"Caitlin, you hear what he's saying?" Gale said jovially. "He expects us to believe there's turtles everywhere, burrowing underground like moles!"
"Gopher turtles," Indy repeated. "See those raised humps along the ground? Gopher turtles made those. The smaller raised areas are moles and woodchucks."
Caitlin shrugged and walked on. She had little use for idle conversation. Her senses seemed especially sharp as she traveled into the old battlegrounds. Wildlife became ever more noticeable. None of them wanted to say that wild animals and birds had feasted on the thousands of bodies left strewn along the battlefields, since not enough men were left to bury them.
To break the gloomy mood that descended on them, Gale asked questions about what lay ahead. "Three miles or so to go," Indy told her, stopping short as several deer streaked through the trees. He showed Gale their route on his map. "We'll cross an old trail, two streams, and then we'll find an old railbed. The rails are long gone, but we can't miss where they ran through this country. About a mile along the railbed we'll come to the town of Macclenny, an important rail depot in the old days. Not much there now, but the state of Florida has forest rangers working there. One of them has been contacted by Carruthers and Judson and been told to give us whatever help we need."
They forded the streams and crossed the trails, found the roadbed; soaked in perspiration and covered with welts from insect bites, they trudged the final mile to reach Macclenny. Just outside the town, while bearded men in overalls and slouch hats watched their approach and dogs barked, they discovered a huge rattlesnake barring their way. Caitlin and Gale started to walk off the railbed into nearby thick brush to bypass the snake.
"Don't move," they heard Indy's harsh order. Both women froze. Moments later Caitlin had her bow strung and ready; Gale was in a crouch, machete ready to swing. Moving in slow motion, Indy brought his whip to hand. They all heard a strange rattling sound. Neither Caitlin nor Gale had ever before heard the warning chatter of the pit viper, the American rattlesnake.
Indy's whip flashed in a blur, swung down with the cracking sound of a pistol shot. In a frenzied, turbulent motion, the severed head of the poisonous snake flew off in one direction, the body twisting wildly in the other. Gale looked at Indy. "It's safe now," he said easily, wiping snake blood from the whip.
Gale moved forward, using the machete to lift the deadly creature from the railbed. Draped over the machete blade, held at arm's length, both the tail and the severed neck touched the ground.
"How bad is it truly?" Caitlin asked.
"You start dying within ten seconds," Indy said with deceptive calm. "The venom hits the nervous system immediately. It's like a tremendous electric shock or being hit by a bullet." He smiled without humor. "But you know that feeling very well, as I recall."
"Is there an antidote?"
Indy shook his head at Caitlin. "Not out here. Get nailed by something of that size and it's lights out in just a few minutes. Normally they strike between the foot and the knee. That's why you're wearing those leggings."
Gale tossed aside the snake body. "You should have brought it with us," Indy told her.
"What on earth for!"
"Those men watching us. They'd appreciate it."
"A souvenir?"
"Not likely. They'd skin it and cook it. Tastes like chicken."
Gale shuddered. "Then you eat it."
"I have," Indy said. He picked up the snake.
"You're not going to eat it now, are you?" Gale asked with disbelief.
"Nope. But it's always best to bring a gift into a strange town."
They continued along the roadbed the remaining short distance. On the porch of a ramshackle saloon and restaurant, boards weathered and warped, several old men watched them with mixed curiosity and suspicion. Indy stopped by the porch.
"Howdy," he called out.
All eyes were on the snake, then the women, back to Indy, and then once again to the snake. "Enjoy," Indy sang out and tossed the snake to the porch.
One man picked it up, hefted the body for its weight, and nodded with satisfaction. "Obliged," he said.
A hundred yards down the dusty main road, they climbed onto the porch of an old hotel, pushed through the doors into what passed for a mixture of lobby, lounge, and bar. A man in a neat green uniform emerged from the eating room.
"I'm Dave Barton," he said, extending his hand to Indy and nodding to the women. "State ranger for hereabouts. You must be Jones. Been expecting you. Let's go into the restaurant. Got some iced tea waiting for you. Beer if you'd like it."
