LC 04 - Skeleton Crew

by Beverly Connor

  "Here," Lindsay called. "I believe I see a wooden bridge ahead. This must be one of the trails used by the biologists. It skirts the woods."

  Lindsay led them down the trail and over the footbridge, all the while followed by a swarm of small black flies.

  Harper swatted at her face. "Are we going to get malaria?"

  "No. These are just gnats," Lindsay replied. "Pesky, aren't they?" Lindsay brushed her legs.

  "Too bad we didn't have the foresight to wear something more suitable for being marooned in," said Bobbie, waving her hands. "Yuck, they flew in my mouth." She stopped and spit. "Ugh. I thought these things were confined to the beach."

  Lindsay looked at her watch. They had been hiking for an hour and a half. Though not high, the sun had long since knocked the chill off the air, and she was perspiring.

  "There's another footbridge up ahead," said Harper. "Let's stop and rest."

  This bridge, like the last, spanned several feet across a wide, slow-moving stream. They stopped on the bridge and took several long drinks of water.

  "Oh, look, look, look!" shouted Bobbie, pointing at the stream.

  "What? What?" yelled Harper, jumping away from the railing of the bridge.

  "In the water. It's a manatee."

  "It's beautiful," said Lindsay, watching the huge gray walruslike creature glide under the water.

  "Oh, perhaps the sailors weren't so crazy, after all," said Harper. "They look so gentle. This is certainly worth all the trouble we've been through."

  Before continuing their trek, they watched the manatee swim under the bridge and out of sight. After another fifteen minutes of walking, they saw another large expanse of woods ahead where the terrain again sloped upward.

  "Are we about there yet?" Harper asked.

  "I think we only have about four miles to go."

  "Four miles!" exclaimed Harper. "I think rowing would have been easier."

  "No," said Lindsay, "rowing would not have been easier."

  "You say that because you're good at walking. I'm better at rowing. Oh, look ..." Harper pointed at a herd of gazelles in the distance. "I don't believe it!" She rushed ahead to watch them bound out of sight.

  "Don't get off the trail," Lindsay warned.

  "We're almost to the woods, surely-" Harper screamed.

  "Oh, God, quicksand!" Bobbie exclaimed.

  "Harper, don't panic. You'll be fine. Grab my hand."

  "It's sucking me down," Harper cried.

  "No, it isn't," Lindsay calmly replied. "You are sinking, but you'll probably hit bottom in just a second. You'll be able to float. It won't suck you down, I promise. Most of what people think about quicksand is a myth. Now stay still and grab my hand."

  Harper was up to her chest in the sand. Lindsay tested for the edge, lay down, and reached for Harper's hand.

  "I think I've hit bottom," Harper said, making an effort to breathe slowly.

  "Good, now we're going to pull you out. Don't try to pull against us. Just let us pull. Bobbie, take her other hand."

  "Wait, my shoe came off," Harper protested.

  "Don't worry about your shoe," said Lindsay.

  Bobbie reached in to grab Harper's other hand, but as she pulled her arm out of the quicksand, she screamed and shook her hands back-and-forth, and something flew into the bushes.

  "I've pulled her arm off! Oh, God, I've pulled her arm off. Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!" Bobbie jumped up and down screaming.

  Harper looked at her own mud covered hand, startled. Lindsay let go of the hand she held and stood up. "Bobbie, you probably grabbed a branch ..."

  Harper shifted, trying to get out. "Hey, help, I'm falling," she yelled.

  Lindsay turned to her. "You'll float. Just lean back."

  As she did so, Lindsay's eyes widened in surprise. Bobbie screamed anew in horror. Harper saw their faces and turned her head. Her scream cut through the air, drowning out all other sounds.

  Chapter 18

  As HARPER LEANED back, a head rose from the mud behind her, and a muddy arm reached around her shoulder. She screamed, panicked, and fell forward, trying to scramble out of the quicksand pit. Lindsay grabbed for her hand and pulled.

  "Bobbie, help me," Lindsay yelled.

  Bobbie kept screaming.

  "Bobbie, now! I need help."

