Evil Whispers

by Goingback, Owl

  Robert turned to look at the big-mouth bass mounted on the far wall. “It looks like you’ve already got all the big ones. I might as well pack up and go home.”

  Mike laughed. “Oh, I think we might have left one or two for you.”

  “And this is Charlie McGee,” Ross said, nodding toward the elderly man sitting at the end of the bar. “Charlie’s not much of a fisherman, but he can damn sure fill your ears with useless facts about Florida. He used to be a newspaperman, but he’s been retired for almost twenty years.”

  “Howdy,” Charlie said, nodding.

  “Nice to meet you,” Robert replied. “What paper did you write for?’

  “The Miami Herald,” answered Charlie. “But I got sick of living in the city, and tired of putting up with stupid editors, so I quit and moved up here.”

  “Please, don’t get Charlie talking about the newspaper business,” Ross teased. “We’ll never get him to shut up.”

  “I don’t talk that much,” Charlie protested.

  “Yes, you do,” Mike and Scott said in unison.

  “What can I get you to drink?” Ross asked Robert, laughing.

  “Do you have Michelob Light?”

  “Afraid not.” Ross shook his head. “Not much call for it around here.”

  “How about Budweiser?”

  “Supporting the home town brewery, are we? Budweiser, we have. Bottle, can, or draught?”

  “Bottle,” Robert said.

  Ross opened a bottle of beer and set it on the bar in front of Robert. “Welcome to Florida. First one’s on the house.”

  Robert lifted the bottle and took a sip, allowing the icy cold beer to flow slowly down his throat. He wished Janet would have joined him, but knew his wife would not leave Krissy alone in a strange cabin at night. Maybe he would bring a beer back for her. Janet wasn’t much of a drinker, but she did enjoy a light beer now and then.

  The conversation at the bar turned to local events. Robert listened but didn’t say much, offering a comment only when a question was directed his way. For the most part he was happy to just sit there and quietly sip his beer. The day’s travel had been hectic, and he was starting to experience the first signs of jet lag.

  He was halfway through his second beer when he looked at the clock on the wall, then glanced at his watch, realizing that he had lost an hour in his travels by crossing a time zone. It was later than he thought, and he was starting to get sleepy.

  He paid for the beer, then bid Ross and the others a good night. He decided not to buy a beer for Janet because she was probably just as tired as he was and might already be in bed. Leaving the bar, he walked slowly across the campgrounds toward their cabin. He was halfway back when he spotted a large owl sitting on the sign that marked the beginning of the nature trail. The sight of such a large bird sitting there, watching him, startled Robert and caused him to stop dead in his tracks.

  Even though it was nighttime, there was enough moonlight to see the bird clearly. The owl was definitely watching him. Robert could also see the blood that dripped dark red from the bird’s claws, running in tiny rivulets down the sign it perched atop. The owl must have just made a kill moments earlier.

  A chill marched up and down Robert’s back, for the owl had all the surreal quality of an evil omen. Maybe it was the jet lag, or the beer talking, but he suddenly felt the bird was a messenger, and that something bad was about to happen to him or a member of his family.

  Robert heard one of the customers leaving the bar and turned his head in that direction. When he looked back the owl had vanished.

  Chapter Two

  Robert had set the alarm clock to ring at 7:00 A.M., but the mockingbird perched in a tree outside their cabin window went off earlier than that. Knowing that sleep was now out of the question, he decided to get up to take a quick shower and shave. He tried not to make any noise, but his movements caused the bed to squeak, awakening Janet.

  “What time is it?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

  He turned to look at the alarm clock, which he had placed on top of the dresser. “It’s six-thirty.”

  “Why are you up so early?’

  “Not my choice,” he replied. “That stupid mockingbird outside wouldn’t shut up. Since I can’t sleep, I figured I’d go ahead and take a shower and shave.”

  “Use the unscented soap,” she warned. “Otherwise you’ll draw mosquitoes. And don’t use aftershave. I’ll make coffee while you’re taking a shower.”

