Haunted

by Randy Wayne White

  “Did you get him? Shit . . . I think my shoulder’s busted. You must’ve shot me, too.” Belton was dazed and on his side, trying to get to his feet.

  “If you can, run to the clearing,” I said. “I’ll yell if it’s okay.” I rushed down the embankment, the whole time thinking, I hit him, I know I hit him . . . But did I fire three shots or four?

  No . . . only three. The slide of a pistol locks back when empty. In darkness, I stopped and ran my fingers over the barrel to check. Just one bullet left, though. If Oliver wasn’t badly wounded, one bullet might not be enough.

  I thought about that. An animal of such freakish size and strength? Of course one bullet wasn’t enough to stop him unless . . . unless I let Oliver charge me, waited until he was on top of me, too close to miss a shot to his heart or head.

  So close it’s up to God to decide. Captain Ben Summerlin’s words flashed in memory, but so did Theo’s threat: Oliver will eat you alive.

  I told myself, You can do this, you CAN do this.

  Ahead in moonlight, the sandbar and our aluminum boat were in plain view. Seconds earlier, I had heard the chimp thrashing toward shore. If I exited the trees, he would be to my right only ten or fifteen yards away. Not an easy shot, but at least some distance would separate us.

  I started toward the river but could manage only a few steps.

  No, I realized, I could not do it. First, a chimp bites off a woman’s nose and lips, Lucia has said. I did not have the courage to risk that animal’s teeth in me. Besides, I had Belton to think about. It was a handy excuse that wasn’t a lie, but it felt like a lie when I scrambled up the embankment. Every few steps, I stopped to listen. Silence hinted that Oliver was dead. I became hopeful.

  My hopefulness did not last. When I got to the top, I heard the rhythmic slosh of his legs kicking water. The animal walked unsteadily, fell once, but was on his feet. Then a tree limb buckled under a heavy weight and displaced leaves spun earthward into the river basin.

  The shriek that came next spooked birds to flight. Through echoes, Oliver called a message to me:

  UCK . . . UCK UN . . . ITCH!

  I was already running when those bass drum grunts transitioned into a howl.

  I found Belton at the artesian well, where he had stopped to drink. His shoulder, if not broken, was in bad shape, and pain slowed everything he did. While he steadied himself on his feet, I kicked grass around the grave of Irene Cadence until I was convinced my flashlight was gone.

  “If that animal’s bleeding, he can’t follow us far. You’re sure you hit him? I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

  Belton sounded shaky, too.

  I said, “At least one shot. I don’t know where, but it knocked him down. You shouldn’t have drunk from that well. Better not to drink anything than get sick.”

  We’d left our jug of iodine water behind and I craved water. Scolding Belton strengthened my resolve. I held his elbow and hurried him along until he was okay on his own, then took the lead. Every few seconds I checked behind us: no sign of Oliver. But the squall had swung the wind around, the wind steady and stronger, which is what squalls do, siphon air like a blast furnace until the rain is spent. In the high limbs, a steady breeze masked sounds.

  The oak grove funneled us into a clearing of weeds and palmettos, an undulant quarter mile that flattened into pines to the east. To the north, cypress trees formed domes of pewter and mist. It would be wet there, a chance of bogging down. Between the two, angling northeast, was a corridor of space and moonlight where the horizon showed an orange fringe—a fire. Open range, it appeared to be. Cattle pasture. The scent of woodsmoke came from there.

  I pointed. “Someone’s doing a controlled burn. It can’t be more than two or three miles.”

  “Then which direction should we go?”

  “Toward the fire. Out here, where there’s fire, there are people to tend it. Usually. That tells me there’s a ranch somewhere around.” It was one a.m., but it was still possible someone was up.

  Belton said, “Right hand busted, now my left shoulder. Knocking Carmelo on his ass was worth it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, but I’m not sure I can make three miles. Not without resting anyway. Don’t ever get old, Hannah.”

  I replied, “I plan on living until tomorrow, at least. And, Belton, you’re going to be right there with me.”

