A glance at the sky did not help. There was no sun to give him a direction and it was rapidly getting darker. Chase sighed. Nothing was ever easy. Well, moss always grew on the north side of trees and rocks. So, if he could find some, he could travel sideways to the right, he should be heading east and hopefully he would find his way out to the ocean or to civilization, or to somewhere.
Along the way he would carve a notch into the trees he passed and trample down some vegetation in case Joe and his friends had picked up his trail. He knew the Seminoles were phenomenal trackers. During the Vietnam era, those who were in the armed forces had mostly been Rangers. The stories about their exploits and heroism, mostly alone, in the Vietnamese jungles were the stuff of folklore.
He would not be able to travel in the dark unless he had some type of light, and even that would be next to impossible, especially if he had to fight through any more mangroves.
Another decision made, Chase figured he had about an hour of decent light left in which to find shelter. Double-checking his direction, he set off at a steady pace trying to figure his options as he went. He could try nesting in a tall tree for the night or, if he could find a decent clearing, he could build a fire and not be in danger of breaking his neck. Either way he would not be able to sleep.
Chase was not sufficiently knowledgeable about the wildlife in the Everglades to know what predators might disturb him, so he was not about to sleep on the ground with just the stars for comfort. Like most people,he had heard the stories about exotic creatures misbreeding out here. After hurricane Andrew had destroyed the Miami Zoo, many of the escaped creatures had never been recaptured, and then there were the idiots who got illegal creatures for pets and released them when they got too big. There really could be monsters out here.
Logically, then, his best bet would be a tree. He could fashion some type of torch and take several up with him. In the event something threatened, he could scare it off with the torch, and if he could find a strong vine, he could tie himself to the tree and maybe get some sleep.
Thus encouraged, decision number three made, Chase started looking for a likely tree. Looking around at the vast expanse in front of him, Chase now understood why the Everglades was often referred to as a river of grass, but further off he spied a stand of cypress. There must be a likely tree over there.
Twenty-four
Brian was getting bored. Tossing the Hickman place had been way too easy and as he thought, he had found nothing of interest. Americans were such great ones for gadgets but they were so sloppy. Any fool with half a mind could have burgled the place while they slept.
Just to be on the safe side, Brian also searched the Turtle Rescue Center but apart from a lobster that would have made a great dinner, he came up empty. They should have given this job to a trainee and probably would have except that Brian would have done just about anything to be out in the field again, even if his talents were wasted. Oh the good old days of James Bond. Whatever happened to them?
Well now, all this housebreaking was getting awfully boring. He had yet to check out the biker’s place, but that could wait. The report was in on those rocks he had sent back. Brian scanned it impatiently. Fulgurites, blah, blah, blah, non-indigenous rock, blah, blah, blah. Good grief, these analyst types.
Frustrated Brian skipped to the bottom line. The consensus seemed to be that since there was no other explanation, the rocks were man-made, for what purpose no one knew because the mineral analysis had shown the eggheads nothing of interest. However, it obviously had something to do with the formula that Brian sought and as such was a valuable find. A whole team of eggheads had been assigned to duplicating the material.
Hmph, Brian snorted. They could do that forever and come up with nothing.
De Brandt minerals was getting very nervous and the vibrations were filtering down. Soon there would be rumors of upheavals in the world diamond market. Brian’s orders read: proceed with full speed and caution. Great. How did you proceed cautiously at full speed?
Brian thought it was time to get some supplies. He would go to Miami, nothing local. His contact down there had already set up a meet with a weapons dealer in Little Havana. After that he would put his nose back to the scent and see what it turned up. Whistling, Brian headed out to his black box on wheels. Maybe he could get some good cigars while he was down there.
Twenty-five
Chase had been walking for some time and it was getting really dark now. The stand of trees were slowly getting closer but Chase’s uneasiness grew. It was treacherous walking even in good light. He couldn’t risk tripping and maybe breaking a leg.
