Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (26 page)

Horror faded from her face and rage returned. She pointed
her finger, then reached out and tapped him on the chest. "Well, you
better believe this," she said. "Immodestly put, I'm filthy rich. If
you're not careful, these wild accusations will lead you right into a court of
law. I'll ruin you, Zach, take everything you ever worked for. You can count on
it."

With that, she bent for the garbage bag, hurled it in the
pit, then stormed away, leaving Zach with a pan full of dirty soapsuds and not
an inch closer to his answers than he'd ever been. The hell of it was, his love
for Liz remained as strong as ever. He even felt sorry for Frank, the poor,
demented sonuvabitch. And his heart was coming apart at the seams. If only he
could forget everything he'd learned over the past two days.

But personal feelings couldn't get in the way of justice.
Jed deserved more from him. He deserved to be avenged. And nothing Zach felt
for Liz and Frank would stop it.

Damn, Zach. Damn him all to hell.
Liz repeated the
words again and again as she marched back to camp, trying without much success
to block out her other thought.

Zach's accusations had turned her stomach, but her own
doubts turned it even more. His evidence was so compelling. Maybe not enough to
convince a jury, or even a prosecutor, but it presented a clear danger. Papa's
in no condition to face charges, she thought. What if he babbled his theories
about
le fantome noir
to a lawyer, or even worse, to someone not bound
by attorney-client privilege? Who'd believe he hadn't gone over the edge? She
hardly believed it herself.

Now at the camp site, she stopped and lingered by the edge.
Maddie and her father leaned against the rock wall, talking. Maddie laughed
softly at something he said, and Liz's stomach did another somersault. What if
that woman came to court, flaunting her relationship with Papa even as jurors
were trying to decide if he killed his wife? Combined with Zach's evidence, the
case against him would look even worse.

Liz knew her father, knew that even in a deranged condition
he wouldn't kill anyone, but a jury wouldn't know that. With so much stacked
against him, he might be convicted or end up in a state-run mental ward. She
had to help him.

A seed of an idea slowly took form, one that didn't sit much
better with her than the probabilities she'd been contemplating. But nothing
better came to mind.

She coughed deliberately to let the pair know she was back,
then approached them at a brisk pace.

"I want to leave as soon as the sun rises," she
informed them, then turned toward Maddie. "Since we still have some light
left, let's get your pirogue and tie it to the boat so we won't have to do it
in the morning."

"We got plenty of time tomorrow," Maddie replied,
a tinge of resentment in her voice.

"Liz is right, Maddie," her father said gently,
rising to his feet. "We best be gone from this place soon as we can."

" 'Kay, okay," Maddie grumbled, also getting up.

Liz was about to ask her father to stay so Zach wouldn't get
alarmed if they were all gone, but at that moment Zach entered the clearing.

"Izzy want us to get my ol' pirogue," Maddie said
to him. "A stupid idea you ask me."

"Not in my mind," Zach replied. "We can't
pack our supplies till morning because of the raccoons. The less we have to do
at that time the faster we'll get out of here."

"Right," Liz said curtly, wanting nothing to do
with him even though he was defending her.

By the way he looked at her, she knew he noticed, and other
than his quick defense he didn't regard her with much warmth either. He then
suggested they gas up the boat at the same time. "Should have done it when
I dredged up those cans," he said. "But I must've been tired, because
I didn't think of it."

"Poor baby," Maddie said.

Zach's gaze drifted in her direction, but he didn't smile.

He walked over and picked up one of the crates holding the
cans, then returned to the group, asking, "Where's the pirogue?"

"I show you," Maddie said sullenly.

They all fell in line behind her, traveling in strained
silence. When they came to the little canoe, which was hidden behind some brush
well away from the shore, Liz and Maddie helped her father carry it to his
motorboat since Zach's hands were occupied with the crate of gas cans.

After the pirogue was tied to the back of the boat and the
tank was filled, they headed back to camp . Maddie and her father walked ahead,
chatting easily. Occasionally, Liz caught Zach looking at her. On other
occasions, he caught her looking at him. But they spoke not a word.

