Louder Than Words

by Brett Baker

  I had a foe in each direction, but thanks to the convenience of the broken branch I had something with which to defend myself against the alligator. As he ran toward me I jumped to my feet, grabbed the broken branch, and stepped away at the last second while using the branch as a spear and stabbing the alligator in the top of its head with the sharp end of the branch. I felt an initial solid resistance before breaking through and feeling a jelly-like squish as I twisted the branch in the alligator’s skull. It came to a sudden stop and collapsed to close the inch or two gap between its chest and the ground.

  Any hope I’d had of avoiding detection evaporated with the breaking of the tree branch, so I knew that eliminating the alligator solved only one in a long line of problems I was about to face.

  “Get over here,” the man said, mistaking me for a woman who would follow any strange man’s directions, much less one who I suspected wanted to kill me.

  Instead, I pulled the stick from the alligator’s skull, and charged at the man. He expected me to try and stab him like I did the alligator, so when I swung it toward his head at the last second he hesitated just long enough for it to make slight contact with the side of his head before he could get his hand up to deflect the blow. It wasn’t enough to knock him out, but it stunned him long enough for me to kick him in the chest, which made him fall backward. Once on his back, he had no chance. I pounced on top of him, grabbed a rock from the ground, which his head had somehow missed as he fell to the ground, and made him fall silent with one swift smash just below and behind his left ear as he turned his head.

  I jumped to my feet, and scurried toward the hedgerow next to the campsite, and peered over the top. Leaving the area before the others discovered I’d killed their comrade would have been the safe course of action, but I prefer to face a threat head-on. If I ran away they might have come after me, and avoiding them while running through thick woods with which I had no familiarity seemed like a potential disaster. I decided to confront them before they knew what to expect.

  When the first man didn’t emerge or respond to questions about what he’d found, the man to Oswalt’s right nodded toward another man, ordering him to investigate. I crouched behind bushes as the man approached, and when he passed me I jumped up, grabbed him in a headlock, and drove him chest-first into the ground, as I landed on my butt. At the precise moment that we both hit the ground, I yanked his head backward, snapping his neck.

  I turned around just in time to see another man lunging toward me. He punched me once in the face, but when he lifted his leg to kick me in the stomach I caught his foot, and raised it toward his chest in one quick motion, which threw him backward onto the ground. He used his momentum to roll his body feet-over-head and got back to his knees. He wasn’t much bigger than me, which surprised me because he had a ferocity that the other two lacked. As he stood in a defensive pose, he smiled at me, and yelled, “There’s some bitch back here. Pretty cute, but we’re going to have to kill her.” He came toward me, and his nonchalance surprised me. It seemed as if he thought I’d give in simply because he declared the need to kill me. Although still in a defensive pose, he smiled, and seemed to tiptoe, as if worried about waking up the two dead men nearby.

  “I wish you wouldn’t have done this,” he said. “I hate to see such a good-looking woman go to waste. I have to kill you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to kiss you.”

  As is often the case with men who try to say witty things to me before they attack me, he acted as if he’d spoken the most creative, original sentence I’d ever heard. The moment he paused in deluded anticipation of some appreciative compliment from me provided the opportunity I needed. Because he wasn’t much bigger than me, and had to get in close proximity to attack, he was within striking range. Before he knew what happened I struck him once in the throat with my fist, cracking his trachea. Both of his hands clenched his throat, as his eyes grew wide.

  I grabbed his shoulders, spun him around, and pulled him toward me, wrapping one arm around his neck. I dragged him to the right of the bushes, and then into the campsite. The glow of the fire illuminated the faces of the other men. I watched as Oswalt stepped backward over the log on which he’d sat, and then took another two steps. Two other men took a defensive posture, but the man who seemed in charge didn’t move.