They sat about a round table, served by a limping black man. "This here is Jethro," Barton explained. "Runs this place. He also knows this country better than anyone else. Far better than me, in fact."
Indy shook hands with the elderly man. "You got any questions, you ask Jethro. And whatever he tells you, you listen," Barton added.
"Thank you." Indy spoke both to Barton and Jethro. "The horses available for us?"
"In the stable. They'll be saddled and waiting for you in the morning," Jethro said. "I imagine the ladies would like to freshen up before dinner. Cooked it myself. You ladies like venison?" Gale and Caitlin nodded. "I'll show you to your room. Hope you don't mind sharing it with each other. We don't get much company here." He studied Caitlin. "That's a mighty fine bow you have there, miss. You real good with it?"
"Jethro," Indy said quickly, "she can put it through a man's heart at two hundred yards. Dead center."
Jethro smiled. "I'll make sure her venison is done just right."
Early the next morning Jethro treated them to a heaping breakfast of eggs, ham, bacon strips, pancakes, grits, biscuits and gravy, and assorted honey and jams. And coffee strong enough to awaken a dead man. He handed Caitlin a cloth-wrapped package. "Ham and bacon for your trip. Tastes even better the day after cooking. Remember what I said. Wild pigs are pretty mean this time of year. They can come out of the brush without warning. Be right onto you before you knows it."
"Thank you," Caitlin said, accepting the package.
On the horses, ready to leave, Indy turned to Jethro and Barton. "One more question." Both men looked up at him. "I should have thought of this last night. Has anybody else come through here lately?"
"Sure have," Jethro said, catching them by surprise. "Never stopped. Six, maybe eight men, on horseback and a team of mules hauling a right large-size wagon. Never said nothing to us, we never spoke to them. Ain't polite to ask questions of them kind of people unless they speak first."
"What kind of people would that be?" Indy asked.
"Armed," Jethro said. "Armed to the teeth. Everyone we saw wearing a gun and carrying a rifle. Somehow, though, I don't think they were here for hunting."
Not unless you include humans as targets, Indy thought. But at least we know where Cordas is.
He slipped a round into the chamber of his rifle.
23
For the next several days, sleeping in tents at night with small fires burning to ward off sudden invasion by bear or wild pig, they searched and crisscrossed the sprawling landscape of the Olustee battlegrounds. The horses acted nervous as they carried their riders over fields once soaked heavily in blood and littered with the bones of dead soldiers.
Caitlin withdrew from even casual conversation. Indy needed no explanation from her or Gale. Whatever her psychic connection to this terrible and grisly past, it struck her with both emotional and physical pain.
"She could be an Indian tracker the way she finds things," Indy told Gale. "It's almost as if she could see what happened and she knows how to thread her way through the worst of the past."
"And you're not doing well at all, are you?" Gale asked, referring to the sensitive compass that Indy had brought with him.
Indy shook his head. "This blasted thing is crazy enough to discourage anyone," he said in frustration. "It works too well! Everywhere we go, metal is scattered everywhere. Especially iron. The needle of this compass just spins in all directions, pic
king up stronger targets as we move along. And every one we've examined has been an iron ball or a cannon." He pointed ahead. "We're getting closer to the main battlefield. The heaviest fighting was over that way. Just southeast of that lake." Caitlin pulled up beside him, listening carefully. "If the gold-shipment wagons were caught up in that fight, there's no way the people moving that gold in those mule trains could have gotten out of the way."
He stood in his stirrups for a better view of the area. "Give me your feelings," Caitlin asked.
"My guess," Indy said slowly, "is that they buried the bullion and the coins. But not deep. They didn't have the time or the manpower to do that." He offered a crooked smile that reflected his dislike of guessing. "It's like looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. Only the haystack covers several square miles, and the needle"—he gestured with his compass—"has gone bananas on me. Our best bet is to try to locate where the final battle lines were drawn. That will narrow the search, let us concentrate more on what's around us."
"What about Cordas?" Gale asked.
"If anyone knows about that, it's Caitlin."
"He is nearby," Caitlin said stiffly.
"How close is nearby?" Indy pressed.