  Bobbie grasped the arm that Lindsay held, and they both pulled as hard as they could. Lindsay managed to turn herself to use the ground for leverage. Harper grabbed Lindsay's arm with her other hand, and finally, she scrambled onto firm ground, crawled several feet, turned over, and scooted backward.

  "Oh, my God! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" she shrieked. "What was that? I thought you said no one gets ... Oh, God, I think I'm going to throw up."

  "Me, too!" Bobbie exclaimed. She ran to the edge of the grassland and plunged her hands into the brackish water, scrubbing them against the sandy bank.

  "What was that?" asked Harper.

  Whatever it was had settled back into the quicksand and now looked like a lump of sandy mud, vaguely in the shape of the upper torso of a man.

  Lindsay examined the thing that Bobbie had tossed into the bushes. It was indeed an arm. A decayed arm.

  "What was that?" repeated Harper. "Someone get trapped before me?"

  After she said it, the two of them looked at each other. "You don't think-"

  "It's a good possibility," said Lindsay. "Keith Teal."

  Harper started to put her head on her arms. Seeing the mud, she stopped and looked down at herself.

  "If I live to be a hundred, I will never have a worse experience. Oh, no."

  "What?" asked Lindsay and Bobbie.

  "My purse. It's in the quicksand pit."

  "It'll be retrieved. Along with anything else down there," said Lindsay.

  Harper stood on shaky legs and walked to where Bobbie was washing her hands as if she were Lady Macbeth.

  "I touched that thing," said Bobbie. "I touched it." She dipped her hands into the water again.

  Harper looked around for a place to climb into the water.

  "Don't," said Lindsay. "You don't want to get stuck in the mud in the water. Besides, there are live creatures in there."

  "I don't care. Nothing could be worse than that thing, and I'm going to wash this stuff off me." She sat on the bank beside a pooled-up part of the marsh and tested the bottom. "It's muddy, but I'm going to get in just long enough to rinse off."

  "Well, scream if you need help. I know you can," said Lindsay.

  While Harper washed off, Lindsay cut some of the marsh grass, found a couple of rocks and pounded it flat, folded it over and pounded it again until she had two more or less rectangular shapes. She then cut the blanket into four strips.

  Harper got out of the water, rinsed of the quicksand, but soaking wet. Lindsay tossed her the remainder of the blanket to dry off and came over to her with her creations.

  "What's that?" asked Harper.

  Bobbie, deciding her hands were as clean as she could get them, sat back and watched.

  "You lost your shoes and you are going to need something."

  "Is that the something you have there?"

  "Yes. We'll wrap your feet in these two strips of blanket. I've made some soles out of marsh grass. It won't be the first time the grass has been put to the same use. It's usually woven, but I don't have time. Anyway, we'll put the soles on and hold them in place with these other strips."

  "You're kidding, right?"

  "We have about four miles to go through the woods, and these woods are full of briers, thorns, and other sharp and sticky things. Unless you're accustomed to going barefoot and your feet are well calloused, you'll have to wear these-unless you have a better idea."

  Harper stood, her feet wrapped in Lindsay's makeshift boots, standing first on one foot then the other, testing them out.

  "Okay," Harper said, "this is the plan. Lindsay, you'll take point like you've been doing. Bobbie, you'll walk in the middle, and I'll bring up
the rear. You see anybody coming or we reach civilization, give me a warning and keep everyone at bay until I can get these things off. No one-but no one-is going to see me in these. Is that straight?"

  "I wish I had a camera." Bobbie laughed.

  "If we had a camera," Harper replied, "we certainly could have documented the trek of the century."

  "All right," said Lindsay. "Let's go. And keep in line and on the trail. No side trips."

  "You've got it," Harper agreed. "From here on out, it's walk like an Egyptian."

  The way was mostly sand, as most of the trip had been so far, and not too hard on the feet, but they stopped frequently to allow Harper to rest hers.

  "How you doing?" Lindsay asked.

  "Not too bad," Harper answered. "I'll make it."

  "It won't be much farther."

  "I'm going to run a hot bath and stay there the rest of the day and into the night. Maybe I'll get Trey to massage my feet."

  The path narrowed into a thin animal trail bordered by sharp palmetto leaves.