  “Both of your friends are incapacitated on the other side of those bushes. This guy tried the best he could, but he’s not much of a fighter, so I’ve obviously got him where I want him. The four of you have a choice to make. You can try to kill me, in which case I’ll have no choice but to snap your friend’s neck. And, I’m no doctor, but gollyfuck that doesn’t sound good. Your other choice is to get out of the way and let me pass by so I can mosey on down that trail, never to see you again. I’m not going back the way I came. As you may have heard there are alligators back there. So, if you’re smart, you’re not going to try any craziness as I walk by you to get that trail.”

  The men had no reason not to shoot me at that moment. I had no gun—those things are dangerous!—so nothing stopped them from pulling out their own guns, ordering me to let their friend go, and then killing me. Or worse. But the only thing worse than facing a group of armed criminals, is facing a group of criminals without knowing what to expect. It’d be tougher to dismantle this group if they each displayed a gun, but at least I’d know what I was dealing with. By showing myself to them, I forced their hand.

  “Who are you? Why are you here?” the leader asked.

  “I might ask you the same questions,” I responded. “Although I suspect I’m much more likely to be honest than you are. My name’s Mia Mathis. I was out for a stroll and a pre-historic beast tried to eat me for dinner. When I screamed one of your men tried to kill me. Then another. And this guy.” I yanked him off the ground with my arm wrapped around his neck. “Truth be told, I don’t care who you are. I just need to get out of here. So how about each of you take a step back and let me get to that trail on the other side of the campsite.”

  “You’re lying,” the leader said. “You beat the shit out of two of my men. You’re not just out for a stroll. Who are you?”

  “Mia Mathis. Did you not just hear me say that? Let me out of here and you’ll never hear from me again.”

  I took a few steps to the left of the fire, and the two men who stood there. They remained in defensive positions, and if I hadn’t had my arm around their buddy’s neck I suspect they already would have attacked me. The leader stood on the back side of the fire, just in front of the entrance to the trail that led back to where the cars were parked.

  The longer they went without pulling their guns, the more I became convinced they didn’t have them. Each of the two men glanced back-and-forth between me and the leader, as if looking for instruction. Instead of telling the men what to do, he stood still. I turned my body ninety degrees as I crept toward the two men to give them a better look at me. If they had a clear shot at me and didn’t take it, then I could rest assured they had no gun. I expected them to reach into their waistband at any second, so I was ready to spin around and use their friend as a shield.

  But none of the men moved. No one reached for a gun. This would be easier than I thought.

  “Nice and easy,” I said, as I approached the two men. I kept an eye on them as I came within arm’s reach, but I made sure not to lose sight of their leader. He seemed calm and cool enough to wait until the opportune moment to strike and take me out, so I had to make sure I could figure out what he was doing as soon as he started to do it.

  I could feel the heat of the fire on my side. For a moment I forgot that I had my arm wrapped around the throat of the poor sucker who tried to attack me. He’d been neutralized, so my entire focus remained on the men who could still fight. Although I had no plans to leave the campsite, I had no plan of action until that exact moment. It all came together in a second or two, as usual.

  Oswalt took another step or two behind the log on which he’d sat moments before, and
seemed to be seeking protection behind the leader. I didn’t expect aggression from him, but the leader was a wild card. He’d sent the other men to attack me, but I had no way of knowing whether that meant he couldn’t handle a fight, or whether he thought himself above such things. I always found it better to assume absolute aggression unless a criminal showed a different side. As I prepared to get action, I reminded myself to keep an eye on the leader. He might give me more than I can handle.

  I squeezed my arm tighter around the neck of the man I dragged. His hands still clung to my forearms, but he gave very little resistance as I increased the pressure around his neck. It didn’t seem he had much longer, and I was surprised I didn’t have to support all of his weight. I considered waiting another minute or so to be sure he was dead before getting action, but it seemed like the perfect moment, and I didn’t want it to slip.

  As we crept past the fire, I spun around to my right and threw the man into the fire. Had I waited a few seconds more he couldn’t have supported his weight at all, and would have just fallen to the ground. But I had acted at just the right moment so his legs supported his weight for the two steps into the fire, but he didn’t have the strength or coherence to stop himself. He landed chest-first on top of the fire, flames licking all sides of his upper body. The absence of a scream should have told his comrades that he was beyond saving, but just as I hoped, one of them tried to rescue him.