As the dark of night settled down around him, the voice of the Everglades grew ever louder and Chase worked at separating the sounds to keep focused away from his predicament. There were the frogs. Millions of them there must be and what a noise they made. There was the occasional strange clacking noise, which Chase now knew was caused by an alligator snapping its jaws together. The birdcalls had mostly stopped and Chase pictured them all tucked up in their nests for the night. Only the monsters would be out now.
Chase was keeping up his pace pretty well. Despite the danger, he wanted to get to a nice empty tree in a hurry but he gradually became aware of one sound over the others. He hadn't heard it before and couldn’t quite define it although it was close. He stopped, listening. It seemed to be coming from the ground directly in front of him. He took another step forward. Something moved under his boot, something slithery and hissing. Chase recoiled in a hurry, almost falling backwards. Staring intently in the gloom, he saw that the whole game trail which he had been following seemed to be moving. It was alive. Chase risked some of the precious fluid in his lighter, holding it close to the ground, then wished he hadn't.
Snakes, or maybe eels, they seemed to be wet, hundreds of them all coiled up together and swirling along in a mass. They were about three feet long and fat. Big snakes, slimy looking, traveling Medusa style. Chase held the lighter up further. They kept coming. He had never seen anything like this. The thought that he had almost plowed into the middle of this mass of coiled muscle almost made him gag. Beat this, Indiana Jones. They were at least going across his path and not coming directly at him. They didn’t seem to take any notice of the light and Chase was now not bothered by fuel at all. He was not going to put that light out until the last damn one of them was out of sight. Chase stayed where he was, glued to the spot waiting for this incredible nest of vipers to go on their way. The lighter burned his fingers. He didn’t notice.
Goddamn. Nobody gave those pioneers enough credit. What they had gone through and for what, a mosquito infested swamp that tried to kill you at every turn. Amazing. Eventually, the path was clear again. Chase picked out a likely tree before he put away his lighter and started running. Enough was enough.
Panting, he reached his tree and hallelujah, it was climbable. Chase went up it in a hurry skinning his hands as he went. He didn’t appear to have any company and hoped that he had climbed high enough to dissuade most critters that might get curious. He had made a vine earlier while wandering his lonely path and now used it to tie himself into a notch where two heavy branches met. He settled in, uncomfortable, far from sleepy, but very tired. He dozed in fits and starts for a while. He awoke to thunder that was different than any he had heard before. Chase supposed everything seemed different out here. This thunder started with a deep rumble across the skies, much like the menacing growl of an awakening lion. In the immenseness of this wilderness, it was a very scary sound. Chase came fully awake and cursed, realizing the possibility of electrocution by lightning was becoming larger by the moment.
Tied to his tree Chase was provided a spectacular display of nature’s power. The storm seemed to stay in one place. Strike after strike of dazzling displays of lightning flashed and sizzled for what seemed like hours in a spot to the south of him. High in his aerie, Chase was mesmerized
by the blinding flashes and the noise of the thunder as it rolled over him in waves, reverberating for miles. There was no rain for which Chase was thankful, he had been wet enough for one day and, he realized, the storm would help keep the critters away. It also provided light, albeit in sizzling flashes, so that he could get glimpses of the area below. Eventually, the storm stopped abruptly and he relaxed enough to left his exhaustion take over.
The next morning Chase woke early, just as the sun was coming up over the horizon. He was a little the worse for wear. The mosquitoes had broken through the mud in patches and feasted. Chase itched unbearably. He was stiff and sore from his unnatural position in the tree and his arm was now practically useless. Thankfully, he was left-handed.
From his vantage point, Chase checked the direction in which he was traveling and saw that it appeared to be dry, passable land and it looked like a beautiful morning. So far so good. Climbing stiffly down from his nest, he warily watched the ground beneath him for signs of unwelcome company. If any had visited in the night, they hadn't stayed long enough to wake him up, but once more down on mother earth who knew what surprises awaited.
