Haunted (23 page)

Bag over my shoulder, I jogged to Belton, whose nose was bloody and crooked. “Can you walk?”

He got up, eyes on Theo. “What happened to that damn monkey? You hit him. Stood your ground, by god, you did. How’s your ankle? Or were you—”

“We’ve got to get out of here,” I said, “but on foot. Where’s that water jug? We need water.” I started toward the boat, then saw the plastic container near Carmelo’s spotlight, which burned brightly in the sand. The bottle of iodine tablets was open, pills scattered.

Belton touched his fingers to his nose, tested his right wrist, and grunted. “Now what’s he doing?”

“You broke your hand, too?”

“Carmelo, I hit him a good one. Put him right on his ass.” Belton couldn’t hide his delight. “Damn . . . yeah, broken maybe.”

“Theo might have a gun. Don’t take your eyes off him. We’ll need those pills.”

Theo maintained a running commentary, his babbling mixed with lewd talk and threats. I stayed busy, ignoring him until he called, “There you are!” then spoke soothingly as if to a child. “Savvy . . . over here, girl, it’s me. Oh shit . . . I was right, you
are
hurt.”

The chimp was upriver, dog-paddling on the surface but struggling, using only one arm. I dropped iodine tablets in the jug and hurried to fill it with water while I watched. Theo kept the flashlight on the animal, Savvy blinking her caramel eyes until the trolling motor pulled the boat close enough. He placed the light on the deck, removed his shoes after calling me the foulest of names. A moment later, he slipped over the side. Repulsive, the cooing sounds he made while the chimp screeched and tried to swim away, slapping wildly at the water. Theo cursed me again and yelled to the trees, “OLI-VERRR! I NEED YOU!”

I spoke quietly to Belton. “If he lets the boat drift away, maybe I can swim out and start the engine before he notices. Can you
shoot left-handed?” But I retracted the offer when a gust of wind—or a two-hundred-pound chimp—furrowed the oak canopy to our right. “We can’t wait,” I said. “There’s one more thing I want to check.”

I ran to pat Carmelo’s pockets for a cell phone. Belton stooped, lifted the spotlight from the sand, and spoke. “I’ll shoot Theo and you know it. Him and his damn chimp. That’s why you don’t trust me with the gun. Why not let me, Hannah? I’d confess to the police and we’d both be safe. Damn it . . . why not?”

He shined the light on Theo, then downriver, waiting for an answer while I knelt over Carmelo. Nothing but keys and a knife in his front pockets. I felt beneath him, turned my head away rather than focus on what was missing from Carmelo’s face. That’s why I happened to see what Belton did not see—what someone from Virginia wouldn’t have recognized anyway: a pair of ruby red eyes gliding upriver toward the sound of splashing, those eyes set a foot apart, which told me the alligator we’d hit was at least twelve feet long and still healthy enough to feed.

Automatically, I started to call out a warning but caught myself. After a moment of self-inspection, I turned away and pretended ignorance . . . and an innocence that revealed the ugliest of truths: the beast within me was ready and waiting, but only when it suited my needs.

I took Belton’s arm and pulled him toward the embankment. “How Theo dies,” I said, “isn’t for me to decide.”

Belton carried the spotlight, but it had a short or a bad battery and he soon tossed it aside. Moon shadow resumed dominance. I was so focused on sounds I expected to hear but had yet to hear—slashing water, Theo’s wail of surprise—I was slow to notice something else: the flashlight I’d left on the gravestone was gone.

Belton asked, “Why are you stopping?”

I adjusted the bag on my shoulder. “Stay close and watch behind us. Are you sure that spotlight’s no good?”

“You saw something. Do you think it’s the other chimp? By god, I wish he’d show himself.” The man put his hand on my back and gave a little push. “We’ve got to get away from these trees. We’ll be fine once we’re on open ground. You said there was pasture on the other side of the clearing. After that, all we have to worry about is cows.” He laughed, but it was nervous laughter.

