Haunted

by Randy Wayne White

“Please, God, let the key be here.” I whispered those words before opening the hidden pocket.

  It was.

  • • •

  OUTSIDE WAS moonlight and clean air, but I tarried only long enough to bolt the door behind me, then ran. I had to get to the RV park and find help. That’s what I intended to do, but soon had to stop because Theo and Carmelo blocked my path.

  Fortunately, I saw them before they saw me, so I ducked into bushes at the corner of the serpentarium. The men stood near the Land Rover beneath a moon that dimmed and brightened as clouds streamed past. Spoke in low voices—serious issues to discuss—while I tried to reorganize my options.

  There weren’t many. I could circle the property in the hope of finding my SUV. Or run to the river and hope Theo had told the truth about owning a canoe. If not, half a mile downriver there would be boats and canoes at the campground docks.

  The safety of my own car was more appealing—punch the door code and use the key I keep hidden under the seat. Fire up the engine, spin the wheels, and go. I pictured Carmelo trying to stop me. Imagined him stepping out to face my headlights, then his expression of shock when I floored the accelerator. Too bad for either man if he got in my way.

  One terrifying concern: Oliver. The room where Theo had once served detentions had windows and presumably a door. The chimp might be waiting if I retraced my steps. The property was big. He might also pick up my scent if I circled around the back or if I angled toward the gravel road.

  Oliver’s nose is as good as any bloodhound’s. Theo’s words.

  Coral snake poison—if the snake had bitten him—was lethal but slow-acting. Victims had up to twenty-four hours—another of Theo’s claims. Worse, I also had to worry about the younger chimp. I had no idea where she was caged or if she was caged. And, according to Lucia, Savvy was just as vicious or more so. My only weapons were in a paper sack: a few bamboo darts, a lighter, and the box cutter. They were no match for animals that could rip steel off its hinges.

  Make up your mind, Hannah.

  The dart’s poison had caused a slight numbing of my left arm, and my lips, too. I couldn’t waste more time peeking from bushes. I needed to move, but where? Concrete walls and a steel door had muffled the chimpanzee’s chaos. It was blessed relief after what I’d been through, but now I strained to listen. Was Oliver still inside?

  Above me were louvered windows. I touched fingers to the glass and waited. A series of tremors signaled that violence continued somewhere inside the building.

  Yes. Now was the time to search for my SUV.

  I took a last look at the men and reversed course. A distant row of trees marked the river to the west. It wasn’t far, only half a football field away. Ahead was the entrance to the serpentarium. Beyond was the back side of the property, probably fenced, but that was a guess. Separating me from freedom was an expanse of mown lawn, where oak trees and moss created islands of gray on a frosted plain. If I tried to cross, there was nowhere to hide except for the trees and trees were a poor choice when fleeing a two-hundred-pound chimp. Krissie’s death had proven that.

  I took off running anyway. Jogged with long, silent strides until I neared the serpentarium door, which I sprinted past. Then I settled into a comfortable pace while my eyes searched. The dimensions of the snake facility were fixed in my mind. The adjoining room, where Theo had served detentions, was easy to pick out. I monitored it closely as I ran: a pair of lighted windows, glass unbroken . . . and no door until I came around the corner where light spilled onto the grass, which meant there was a door—and that the door was open.

  I felt my breath catch. I nearly stopped. Had Oliver escaped? Or had he left the door open before entering the room to attack Lucia?

  Possibly both.

  I couldn’t risk another change of plans. I ran faster, every sense alert for sounds or movements of any kind. And there was movement—gray shapes furrowed the grass around me. Moon shadow, I thought, until an elongated shape materialized to my right. The object augered itself into a coil . . . its head blossomed wide and flat . . . then it pivoted to face me.

  A cobra. That’s what it was. And a cobra’s hiss is actually a raspy roar. The sound was so loud and threatening, I stumbled when I swerved away and nearly fell. Luckily, I caught myself or would have sprawled atop several snakes that were all gliding westward toward the trees . . . or they smelled the river.