  That got a chuckle.

  It was hard not to walk as fast as I wanted to walk. Impatience is among my failings. We exited the weeds into an area speckled with Brazilian pepper and palmetto bushes and sparse melaleucas. Paper trees, as they are also known, because they appear to be constructed of cardboard. The palmettos were waist-high, their leaves so dry, they rattled when disturbed. The sound reminded me that palmetto fields attract rattlesnakes. I’d seen several rattlers in places such as this. They liked the low shade and wealth of ambush opportunities. Unsettling. To calm myself and keep Belton moving, I didn’t mention this, of course. Just the opposite. I emphasized the positive when I spoke.

  I said, “Did you notice that chimpanzee’s hand looked swollen? His left hand. The thing was huge. And he had to sort of drag his left leg. Well . . . except when he went crazy. He doesn’t seem to feel pain when he goes crazy.”

  “I’ve known men who were the same. His hand . . . what about it?”

  “Coral snake venom isn’t as fast as some. That’s what happened, I think. He got bit. All we have to do is put some distance between us and let the poison work. Plus, he’s bleeding. I know darn well I put at least one bullet in him. A special sort of 9mm bullet. Federal Power-Shoks. They’re hollow-points that expand when they hit something. He can’t be in very good shape.”

  “How slow?”

  “The poison?” I had to be careful. I couldn’t tell him Oliver’s nervous system would shut down within twenty-four hours. It might sap what little spirit the man had left. So I mixed in some gray lies with the truth. “He’s already showing the effects. Gradually, he won’t be able to use his arms or legs. Another hour or so, who knows? He won’t be able to move.”

  “Is it painful? By god, I hope it’s painful. I’ve never seen two more vicious animals in my life.”

  Strange. I felt the same anger but couldn’t allow myself to admit it. “Don’t be mean, Belton. What they’ve done is terrible, I know, but nothing in this world deserves more pain. The way Theo raised them might be to blame.”

  Belton bristled at that. “Sure. It’s always someone else’s fault.”

  I puzzled over his reaction for a while, then it came to me. “You’re worried it was one of the chimps that killed your son.”

  “Goddamn right. After seeing what they did to that little girl? Carmelo, too. Sickening—they’re monsters . . . cannibals. Can you imagine their teeth sinking in? The sound of something eating you. Terrifying. Drives me crazy even to think about.” He stopped, put his hands on his hips, and tried to stretch like people do when their back hurts. The pain in his arms wouldn’t allow it. “Damn, damn, damn,” he murmured. “Just . . . sickening.”

  I’ve read about prairie dogs, colony animals that keep a sentry posted outside every hole. I played that role while Belton rested. I focused on the region behind us, turned a few degrees, then refocused. “Belton?”

  “Do you see something?”

  “No. But what I said was thoughtless. Worse, it was a lie. The thing about Oliver, his being in pain—I feel the same as you and should have said so. But it is wrong. I know it’s wrong and I apologize for that.”

  The man had his hands on his knees. He chuckled toward the ground. “Hannah . . . dear, dear Hannah . . . I’ve never met anyone like you. While we’re being honest, maybe for the first time in my life I should, well . . . maybe I should just say thanks.”

  “No need. You would’ve done the same.”

  “Fair-minded—always so damn f
air. Now I feel like a total shit.”

  “That wasn’t my intention.”

  He laughed again in a weary sort of way. “Dear, I am not the kindly, sweet old gentleman I pretend to be. I took you in, Hannah. It was all an act. Just like Carmelo’s idiot act. No different. What I told you about Kenneth, that much is mostly true. But I used you. I wanted to find that gold shipment just as much as I wanted to find his killer. I thought your distant uncle’s journal might be the key. So I was sweet and charming—all an act, and I’ve got it down pat. The truth is, I’m actually a fairly ruthless con man. Well, self-interested anyway. Fifty years, nearly sixty, that’s how I’ve made my living. When I said I’d sold my business? It was actually hard to keep a straight face.”