I was going through a checklist in my head. An almost new flashlight with fresh batteries. The wind might have knocked it to the ground, but the gravestone wasn’t tall. The lens wouldn’t have broken. The light should still be on.

I peered ahead, seeing only the circle of oaks and darkness. “Change of plans. We have to follow the river north a bit, then we’ll turn inland. There’s something wrong up ahead.” When I started to explain, the river issued a single tumbling splash, then silence. Maybe the gator had taken Theo. I couldn’t be sure unless I went back to check. Tempting, the prospect of jumping in a fast boat and leaving all this behind. I could not pass it up.

“Wait here,” I said. “I won’t be long.”

“Where’re you going? Not without me, you’re not.”

I retraced our path and Belton followed. Near the top of the embankment, I stopped and listened before exiting the bushes. A heavy thumping sound came from the river below . . . then a loud creak of rending metal. I peeked through: squatting on Theo’s boat, which had drifted to the bank, was Oliver. Had to be Oliver—an ape-sized chimp with arms twice as long as a human’s. Massive shoulders, a distended jaw that resembled a football, but a face that, by moonlight, might have been the face of a man wearing a costume. A rope or his broken collar dangled from his neck. Wearing shorts, too, or baggy cut-off pants belted at the waist, a comedic touch that was in fact grotesque.

Belton whispered, “Where’s Theo?”

I shook my head and watched.

Oliver had ripped the steering wheel from the boat. A ring of stainless steel. He stared as if deep in thought . . . bent one of the
spokes until it snapped and tossed it aside. Then grunted a bass drum
UHH-UHH
and duck-walked to the stern, where the engine had snagged bottom. He placed the wheel on the deck. The chimp appeared to be hurt, favored his left side like a person with arthritis. Squatted there while an arm unfurled and he dangled a hand in the water. A child playing: slap the surface, watch diamond droplets rain down. Oliver slapped and played, but now his baritone grunts resembled a man who contained his rage by growling.

I leaned close to Belton’s ear. “I’m going to shoot him. Even with a broken steering wheel, I can steer that boat. He’ll kill us. We both know that. But I have to get closer.” Shooting downhill through bushes at a target fifty yards away was too dangerous.

Belton started to say, “Let me—” but then jerked his head downriver and whispered, “What the hell is that?”

The alligator had returned, attracted by Oliver’s splashing, its tail carving a serpentine wake on the surface. The wake rocked our aluminum boat and whitecapped on sand. Only vague shapes were discernible. The gator carried a big chunk of something, an object that sank when its jaws slashed and released it.

Oliver saw the alligator, too, but continued to play his childish game. Splashed and waited until the gator was so close, it vanished from our view. There was a blur of movement, an explosion of water. The next thing I saw, Oliver was hunched low, lifting mightily . . . the alligator’s head was trapped inside the steering wheel. A snare . . . he had created a snare. Too much weight to lift clear of the water, so Oliver hammered at the gator’s head with a fist until the animal slashed and rolled and finally broke free.

The chimp watched the thing submerge and went into a rage.
Shattered the windshield, ripped a seat off its stanchion and hurled it at the gator’s bubbles. Tilted his head back and yowled at the moon, a chalkboard screech that ended when Oliver suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. Settling back, he sniffed more thoughtfully and slowly, slowly turned to look in our direction.

Belton’s shoulder touched mine. “He smells us.”

“Maybe not. But get ready to run.” Fifty yards, even over open ground, was a long shot, but I had the pistol up, ready to try. Only four bullets left.

Oliver squatted near the steering wheel, his big head and clamshell ears in silhouette. He massaged an elbow, peered at his left hand, which was swollen twice normal size. An injured athlete taking inventory, his behavior reminded me of that. The gun sights of my pistol were three glowing dots that framed Oliver’s chest. I was thinking,
Get
closer,
he’s
hurt,
just
sitting
there.
You
have
time.