  "I used to love this stuff. Now I hate it." Bobbie rubbed her arms and legs as they finally emerged into a wider trail.

  "Look," Lindsay yelled, "I see the roof of the lab."

  "Okay. Let's stop and let me take these things off my feet."

  "We still have a ways to go," said Lindsay.

  "I'll manage. Not that I don't appreciate your effort ...

  Harper pulled off her primitive footwear, tossed the reeds aside, rolled up the strips of blanket, and stuffed them in the sack Lindsay carried. She wiggled her toes in the sand.

  "Okay, I'm ready."

  They didn't get far before one of the crew spotted them and went to get help. Before they knew it, they were surrounded by Trey, Lewis, and Agent Ramirez. Trey hugged Harper. Lewis radioed John, who was searching with the Coast Guard in the ocean.

  "Harper, your feet. Where are your shoes? You didn't ..."

  "Long story," she said.

  "What happened?" asked Lewis. "Are you all right, Bobbie, Lindsay? An hour ago we found your boat drifting along the shore. We were worried sick when you didn't return last night."

  "Someone sabotaged the boat and yanked out the radio while we were in the restaurant," said Harper. "The motor quit on us in the middle of nowhere. We had to row ashore and spend the night on the other end of the island."

  "My God," Trey exclaimed.

  "It wasn't too bad," said Harper. "We walked straight across the island. Only made one side trip, hardly worth mentioning. Lindsay's a great trailblazer."

  Lindsay, Bobbie, and Harper sat around a table in the lab and related the story to Trey, Lewis, John, Agent Ramirez, and Lieutenant Damon of the Coast Guard, who listened to the narrative with the proper gaping-mouth expressions.

  "Are you sure it was a body?" asked Damon. "From your description, you all were pretty hysterical."

  Harper leaned forward with her elbows on the table and stared at him, unblinking.

  "It's true I was sinking in quicksand at the time, and Bobbie had a rotting arm in her hand, and the two of us may have been excited to the point we couldn't recognize the shape of a man. However, let me tell you, Lindsay takes both quicksand and dead bodies with a great deal of aplomb, and if she says it was a dead body, then that's good enough for me."

  Ramirez cleared his throat. "We do have a missing personKeith Teal."

  "It's easy enough to check, Lieutenant Damon," added Lindsay. "Go look. He isn't going anywhere, and he's in no condition for anyone to try to hide the body."

  "Well, that is more Agent Ramirez's jurisdiction. I've had two cutters out looking for the three of you. When you are lost, the best course of action is to stay where you are until someone finds you."

  "We weren't lost," Lindsay corrected him. "You didn't know where we were, and we couldn't communicate with anyone. But we knew where we were and knew how to get back to Magdalena House."

  "Still .. .

  "Have you checked the north end of the island?"

  . „ "No.

  "Then we'd still be sitting there swatting mosquitoes."

  "I think time would be better spent trying to find out who sabotaged the boat," said Lewis, intervening in the argument. "We are grateful that the Coast Guard responded so quickly. We are also grateful to have our colleagues back safe. We've had one diver shot, and now this. We need to discover who's behind it."

  "We looked at the boat," Damon said. "It looks like vandals. The oil line was cut, but not through. That's why they got as far as St. Magdalena. The radio cables were jerked out haphazardly. Did you see anyone you recognized in the restaurant or on the docks?"

  The three of them shook their heads. "Not a soul," said Bobbie.

  "A familiar boat at the dock?"

  "No, but we didn't look at the boats that were docked," Harper replied. "We had no reason to at the time. Look, I'm going to take a long, hot bath. If you have any more questions, I'll be glad to answer them when I'm finished."

  Lindsay stood. "I like that idea. Thanks, all of you, for looking for us. We truly are grateful. It's good to know someone knew we were missing and was trying to find us, but we are all tired and in need of a bath." She turned to Ramirez. "I'm sure one of the biologists can show you where the quicksand pit is located. Tell them it's about four miles from here on the edge of the marsh."

  John took Lindsay and Bobbie to the archaeology barge docked at the cofferdam. Bobbie disembarked, but John held Lindsay back.

