by Chris Ryan
'You heading out of the refinery?' the man repeated himself, his voice louder now. 'I could use a lift.' As he spoke he hurried across the road towards where the worker was standing.
The worker looked at him curiously as he approached, clearly surprised that someone dressed in jeans and a leather jacket should be this far into the refinery. But he seemed on edge, keen to get off the site and away to a place of relative safety – so if he was concerned about the man's presence here, he didn't say so. Instead he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. 'This way, pal,' he called. 'I'm parked up back here. You're in luck – I was just leaving.'
He turned and walked in the direction he had pointed.
Now that the worker's back was turned, the man worked quickly and deftly. The Beretta 92FS that he pulled from inside his jacket was his favourite pistol, and he would only need one of its fifteen rounds to carry out the job in hand. He swiftly raised it so that it was pointing at the back of the man's head.
And then he fired.
The shot rang out, echoing around the refinery. It was loud, but somehow it didn't seem out of place here, and he wasn't worried that anyone would come running. They would probably just think it was something to do with the wind.
The shot itself was well placed: just below the rim of the hard hat, just above the line of his luminous green jacket. The worker fell instantly to the ground. The man didn't waste any time: he dragged him out of sight of the road and quickly, before the blood could spoil his clothes, he started to undress him. Moments later he was wearing the regulation uniform of a South Miami Oil Refinery employee. He left his own clothes in a bundle by the corpse before, without a moment's remorse for what he had done, he slung his rucksack back over his shoulder and started hurrying further into the refinery.
There was a job to do.
There was money to be earned.
Everything was going according to plan. He just prayed that it would continue to do so.
Ben, Angelo and Danny gripped on tightly to the side of the boat. It was still being jostled and blown around by the wind, but for the moment they had something else to worry about. It wasn't far to the shore and in any other circumstances they'd have made straight for it. But there was no way they could do that. No way at all. Because all along the shoreline the alligators had congregated – not just the four or five that had chased them off the pier, but dozens. More than they could count.
'What are we going to do?' Angelo shouted.
Ben stared at the gators, his brow furrowed. It was dangerous in the water, but it was far more dangerous back on land. 'We haven't got any choice,' he screamed back. 'We can't get back to the shore, and we still need to warn the others. We need to try and get the boat past the plane wreckage, see what things are like back there.'
As he spoke, the three of them looked in the direction of the plane. It was out of sight, but there was still an ominous orange glow lighting up the sky from that direction. And the water looked threatening to say the least.
'OK,' Danny called. 'If we're going to do it, let's do it.' As he spoke, he secreted the shotgun and ammo in a long compartment under one of the seats. 'Do you feel like you've got the hang of this thing?'
Ben nodded.
'All right, then. You drive. Angelo and I will use our weight to try and keep the boat steady.'
Ben took his seat at the helm of the boat. As gently as possible, he turned it round. Almost immediately there was a howling gust of wind. It filled the canopy above them like a sail and suddenly they were toppling to one side. He heard Angelo screaming as the edge of the boat tipped to the water's edge; Ben himself had to clutch onto the steering wheel with all his might before Danny hurled his weight to the other side of the boat and it righted itself again.
He gritted his teeth. 'Most of the gusts are coming offshore,' he said. 'We're sailing square to the wind – that's what filling the canopy.'
'So what do we do?' Angelo demanded.
Ben could only give it a moment's thought. 'Tack in and out,' he shouted. 'That way we can keep better control of the boat.' He turned the vessel so they were pointing out to sea at an angle towards the plane.
It was tough going. Waves kept splashing over the side and the motor barely seemed powerful enough to counteract the force of the winds. The canopy above them flapped noisily. Ben was blinded by the spray; he struggled to be able to tell where he was going and more than once he found himself pointing in a completely different direction to what he thought. When he had motored out perhaps thirty metres he prepared to turn the boat and tack back in.
That was when it all went wrong.
Ben didn't know what it was that upturned the boat. A combination of things, probably: the wind, an awkward wave, the way he was turning. But suddenly he found himself under. Lungfuls of water crashed up his nose and for a moment he couldn't tell which way up he was. He kicked his legs hard and felt himself move through the water, but as he did so there was a brutal crack against his head. He only had a split second to realize that he had whacked his head against the body of the boat before he lost consciousness.
He didn't know how long he was out. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, because next thing he knew, Angelo was dragging him to the surface. The Italian boy had his arms wrapped around Ben's torso and was grunting with exertion as their heads broke through the water. Ben coughed and spluttered – half the marsh seemed to explode from his lungs – and he only had a brief moment to see Danny standing on the upturned hull of the boat, desperately trying to right it, before they went under again.
After the noise of the wind, it was peculiarly silent underwater. Peaceful almost. As soon as they emerged again, however, the howling filled their ears. Ben was still dizzy from the bump on his head. It was disorientating. The thought of the alligators, though, soon brought him back to reality.
'It's OK,' he spluttered to Angelo. 'I can swim.'
'You sure?'
'Only one way to find out.' He struggled out of Angelo's grasp and started treading water.
