Just as the man leaped to tackle him, Arslan broad-jumped across a space of about five feet. His pursuer landed face-first on the ground that gave way like marshmallows. The gun in his hand went off as the man landed but it was under the surface of the muck which muffled the gunshot to a feeble blurp! The man lifted the gun out of the goo but the slide was jammed halfway back, and it was obviously useless. The man pulled himself upright and sank to his waist instantly.
Arslan himself barely cleared the pit, pulling one of his feet free from the gripping earth. Unfortunately, his pursuer, having no understanding of such treacherous soils, struggled to free himself, every move only hastening his descent. Arslan had stumbled across one of the many quicksand spots that lurk in the Everglades to snare the unwary. He was lucky one of his father’s men was with him when he had discovered it about a week before or he would have ended up just like the man struggling before his eyes.
Arslan sat in the cool, wet soil in total horror, both hands grasping a fistful of dirt, desperately trying to catch his breath and watching as the man slipped steadily into the earth. “Help...HELP PLEASE!!” the man begged Arslan, but fear, shock and exhaustion left Arslan utterly immobile.
He shouted to his companions to come help, but the quicksand was already constricting his chest, reducing his ability to breathe and weakening his shouts while the dense trees swallowed his cries as the earth swallowed he who cried them. At that moment, he understood the inescapable reality of the saying that every man dies alone. He desperately tried to reach for the boy, but Arslan was well beyond his grasp.
Sitting at the pit Arslan could see the mixture of earth and water rising to the man’s chin.
“Please help me, I….I…..promise not to hurt you,” the man gasped weakly, holding his head back, trying to keep it above the surface. No response. With increased urgency the man coughed out the words, “Look at me!” finally breaking Arslan's trance. “Kid I need your help, and I know you don’t want to be responsible for someone dying do you?” Arslan sat motionless, not as a decision but from being overwhelmed by a lifetime that seemed to have passed since his father died, although it had only been minutes.
As the man continued to flail, reaching for anything to stop his continued descent, veins appeared on his forehead. His breathing became more difficult; the petechial hemorrhaging that coroners use to identify suffocation turned his face and eyes a blotchy red, giving him an almost satanic appearance. The slurried earth began seeping into the man's mouth, choking him and cutting off his ability to speak. The coarse dirt grains stretched the soft tissue of the esophagus, and his body reacted with uncontrollable gagging. Arslan watches him twitch beneath the surface.
Two minutes later the quicksand was over the agent’s nose. Arslan watched, utterly numb, as the man groaned, his eyes widening as they rolled back into his head. In seconds, the groaning stopped, and the man's hands and arms went still. He was dead, but his body continued to sink until it was completely swallowed by the earth.
۞۞۞۞
The bald man looked at his watch as his irritation grew. The men could not find the boy in the house, which meant he was either away from the home or out in the swamp. One of the men reported that it appeared only five people were at the cabin, and four were dead. That told him the boy was out there in the murky and dangerous environment.
“Morgan is not responding. If a former Ranger can get lost out there, I can't believe a young boy can survive,” stated the bald man. “I don't like leaving this loose end as an open item, but we'll have to come back later and make sure it's properly closed. We have another meeting to get to now. Get the keys and take their cars; we want this place looking deserted.” The other two men looked at each other as their boss walked to the car. He cared nothing for their missing compatriot but was irritated enough that neither man would dare speak up. And these are the guys who supposedly have my back? He thought. The men entered the cars and drove off into the late morning.
۞۞۞۞
With the bodyguard’s demise, the forest had gone silent. The only sound Arslan could hear was his breathing. He sat at the quicksand pit rocking back and forth. Another hour passed before a whirring and clicking sound snapped Arslan out of his preoccupation. It dawned on Arslan that he still had the camcorder clutched in his grasp and that camcorder has just powered itself down. The battery must have died, he thought to himself. Has that much time passed?
After regaining what little composure he had left, he headed back to the cabin with caution, images of his father plaguing him the entire way. He did not want to return because of what he knew he would find but neither could he remain out in the Everglades, which would be certain death.
It was barely noon, and the day became even hotter as Helios drove his glowing orb across the sky. Maintaining his concealment in the surrounding bushes, Arslan circled the cabin twice to make sure no one remained behind. Stepping out into the open area of the cobblestones he placed one foot in front the other, moving as silently as he could to the now uncomfortably silent cabin. Arslan questioned whether his eyes or heart were ready for what he had to face inside; his hand shook nervously as he went reluctantly to enter where he had always gone so eagerly before. Preparing for the worst, he softly turned the handle and began to open the door. Arslan stepped across the threshold and entered into the bowels of Hell.
Chapter 2
For the world is about to change before your very eyes and you don’t want to miss it, my son…..
Arslan stepped into the cabin. The floor creaked under his weight. Fifteen feet ahead was the room where he last saw his father and with a deep breath he entered. On the right side of the room were his father’s bodyguards, laying in pools of their blood. Although he had tried to prepare himself for it, the sight of these men, who he saw every day and knew by name, lying motionless in the grotesque contortions of violent death caused him to hesitate for several seconds before his determination forced him forward.