  “They serve breakfast at the restaurant. You want to get something to eat before we go canoeing?”

  Janet thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “I’m not in the mood for a big breakfast. I brought a box of Pop-Tarts. That’s enough. Krissy doesn’t eat much in the morning anyway.”

  “Okay then, Pop-Tarts and coffee for breakfast. Sounds like a winner.” Robert grabbed a towel and a change of clothes from out of the dresser and headed for the shower. While he was getting cleaned up, Janet used the coffee maker to heat up some water for instant coffee. They always carried a small jar of instant coffee with them when traveling, and snacks, even when staying in the finest hotels. There was nothing worse than no caffeine and a hungry child.

  Krissy was also up when Robert came out of the bathroom. The little girl shared a folding chair with her mother at the small table in the sitting room, leaving the other chair for him. A box of strawberry Pop-Tarts sat in the middle of the table, flanked by several chipped ceramic coffee mugs.

  “Your coffee’s ready,” Janet said, gesturing toward the cup on the opposite side of the table.

  “Great,” Robert said. He gave Krissy a smile. “Good morning, bright-eyes. What are you drinking?”

  “Good morning, Daddy. “I’m drinking hot cocoa.”

  “With strawberry Pop-Tarts? Mmmm...yummy.”

  He sat down on the empty chair and took a sip of his coffee. He also helped himself to one of the toaster pastries, even though he wasn’t a big fan of strawberries. As they ate breakfast, Janet and Robert discussed their plans about the canoe trip they were about to take. They decided to make their first trip a short one, paddling downstream for a mile or so before turning around to head back.

  Both of them had been canoeing before, but they were unfamiliar with the Wekiva River and wanted to test the waters on a short trip before embarking on an all day journey. A short trip would also allow plenty of exercise without the risk of straining muscles unaccustomed to using a paddle. It would be foolish to do too much on the first day and risk a pulled muscle or sore back. Such things could put a real damper on their vacation fun.

  Finished with breakfast, Robert rinsed out the coffee cups while the girls got ready for the trip. All three of them dressed in lightweight cotton shorts and T-shirts, selecting older items of apparel rather than their best stuff. Canoes had a nasty habit of flipping over from time to time, even with the most experienced paddler. No sense in ruining their good clothing when they had older items to wear. All three of them would also be wearing Teva sandals and inexpensive sun glasses. The sandals strapped around the ankles, which would keep them from getting lost if they did flip over. They also floated.

  Taking just enough money to pay for the canoe rental, Robert hid his wallet under his pillow. Janet hid her purse in the bottom dresser drawer, concealing it behind her underwear.

  Locking the cabin’s door behind them, they walked to the bait and tackle shop. Even though it was still early, there were already several people moving about the camp. The driver of a faded blue pickup was slowly backing a trailer down the boat ramp in order to launch his bass boat for a day of fishing. Two more pickups waited in line for their turn to use the ramp. Several people were already fishing at the little wooden dock just downstream from the boat ramp, although Robert doubted if they were catching anything with so much boating activity happening nearby. Next to the dock, three empty canoes sat waiting for use.

  Entering the bait and tackle shop, they squeezed past severa
l people lined up at the register. Ross was behind the counter, ringing up purchases and talking with the customers. Even though he was busy, he paused long enough to greet the three of them.

  “Good morning, folks,” he said, smiling. “I hope you slept well.”

  “Slept great,” replied Robert. “Until a stupid mockingbird decided to sound off outside our window.”

  “They can be pretty noisy.” Ross laughed. He waited on the last customer and then turned his attention to the Pattersons.

  “Now. What can I do for you? You guys ready to do some fishing, or would you rather go canoeing?”

  “I think we’re going to do a little canoeing this morning,” Robert answered.