  One of the two men on the side of the fire stood like a statue, his arms out to his side, his body language yelling, “Stay back!” His buddy, who ended up between me and him after I spun around while throwing the man into the fire, ran behind Statue, toward the fire, and fell to his butt. He grabbed the man in the fire by his ankles, and pulled, like the anchor at the back end of the rope in a tug-of-war. But something inside the fire pit had snagged the man, and Anchor’s pulling failed to extricate his friend.

  As Anchor pulled, Statue watched, his mouth hanging open, his feet beginning to move back-and-forth, as if he wanted to help, but thought better of it every time he moved. With his attention turned toward his engulfed colleague, he lost track of me. So when I leaned toward the fire and grabbed the end of a thin log that hadn’t yet burned, he didn’t notice. By the time I got his attention, I’d already taken two steps toward him and aimed the burning end of the log toward his chest. He threw up his hands, but not before his shirt caught fire. As he patted at his chest in an effort to put out the flames, I kicked his legs out from under him. He fell to the ground, and before he could start rolling I jumped on top of him and swung the burning log at his face. As it impacted his head, sparks flew from the log, and he screamed as the flames and embers crisped his face at the same time the force from the log tenderized it. Within seconds his entire head was engulfed in flames, as he swatted in vain.

  I backed away from Statue to turn my attention to Anchor, but before I could even get a clear view of him, Leader kicked me in the back, which sent me tumbling to the ground. I leapt back to my feet just as Leader picked up the log that I dropped when he kicked me. It extinguished when I dropped it to the ground, but the end still glowed. Leader held it like a baseball bat, and reached back as if to take swing as he approached me. I didn’t move, as if I intended to give him a free swing at my head, but when he came forward I fell to the ground and he swung over me, right where my head had been. Since he didn’t connect with anything, he lost his balance and stumbled. I grabbed his feet and pulled him to the ground. He dropped the stick, and we both reached for it while he punched me in the side as I crawled over him. His arms were longer, so he grabbed the stick before I could get to it, but as soon as his hand wrapped around it, I latched my mouth onto the meaty part of his forearm, and pulled and twisted while biting down as hard as I could. I ripped off a chunk of his forearm, which forced him to drop the stick. It was still out of my reach, but as I lunged for it my knee fell on his chest, and I knew how he would die. As he grabbed his mutilated forearm with his other hand, I adjusted my body and planted my knee into his throat. The toes from my other foot were already on the ground to help me balance without taking away much pressure from his throat by the time he realized what was happening. He flailed at me with his good arm, but even his punches to my groin were ineffectual since the pain of his shredded forearm and the panic of the weight on his neck made it difficult for him to get any force behind his punches. I didn’t move for more than a minute as I waited for him to quit flailing. All the while I expected to be ambushed from behind as Oswalt and Anchor remained.

  After I felt Leader’s body fall lifeless, I stood up to see Anchor still pulling on the ankles of the man in the fire. Why he thought there’d be anything to save of a man who spent two minutes on top of a raging fire is lost on me, but he continued to pull as if trying to will his team to the ultimate tug-of-war victory. If he noticed anything that had just happened between the other men and me, he didn’t show it. I walked behind him with great care not to make any noise. He’d be much easier to handle if he remained tuned out of everything surrounding him. He began to scream as he pulled on the man’s ankles, as if his vocalizations would provide enough force to work the man free. I took a step back toward Leader to get the thin log, but noticed one of the larger logs that had served as stools for the men as they sat around the fire. The first one I saw was much too big for one person to carry, but as I looked around the campsite I saw a smaller one just beyond where Anchor wrestled with the kindling man’s legs. I squatted toward the ground, wrapped my arms around the log, and lifted it to my chest. Anchor yelled just ten feet away, so I crept behind him, and lifted the log a bit higher on my chest. Just as I was about to let it go, Anchor let out a monstrous scream and threw himself backward, his back hitting the ground, the back of his head hitting the top of my feet. I let go of the log and it fell four feet, smashing into his face with a horrific thud splat that I’d never heard before. The log remained on top of his motionless body.