Later, Liz lay on a bedroll, staring up at the haze-covered
sky, and fought to stay awake until the others had fallen asleep. Oh, Zach, she
thought, why did this have to happen just when we found each other again? She
wanted to cry so badly her heart was about to burst with the agony of it. She
loved him, oh she loved him. But she have to leave him behind, just as she had
twenty years before. Only, unlike then, this time she knew the reason.

* * *

"Wake up." Liz shook her father, and when his eyes
drifted open she put her finger over his mouth. "We're leaving."

She expected him to object, but instead he lumbered drowsily
to his feet and followed her out of the alcove. As soon as they were far enough
away, she clicked on the flashlight she'd taken from the storage crates.
Although a round moon hung in the sky, the omnipresent haze dulled its power to
that of a twenty-watt bulb, and infrequent flashes of lightning warned of a
brewing storm.

"Where're we going?" he asked.

"We're getting out of here."

Surprisingly, he chuckled. "So that is why you in so
much hurry to get Maddie's pirogue outta hiding."

"I wanted to be sure she really came in it."

"You shoulda ask me."

"Well, I didn't, so there you are. Come on. We have to
hurry."

He took the flashlight from her hand and moved in front of
her. "I will lead. You do not know the land like me."

The trip to the shore was fairly easy, and soon they heard
lapping water. The only other sounds came from the squishing silt beneath their
heavy footsteps. No crickets, no frogs, no scurrying nocturnal creatures. But
the absence of life no longer frightened her. They'd be gone soon.

Off Quadray Island, out of Port Chatre, out of Louisiana,
and away from Zach. A replay of her threat came to mind. What unnecessary
bravado. She had no intentions of taking Zach to court. Once she and her father
reached Port Chatre—after a stop at his cabin to get the passport he'd acquired
earlier for a family trip to England—she planned to drive to the nearest
airport and buy two tickets to Chicago. From there, they'd head for France or
Switzerland.

Another burst of lightning flashed, this time joined by the
soft rumble of distant thunder. A chill ran down her spine.

What if Papa really had killed her mother and
grandmother?

She hated that question, hated that it came up so often.
She'd just have to get him help. Europe abounded with wonderfully luxurious
mental hospitals. Doctors there would help him understand his mind had been
playing tricks.

"I gonna push the boat back in," her father said,
when they arrived at the shore. They'd beached the boat when they'd tied on
Maddie's canoe and filled the tank. Although Liz had paid for it, she'd never
seen it before then and had been surprised at how large it was for a fishing
boat. With two center benches, another in the stern, and one more in the bow,
it could easily seat eight. Tonight it would carry only two.

He gave her the flashlight to hold and began dragging the
boat toward the water.

"Don't forget to untie the pirogue."

"I was gonna get to that."

Of course he was, she thought, watching as he moved to the
back of the boat. He'd no more deprive Maddie of a way off the island than she
would Zach. But was the pirogue enough? She feared it wasn't, and this weighed
heavy on her mind.

"You think Maddie can really get them back in this
small canoe?" she asked, praying she'd get the answer she wanted.

He paused for a second, his face looking indistinct in the
muted moonlight.

"Don't you worry. Maddie know the swamp like you know
them stocks you mess around with."

She was reassured by his confidence. If anyone knew Maddie's
skills, he did. Just to be safe, though, she would notify the Louisiana
authorities as soon as they reached Chicago, which if all went well would be
the next night.

"Get in, Izzy," her father instructed tersely once
the boat was in the water.

She stepped onto the center bench, causing the little craft
to rock. Her father waited for her to sit, then as steadily as if he were on
hard land, he took a seat in the stern and pulled the cord for the outboard
motor. It sputtered and died. Liz's taut nerves pinged as she waited for him to
pull it again, then relaxed when it coughed to life.

"You remember the way to tend the tiller and
throttle?" he asked.

"Yes."

He inched forward, stepping over her seat, and moved to the
bow. He clicked a switch, and the water ahead was immediately flooded with
light.

"Keep a slow speed, hear?" He turned the tiller
completely to the right, which Liz knew would send the boat straight out into
the water. "And steer where the light fall. When you get out of Ankouer's
evil fog, the moon will guide your way. Mind what I say and you get home
safe."