  Ross nodded. “You picked a good day for it. Not too hot. Not too cold. And the weatherman said it isn’t going to rain either.” He set a receipt book on the counter and opened it. “Okay, canoes rent for six bucks an hour, or twenty dollars for all day. Since you’re staying guests, you only have to pay half price. But I still have to charge you a fifty-dollar deposit, which you’ll get back when you turn in the canoe. The deposit’s just in case you decide to keep paddling and not come back. It doesn’t cover the cost of buying a replacement canoe, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “Have you ever had anyone not come back?” Janet asked.

  “More than once,” Ross answered. “Canoes are easy to steal. You just paddle them downstream a ways, and then have a buddy pick you up in a truck.”

  “I promise we’ll bring it back,” Robert said, pulling three twenties out of his pocket. He handed the money to Ross. “Go ahead and give us the full-day rate. We’re pretty slow paddlers, so it might take us awhile to get back.”

  “All day it is.” Ross filled out the receipt, handing a copy to Robert. “The canoes are tied up at the dock. Take any one you want. The paddles are already in them. You’ll also find a wooden bin filled with life jackets next to the dock. The law says you have to have life jackets with you, but adults can usually get away with not wearing them as long as they have them in the canoe. However, your daughter will have to wear hers.”

  “That’s not a problem.”

  “Good,” Ross said. “Then you’re all set. Have yourselves a good time.”

  Robert thanked Ross and started to step away from the counter.

  “Er, there is one other thing,” Ross said.

  “What’s that?”

  “About a mile downstream there’s an old wooden cabin along the water’s edge. It’s owned by a Seminole Indian named Jimmy Cypress. Folks around here sometimes call him ‘Three Fingers,’ because he lost part of the two smallest fingers on his left hand wrestling an alligator. He’s a squatter, and somewhat of a nuisance.

  “Jimmy’s kind of crazy in the head; all the time talking nonsense about old legends, and evil spirits. He used to come around here once in a while, but no one ever paid much attention to what he had to say.”

  “Is he dangerous?” Janet asked, worried.

  Ross shook his head. “No. No. Nothing like that. I just wanted to let you know about Jimmy in case you saw him. I didn’t want you to be startled. Far as I know, Jimmy is harmless. He keeps to himself most of the time, and doesn’t bother people unless they go snooping around his house. Just don’t stop at his place and you’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll give him a wide berth,” Robert promised. Sticking the receipt in his pocket, he opened the door and followed his family outside.

  The three fiberglass canoes were still tied up by the fishing dock. Krissy wanted to take the blue canoe, but the red canoes were in better shape, so they chose one of those. Robert grabbed two life vests, size large and medium, out of the bin and tossed them in the canoe. He and Janet were both excellent swimmers and probably wouldn’t need to wear the vests. Besides, the bright orange vests were cumbersome and took most of the fun out of canoeing. But Krissy would need to wear her vest, so Robert fished around in the wooden bin until he found one small enough to fit her comfortably.

  Slipping the vest over Krissy’s head, he fastened the straps and then lowered her into the canoe. Krissy would sit in the middle of the canoe, while Robert sat in the back and Janet up front. Climbing into the canoe carefully so it wouldn’t rock, he untied the anchor rope from the dock and pushed off.

  Paddling out into the middle of the tiny river, they turned right, allowing the current to catch the canoe and carry it downstream. The river would now do most of the work, with Robert and Janet only needing to paddle in order to keep the canoe on course and to avoid obstacles. Since it was still early in the day, there was an abundance of wildlife along the water’s edge.

  Krissy squealed in delight when she spotted three turtles lined up in a row on a partially submerged log. Shortly after that they spotted a gray heron standing in shallow water, fishing for his breakfast. Overhead, a red-tailed hawk and a pair of ospreys glided through the air on their morning hunts.

  “Do you think we’ll see any alligators?” Krissy asked.

  “Maybe,” Janet replied. “But alligators are hard to see in the wild, especially in the water.”

  “Why’s that?” Her daughter wanted to know.

  “Because they only keep their eyes above the water. That way they can sneak up on their prey. Sometimes you’ll see them along the bank, sunning themselves, but they usually slip back into the water when people come around.”

