Escape from the Everglades

by Tim Shoemaker

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “He was moving, too. Man-on-a-mission pace—in the dark—to go fishing?” Wilson swept his hair back. “It was weird, you know? He lit out fast—full bore . . . like he was on a clock. A guy isn’t racing like that if he’s only going to fish.”

  Parker could picture it. “I just wish we knew if he went after her.”

  “Well, Bucky, sometimes the right answer is right in front of your face.”

  “You really think he’s got her?”

  “Don’t you?” Wilson gave him a long look. “I say we check Crawley’s out.”

  Parker shook his head. “You heard my dad this morning.”

  “Yeah—I heard him. But did you hear him? He never actually said you couldn’t go.”

  “What?”

  “His exact words,” Wilson said. “Tell me what he said.”

  Parker thought for a moment. “‘Sorry, Parker. I prayed about it—and I still don’t like it.’”

  “See? He didn’t like it . . . the same way he didn’t like the idea of you joining the search and rescue teams. But he let you do it—with a list of ground rules.”

  Dad definitely didn’t want him doing the SAR thing.

  “This morning your dad said he didn’t like the idea of you going to Crawley’s, but did he actually say you couldn’t go?”

  “Technically, no. But—”

  “And what did he say right after he said he didn’t like it—remember?”

  How could Parker forget? “He said he didn’t want me within a hundred yards of Crawley’s place.”

  “So.” Wilson smiled. “We take the Boy’s Bomb. Stay a hundred yards offshore. I’ll take the wheel and do a drive-by while you scope the place with your binoculars. You’ll still be obeying your dad.”

  “I’m not so sure he’d see it that way.”

  Wilson shrugged. “And how would he know? I’m not going to tell him—are you?”

  “I’d have to at some point. I mean, if I didn’t I’d be—”

  “A good friend? Someone who is willing to take a risk to help a girl who might be in real trouble?” Wilson shook his head. “You—being a Christian who is supposed to care so much about others—can you honestly tell me that next week you won’t be lying in bed in your new home somewhere wishing you hadn’t wimped out?”

  Wilson was baiting him, wasn’t he? But he was also making a lot of sense.

  “You’ll be kicking yourself for the rest of your life, and you know it. What if Crawley has her? We’re her only hope, Bucky. Everybody else thinks she’s dead. Nobody’s out looking for her anymore. Nobody.”

  Wilson knew just where to hit him. He’d say anything to get Parker back in the Glades again, wouldn’t he? But so much of what he said was absolutely true. If Parker didn’t check out Crawley’s, would he really be okay with that? Would he ever forgive himself?

  “Your dad isn’t Superman, Parker. He’s trying to hunt down a monster gator so his best friend doesn’t do it alone after you all leave. Hunting a thing that size? Alone? It would be a suicide mission—and your dad knows it. He’s trying to keep Jelly’s dad alive, so there’s no way he’s got time to check out Crawley himself. But he never actually said you couldn’t.”

  Everything Wilson said about the danger of going against Goliath alone was true. Dad thought it was truly too late to help Maria. He’d given up on finding her alive. Dad had been forced to make a choice. Help his best friend stay alive, or check out the long-shot Crawley angle. Dad really had no choice.

  “Your dad gave you a loophole, Bucky—if you man up enough to take it. Just don’t get closer than a hundred yards from Crawley’s. That’s what your dad said. We both heard that. One hundred yards. We can do that.”

  It still felt wrong. That hundred yard thing . . . it was an expression of speech. His dad wasn’t saying they could check out Crawley’s as long as they stayed a hundred and one yards away, was he? But what if they could stay a super safe distance away? “I don’t know how I’d tell my dad.”

  “I don’t know why you would,” Wilson said. “Look . . . we do a drive-by. No harm, no foul. We don’t say a word.”

  “Unless I see something suspicious.” Parker imagined that. “Then how do I explain I was checking out Crawley’s place?”

  “You won’t have to. You’ll be a hero,” Wilson said. “If they find Maria there—alive—you think your dad will be mad at you? He’ll be too busy organizing a parade through Everglades City for you. Jelly’s dad will have a statue made of you—and put it up in McLeod Park. That’s the way I see it.”