  I fell to my knees, exhausted.

  Oswalt!

  I turned around, half-expecting him to be behind me, ready to attack. But instead I saw nothing. I spun on my knee and looked all around the campsite. Nothing. I couldn’t see down the trail, so I stood up. If he was waiting in the dark to attack me I wanted to be ready. After doing one last check on the rest of the men to make sure none of them were in fighting shape, I started toward the trail.

  I took three steps before I heard squealing tires in the distance.

  Oswalt took off.

  Chapter 18

  I woke the next morning unsure if the events from the night before had occurred or whether I’d dreamt them. As I sat up in bed, I felt a sharp pain in my side from where Leader had punched me. Everything that happened was real.

  After brushing my teeth and taking a quick shower – few things are better than a hot shower – I turned on the television. A network channel out of Gainesville aired a national morning news show, but one of the hosts sat on a couch with some film star and talked about an upcoming release. I considered waiting for the local news update to see if the events at the campsite would receive coverage, but it didn’t seem worth the time. The Summit likely cleaned up the mess, although the remote location and the time of day made me doubt whether they’d be aware of what happened. I needed to talk to Polestar to debrief, but I didn’t have much information to provide. I followed Cooper Oswalt’s dad to a campsite and then killed six men who were discussing some plans. Oswalt fled. Not much information. In situations like this, I always preferred to gather more information before contacting Polestar. I often relied on them to fill gaps about a mission, but I still didn’t have much of an idea of what my mission was. I eliminated Coulson, and despite Polestar redirecting me to Dixie County, I was no closer to finding out who Coulson was. I needed more information about the men at the campsite before going to Polestar.

  Since Leona had a connection with Oswalt, it seemed best to avoid her, given the events of the previous night. I couldn’t imagine that sho
wing up at Oswalt’s house to talk to Cooper would go well either. Neither Ashtray at the front desk, nor my friend at the gas station seemed like they’d have much to offer, so on my minuscule list of information sources in Dixie County, it didn’t take long to conclude that I had to see Tyler Jo Hawkins.

  I left the El Hombre and kept an eye on the traffic behind me, and the parking lots along the way to make sure no one showed interest in my movement. As I turned onto Perry Valentine road, everything seemed clear. No car followed me from the main road, and with the twists and turns ahead I was out of sight in no time. Still, I erred on the side of caution, and turned onto a narrow road three hundred yards down Perry Valentine, did a U-turn, and waited for five minutes to make sure no car passed. Content with the desolation, I continued on my way.

  Tyler Jo sat in the exact same spot I saw him last time, on the rough-hewn log on the wrap-around porch. I parked my car, and as soon as I opened the door he bellowed, “Mia Mathis! To what do I owe this honor? And so early in the morning.” His voice contained an excitement that put me at ease. I waved, and walked up his driveway, reaching the steps leading up to his porch before speaking.

  “I can’t imagine a better way to start the day than enjoying the view with the lord of his manor.”

  “Horseshit,” Tyler Jo said. “You came for the liquor, didn’t you? I don’t blame you.”

  “I can get liquor anywhere. I don’t need to drive out to the middle of nowhere for that. Besides, it’s a bit early in the morning to have a drink.”

  “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Tyler Jo said. “Too early in the morning for a drink? You might as well say it’s too early in the morning to be alive. Too early in the morning for a drink. That doesn’t sound like a world I want to live in.” He waved me toward the two chairs on which we sat last time. “I wasn’t expecting company this early, but I’m ready. Hold on just a minute.” He opened the white screen door and disappeared inside. A minute later he came out with a drinking glass, which he put on the table between the two chairs. “I just sat down with some orange juice when you pulled up. Can I get you some?”