by Jim Riley
"Why would we do a favor for you?" Dalton asked.
"Because I didn't kill those fellows. I didn't do it."
"We've already figured that out," Niki responded. "You didn’t have access to the murder weapon for the one last night."
"Another one? My God. This is out of control."
"We agree." Niki remained standing. "If that is all, then we need to get back to our lunch."
"There is one more thing." Phelps shuffled his feet.
"What is it?"
"I'd like for you to not talk to the fire marshal and the IRS. If you don't think I killed those guys, then there's no reason to bring up the rest of the stuff."
Phelps raised his eyes in hope.
Dalton stepped up to him. "I have to do what I swore I would do when I took the oath as a senator. I have to uphold the law. To me, that means I have to report crooks like you to the authorities."
"Is there any way I can change your mind?" Phelps asked.
"I'm afraid not. Now would be a good time for you to leave."
Phelps shook his head. "I was hoping you would cooperate. You don't leave me many choices."
Dalton stepped right next to him. "You can choose to leave. That would be the smartest choice you’ve made in a long time."
Dalton felt the barrel of a pistol sticking in his stomach.
"What's this all about?" Dalton expressed.
"You wanted to see my .243 pistol. Here it is. You are welcome to look."
Dalton glanced down at the custom-made target pistol.
"You've only got one shot in that thing. There are two of us," he said.
"I don't think your girlfriend wants to see your guts splattered all over her nice floor."
Phelps turned to Niki. "If I remember right, you pack a thirty-eight, don't you? Give it to me or your boyfriend is history."
Niki retrieved the revolver from its holster. She handed it to Phelps.
"Now I've got more than one bullet. The three of us are going to take a little trip."
"We're not going anywhere with you," Dalton said.
"Then you're pretty girlfriend will die right here. Is that what you want?" To emphasize his statement, Phelps pointed the target pistol right between Niki's eyes.
"All right. We'll go with you."
"Good idea, senator. My van is parked right out there in the lot. You're going to walk out there and get in the back. Don't worry. It's caged to keep people from stealing my stuff. Don't mess with my tools. I need them for work."
Dalton led the procession to the van. He climbed into the back and helped Niki up. Phelps slammed the door. After they were inside, they heard him lock it from the outside. Phelps got into the driver's seat and the van departed the lot. There was a mesh partition separating the cab of the van from the rear. They could see the back of his head, but little else.
Niki scanned the various equipment and boxes of safety gear. A manual hydraulic tester sat in one corner. Two cylinders of nitrogen were strapped to a stand next to the cab. A dual hopper used to refill the extinguishers stood on one wall next to the rear. Drawers of tools and fittings rested next to the hopper.
"This guy isn't too bright," Dalton whispered while carefully pulling out a drawer. He took an all-purpose tool, a knife, and a screwdriver from it and slid them in his pants pockets. He handed Niki a long steel blade and a small pair of snippers.
"I don't know how we’ll be able to use these or when, but I feel better with something rather than nothing," Dalton whispered.
Phelps drove for about two hours. Dalton tried to determine where they were going with brief glimpses out the front windshield between the cracks of the equipment.
He recognized the Sunshine Bridge when they crossed it. This span across the mighty Mississippi River was the crowning achievement of Governor Jimmy Davis long before Dalton or Niki were born. He was famous for singing You Are My Sunshine at any opportunity.
Another thirty minutes, and the van pulled into a dark shed. Phelps exited the van, leaving Dalton and Niki in the rear to themselves.
"Where are we?" Niki asked.
“My best guess is that we’re somewhere between Pierre Part and Morgan city, at the southern end of the Atchafalaya Basin. He must have a camp down here,” Dalton responded.
"What is your plan?” She held the senator's arm.
Dalton laughed. "To stay alive. Beyond that, I don't have much of one."
"That doesn't sound like much of a plan. I could have come up with that one, Senator."