  Wilson was actually making a good case for this. And there was plenty of daylight left today. Where was the harm in taking a boat ride, and just happening to head by Crawley’s?

  “Let’s forget about Crawley’s,” Wilson said. “We’ll just go for a little ride in the Boy’s Bomb. I’ll drive. So you can honestly say you didn’t take us to Crawley’s. It will be all me.”

  Like that made it right. But still, what was the harm in taking a boat ride? And if Wilson just happened to drive by Crawley’s, and Parker just happened to pull out the binoculars at that moment, was he really doing something all that wrong? “We’d have to stay at least a hundred yards away. At least.”

  Wilson clapped Parker on the back. “Way to man up.”

  He had made a decision, hadn’t he? For good or bad, he was going to check this out. And deep in his heart he knew this wasn’t going to be nearly as okay with Dad as Wilson made it sound. But he wanted to believe Wilson’s logic. An antsiness swept over Parker. A sense that they needed to get this done and over with. “I’ll get the plug. You untie her.”

  Wilson grinned and hustled to untie the bow line. Parker climbed over the side of the boat and lifted the driver’s seat—and stared.

  “The drain plug. It’s gone again!”

  Parker slid the signal flare gun to the side. Shook the towel stashed below it. Another plug . . . gone. “What is going on?”

  “But it doesn’t make sense,” Wilson said. “Clayton wants revenge. He practically dared you to go back into the Everglades with his ValuJet message. Why would he take your drain plug to keep you out?”

  Parker totally agreed. “Well somebody wants to keep me out, that’s for sure.” And then it hit him. “Hold on. What if Clayton did the paint job—but somebody else swiped the plug? And I’m pretty sure I know who that somebody else is.”

  Wilson sucked in his breath. “Tell me you’re not thinking what I’m thinking.”

  “Jelly sabotaged me,” Parker said. It all made sense now. She was still trying to protect him—and with just a couple of days left, she was desperate. “This is one plan that’s going to backfire on her, though.” He was more determined than ever to get to Crawley’s.

  He dialed the marina parts department—only to find out somebody had phoned in earlier that morning and bought every last transom plug that size in stock. He gave Wilson the news.

  “Looks like Jelly really wants to keep you out of the Glades in the worst way.”

  “Unreal, right?” Had she been taking his plugs from the beginning?

  “We could bike back to the marina,” Wilson said. “And scout around for a plug the right size.”

  “Boosting again?” Parker shook his head. “We have to come up with something better than that—and we’re not going to tell Jelly whatever it is we figure out.” He wasn’t sure if Jelly had any other plans to slow him down, and he wasn’t about to risk it. Maybe the marina carried that Gorilla tape. They’d cover the transom drain with that. It was supposed to hold, even underwater, right?

  Both of them were quiet for a moment, then Wilson smiled. “I got it. We can still get to Crawley’s, and we’ll keep Jelly off our trail at the same time.”

  Minutes later they hammered out a totally solid Plan B. Parker wasn’t wild about it, but it would work—and would get them to Crawley’s and back faster anyway.

  “I’m going to text Je
lly,” Parker said. “And keep her from suspecting anything.”

  Good news/bad news. The graffiti came off. But we’re missing another plug. Looks like the Bomb couldn’t have gone to Crawley’s---even if my dad did give the okay.

  Her response came back super quick—like she’d been expecting it.

  How awful! What are you going to do?

  Parker laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  He fired back a text. Got any ideas? Definitely not going back to class. For the moment, I’m camping out right here. Maybe get some food. Do you have any idea how lousy it feels to be outsmarted?

  Okay, he was laying it on pretty thick. Seconds later she responded.

  Absolutely no idea. I’ve never experienced that. I would think you’d be used to it by now, though.

  She ended with a little smiley face.

  Parker laughed. “You’re a piece of work, Jelly.”

  Jelly fired back one more text.

  I’ll be there after school.

  Wilson read the texts over Parker’s shoulder. “But she won’t find either of us here.”

  Parker sent Jelly a smiley face back. “No, she will not—and she won’t be so smiley either.”