A red light flashed in Liz's mind. "You make it sound
like you're not going."

He leaped into the shallow water, shoes and all, landing
directly astern. "I am not. When I get the opal, then I come home."

"No! You can't!" Liz leaned forward, preparing to
stand, but with two lightning-swift moves, her father rotated the throttle
fully open and engaged the gearshift lever. The boat jumped forward, careening
into deeper water.

The momentum flattened Liz against her seat, then sent her
tumbling into the space between it and the next one. Her elbows hit cold metal,
stinging like hell. Her rump slammed against the floor of the boat, sending shocks
of pain up her spine. Stunned and confused, she scrambled to her feet,
stumbling again as she headed for the tiller.

Finally she slid onto the seat and grabbed the throttle. She
eased back on it, which slowed the speeding boat enough to turn back toward
shore.

"Papa!" she shouted, searching for him in the
light beaming from the front of the boat. "Papa!"

He didn't answer and she saw him nowhere.

"Papa!"

Lightning split the sky. Thunder boomed so loudly, she felt
it rock the ground. And there, not far away, spun a funnel cloud, inky black
against the pale gray sky and heading right toward Quadray Island.

* * *

Zach tossed and turned on his bedroll in the sultry night,
journeying through the mist of his dreams. Thunder and lightning crashed above,
just like the night he'd gotten them lost in the bayou. He, Izzy, and Jed had
huddled beneath a narrow overhang carved from the shore during the big flood of
a few years back. Below them, dead cypress reached black arms to the exploding
sky as though offering up the mass of twigs and logs and six-pack rings each
one held in its twisted limbs.

"Boogelly, boogelly, boogelly! I'll gitchoo!" Jed
wiggled his fingers like little worms directly toward Izzy's face.
"Half-Man. Half Man's gonna gitchoo!"

Izzy cringed against the wall of the muddy shelter, her
scratched, bony knees drawn up to her chest, and stared at Jed in abject
horror.

"Cut it out, twerp," Zach snapped. "Can't you
see you're freaking her out?"

"What's the point in telling ghost stories if no one
gets scared?" Jed asked indignantly.

"Shut up, Jed."

Zach scooted next to her, put his arm around her shoulders,
and pulled her close. "Jed was only kidding. There's no such thing as
Half-Man."

She tightened her grip on her knees. Her lower lip trembled
and her eyes stared blankly ahead, looking straight through Zach's little
brother.

"Ankouer's acoming."

"That's just another story little boys"—he looked
pointedly at Jed—"use to scare girls."

She shook her head fervently. "It weren't Jed's story.
I heard Ankouer inside my head. He talk to me. He say, 'Guardian, I'm gonna
gitchoo.' Only that ain't quite how he say it. It were more cultured-like . . .
and meaner."

"Ankouer isn't real, Izzy. Not any realer than Half-Man
or the ghost of old Laffite."

"No, Zach." She shivered so violently he felt it
in his own bones. "This is different for true. He's gonna come for me one
day and nothing I can do about it."

Izzy's face blurred and vanished, and for eons Zach floated
inside the mist. Then Liz's face appeared. "Really, Zach. You don't
believe those old superstitions, do you?"

They were in a gray place, everything gray-upon-gray and
half dead, and he wanted to say no, but something inside screamed, 'Yes, yes,
yes . . . and let's run, let's run like the devil was chasing us.'

The mist enveloped him again. He floated, enjoying the
peace, the absence of conflict, of fear, of Ankouer. Suddenly he fell,
plummeting, plummeting, plummeting into hundreds or thousands or millions of
legs that wiggled like his kid brother's wormy fingers.

Tiny, they were very tiny, but he could see beady eyes
staring evilly at him, and minuscule fangs dripping with venom. Sticky fibers
oozed from their pendulous bodies, wrapping around him, entwining him. He
twisted and jerked and fought with a fury, but his struggles caused the webs to
tighten. When finally the creatures encased him, they laughed. As one they
laughed, and laughed and laughed.