  Under other circumstances, I might have been angry, but I felt drained. “We all make our way as best we can, Belton. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve treated me—” Midsentence, I halted. “Wait a minute. How do you know it was my uncle’s journal?”

  The man stood upright and tested his broken hand. “Kenneth and his mother were right to disown me. I’m a fraud. That’s all I meant. I figured you’ve earned the right to know.”

  “Thank you. Now answer my question.”

  “Guess I should have kept my mouth shut.”

  “Too late. How? Did you sneak a peek on the boat yesterday?”

  “Your stubborn streak, I forgot. Okay . . . I know Ben Summerlin was your uncle because I read the journal. All the pages Theo could open and photograph anyway. He told me about the family connection. The whole journal, diagrams, everything, it’s on my computer.”

  I said, “Good lord,” and distanced myself by a step.

  “Like I said, a con man. The award I supposedly brought Theo? It was a box of oxycodone tablets. Pharmacy-grade. Earlier tonight, Theo had quite a laugh thinking you’d never figure out the Masonic connection. That led to an argument. No sense going into why.”

  I didn’t understand the Masonic reference but took my eyes off the horizon long enough to say, “Yes, they were. Your son and wife were both right. And I feel like a fool. Have you rested long enough? Or maybe I should just jog on ahead and leave you.”

  I located the fire’s orange thread and started toward it. The last thing I expected Belton to say was “I think that’s a good idea. But leave the pistol. If the chimp follows you, I’ll kill it.”

  I faced him. “Noble. Is that part of your act, too?”

  “Actually, yes. One of my best bits, but this time I mean it. Not the noble part. I can’t go any farther, Hannah. I would love to put a bullet in that son of a bitch.”

  Once again, under different circumstances, I would have been furious. All the anger in me, though, had to remain focused on escape. I walked back, took the man’s elbow, and said, “Come along, Belton—before you really piss me off.”

  • • •

  WE WERE MIDWAY through a stand of palmettos, heartened by the sound of distant bawling cattle, when the water Belton had drunk caused a stomach cramp that bent him over. The cramps worsened. Soon he requested privacy to deal with his gurgling stomach. Walking had been difficult—thick brush and hidden stumps in what had once been pine forest. Palmettos resemble Japanese fans with fingers and their roots are a relentless series of snares. Belton and his bad heart needed a break.

  I said, “There are plenty of bushes to choose from,” and stepped away. My joke didn’t quell my anxiety. Diarrhea for a person his age, in a place so far from help and as waterless as sand, was serious. A raging chimpanzee, even if alive, became a secondary problem.

  Or so I believed until I saw the light. It moved toward us from the south, a few hundred yards away. The light blinked off, then blinked on and stayed on just long enough for me to gauge a slow, loping rhythm.

  Belton saw it, too, but didn’t understand. “Thank god. I hope it’s the police. I don’t care as long as they have water. Out here in hell’s half acre, who else could it be?”

  I controlled my breathing and said, “Let me know when you’ve finished your business. It wouldn’t hurt to hurry, if you can.”

  He was wary of my tone. “What’s wrong?”

  “We shouldn’t linger in one spot too long, that’s all. Those cattle we hear belong to a ranch and the ranch can’t be far.” I had my back to him, of course. Hopefully, he didn’t see me slip the pistol from my pocket. My bag was on the ground. I knelt to open it.

  “A rancher, then. Good. Try to get his attention.”

  “Not coming from that direction. If there’s a ranch, it’ll be somewhere north of here.”

  “I don’t care who it is. They might hear if you yell. Hannah . . . ? Hannah! Why don’t you yell something? Christ, don’t let them get away before they see you.” After several seconds, bushes rattled and I heard the jingle of his belt. “Okay, I’m done. Damn it, tell me what’s wrong.”

  I picked up the bag . . . thought for a moment and put it down again. Placed it on a tree stump that smelled of pine. It was one of many stumps amid a few old-growth survivors scattered across the field, trees as tall and straight as power poles. On this milky blue night they resembled the masts of schooners that had struck a reef and sunk in shallow water.