"Dangerously," came the short response.
"Which means," Indy said cautiously, "they may have doubled back on us. If they haven't had any luck in finding the gold, which I feel sure they haven't, then they're following us to see how we do." Again he looked about him. "If we don't see them and Caitlin feels they're close to us, they may have us in their sights."
Indy couldn't have used a worse selection of words.
He whirled suddenly in the saddle with a cry of pain. Gale and Caitlin, startled, saw a crimson welt appear just beneath his ear. Half-conscious, he slid awkwardly from the saddle.
Not until then did the crack of a distant rifle reach them. Before Caitlin could move, Gale threw herself from her horse against her, taking her to the ground. "Look after him," she snapped. In the same moment she pulled her rifle from its saddle scabbard, a shell in the chamber, crouching and looking toward the area from where the shot had come.
She stayed low, moving to Indy and Caitlin. Indy was now fully conscious. "The bullet creased his upper cheek," Caitlin said, pressing a bandanna against the bleeding. "Another inch and he would be dead."
She moved aside for Gale to reach Indy. "Whoo, man," Indy said softly. "It burns. Did I hear a rifle shot?"
"You did," Gale told him. "Lie still. I've got to stop the bleeding." Indy brought his revolver from his holster into his right hand. "All right," he said, aware that he was still bleeding heavily.
"Sniper," Gale told him.
Indy started to nod, but winced in pain. "Better get our rifles," he told Gale. "They may be moving in closer."
Caitlin brought their rifles to them. "Stay with him. Tie the horses," she said brusquely. "Whoever is out there may want all of us dead. I've got to find the sniper first."
Before Gale or Indy could protest, she had disappeared in the tall underbrush. Almost at the same time a mist ghosted into being about them. Before it cut off their vision, they saw it flowing steadily across the pine barren.
"We'll be safe now," Gale said. "At least I'll have a chance to get you sewn together."
He looked at her in disbelief. "You're going to do what?"
"Sew you up. We could bandage you but then you'd lose some hearing from the bandages, and besides, you'd look like an Egyptian mummy." She rummaged in her backpack and Indy stared at a long curved medical needle. "I suggest, Professor Jones, you make yourself comfortable and grit your teeth."
"How long has she been gone?" Pale, the side of his face afire, but regaining his composure and strength, Indy was already eager to get on with their search. Two can play this game, was his first thought. Remember the old rule, Jones. Never fight the other man's fight. Draw him into your own.
Gale's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Indy, we can use this mist to our advantage. We know where the shot came from, so we can backtrack and come in from their side without their knowing it."
Indy shook his head, wincing at the sudden pain. Drawing in a deep shuddering breath, he spoke slowly and carefully.
"Gale, this isn't the New Forest. This is the Florida barrens, and those people out there have guns. Don't forget it for a second."
"But we can fight them!"
Again, Indy shook his head, and groaned at the pain. He gasped for air before he could speak. "Listen to me, Gale! For all we know, we're ringed in. They fire from one spot, then wait for us to show ourselves again after they're in closer. We've got no protection here. They may be able to see our horses through or above the mist, but so long as we stay low, they can't be sure if we've slipped away. And we've got to keep them guessing. Right now we're in a really lousy situation."
"That's strange hearing that from you," Gale responded, honestly surprised at Indy's cautiousness. "We're experienced trackers and hunters, we could make mincemeat out of these people!"
"You think wrong," he said, more harshly than he intended. "You're thinking like you're on a hunt in your home territory. Out here, Gale, you're the neophyte. Look around you. Feel the grass and the undergrowth here. It's like tinder. Now check the wind. You know what that means?"
Comprehension dawned slowly. "Fire," she said softly, almost breathing the word.
"That's right. This whole area would go up like a tinder-box. A fire could drive us into their sights. We couldn't go upwind, obviously, so we'd have to work our way downwind with the fire following us. Oh, we could survive, because of that lake over there. We could even save the horses by taking them into the water with us. But we'd be forced along a path they could easily follow. Like right in their sights."
Gale averted his eyes. "I didn't realize...."