To the left, he saw what he knew he would but was not willing to accept - the body of Gamze Nezaket. Gamze had fallen flat on his back, his face looking straight up at the ceiling, his arms at his side and his palms open and welcoming, looking as though he was standing for a portrait. Arslan stood to the right of his father and stared into Gamze's open but now empty eyes.
The finality of what he saw drove Arslan to his knees, leaning over to rest his forehead on his father’s broad chest. He felt the tears well up, and a single sob racked his body but much as he wanted to cry, the fear that those who did this might return held his tears in check. Moments passed as the two feelings warred in his heart. He finally moved again, sitting back up and thinking I cannot cry now, Father. I must be vigilant. Looking into his father’s eyes once again while trying to ignore the gaping wound in his father’s forehead, he placed his right hand over his father’s face and gently closed Gamze’s eyes, whispering, “I will not miss it.”
Arslan went into the bedrooms and removed the blankets from their beds to cover the four bodies. Tonight the thirteen-year—old boy who had become a man would not sleep but would replay the events of the day endlessly.
۞۞۞۞
Two days passed. The boy had buried the bodies in shallow graves just outside the cabin. Arslan was not very familiar with the details of Islamic law and burial rituals, but the he was certain that bodies were wrapped in fine white linen before being laid to rest. Not having fine white linen available, he had to make do with white sheets instead, which themselves were made of very high quality, as befitting his father's wealth.
He was constantly on edge, worried that the killers might come back. Through the fog of exhaustion, Arslan remembered watching his father conduct business. He always said to talk about something you could use as leverage to have the advantage. What can I use as leverage? He walked around the house until he came to the kitchen. His foot stepped on a piece of paper. It was his birthday card. That’s it! The camera! He remembered that there was a loose floorboard
in the kitchen by the sink. He went to the kitchen lifted the board. It took a couple of pulls, but it finally popped up enough for him to place the recorder in the hole wrapped in a plastic bag for protection. He jumped on the board until it was back in place. The calming satisfaction of his ingenuity soon dissipated, replaced once again by the terror of his situation. Arslan did not dare leave the cabin first because he was not sure how far it was to civilization and he was not sure he could find his way back. Second, he was alone in a foreign country with no relatives or friends, and if he did see someone, he had no idea whether he could trust them. .
He tried to clean up the blood and spatter, but enough had seeped into the wood that the smell of decomposition had spread throughout the cabin. Surrounded by the stench, he lived off canned food from the pantry. There was nothing for him to do but think about the men that came to kill his father, wondering who they were and what they wanted. He was afraid to leave, afraid to stay and afraid to sleep. Therefore, he sat, in the corner underneath the window his mind running frantically in no particular direction.
The sound of a vehicle pulling into the cabin’s driveway woke him from a troubled sleep. Peeking over the windowsill, he saw a black sedan with tinted windows and silver trim along its body, resembling those that had visited a few days back. A man got out and put on his jacket to his gray suit, covering the holstered pistol on his hip. He had a round, clean-shaven face, and the darkest of hair on his head and built as if he had some level of military fitness.
It was Agent Matthew Reid from the Department of Homeland Security, newly assigned to the Homestead, Florida, office. He took a few seconds to take in the cabin and its setting. Driving out, he had wondered why would someone move to the middle of the Everglades as their first home in the states, but seeing the place answered that question.
Arslan felt his body starting to shake. They came back. They came back. He slowly stepped back from the window and ran to hide in the pantry.
To Reid, the cabin appeared to be vacant, but the vehicle recent tracks suggested that someone had been here. Approaching the cabin, Reid peered into the surprisingly large windows and looked to see if anyone was inside.
He gave the door two firm wraps with his knuckles…..Knock…..Knock….. “Homeland Security,” no answer. Arslan tried to move farther back into the pantry when he knocked over cans from the self, sending them to the floor with a thud. Hearing the noise, Reid drew his P226R-HSP, the standard firearm for all DHS agents, from its holster.
Knock…..knock, Reid tried again but received the same silence. Cautiously, he opened the door with his left hand, sweeping the cabin with the weapon in his right. The smell of decomposition led him immediately to the back room where he saw the bloodstains and bullet holes. It was obvious that people had died here. He pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed his office. “This is Agent Reid! I need immediate assistance at 2615 Rockery Branch…..”
Arslan heard every word and step that Agent Reid took. Whoever this Agent Reid was, Arslan hoped that the scene of the shootout would distract his attention enough for him to escape and he darted out the back door.
Out the corner of his eye Reid saw the small figure running, “FREEZE!” he shouted. However, the figure was out the door before he could finish the word.
Arslan ran into the woods, the agent’s footsteps cracking on twigs behind him. It was an all too familiar chase, the same twisted trees, the same dangers, the same desperation.“Hey stop, I am not going to hurt you! I’m here to help!”
Arslan ignored the man's claims. All he knew was that he carried a weapon and resembled the men responsible for his father’s death. So his feet moved as before, taking him through the dense vegetation towards a familiar location, hoping that the quicksand would be his protector one more time. Arslan rounded the final tree and prepared to leap over the pit but stopped short at what he saw. Floating on top was the bloated and rotting corpse of the man who had sunk in the quicksand two days prior. As Arslan stood uncomprehending, Reid caught up and grabbed his arm. Arslan yelled and thrashed in all directions.