  They left their bikes leaning against the cypress tree and retied the bow line. Parker strapped Jimbo onto his calf and grabbed the binoculars—but left the backpack in the boat. He hated leaving Amos Moses behind too, but he didn’t want to tip Jelly off as to what they’d done. What if she decided to leave school early, too? He had no idea how she could sabotage their new plan, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

  Now all they had to do was call for the Uber ride—to take them to Typhoon.

  CHAPTER 62

  WILSON EASED BACK THE THROTTLE. They were as close to Crawley’s as he dared go in an airboat. The best he could figure, his place was still a little trek inland, but that was good. He wanted to be sure they were far enough away where their arrival wouldn’t be noticed. He absolutely hoped Crawley wasn’t home. “This is it. As close as we can get.”

  Bucky actually stood—binoculars in hand. “I can’t see a thing. I thought you said we’d drive by from a hundred yards out.”

  Wilson avoided Bucky’s eyes. “Yeah, well I was guessing a little.”

  Bucky stared at him. “You knew.”

  He wasn’t going to deny it—but he didn’t have to admit it either. Wilson spotted a gap in the brush big enough to nose in and drove the grass catcher up onto the soggy shore. He cut the motor, unbuckled, and stood. “This will have to do.”

  “This won’t even remotely do.” Bucky looked like he’d just learned the truth about the tooth fairy. “This isn’t what we agreed on. I can’t do this.”

  Wilson stepped off the grass catcher and onto the spongy ground. “Then wait here. I didn’t drive all the way out here just to turn around and head back. I’ll check the place out myself.” Truthfully? There was no way he was going near Crawley’s place alone. Not after what he’d seen last night. But Bucky didn’t need to know that.

  Bucky shook his head. “We should leave.” He said the words, but there was no heart in it.

  Wilson was pretty sure it wouldn’t take much to get Bucky to join him. He picked his way through the brush several yards before looking back. “Toss me the binoculars. I’ll still stay a hundred yards out—just like your dad said. I just can’t do it from the water like we’d hoped. No big deal.”

  He’d shame Parker. That was the way to make this work. “You stay here if you want, Bucky, but I’m looking for Maria. You really going to let me do this by myself?”

  Bucky stood on the grass catcher now, right on the edge of the bow—and on the edge of an even bigger decision. His face looked a little tortured, and he gripped the binoculars in one hand like he had no intention of letting go. Another good sign. Bucky was going to cave on this if Wilson played it right. “If I’m not back in an hour, you’ll only have to come looking for me anyway. I say we stay together right from the start.”

  Bucky took his phone from his pocket like maybe he wanted to text his dad for permission or something. But he looked like all he needed was one more little nudge to get him off the airboat.

  “What if I find Maria and she’s hurt—or really weak because Crawley hasn’t fed her? How am I supposed to get her back here by myself?”

  Bucky growled and slung the binoculars over his shoulder. He leaped off Typhoon and hustled to catch up. “You’re an idiot sometimes, you know that?”

  Wilson did his best to hide the smile—and the Miccosukee war whoop—that were both busting to get out. “Tell me all about it later. Right now we both need to stay focused—okay?” Wilson pointed toward a coiled cottonmouth not four feet in front of them. “He could ruin your day.”

  “Wicked eyes on that thing,” Bucky said. “I really wish I had Amos Moses.”

  Wilson laughed. “I’m not so sure the Uber driver would have let us in.”

  They backed up a few feet and took a wide sweep around the deadly snake. Parker scanned constantly. Where there was one cottonmouth there were bound to be more. Wilson pulled a can of yellow spray paint from his pack, and marked trees with a shot the size of his fist so they’d find their way back easily.

  Parker looked at the paint—then at Wilson. “You just happened to have spray paint to mark a trail? You played me.”

  Wilson waved him off—and kept walking. “I learned some things about Crawley that I wish I never knew.” The guy had quite a reputation on the Miccosukee Reservation. None of it good.

  “Like?”

  “The guy catches snakes. Mostly venomous. Cottonmouths. Eastern diamondbacks. Pygmy rattlers.”