  “Alligators are easier to see at night,” Robert added, “because their eyes shine in the light. You still won’t see their bodies, but you’ll see their eyes shine if you aim a flashlight at them.”

  Neat,” Krissy said, obviously impressed with her parent’s knowledge of alligators. Krissy didn’t know it, but her mother was more than just a little knowledgeable about wildlife and nature. Janet had been a member of the Sierra Club for years and had even written several articles about endangered wildlife for nature and environmental magazines.

  The river curved slowly to the left, passing under an old stone railroad bridge. Paddling beneath the bridge, they left behind all the sights and sounds of modern civilization and became one with the natural beauty of Florida.

  The section of the Wekiva River they traveled was no more than twenty feet wide, narrowing down to less than half that in many places. Robert wondered how the anglers were able to get their bass boats through such narrow passages without getting stuck, but they probably headed upstream to do their fishing.

  Robert and Janet had to duck their heads in several spots to keep from banging into overhanging branches, much to the delighted giggles of their daughter. And once they had to really paddle to keep from becoming stuck on a submerged log. One thing for sure, canoeing in Florida was nothing like canoeing on the small, Midwestern rivers they were used to traveling. Here you had to really work to get where you were going.

  They had just rounded a bend in the river when Robert spotted a dilapidated cabin up ahead on the left. The cabin had once been painted a bright blue, but the paint had faded and peeled over the years. It was now mostly a dull brown, with only a few patches of blue remaining.

  The cabin was topped with a roof of rusted tin, and there were two windows overlooking the river. He didn’t see a door, so the entrance was probably located on the opposite side of the building. The cabin all but spoiled the scenic beauty of the area.

  “What’s that, Dad?” Krissy asked, pointing at the cabin.

  “That’s someone’s home,” Janet answered. She turned and looked back at Robert, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.

  “A home?” Krissy asked, not believing what her mother had told her. “Who would live in that old place?”

  “A Seminole,” replied Robert.

  “A what?”

  “A Seminole. That’s the name of an Indian tribe that lives here in Florida. I believe there are two tribes in this state: the Seminoles, and the Miccosukee. I think they’re related, but I’m not sure how.”

  “Are there a lot of Indians in Florida?” Krissy aske
d, fascinated by what her father was saying. She had always been interested in history, especially American history. Growing up in St. Louis, the gateway to the West, she had learned in school about the pioneers and Indians.

  “I think there still are quite a few Indians living in Florida,” Robert answered, “but not as many as there used to be.”

  “Really?” Krissy turned to look at her father.

  He nodded. “There used to be Indian tribes living all over Florida: the Timucuan, the Calusa, the Apalachee, to name but a few. Before the first Europeans arrived, in the sixteenth century, there were probably around one hundred thousand Indians living in what is now Florida.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot of Indians,” Krissy said.

  Robert smiled. His daughter didn’t know it, but he had read up on the history of Florida prior to their vacation. “When the Spaniards started settling this area, a lot of the Indian tribes were pushed off of their land. Many died from diseases that were brought here from Europe; others were captured and forced to work as slaves. When the Spaniards finally left Florida, they took with them the last few remaining Indians.

  “The state was uninhabited for years, and then the Seminoles moved in. They were originally a mixture of several different southern tribes: Creeks, Yamasses, Yuchis. The name Seminole is supposed to mean ‘wild people,’ or ‘runaway,’ but I’ve read where some think the name actually means ‘many tongues.’”

  He quit speaking as they neared the cabin, for suddenly the lore of the Seminole Indians didn’t seem quite so fascinating. He had always heard that Indians were supposed to be the keepers of the land, living in harmony with nature, but here was something that was a direct insult to Mother Nature. The cabin was an eyesore, marring the scenic beauty of the area.

  “I’m surprised they let him get away with that,” Janet said, her gaze focused on the crumbling building.

  “He must have been here a long time,” Robert replied.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she argued. “They should make him move. Ross said he was a squatter, which means he doesn’t have a title to the land. They should make him move, and tear that shack down.”