  "I was worried about you," he said.

  "I'm sorry you were worried. We had a few anxious moments ourselves."

  Lindsay's words sounded sharp to her own ears, but she didn't know how to soften them. They were being treated like teenagers who had stayed out all night. No, that wasn't fair. It was really only Lieutenant Damon, and he was also skeptical of Nate and Sarah. Obviously, he didn't trust anyone.

  "It must have been bad for you. I just wanted you to know that, well, I worried."

  "I'm sorry if I seemed sharp. I'm worried, too. Damon seems to think someone sabotaged our boat as a prank. I don't believe it. Not with the other things that have been going on." She took his hand between her two.

  "How about a nice quiet dinner on my barge after you've rested up?" he asked. "Maybe we could watch some television. I understand you like old movies."

  "Who told you that?"

  "Bobbie."

  "You know, Bobbie's very nice," Lindsay told him.

  "I know."

  "You know she's an Indian."

  "Yes, I know that, too. Where's this going?" asked John.

  "I think she feels a little like some of you don't think she is, because of the mystery surrounding her tribal affiliation."

  "She had an argument with Luke. He's the only one who holds an opinion. Apparently, she gives his opinion a lot of weight," said John.

  "She must," agreed Lindsay.

  "Luke went out looking with the rest of us. He was very worried, too."

  "That's good to know."

  "So how about dinner and some television?"

  "I'd like that."

  Chapter 19

  RAMIREZ STOOD LOOKING at the bones Lindsay was examining. They were alone in the big lab.

  "And who is this?" he asked, touching the skull sitting on the donut ring.

  "He's the sailor with the leg irons. He was between thirty and fifty, probably around thirty-five. Spanish. He had rickets at some time in his life. He was left-handed. His bones show a lot of stress, like he worked hard at manual labor. He had back problems and syphilis. His teeth were decayed. And sometime before he died, he had a wound in his left hand, like something driven through it."

  "You mean like a crucifixion?"

  "Perhaps he was in a fight, held up his hand in front of him and someone stabbed him, but not with a knife, more like a nail." Lindsay put her left hand in front of her face to illustrate. "I don't see any evidence of other defensive wounds, but there may not be any. Or," she continued, "it
was a common practice to nail a sailor's hand to the mast for various infractions. That may be what happened."

  "What a hard time these men had," said Ramirez, patting the skull as he would a sick child.

  "Some of them. The first skeleton, the one who was murdered, looked as if he had quite an easy life, relatively speaking. But it wasn't a particularly easy life for any of them." Lindsay placed a wet cloth over the bones.

  "You can tell a lot from bones?" he asked.

  "Quite a bit."

  "We think the body in the quicksand is Keith Teal."

  Lindsay grimaced. "That's what I had guessed. His father's going to be devastated."

  "He is. He thinks someone here killed his son."

  Lindsay frowned. "Does he suspect someone in particular?"

  "He's confused about who to blame. Sometimes he blames you archaeologists, sometimes he blames the biologists who ran him and his son off the island. I think he may have been the one who sabotaged your boat."

  "Boote? No. Why?"

  "I'm not sure. But I suspect he saw it docked and saw the University of Georgia name on the side and got angry. By all reports, he's quite often drunk and doesn't think clearly. He probably thought you would not be able to start the boat. I don't think he intended to strand you in the ocean."

  "Why do you think it was him?"

  "Something he said ... and his reaction to the news that the three of you were stranded. He likes Harper and Bobbie, they've been very nice to him."

  "Well, that actually makes me feel better. I was afraid it was someone with more purpose. What about Hardy Denton?"

  "What about him?"

  "Have you determined the cause and manner of his death?"

  "We're not sure. There are some peculiarities."

  "Can you tell me what they are?"

  "You know better than that."

  Lindsay began putting the bones back in their tanks. Ramirez had come to her for a reason. She would wait. "We have to keep the bones in water until we rinse all the salt from them. It's sometimes a slow process."

  "I read about that. Artifacts that have spent a long time in the ocean can't live outside. The salt water becomes their amniotic fluid." He studied the bones through the clear glass tank. "Perhaps there is something you can help us with. It's very puzzling."