I was wrong. Oliver exploded again, a blur of movement, and I stood hypnotized by a silver object that spun toward my face. The object sliced the air like a metal Frisbee, whapped through branches on a curving path, and hammered Belton to the ground.

The steering wheel,
I realized.

From the river, a bass drum taunted.
UCKER . . . UUHM UCK
.

I knelt over Belton for just a moment, then stood. Oliver was on his feet, beating coconut sounds on his chest, his lips peeled back to show teeth. By the time I got the pistol up, he was still there but leaping toward shore. I fired twice . . . fired again after he stumbled and sprawled sideways into the river . . . the pistol spouting flames each time. Startling—I’d never shot a gun at night.

“Did you get him? Shit . . . I think my shoulder’s busted. You must’ve shot me, too.” Belton was dazed and on his side, trying to get to his feet.

“If you can, run to the clearing,” I said. “I’ll yell if it’s okay.” I rushed down the embankment, the whole time thinking,
I hit him, I know I hit him . . . But did I fire three shots or four?

No . . . only three. The slide of a pistol locks back when empty. In darkness, I stopped and ran my fingers over the barrel to check. Just one bullet left, though. If Oliver wasn’t badly wounded, one bullet might not be enough.

I thought about that. An animal of such freakish size and strength? Of course one bullet wasn’t enough to stop him unless . . . unless I let Oliver charge me, waited until he was on top of me, too close to miss a shot to his heart or head.

So close it’s up to God to decide.
Captain Ben Summerlin’s words flashed in memory, but so did Theo’s threat:
Oliver will eat you alive.

I told myself,
You can do this, you CAN do this.

Ahead in moonlight, the sandbar and our aluminum boat were in plain view. Seconds earlier, I had heard the chimp thrashing toward shore. If I exited the trees, he would be to my right only ten or fifteen yards away. Not an easy shot, but at least some distance would separate us.

I started toward the river but could manage only a few steps.

No, I realized, I
could not
do it. First, a chimp bites off a woman’s nose and lips, Lucia has said. I did not have the courage to risk that animal’s teeth in me. Besides, I had Belton to think about. It
was a handy excuse that wasn’t a lie, but it felt like a lie when I scrambled up the embankment. Every few steps, I stopped to listen. Silence hinted that Oliver was dead. I became hopeful.

My hopefulness did not last. When I got to the top, I heard the rhythmic slosh of his legs kicking water. The animal walked unsteadily, fell once, but was on his feet. Then a tree limb buckled under a heavy weight and displaced leaves spun earthward into the river basin.

The shriek that came next spooked birds to flight. Through echoes, Oliver called a message to me:

UCK . . . UCK UN . . . ITCH!

I was already running when those bass drum grunts transitioned into a howl.

I found Belton at the artesian well, where he had stopped to drink. His shoulder, if not broken, was in bad shape, and pain slowed everything he did. While he steadied himself on his feet, I kicked grass around the grave of Irene Cadence until I was convinced my flashlight was gone.

“If that animal’s bleeding, he can’t follow us far. You’re sure you hit him? I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Belton sounded shaky, too.

I said, “At least one shot. I don’t know where, but it knocked him down. You shouldn’t have drunk from that well. Better not to drink anything than get sick.”

We’d left our jug of iodine water behind and I craved water. Scolding Belton strengthened my resolve. I held his elbow and hurried him along until he was okay on his own, then took the lead. Every few seconds I checked behind us: no sign of Oliver. But the
squall had swung the wind around, the wind steady and stronger, which is what squalls do, siphon air like a blast furnace until the rain is spent. In the high limbs, a steady breeze masked sounds.

The oak grove funneled us into a clearing of weeds and palmettos, an undulant quarter mile that flattened into pines to the east. To the north, cypress trees formed domes of pewter and mist. It would be wet there, a chance of bogging down. Between the two, angling northeast, was a corridor of space and moonlight where the horizon showed an orange fringe—a fire. Open range, it appeared to be. Cattle pasture. The scent of woodsmoke came from there.