“I'm all ears, Miss Investigator,” Dalton replied. “Let's hear yours.”
"I say we jump him when we get the chance."
Dalton laughed. "I like your plan a lot better than mine."
He tried the door. It was still locked from the outside. He tested the wire mesh separating the cab from the rear the van, to no avail.
"We can cut this wire, but I'm not sure we can get through the nitrogen cylinders and the rest of the gear. Looks like we're trapped in here."
They remained in the cargo area until well after dark. Then they heard Phelps unlocking the door.
"Open the door and step outside. If you try anything funny, you’ll be dead before you hit the ground. Understand?"
“We understand,” Niki replied.
That's stepped out of the van into the darkness of the shed. Then the bright ray of a flashlight temporarily blinded them. Both covered their eyes with her hands. Phelps motioned for them to walk outside. They left the shed and walked across a small tar road. On the other side, they found a boat tied to a rickety pier. Phelps kept a couple of yards between himself and the pair, giving them no chance to surprise him.
"Get in front. I can't miss from this distance, so don't try anything."
Niki and Dalton sat on the bench at the front. They kept their eyes fixed on Phelps, waiting for an opportunity, but none came. He got behind the console and steered the boat into the vast lake.
The waves chopped around the enormous lake and Phelps focused on the water ahead. They turned into one of many bayous protruding from the large body of water. Fifteen minutes later, the boat turned down an old drilling canal. It, along with many others, was formed and dredged from the bayous to allow access to the old drilling rigs in the adjoining swamp. They rode through several miles of dark timber until reaching the end.
"Get out," Phelps ordered. "I don't want to get blood in my boat. Which one of you wants to go first?"
He kept the light shining in their eyes. Dalton squeezed Niki's hand. He fished the screwdriver from the van out of his pocket. With a strong squeeze of Niki’s hand, he dropped it on the floor. In the rear of the boat, Phelps's gaze followed the sound and the beam of the flashlight followed his gaze. Niki kicked out, striking the abductor below the elbow. The light flew into the water.
Phelps, not expecting any resistance, fired wildly at the young investigator, but missed from only feet away. He dug into his pocket for Niki's thirty-eight revolver, cursing all the while.
Niki and Dalton jump from the boat and raced into the depths of the swamp. They were already deep into the safety of the cypress trees before Phelps fired the revolver, using all six bullets without pause.
"You guys won’t get out of there alive. The mosquitoes will get you if the gators don’t. I ain’t got to worry about you no more."
The couple heard the motor crank back up, and the boat retreated up the canal in the direction of the bayou. They were left alone in the thick blackness of the dark swamp.
Saturday Night
The Swamp
"Well, Senator," Niki said. "You got us out of that little predicament. The problem, as I see it, is we're in a bigger one."
"Hey, we're still alive enough to be worried about the circumstances. I thought we were goners for a little while there."
"What now?" Niki asked.
"How are your Girl Scout skills?" Dalton asked.
"It's been a while. Why do you ask? Are you just making conversation to tak
e my mind off the gazillion mosquitoes sucking the blood from my body?"
"Did they teach you how to make a fire?"
"Sure. Do you think we need one?"
"It's the only way we’ll survive the night. I'll gather firewood if you can get it going."
Niki used the long blade to cut a short sapling limb. Using her shoestring, she fashioned a bow and spindle. Gathering some dry moss and sap from an evergreen, she spun the rod. In less than three minutes, a puff of smoke rose from the tenders. She blew at the embers and a flame erupted.
Dalton added wood onto the fire, first the small twigs, then some dry bark, and then the larger limbs. The fire sat atop one of the dry ridges that traversed through the wet swamp.
Before long, the fire blazed, casting warmth and light for a six foot circumference. More importantly, the smoke acted as a shield from the pesky mosquitoes.
Then Dalton raked up a pile of leaves and moss in a six by eight foot rectangle. He stepped back after lighting the pile on fire.
"Are you trying to burn down the swamp? I think it's too wet."