  Panicking, I hurdled and high-stepped until I thought I was clear. Wrong. Every few strides I heard weeds move or a rattlesnake’s buzz that warned the field was alive with snakes. The result was a zigzag course with my senses focused on the ground, not on what lay ahead.

  The error could have been deadly. But my luck held. When I did shift my attention forward, a safe haven awaited: Belton’s camper was parked in shadows under a tree. No lights showing, but that was okay. Even if Belton was gone, there was a chance they’d left the keys in the ignition . . . or that my car was parked on the other side, hidden by the camper’s bulk.

  Best of all, Carmelo and Theo were busy at the front of the property. I was on the back acreage, shielded by buildings, just me and the snakes.

  With Lucia dead, what was there to fear?

  I opened the camper door but sniffed the air before entering. Forever imprinted on my memory was the primal stink of Oliver, half ape, half chimp. Only reassuring odors greeted me, however—diesel and shower soap—so I stepped inside, whispering, “Hello . . . ?”

  In reply, a voice said, “Thank god, you’re alive.”

  Belton’s voice. I clicked the door shut. “Don’t turn on the lights. How do you lock this damn thing?”

  “Carmelo broke the latch with a hammer. Did he follow you? Please tell me the police are coming.”

  I fiddled with the lock anyway but soon gave up. Moonlight filtered through the curtains. I pulled them back so I could see. The man was on his belly on the couch, hands tied behind him—a needless cruelty that revived my anger. “They left you tied up like this the whole time?”

  “Carmelo would have done worse, but I pretended to have a heart attack and pass out. Remember me saying he’s not as dumb as he acts? In some ways, he’s dumber because he’s greedy. What about the police?”

  “Theo took my phone,” I said and went past him to check the ignition. “Do you have a key hidden?”

  “Not in a rental vehicle. My hands . . . I lost feeling an hour ago. Untie me. I can’t take much more. Oh—and my glasses. I need my glasses. They’re somewhere on the counter.”

  “Any idea where they parked my SUV?”

  “It’s all a blur, dear.”

  I retrieved the box cutter from the sack and knelt. As I did, Belton added in a sheepish way, “Sorry about the mess. They blew some kind of drug up my nose. My bladder turned traitor. Nothing I could do.”

  Through the knees of my jeans, I could feel that the carpet was wet. “Hold still so I don’t cut you,” I said. They had used tie wraps on his wrists and ankles. Snip-snip and he was free. I helped him set up. “Can you walk?”

  “Give me a second. What about my glasses?”

  Two minutes later he got to his feet, hobbled from the back of the RV to the front but had to stop twice to steady himself. Then almost fell again when he pulled on a clean polo, even buttoned two buttons.

  “I’m practically a cripple.”

  “You’re better than when you started. It’ll take a few minutes.”

  “No police, huh?”

  “We need to get moving. Theo doesn’t know I’m loose. But he will. In fact, he probably knows already.”

  “Then they’ll come looking. I’ll be fine now that I’ve got some blood circulating. The smart thing to do is, I stay here while you go get help.”

  “Not a chance,” I said, although in truth that’s exactly what I yearned to do—run for my life. If I made it to the river, I could swim if t
here wasn’t a canoe or boat to steal. No point in telling him I’d been darted, that my mind was a jumble of fear, constantly scanning for new symptoms.

  He sensed my distress and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Hannah, dear, I’ll be eighty-one in December. My wife is dead and . . . and my only child is dead. So—”

  “Stop that kind of talk right now. We’re leaving together.” I went toward the door and peered through the frosted window. “What about weapons? I don’t suppose you have a gun or an axe or anything we could use?”

  Up until then, the man had sounded coherent but feeble. My question changed that. “If I did, I’d send you on your way and kill both those sons of bitches.”

  When he added, “It’s a long story,” I thought, He came here looking for revenge.

  True or not, his story would have to wait. “Come on. You can use my shoulder as a brace.”

  Belton, sheepish again, said, “I’ve got clean slacks if there’s time.”

  There wasn’t, which I was about to tell him when I saw in the frosted window someone approaching: a black silhouette, hunch-shouldered and moving with an odd loping gait.