“Listen, I am not going to hurt you,” Reid said as gently as he could while catching his breath, holding the boy securely. “I am here to…..” But then it was Reid's turn to stop short. “What in the world?”
As he examined the body, Reid slowly realized that the boy had stopped struggling and that Arslan stood there along with him looking down. He loosened his grip on the boy’s wrist and crouched down to speak to him at eye level.
“Are you Elvan Yamak? He asked. "I came here looking for Elvan Yamak. He gave this place as his address, and I need to verify that." Arslan said nothing, his gaze fixated on the corpse in the quicksand.
“I need you to listen very carefully to me; I’m Agent Reid with Homeland Security. I’m a friend, and I’m here to help. What is your name?” No response, “Can you tell me what happened here?” No response. Arslan remained silent as he gazed forward.
"All right," Reid said. "Let's go back to the cabin," as he put a gentle hand on the boy's back to guide him away from the gruesome site. Not that the cabin is any better, thought Reid.
At the cabin, Reid immediately tried to make the boy feel comfortable, but he simply walked to the corner beneath the window and sat down with his legs crossed, hands together on his lap and seeing only what was already in his head. From the boy's physical appearance, it was obvious that he was exhausted. He had bags under his eyes, his hair was matted to his head, and his clothing smelled of blood.
Realizing that the boy was not going to speak, Reid quickly searched the rest of the cabin. He called headquarters again.
"This is Agent Reid. I have a scene of what appears to be multiple homicides. I have one male victim dead well over 24 hours and one male juvenile survivor. The survivor appears to be uninjured but is obviously in shock. I need a crime scene unit and medical support."
Already he could hear the sirens of the backup units from his first phone call perhaps a minute away. He swept his eyes over the bloody room and the silent boy.
“My God, what happened here,” Reid whispered to himself.
۞۞۞۞
When the crime scene unit arrived, Reid walked two investigators to the pit where he had discovered the body. It was an intricate bit of work to move the body to firm ground without falling into the quicksand themselves or losing valuable forensics by damaging the quickly decaying flesh. The investigators noted the empty holster and from the spare clip, it held they determined that the weapon was perhaps a Sig or a Glock. Also, noting the individual being clean-shaven, short military haircut and appeared to be in excellent physical shape, apart from being dead.
As he neared the cabin, Reid was approached by the lead investigator of the unit. “Agent Reid, we found four bodies buried outside near the cabin in shallow graves. With the amount of blood on that floor and trails showing the bodies were dragged out here, I think we found all the victims.” Reid nodded while he looked at the four bodies.
“Did you find anything else?” Reid asked as he crouched next to the bodies with the investigator. With the humidity and the trekking back and forth, Reid had long since decided to lose the jacket and tie and had rolled up his sleeves in an attempt to cool down.
“This one here has a single entry wound on his forehead, execution-style, while the others were shot multiple times. Judging by the difference in the quality of the suits this man here was the boss and the others were bodyguards of some sort,” replied the agent.
“Either these guys were bad at their job or took them by surprise. Have their guns been fired?”
“We'll check that out when we get them back to the lab but from the absence of bullet holes on the opposite side of the room, it looks like they went down before they could fire. I would say, though, that they knew their killers.”
“What tells you that?” Reid asked.
Given their positions relative to each other’ and the location well inside the house, with no signs
of forced entry, that about says it all There is no evidence of returned fire, either inside or out. Also, the furniture has not been moved from what we can tell. The only disruption was when the bodies were dragged out here. Go inside and you’ll see the areas where three bodies fell pretty much next to each other. It's consistent with other scenes I’ve been at where people were taken off guard,” responded the investigator.
“Jesus,” Reid said to himself. It was just supposed to be a routine identity check. What the hell did I get myself into? “Got anything else for me?”
“As of right now that is all I can tell you about them; more will come when we finish walking the grid and get everything back to HQ.”
“A massacre gunned down at point-blank range. Any prints?”
“No prints as of yet and they policed their brass. These guys know how to be clean. From what we've found in here so far, this could have been done by ghosts. I only hope that body in the swamp gives us a few leads," the investigator continued.
Reid sighed and rubbed his eyes. He had worked as a police officer for a few years before coming to DHS, so he had some understanding of what to look for at a crime scene. Still, he never dealt with anything on this scale. Part of him was nervous about the task that lay before him, but the other part was eager to get back and start working. “Good job. Just keep me up to date on the information.”
“That boy needs help. From the post-mortem bruises on the wrists of all the bodies, it appears that he was the one who dragged the bodies outside and buried them. The bodies were also carefully wrapped in sheets. There's a lot of artifact in the house that suggests these people were of Islamic faith, and it looks as if he was trying to follow their burial traditions as best he could. That takes a lot. He is emotionally strong, but he's still a child. It's obvious he hasn't been sleeping, and he's been living on food that probably tastes worse than an MRE and is nowhere near as nourishing. And he's in shock.”
Rise of the Phoenix Page 4