He sat for a while with his back to his tree, thankful to be on at least somewhat firm ground again. The sun was climbing up there in a clear sky and it looked like it was going to be a roaster. He caught just a glimpse of a white tailed deer as it bounded away over the sawgrass. His stomach growled. It was time for breakfast.
In a place of such plentiful life, breakfast should be easy right? Fish perhaps. Certainly not frog. Not deer. That would be wasteful. What then? In no hurry this morning, Chase remained seated at the base of his tree letting the morning sun warm his stiff muscles, hoping they would loosen up enough to carry him out of this land of the lost. Grimly he remembered telling Joe that he didn’t want to get lost out here. That seemed like years ago. He hoped Joe was busy rounding up an Indian relief team.
Gradually Chase worked on loosening up his stiffened limbs. His stomach was still growling, only louder now, when breakfast suddenly appeared. A rabbit, or swamp hare, or whatever it was, came hopping over the sawgrass directly towards him. The creature had no fear of man and Chase froze until it was within reach. It simply sat in front of him with big soft eyes, looking for all the world like Thumper Rabbit.
Chase lunged, caught it easily and wrung its neck in one quick motion. He felt guilty. There was no pride of the hunt trophy here but food was food. With no container to boil water, Chase was reluctant to drink the brackish water of the swamp and eventually found some rainwater that had collected and not yet drained or evaporated from a slight indention in the land. He started a small fire and waited impatiently for the rabbit to roast, salivating at the smell. Finally, he could wait no more and devoured his catch semi raw and semi burned. Thus refreshed, he felt much better and ready to start out again.
The going was uneventful, aside from occasional sightings of deer, birds and gators, all far enough way not to elevate his heart rate. Chase started out with an easy and optimistic stride. The day was clear and sunny and the mosquitoes gave him a break, but the sun did not. As the day got hotter, Chase’s step became slower. The heat became brutal and he stopped to fashion himself a large boat-shaped hat from a palm frond. He replenished his mudpack but it kept dripping off as fast as he put it on.
Around noon, the terrain started to change and Chase found himself on a little green island, another world within this strange world. Pushing through to the middle, Chase understood why. He stood next to a gator hole. There was morning glory and fern and glistening spider webs, bumblebees and dragonflies, even a cardinal singing. Nevertheless, Chase knew it for what it was a gator hole. Treachery dressed up.
Chase retreated back to the unlovely marsh to rest up and have one of his precious cigarettes. He rinsed his arm again and confirmed his fear. It had become infected, whether from the brackish water, or whatever had cut him, it was now a throbbing angry looking mass of red swollen tissue. His face wasn’t much better. Despite the mudpacks, his eyes were tiny slits in the swollen lids. His entire face pretty much one mass of insect bites. It felt tight and swollen. He wondered why any woman would get a face-lift if this is what it felt like.
There was still no sign of anything but swamp. Chase wouldn’t let himself think about that. He told himself he was still in pretty good shape, not bad for an old guy who hadn’t been on a survival course in a while. While he smoked he watched one of the small deer, which seemed plentiful in the area, crossing in front of him. The animal unerringly sprang from grass tuft to grass tuft, keeping its dainty feet clear of the marsh.
Chase studied the area intently, watching for gators or any other potential dangers. About a hundred yards away the terrain changed again. From where he stood it looked like a solid mass of scrub palmetto. Chase had already had a run in with saw palmetto, each blade, because that’s what it was, it wasn’t a leaf, covered in tiny serrated little teeth, needle sharp, a formidable weapon.
Wearily, he got to his feet and doing his best deer imitation, hopped unsteadily from grass tuft to grass tuft. His progress was slow. He did not want to miss and find out what was in that water. Despite his best efforts, he was running out of strength. The heat was dehydrating him faster than he could replenish it and the throbbing pain in his arm nagged at him, sapping his remaining energy supplies. Eventually, exhausted, he reached the other side. He figured he had crossed that hundred yards a dozen times with the circuitous route he had been forced to take. His legs ached and the heat was starting to make him dizzy. He searched around for some moss to check his direction and was pleased to find himself still on course. Nursing his right arm, he started into the palmetto.