“No,” Dalton chuckled. “I'm fixing us a place to sleep.”
"I’ve heard of hotbeds, but isn't this carrying the idea a little too far?" The investigator stared at the burning pile.
"The fire will drive off spiders, ticks, and bugs. After it dies out, the ground will stay warm enough to keep most of them out for the night. It's the best I can do since you forgot to pack sleeping bags for our little vacation into the great outdoors."
"Yeah. In addition to food, water, and a few other irrelevant items. But then, you didn't give me much time to pack."
"I'll try to do better next time. Why is it always the guy’s fault?"
"Because men are the inferiors specimen. God made the male first, and then He created perfection. Blame Him."
"Okay, Miss Perfect. Do you have a plan to get out of here?"
"Why don't we follow the bank of the canal back to the Bayou? There, we can wait for a boat to come by. That can't be that hard." She pointed in the direction of the Bayou.
"Not if you don't mind having a few hundred leeches sucking blood out of you or an alligator or two trying you out for an appetizer. Sounds like a grand plan."
"I suppose you have a better plan, senator."
"Not yet. But after a good night sleep with all of nature, we should be able to come up with something."
Dalton built another fire on the opposite side of the burned ground. He and Niki cuddled between the light of the two fires. Dalton rose several times during the night to add fuel to the dying embers.
"I'm cold," Niki shivered one time when the fires were at their lowest points.
Dalton added more limbs and put his jacket around the young investigator. Then he wrapped his arms around her. He rocked gently back and forth until she was asleep again.
Sunday Morning
The Swamp
"Good morning, Sunshine." Dalton shouted at daybreak.
Niki barely opened her eyes.
"Good for what?"
"Good for getting out of this swamp," he said.
"It's still dark," Niki groaned. "What's the rush? Put some more wood on the fire and wait for the sun."
Dalton tugged on her arm until she stood.
"We don't know how far we have to go. Rub some ashes all over your face, neck, and arms. That’ll help keep the mosquitoes away."
The strawberry blonde finished covering her bare skin with ashes.
"Now I feel like a real woman. Why didn't I think of this before?"
"Because you didn't have me around to suggest it," Dalton smiled. "Think how much money you would have saved on all that makeup."
"That's okay. I'll stick with rouge and mascara."
Dalton brushed the leaves and debris from her clothes.
"We need to commit to a plan. If we try to get back to the bayou, which I think is Four Mile Bayou, we’ll have to swim a lot of sloughs and breaks. If it is Four Mile Bayou, we should be able to follow a ridge south to Grassy Lake or north to Lake Varrett. Either way, we’ll be hoping to have a boat pass by and pick us up if we can get their attention."
"Can I vote for 'none of the above'? Neither of those sounds like our chances are very good."
"And I didn't mention the water moccasins and loggerhead turtles along the way. One bite from either and our trip home is canceled."
"What do you suggest?" Niki asked.
"Let's follow the ridge, either north or south, until we come to a deer trail going in the direction of the bayou. The deer have been in this swamp all their lives, and they don't want to get eaten by an alligator any more than we do."
Niki looked up and down the ridge. “Let's go that way,” Niki pointed south toward Grassy Lake. “I didn't see any camps on this side of the bayou coming in.”
"Are you ready?" Dalton asked.
"Oh, wait. Let me make sure I have all my bags packed." Sarcasm dripped from every syllable. "Oh, the busboy must have forgotten to bring them down from the room. No tip for him today."
Dalton led the way down the ridge among the live oaks and cedars. The small rise had murky water on either side, but the walking was fairly easy, having been used by the wildlife for years. After forty minutes of hiking, the ridge petered out. Nothing but water stood before them.
"What now?" Niki asked.
"Do you still have the long blade?" He asked.
Niki nodded and handed it over to Dalton. He cut the top and bottom of two oak saplings. Sweat poured off his brow before he finished making the two walking sticks.