  Belton, striding toward me, said, “That was a flashlight. Who else would be out here with a flashlight?” Then surprised me by waving his arms and hollering, “Hey . . . over here. We’re over here!”

  I grabbed the man’s sleeve but let go when the light blinked on. It searched through two hundred yards of darkness for the source of the human voice. Too far even for a dazzling little LED, my gift from the biologist. I waited until the light was out and kept my voice low. “He would’ve found us anyway. It’s not your fault.” Said it in a comforting way, I hope, then patted Belton’s shoulder and got busy.

  “Are you afraid it’s Theo? Hell, I’d be happy to see Theo. Crazy as he is, trust me, I’ll work out some sort of deal.”

  I was kicking among the palmettos and gathering wood while a plan organized itself in my head. Not a last-minute plan either. We’d been walking for half an hour and I’d spent every quiet moment calculating a way to deal with Oliver if he caught us in open country. Now here we were. What I feared, though, was Belton’s heart, how it would react to more stress or even gathering wood.

  I talked while I tossed splinters and chunks of lighter pine into a pile. “The best thing for you is to rest while you can. I can’t do this alone. I need you ready.” I looked south to where a small, vague darkness was now occasionally visible. It appeared and disappeared like a bear humping through tall grass, the grass silver because of the moon. Not fast but steady, although an occasional pause as if resting.

  “He’s hurt. I’m surprised he made it this far. Maybe it’s the craziness driving him. We both know what that means.”

  Belton, following at my shoulder, didn’t want to believe it. “Please tell me you’re not starting a fire. What if it’s Theo? He wouldn’t just go off and leave his boat. Think about it—chimpanzees don’t carry flashlights.”

  “They aren’t supposed to wear sandals either, but some do. And pants. The flashlight’s been on my mind since it went missing. Ask yourself why he switches it on and off like that instead of using it to see. Trust me, Theo’s not out there—unless that big gator carried him all this way.”

  “Are you saying the alligator got—”

  “Pretty sure. Now’s not the time to talk about it.”

  I stood and checked Oliver’s progress, decided I needed help after all. Facing the animal, I extended my arms to create a forty-five-degree angle as Belton grabbed his stomach and winced but paid attention. “I’ve got fire starter and lighters. On this line and this line, we’ll light pieces of wood, get a bush burning, then walk five or six steps and do it again. Sort of a reversed arrow shape, if it burns the way I hope.”

  I resumed hunting wood. “The wind’s
behind us—what ranchers call a head fire. Nothing burns as hot and fast as a head fire. Ranchers avoid it, but it’s just what we need. This was pine forest years ago. I noticed as we were walking. Sap wood doesn’t rot and these palmettos are so dry they’ll burn. Maybe not like gasoline, but the wind will get them going and the wind’s blowing right into his face.”

  “If it really is the chimp, he’ll outrun it. He’s not going to stand there and burn.”

  “I’m not sure what he’ll do, but at least it will give us some time. Can your shoulder handle a little work? How’s your stomach?”

  Belton, on his toes, saw Oliver poke his head up. He made a whistling sound, finally convinced. “Hannah, if I were you—being the type of person I am?—I’d run like hell and never look back.” He wasn’t smiling. “I know what you’re doing—straight from your uncle’s journal—but your uncle had more than one bullet. Leave the gun, Hannah. I’ll stay here and kill that thing.”

  I kicked a pine root free. “You’re not the reason he’s dying, Belton. Oliver won’t stop until he gets me.”

  A sobering awareness: I had placed the flashlight on the grave of Irene Cadence as bait. Now Oliver was using it the same way—he continued to flick the switch on, then off for long periods, hoping to lure me closer. Terrifying, when I thought it through. Oliver had watched me balance that light on the gravestone. He had watched me find a hiding place to ambush Carmelo. No other explanation. The chimp had been closing in, ready to crush me from behind or above, when he’d heard the rolling splash of the alligator. Instead of attacking, he had rushed to protect Theo and Savvy. The only reason I was still alive was because of the chimp’s superior senses.