  No . . . not someone, something. Our visitor had distinctive ears, like two clamshells tacked to his head—chimpanzee ears. Oliver or the other one, Savvy, was tracking me but hadn’t yet settled on the camper.

  I whispered, “Don’t make a sound,” and stupidly felt for the broken latch on a door that couldn’t be locked.

  “Is it Carmelo?”

  I hushed him with a hiss while I took the box cutter from the sack. Placed it beside me and got a firm grip on the doorknob using both hands.

  I felt the camper shift with Belton’s weight. “A fillet knife—I forgot. There’s a knife in one of these drawers.”

  “Quiet.”

  Too late. Outside, the silhouette stopped . . . turned . . . listened. At the same instant, a drawer full of silverware clanged to the floor. I heard a grumbled “Damn,” then Belton made more noise by searching through the mess.

  “Find that knife,” I whispered. “You’re going to need it.”

  I expected the chimp to sprint immediately toward us, but he approached warily, limping on one bad leg. Carrying something in his hands, too—a bag, possibly. The combination struck me as more humanlike than monkeylike, but it certainly wasn’t Theo or Carmelo. And even if it was, there was no way I could hold the door closed if a man was determined to get in. We had to try something else.

  “Go to the front of the camper,” I told Belton and pushed him along. “Did you find the knife?”

  “A steak knife. And not a very good one . . . Who’s out there?”

  “I’m not sure. We’ll wait until he’s inside the camper, then you jump out the driver’s-side door and hide. I’ll get him to follow me out the passenger side.”

  “That’s crazy. How?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll outrun him. Don’t worry, I’m faster than most people.”

  “Hannah, I won’t use you as bait—”

  “Please don’t argue.” The RV’s cab had twin captain’s chairs that swiveled. I took Belton by the shoulders, backed him into his chair, and turned him so he was closer to the door. A fire extinguisher was mounted next to the console. I popped the straps and freed it.

  He said, “I should have thought of that.”

  I hefted the canister—it was full—and removed the safety pin. “Don’t do anything until I tell you. Then try to get to the river. Theo has a canoe. Or said he did. I’ll meet you, but don’t wait if I’m not there. Or go to the road, if it’s easier, and flag someone down.” As I whispered, my eyes were fixed on the camper door. In one hand, I held the box cutter, razor out. In the other, the fire extinguisher.

  Belton started to protest, but I hushed him, saying, “He’s coming in.”

  Not quite, but the chimp—or whoever it was—was close enough to blacken the frosted window that had been silver with moonlight. My hip was braced against a bulkhead while my heart pounded. “Get ready,” I told Belton and walked toward the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  Watching the doorknob, is what I was doing. Watched the knob turn while something in me decided which was the better weapon, a razor blade or a pressurized steel canister? I slipped the box cutter into my jeans and backed away, the fire extinguisher in both hands. First I would blind our intruder with spray, then throw the empty canister. After that, run for my life—if I was able.

  Slowly . . . slowly . . . the door swung open. A black silhouette spilled in with a gusting breeze. I sniffed the air, expecting the worst, while the RV shifted with our intruder’s weight.

  I took another step back and hollered, “I’ve got a gun and I’ll use it.”

  A voice I didn’t recognize responded, “No, Hannah, you don’t. But I won’t hurt you.” More like a growl, the voice was so deep.

  “Think what you want,” I said, while Belton yelled, “We’re both armed. Get the hell away.”

  The shadow retreated while the camper leveled itself. The door closed but then opened a moment later. Along with the breeze, the shadow reclaimed the room. “Stay away from the campground. The Gypsies will call Theo and they’ll be watching the roads. Don’t trust anyone.”

  I was stunned. “You’re willing to help? Call the police, if you want to help us. Or tell me where my car is.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why? Who are you?” I stepped toward the door. “Come in before someone sees you.”