"Don't blame yourself," he said quickly. "It's just that you're in new territory. When I was in the New Forest with you, I saw what Caitlin could do. Then she had the upper hand. You did the same thing on top of the zeppelin. But right now, we wait for Caitlin. She took the initiative away from us by running off the way she did." Indy scanned the swirling mists that would appear to Cordas and his group as a normal fog. "But before she went, she covered us beautifully."
"What now?"
"We wait for Caitlin. If it's a game of hunter and hunted, she's got the upper hand. I have no doubt she could be right on top of Cordas and his bunch and they'd never see her."
He studied Gale for several moments. "You created the fog before. In the Graf, or rather, on top of it. Could you do the same here if we needed it for cover?"
"Yes. It drains me of energy for a while, but yes."
"Then we could do it again. I mean, we'd have to leave the horses, because this mist pretty well hugs the ground. But we could move as if we were invisible."
"We would be invisible," she emphasized. "It's more than just a mist. Especially if Caitlin does it. Remember the roads that disappeared in the New Forest? The way you explained the Mobius strip? How things turned back on themselves, and were twisted in time?"
"I still have a headache when I think of it."
"When Caitlin does it, she shifts us into a different time. Literally. Those men could walk right through us and never know we were there." Gale sighed. "But I guess that's just postponing the inevitable. I know we can't stay in this mist forever."
She grasped Indy's arm. "Besides, I know Caitlin is going to bait Cordas. She won't forgo the old rules. I know it. She must."
Before Indy could answer, the mists swirled and parted; Caitlin stepped out of the fog. She had a grim smile on her face. "The fool has played into my hands." Instinctively her hand gripped the hilt of her sword. "There are eight of them, including Cordas. All armed."
"And three of us," Indy reminded her.
"It matters little," Caitlin said with confidence. "He has attacked us. Everything changes now. The old laws are in effect."
"Not quite," Indy told her. "I was attacked
. Not you."
Caitlin ignored him as she caught sight of the stitches Gale had sewn into his head. "That will take forever to heal," she said critically. "And it can open easily. We cannot chance any of us not being fit for what is yet to come. Gale, a mirror. Indy, please sit."
Gale held the mirror so Indy could see his stitches. Caitlin moved closer to him, leaned forward, and lifted the waistband of her tunic. She pressed it fully against his wound, where the stiching had left his skin a nasty purple. He felt a strange itching sensation. His skin seemed to crawl beneath the tunic. Several minutes later Gale removed the tunic and stepped back.
"Look closely," she said to Indy.
He took the mirror from Gale, holding it until he could see the wound clearly. The dark purplish bruising was gone! The pieces of skin sewn together by Gale like the stitching on a football had blended. As he watched, several stitches came loose. He brushed at them and they fell away from his face.
"I've seen you do it before," he said, overwhelmed by the miracle. "But this is... it's just... incredible."
Gale studied the healed wound. "Any pain?" she asked.
"No. It feels like a slight electrical shock. Mild, fuzzy, almost." He looked from Gale to Caitlin. "In fact, I feel terrific!"
Caitlin stood tall, arrow notched in her bow, the sword hilt within immediate grasp. "It is time, Jones. The old laws call. I must go after Cordas now."
"No!" Indy shouted.
Caitlin stared at him, confused. This man was her ally. They had saved each other's life. Why, then, did he seem to protect her enemy?
"Speak quickly," she told Indy. "I care little for your words of caution."
"Blast it, listen to me! You know I'm behind you all the way," Indy said, rising to his feet. "But it's like I told Gale. You're out of your element here. They've got the advantage. Fighting them head-on is not the way to go. Look, Caitlin, this just isn't bow-and-arrow time in the New Forest!"
He walked back and forth, putting all his conviction into his words. "I want Cordas just as badly as you do. Did you ever think about that? Maybe not for the same reasons, but I've lost good friends to that madman. You're making a mistake. All your attention is focused on the hunt for this one man. He has seven professional killers with him. You might even get through to kill Cordas, but you won't come out of it alive. And a hundred dead Cordases aren't worth one of you."
Indiana Jones and the White Witch Page 23
