. We thought maybe they walked to the ruins we read were on the island.”
Larry saw no reason not to tell the truth about that. He hoped the man would be satisfied with his answer and that they would leave, but that wasn’t to be.
“There is no path from this side of the island to the ruins. I don’t think your friends went that way from here. Now we need to come aboard and have a look at your ship’s papers.”
“By what authority?” Larry asked. “I think you’re out of your jurisdiction here. We aren’t doing anything illegal. We are just passing through and when we find our friends, both of these boats will be gone and you’ll never have to worry about seeing us here again.”
“I don’t think you understand. It’s not that simple, Captain. Now, here is my authority to board your vessel.”
Larry hadn’t paid particular attention to any of the weapons the men carried other than to make a mental note of the type each had. He had been focused on keeping eye contact with the one who seemed to be in charge, but now when that man put his hands on the AK slung in front of him and brought the muzzle to bear in his direction, Larry’s heart nearly stopped. It was the same Saiga AK with the folding stock that Casey had taken from the man who’d abducted her on the river—the same one Scully had when he met Thomas and Mindy and that they’d brought with them here to Darby Island. Larry had even given them an extra magazine for it. Why did this man have it when he claimed to know nothing about the presence of Thomas and Mindy’s boat? Larry knew he couldn’t say anything about it that would tip off that he knew the man was lying. But what did this mean? What had become of Thomas and Mindy if he had the rifle that Larry knew was on their boat three days ago? His mind was racing as he tried to put it all together… the boot prints on the beach… the bullet-riddled palms… the missing rudder and tiller and the padlock on Intrepida’s companionway…. He tried once more to stall the inevitable:
“Okay, okay. I understand you have the authority. But please, there’s no need to waste your time. I’ll just get my documentation and passport out of the cabin and bring it here where you can see it. You will find it all in order. I’m a professional delivery skipper, but this is my personal boat that I built myself.”
“No, that’s not enough. I wish to inspect the boat as well. We will come aboard.” He told the man with the shotgun who had tied off the skiff to go ahead and climb up. Larry knew he could do nothing else to stop them so he stepped aside, watching all of them carefully as he did so. When the one with the AK followed, he then turned to the last man in the skiff, the other one that was in uniform, and ordered him to the beach: “Sidney, go and see if you can find the one from that canoe. We will be along shortly to finish up this business we came for.”
Larry’s mind was racing as he tried to think. The Browning shotgun was several feet away on the seat next to the cabin where Jessica was hiding below. Part of him wished he’d left it down there, because these men would surely see it any minute now. The other part wished he’d used it before they got close enough to board his boat. But they were in uniform, and when they were closer he saw that those two were wearing service pistols on their belts as well. It would have been hard for him to initiate a gunfight with lawmen, unless he knew for sure they had done something to Thomas and Mindy. The one not in uniform stepped forward near the foremast and stood by for backup, Larry presumed. Larry saw the other guy’s gaze sweep across the cockpit and he voluntarily mentioned the shotgun even as the man zeroed in on it.
“It’s just a precaution,” Larry said. “I’ve always sailed with one on board, even before the blackout. You know how things are now. One can never be too careful.”
“A Browning automatic!” the man said as he picked it up. “That is too nice to keep on a boat. Look at the rust that is already starting. It will be ruined in no time!”
“I know, but it’s the only one I had.”
“And you have the receipts for it, to prove it belongs to you?”
“Of course!” Of course Larry didn’t. The Browning was one of the guns they had collected after killing the men on board the Miss Lucy that had tried to pillage the Casey Nicole in the Pearl River sw
amps. But he had to stall them somehow. “I’ll get all that now. It’s in the cabin right here.”
“No! You will stay out here on the deck where I can see you!” He passed the Browning to the other guy. “Put this in the skiff.”
“What? You can’t take that!” Larry said.
“Of course I can. We are in a state of emergency here in the Bahamas. No civilians are permitted to have firearms. You are under arrest for bringing it here, and your vessel will be confiscated as well.”
Larry was dumbfounded by this sudden turn of events. It was bad enough that the man had the AK from Intrepida, but now this? Was this what they intended all along? Was he merely waiting until the two of them were on board where they could easily control him at gunpoint? Larry didn’t know, but he did know that he was staring down the barrel of the AK at point blank range, and he had no doubt the man holding it with his finger on the trigger meant business. After the other one carelessly tossed the nice Browning into the skiff, his partner barked another order.
“Delbert, take the handcuffs off my belt.” Then to Larry: “Get down on the deck. Face down, and put your hands behind your back!”
“Wait a minute! There’s got to be a way to work this out! Keep the shotgun, but this isn’t necessary! You have no reason or authority to confiscate my boat or put me under arrest.”
“This is my authority!” he said, taking a step forward as he aligned the sights of the AK on Larry’s face. Now do as I say, or I will shoot you now!”
Horizons Beyond the Darkness Page 9