  The silhouette retreated. “No closer. And no lights. Head for the river. You’ll have to climb the fence. There’s a boat with a half a tank of gas. A little aluminum boat. Pull start with a kicker. Hike straight west if you can’t find the path.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “Because I do. On the river, go north. The campground is south and Theo will find out. Remember—north. You saw what happened to that little girl?”

  Krissie, he meant. “Then call the police,” I said. “At least tell them what happened. If we go north, there’s nothing for miles.”

  A long dark arm appeared and placed a bag on the floor. I got a glimpse of the man’s jaw and his odd clamshell ears. “This is yours,” he said and started to close the door, then remembered something. “I’m glad Lucia’s dead. Did she dart you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many times?”

  Belton asked, “What’s he talking about?”

  “Once,” I said, “but I pulled it out right away.”

  “I think I saw Benadryl tablets in there.”

  Only then did I realize that it was my backpack on the floor. “What kind of poison did she use?”

  “Lucia was a vicious, evil woman,” the voice said. “I’ve always wanted to thank you, Hannah. Now I have.”

  The shadow retreated. The door closed.

  Belton asked, “Who the hell was that?”

  I stood there dumbly for a moment, then rushed to open my backpack. A box of Benadryl tablets had been placed strategically on top. The 9mm Devel pistol, still loaded, was beneath it.

  “I think I know,” I said, “but I hope I’m wrong.”

  Belton didn’t have an opportunity to press. Outside the camper, security lights flashed on with the siren scream of the burglar alarm.

  “Theo found Lucia’s body,” I told him. “We’ve got to run.”

  • • •

  RUNNING IS something an eighty-one-year-old man with a bad heart cannot be asked to do, but there was nothing typical about Belton Matás. He jogged ahead of me with an odd wide-legged, arm-pumping gait that would have been humorous in a movie but wasn’t funny under the circumstances. A Land Rover, lights blazing, had skidded around the side of the serpentarium, coming fast. Until then, we had been walking at a steady pace but were only halfway to the fence.

&nbs
p; Belton ducked low. “Did they see us?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said, removing the pistol from the backpack. “If they did, there’s nothing we can do but make our stand here.”

  Wrong. That’s when the man from Virginia decided he was spry enough to run. He took off at a pretty good clip, fast enough to worry me, although it was no struggle to keep up. “A heart attack isn’t going to help our situation any. Belton? Belton?”

  The man kept running. He was a big fellow, still had some power in his thighs, but was also carrying a lot of weight around the belly. Finally I grabbed his shoulder. “They’re headed for your RV. Slow down. But be careful where you put your feet.”

  It was the second time I had warned him.

  “Don’t ever get old, Hannah, it’s humiliating.” Hands on knees, he sucked in air.

  “I’d like to get a little older, if you don’t mind, so keep moving.”

  “Why are you worried about snakes? At the homestead, you walked through weeds, muck, never a word. Totally fearless.”

  “I’ll explain when we’re in the boat. Would it help if I took your arm?”

  Belton watched the Land Rover brake to a stop outside his RV. “Do you know how to use that pistol?” Carmelo had appeared in the headlights, carrying what I guessed was a sawed-off shotgun, then jogged toward the door, while Theo, the driver, stayed at the wheel.

  I said, “He’s going to be crazy mad when he sees you’re gone. Please, Belton, we’ve got to get over the fence before they spot us.”

  “I did two tours in Vietnam, Army intelligence, and I still know how to shoot.” He stood, eyes fixed on Carmelo, who ducked into the trailer. “Give me the pistol, Hannah. You won’t get very far towing my tired old ass. It’s what I want.”

  “I’d prefer not to discuss your backside or your ailments until we’re in the boat,” I said and tugged at his arm while lights blinked on inside the RV. Soon, Carmelo, from the distance, yelled something in a language that wasn’t English or Spanish—a guttural profanity, it sounded like.

  “Stubborn girl,” Belton grumbled. He pivoted and began to match my long strides, the two of us walking fast, hugging tree shadows, the fence a jumble of vines only twenty yards away. Yet it seemed to take hours to cross the last stretch of open ground. Every step, I expected a spotlight to find us or to hear a gunshot.