Danny was about ten metres away from them. He was standing on the edge of the boat now and as Ben watched he saw the older man use his weight slowly to right the boat. It creaked upright as Danny scrambled aboard; Ben and Angelo started swimming with all their strength towards it. Ben's chest burned from the exhaustion, and it seemed to take an age before Danny's strong grasp was pulling first him and then Angelo back up onto the boat. His Italian friend fell to the floor, lying on his back and gasping for much-needed air. Ben wanted to do the same, but he couldn't. Not yet.
'The canopy!' he shouted to Danny. 'We should rip it down, stop it filling with air.'
Danny nodded and together they started clawing at the fabric. It was tough, though, and difficult to tear. Only when Ben remembered he had a set of keys in his soaking wet jeans did he manage to stab a hole in the fabric. Once that was done, it was much easier to bring down the canopy.
It made an instant difference. The boat still rocked precariously with the force of the water, but at least the canopy wasn't now acting as an out-of-control sail. When Ben, sore and soaking, took the helm, it was by no means easy. But at least it wasn't as difficult as before, and they started making better headway through the howling winds towards the plane.
As they approached the aircraft from the water, they could see that it was still burning and smouldering, as was the grass surrounding it. There was no way they could have passed it by land. The alligators became fewer and fewer, though, the nearer they got to the plane, and it was easy to tell why. Even from the water, and even in the high winds, Ben could feel the heat of the burning aircraft against his skin. It was uncomfortably hot. He manoeuvred the boat away from land and passed the aeroplane at quite some distance.
All of them, he noticed, were staring at the burning plane rather than concentrating on the rocking of the boat in the high winds. It didn't take a rocket scientist to work out that they were all considering what might have been if Ben hadn't landed
that thing.
As they passed the plane, Ben snapped himself out of it. He squinted his eyes and looked towards land, trying to see if there was any sign of the other passengers – or of any gators taking refuge from the rough waters.
'Looks like the other passengers are on the move,' Ben shouted.
Danny and Angelo followed his gaze. 'We should get to land,' Danny replied. 'I don't like being on this boat any longer than we have to. Can you get closer? See if there are any alligators?'
Ben nodded and turned the boat towards the shore.
To their relief, it seemed clear. As they approached the wide marsh road, there was no sign of anything much. Danny reclaimed his shotgun and ammo from under the seat and they jumped awkwardly out of the boat and onto dry land. It felt good for Ben to have his feet on solid ground.
They were silent for a minute as the howling gales blustered around them.
'We need to keep an eye out,' Ben said finally. 'Those gators came out of nowhere, remember.'
The other two nodded seriously as Ben looked east, away from the plane.
He shrugged. 'Other than that,' he said, 'I guess the best we can do is keep moving. Let's see if we can catch up with the others. Come on – let's go.'
Chapter Eleven
The three of them started running down the road. When that became too difficult, they slowed to a fast walk. They were too out of breath to do much talking, and the screaming winds didn't help things.
Surely the weather couldn't get any worse than this. Ben had to keep his eyes half shut to protect them against the flying spray and the other bits of minuscule debris that were flying around. It made the going even trickier.
With every step he took, Ben's half-closed eyes were darting around looking for alligators. The very thought of them sent a shiver down his spine, and he didn't know what on earth they would do if they came across another horde of the beasts. He was vaguely aware of Danny loading the shotgun as he walked alongside him; but a couple of rounds from the gun wouldn't make much difference if the reptiles started swarming like they had done on the other side of the plane.
More than once, he tripped. They all did. It was impossible to stay standing against some of the gusts that were blowing now. Overhead the sky was growing darker, though it was impossible to tell whether that was because night was falling or because the sun was covered with thick, fast-moving clouds. Ben looked at his watch, but it had been damaged by the water and was as good as useless.
They had been travelling for half an hour, maybe more, when Ben stopped.
He cocked his head and listened.
There was a strange noise in the air.
'Hold on!' he shouted at the others.
They stopped. 'What is it?'
'Did you hear that?'
Angelo looked confused. 'Hear what?'
'A kind of . . . howling.'
His Italian friend blinked at him, then looked up into the air. 'What are you talking about, Ben? We're in the middle of a hurricane. Of course I can hear howling.'
But Ben shook his head. 'No,' he said. 'Not that. Something else—'
He stopped short. There it was again. A long, highpitched wail.
The three of them looked at each other worriedly. There was no doubting that what they had just heard wasn't the wind. It was something quite different.
'We need to keep going,' Danny said tensely. 'Whatever it is, there's no point just standing here.'
Ben found himself wishing they hadn't left the boat. One look out onto the marshland, however, told him that it would be just as dangerous out there as anywhere else. Besides, the chances of the boat still being by the road where they left it were almost zero. Danny was right. They just had to carry on.
It continued to grow darker. Ben found himself shivering. Half of that was because of the wet clothes blown cold against his skin; but half of it was something else. He was scared, obviously. Scared of the hurricane, scared of what might happen when they finally hooked up with the other passengers. But the howling had sent a chill all the way through him. He didn't know what had made the sound, and he didn't want to find out.
Just as that thought went through his head, Danny spoke.