"Did I mention quicksand on the list of things that can kill you out here?"
Niki shrugged. "I don't know. After you mentioned the alligators, I quit listening."
"When we’re wading, poke your stake out in front."
He demonstrated how he wanted her to do it.
"If it's not solid enough to walk on, we’ll find another direction."
Niki gingerly followed Dalton into the knee-deep water. The soft mud did not feel solid at all, sucking on her shoes and making each step a chore.
"It's getting deeper," Niki yelled as the water rose above her thighs.
"Too late now," Dalton shouted back. "We made a decision. Now we've got to stick with it."
The senator waded further into the slimy mess. He froze with the water at his waist. A black and brown water moccasin slithered across the water six inches in front of him. Niki raised her walking stick, ready to strike. An almost imperceptible movement of Dalton’s head stopped her. The snake paused in front of Dalton’s stomach. Niki edged an inch or two closer. Then the serpent swam away, uncomfortable with these large intruders in his neighborhood.
"Why didn't you let me whack him? I had him dead cold," an exasperated Niki asked.
"Because of what was beneath him."
"What?"
"Water. If you missed his head by quarter of an inch, you would have knocked a pissed off snake under the surface. I wouldn't have had a chance."
"You know I wouldn't have missed."
"What did that great philosopher, Blake Hebert, saying? 'You can't be an athlete and a girl.' The last time I looked, you’re a girl."
"Of all the great wise men, Socrates, Plato, Cicero, Einstein, Yogi Berra, and you quote Blake Hebert. I don't know whether you just complimented me or dissed me."
"It doesn't matter now. We either move on or get waterlogged. Let's keep going."
The water, after reaching above Dalton's waist, became more shallow. Soon it was only knee-deep. Forty yards further and they were standing on dry ground again.
"Let's not do that again," Niki said as she picked algae and slime from her jeans.
“Yes, Ma'am,” Dalton laughed. “I thought since you missed your morning jog and exercise routine, I'd help with a little water exercise. Aren't you glad I'm here to take care of your health?”
Niki glared at her soiled jeans.
"The only thing keeping me going is th
inking about what I will do when I get my hands on David Phelps."
"That's not very ladylike," Dalton wagged his finger.
"I didn't say what I plan to do."
"I've seen that look before," he grinned. "I wouldn't want to be in his shoes."
Niki lifted her gaze from her jeans to Dalton.
"If you don't get me out of this crap, your shoes won't feel real good either."
"Unfortunately, you forgot to bring along a map and a compass when you packed."
"How old are you?"
"What difference does that make?"
"You said a map and a compass. Isn't that right?"
"Both would be mighty helpful right now."
"Have you heard of this invention called GPS? It's only a few decades old."
"Duh," Dalton slapped his head. "My watch has it, but I've never used it. I don't know if I can get a signal out here."
Dalton touched and dabbed at his watch in every way imaginable. Frustration clouded his face.
"Give it here, Einstein," Niki stretched her hand out.
Less than five seconds later, she muttered, "Aha."
"You got something?" Dalton asked.
"What are we looking for? Some bayou or something?"
She stared at the timepiece, which was more of a minicomputer than a watch.
"Four Mile Bayou. Between Grassy Lake and Lake Varrett."
“It's one point two miles that way. That's west for you guys who don't have a map and a compass.”
"Very funny. Does is show how many snakes and alligators are patrolling between us and the bayou in those one point two miles?"
"Did you know you also have Google Earth on this thing?"
"Google Earth?"
“Never mind.” She touched the face a few more times.
"If we follow the ridge that way, south, we’ll come out at a camp in one point seven miles."
"Yeah, but do you know what time it is?" Dalton laughed.
"Let's see, Senator." She touched the instrument twice. "It's two in the afternoon. Any other questions?"
"Yes. Can I have my watch back?"
"Sure. Boy, I hope you have some young people on your staff in Washington. Some of those who are too young to have ever used a map and a compass."