  “To sell?”

  Wilson shook his head. “Lets ’em go on his land.”

  Bucky stopped. “Why?”

  “He doesn’t like fences, but hates trespassers,” Wilson said.

  “He’s insane.”

  “That’s what everybody says.”

  “I think I’m going to regret doing this,” Bucky said.

  “Not if we find Maria.”

  Bucky smiled, and he didn’t seem quite as upset as he’d been minutes ago.

  They walked side by side. Sort of. They were constantly ducking under branches, stepping over rotting logs, and around trees and brush. They came together again after every obstacle—like they both knew it was safer that way. Twice they heard the warning rattle from a diamondback in the space of fifty yards.

  The leafy canopy overhead dialed down the light surprisingly. The sunlight that did filter through came from over their shoulders, casting giant shadows in front of them.

  They passed the first No Trespassing sign just as the brush thinned a bit. A shotgun blast had taken out the bottom corner of the sign—and all but the first letter in the last word.

  “Violators will be P . . .” Bucky smiled. “What do you suppose the missing word is? Persecuted? Perforated? Punctured?”

  Wilson snickered, but Bucky was probably more right than he figured. From all Wilson had heard about this guy, he’d probably shoot first and ask questions later.

  CHAPTER 63

  ANGELICA BIKED TO SMALLWOOD’S after school—and couldn’t help feeling proud of herself. Her little plan had worked. The boat was here. The bikes were here. Even the gator stick. She’d kept them out of the Everglades for another day—and there was only one to go. It was about time one of her schemes didn’t backfire.

  Taking the plug again last night was risky—and could have tipped her hand—but the gamble had paid off. She’d stayed two steps ahead of them. But where were they? Maybe they were in Smallwood’s, buying snacks again.

  She ran her hand along the smooth fiberglass hull. They’d done an amazing job getting every trace of the spray paint off the side of the Boy’s Bomb. Which made her feel a whole lot better.

  She strolled into Smallwood’s, expecting to find them jawing with the owner.

  “I haven’t seen those boys in hours,” he said. “N
ot since the car picked them up.”

  “Car?” Angelica stared at him. “What car?”

  “One of those online taxis,” the owner said.

  “Like Uber? Or Lyft?”

  He nodded.

  Angelica ran out of the store, texting Parker as she did.

  Where ARE you?

  She stood outside Smallwood’s watching the screen. “Come on, Parker. Answer me.” She scrolled through his earlier texts—and stared at the one about how lousy he felt to be outsmarted. And she knew in that instant exactly how terrible it felt.

  Seconds later the response came.

  Crawley’s

  She could hardly breathe. Did Parker’s dad actually change his mind? How could that be? And the Uber driver . . . did he just drop them off at Crawley’s door? She texted back. How did you get there?

  Typhoon

  So the Uber driver dropped them at the dock. “What have you two done?” If she hadn’t been so zeroed in on keeping the stupid secrets, they wouldn’t be at Crawley’s right now.

  She whipped out another text.

  Get out of there. Please.

  Something bad was coming. She could feel it.

  Angelica pictured Parker the day of the attack—lying on the deck of Typhoon. How she’d held him to keep him from sliding off while Wilson raced back to the dock. She saw the blood. So much blood. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shut out the picture. Bucky hadn’t stepped foot on Typhoon since.

  Until now.

  Superstition. Intuition. Maybe a warning from God Himself. But the message was clear. Disaster was advancing—and it was her fault. Again.

  Her phone chirped—and she read Parker’s text.

  We’ll get out the minute we know

  But deep inside she knew it wouldn’t be soon enough. Suddenly she didn’t feel two steps ahead anymore. Instead, she felt impossibly behind.

  CHAPTER 64

  PARKER SLIPPED HIS PHONE BACK in his pocket, grinning. “Jelly is NOT happy.” And how happy would his dad be if he knew where Parker was at this moment? Deep down he’d known all along what his dad meant with the “hundred yards away” comment. He did his best to bury the thought. They’d come this far. He couldn’t abort—even though his heart was telling him to do exactly that. They were too close to answers to turn back now.