'What's that?' he asked. His voice was taut. Tense.
They stopped, and Ben peered into the distance.
It was about thirty metres away and from this distance it didn't look much bigger than a dog. It wasn't a dog, though – Ben could tell that from its outline. Its ears were pointed and its body was lean and sleek. Ben thought back to the poster he had seen in the wardens' station, and he thought he knew what the animal was.
Before he could say anything, however, Danny was moving. He crouched down flat on the ground and pointed his shotgun in the direction of the animal in front of them. The butt of the weapon was firmly pressed into his shoulder: Ben could tell he was going to shoot any minute.
'No!' he roared. He kicked the barrel of the gun just as Danny fired it. The noise of the shot cracked through the air, but the round discharged itself harmlessly over the marshland.
'What are you doing?' Danny demanded angrily.
'You can't shoot it,' Ben shouted back. 'I think it's a Florida panther. They're incredibly rare.'
'A panther?' Angelo demanded. 'Aren't they also incredibly dangerous.'
Ben didn't answer. He looked in the direction of the animal. To his relief, he saw it running in the opposite direction.
'Look.' He pointed. 'It's running away. The noise of the gun must have scared it.' He turned to Danny, who had scrambled to his feet. 'Keep that thing loaded,' he said. 'We might need to scare it off again.'
Danny nodded, but didn't say anything. Ben could tell he was annoyed by what he'd just done, but there was nothing for it. He wasn't going to stand by and let one of these rare animals be killed. Not as long as there was another option. With a deep breath he started moving again and prayed that that was the last they'd seen of the endangered animal.
They were feeling pretty endangered themselves, now. Endangered and terrified. It was getting more and more difficult to walk because of the increasing wind, and now they had panthers to worry about as well as the alligators. It didn't take too long before Danny called them to a halt again.
'Look!' he called. 'Up ahead.'
There were two of them this time, standing on either side of the road like statues at the entrance to a grand house. Despite the high winds, they were perfectly still. The trio stopped and there was a moment of awesome tension as the humans and animals stared at each other.
And then they pounced.
The panthers moved astonishingly quickly. Ben had seen greyhounds racing before, and he was reminded of that.
'Danny!' he warned, but he needn't have. The older man had the shotgun raised. He fired a round into the air. In an instant the Florida panthers screeched to a halt and scampered the opposite way down the road and out of sight.
'How many of them do you think there are?' Angelo asked.
Ben shrugged. 'Dunno,' he said. 'Maybe that's it. Maybe not.'
He turned to Danny, who was already reloading the gun. 'They're going to get used to the sound of the gun, you know, Ben,' the older man said.
Ben didn't reply. There wasn't much to say.
He had his heart in his throat as they carried on down the road. Every time the wind howled – and that was often – Ben felt himself straining his ears to see if it was just the wind, or if it was the noise of the big cats ahead. As the minutes passed, he decided that the creatures' calls were definitely becoming more frequent; and although it was difficult to tell one from the other, he also decided that there were several different panthers yowling.
It didn't take long for his eyes to confirm what his ears suspected.
From the gloom ahead, an outline of a pack of panthers appeared. At a glance, Ben couldn't tell how many there were, and he wasn't going to start counting. He found himself rooted to the spot, waiting for the moment that they pounced, as the
y surely would.
It came soon enough.
The pack moved as one. As they did, Danny stepped in front of Ben and Angelo. 'Stay behind me,' he ordered.
'No problem,' Angelo muttered.
The two of them let Danny take the lead.
He let them get close this time – close enough for Ben to have a good look at them. Under different circumstances he knew he would be marvelling at what beautiful creatures they were. The animals were sleek and lean, and their strong muscles rippled under their light brown fur. Their faces were well defined and full of expression: the only problem was that Ben didn't like the expression they were making. They were snarling, and he could see their long, knife-sharp teeth.
'Danny!' he called worriedly. The gun hadn't been fired yet. 'They're getting too close!'
BANG! The shotgun fired. And then a second time. Just as before, the panthers stopped mid-run and started scurrying back. They didn't disappear this time, however. Instead they stopped to regroup much closer to the petrified trio.
Ben squinted his eyes once more. 'What's that?' he shouted. Beyond the animals, almost out of sight but not quite, he thought he saw another building. 'Can you see it? Is it another wardens' station up ahead?'
'I think it is,' Angelo replied breathlessly. 'But how can we get there? We've got to go through the panthers.'
Ben's mind was racing, and it was difficult for him to get his thoughts straight. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 'We're going to have to keep moving forward,' he said finally. 'Get as close as we can and then fire a couple of shots. It'll make them move back and we should be able to keep gaining ground.' He turned to Danny. 'What do you think?'
Danny's brow furrowed. 'I think we don't have much choice,' he said grimly. He looked ahead to the panthers. 'Stay behind me,' he instructed before turning to Ben. 'Listen, Ben,' he said. 'I know they're rare and everything, but if they get too close, I'm not going to have any choice but to try and take them out.'
Ben's lips thinned, but he knew the older man was right. He nodded his head in reluctant agreement. 'All right,' he said. 'Let's go.'