He didn’t know how long he’d been walking, trudging along, head down, but he knew he was staggering when he walked right into an immovable object. Squinting painfully through eyelids that were almost closed it took Chase a second or two to recognize a brown face topped by a mop of thick black hair. Chase grinned painfully, held up his swollen right arm and muttered “Howdy. Beautiful country you got here,” before collapsing at the feet of his benefactor.
Twenty-six
Myles wished he had moved to the lab a long time ago. He was free to work when he pleased, eat when he pleased, sleep when he pleased and do whatever else he damn well pleased. He hadn’t had so much fun since his undergraduate days when he worked with those nerds in New Mexico. They had studied lightning, but the fools were busy trying to control it. They had missed the real miracle. They hadn’t even figured out how to control it properly. Even now the idiots were using rockets in a hit and miss fashion. If a strike happened when the rocket was released, no lightning was triggered, let alone controlled.
Myles had figured out how to do it years ago. He used infrared and ultraviolet lasers to trigger lightning by creating an electrically conductive channel of ionized air. He had done his theoretical calculations and numerical simulations down there in New Mexico in their special high voltage facility while they were still busy playing with the rockets and he had discovered how to set off lightning from clouds.
After that, he had no use for the New Mexico site and had left to further his studies elsewhere. It had taken years. In fact, it wasn’t until he met Alicia that he had even come close. With Alicia’s money the work progressed much faster, though Alicia thought he was dabbling in the market and had no idea he had bought this place in his own name. Score one for Myles. He had beaten the bitch there. She would be furious if she ever found out. It would ruin her fun for weeks. For the first time Myles had his own fully equipped facility that would allow him to bring his dream to fruition. Controlling lightning was child’s play now. Sometimes he even did it just for fun. It made him feel like an ancient wizard holding the cowering population in thrall. Sometimes he did it from frustration. When his work came so close, only to end in failure again, a good lightning storm provided release and recreated the excitement that dro
ve him on to test again.
Myles watched the scientific community closely. No one else had discovered his secret. No one else was working on it. Nevertheless, he worked feverishly, terrified that someone would get there first. Now he was close to completing a successful formula. He could smell it. His last two attempts had brought him much closer than ever before.
Scowling, Myles realized it was time to feed the turtles. If it wasn’t for them, he would have no idea of the passage of time, but they must be taken care of. Everything should appear normal. Myles had told the staff at the Center that the park rangers were caring for the turtles while he was away so that no one would be tempted to visit. He grabbed the bucket and headed out the door.
Behind him the lab was littered with fulgurites. They all looked like miniature bolts of lightning
.
Twenty-seven
Chase woke up in a nice soft bed. He was clean and pain free. His arm had been dressed and the swelling on his face felt a little better.
“About time. You sure do like to sleep man.” Joe sat across the room where he had evidently been working on his notebook. “Before you ask, you’ve been out about eighteen hours and you’re on the reservation. It took some persuading to get our womenfolk to administer to a white man but I convinced them you were half-Indian. I sent half the tribe out looking for you. They were impressed. We Seminoles can track anything but the betting was you’d be brought back dead or in pieces as left over gator meat.”
Chase managed a grin. “Glad to disappoint them, but I love each and every one of them. I had reached the end of my rope. Any longer and they probably would have found me in pieces. Although I remember I don’t think whoever found me was too friendly. I had enough marbles left to wonder if I was going to be tossed back in as gator bait.”
“Nah.” Joe shook his head. “You were only a half mile away. You would have made it. My good friend Willie hauled you in. He’s the best tracker we’ve got and the most anti-white. Willie’s into red power. He doesn’t like white men wandering around in his domain. You may be right. If I hadn't ordered the search party, things may have been different. I’ll introduce you later”
Yokche:The Nature of Murder Page 10