I pointed. “Someone’s doing a controlled burn. It can’t be more than two or three miles.”

“Then which direction should we go?”

“Toward the fire. Out here, where there’s fire, there are people to tend it. Usually. That tells me there’s a ranch somewhere around.” It was one a.m., but it was still possible someone was up.

Belton said, “Right hand busted, now my left shoulder. Knocking Carmelo on his ass was worth it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, but I’m not sure I can make three miles. Not without resting anyway. Don’t ever get old, Hannah.”

I replied, “I plan on living until tomorrow, at least. And, Belton, you’re going to be right there with me.”

That got a chuckle.

It was hard not to walk as fast as I wanted to walk. Impatience is among my failings. We exited the weeds into an area speckled with Brazilian pepper and palmetto bushes and sparse melaleucas. Paper trees, as they are also known, because they appear to be constructed of cardboard. The palmettos were waist-high, their leaves
so dry, they rattled when disturbed. The sound reminded me that palmetto fields attract rattlesnakes. I’d seen several rattlers in places such as this. They liked the low shade and wealth of ambush opportunities. Unsettling. To calm myself and keep Belton moving, I didn’t mention this, of course. Just the opposite. I emphasized the positive when I spoke.

I said, “Did you notice that chimpanzee’s hand looked swollen? His left hand. The thing was huge. And he had to sort of drag his left leg. Well . . . except when he went crazy. He doesn’t seem to feel pain when he goes crazy.”

“I’ve known men who were the same. His hand . . . what about it?”

“Coral snake venom isn’t as fast as some. That’s what happened, I think. He got bit. All we have to do is put some distance between us and let the poison work. Plus, he’s bleeding. I know darn well I put at least one bullet in him. A special sort of 9mm bullet. Federal Power-Shoks. They’re hollow-points that expand when they hit something. He can’t be in very good shape.”

“How slow?”

“The poison?” I had to be careful. I couldn’t tell him Oliver’s nervous system would shut down within twenty-four hours. It might sap what little spirit the man had left. So I mixed in some gray lies with the truth. “He’s already showing the effects. Gradually, he won’t be able to use his arms or legs. Another hour or so, who knows? He won’t be able to move.”

“Is it painful? By god, I hope it’s painful. I’ve never seen two more vicious animals in my life.”

Strange. I felt the same anger but couldn’t allow myself to admit it. “Don’t be mean, Belton. What they’ve done is terrible, I know, but nothing in this world deserves more pain. The way Theo raised them might be to blame.”

Belton bristled at that. “Sure. It’s always someone else’s fault.”

I puzzled over his reaction for a while, then it came to me. “You’re worried it was one of the chimps that killed your son.”

“Goddamn right. After seeing what they did to that little girl? Carmelo, too. Sickening—they’re monsters . . .
cannibals.
Can you imagine their teeth sinking in? The sound of something eating you. Terrifying. Drives me crazy even to think about.” He stopped, put his hands on his hips, and tried to stretch like people do when their back hurts. The pain in his arms wouldn’t allow it. “Damn, damn, damn,” he murmured. “Just . . . sickening.”

I’ve read about prairie dogs, colony animals that keep a sentry posted outside every hole. I played that role while Belton rested. I focused on the region behind us, turned a few degrees, then refocused. “Belton?”

“Do you see something?”

“No. But what I said was thoughtless. Worse, it was a lie. The thing about Oliver, his being in pain—I feel the same as you and should have said so. But it
is
wrong. I know it’s wrong and I apologize for that.”

The man had his hands on his knees. He chuckled toward the ground. “Hannah . . . dear, dear Hannah . . . I’ve never met anyone like you. While we’re being honest, maybe for the first time in my life I should, well . . . maybe I should just say thanks.”

“No need. You would’ve done the same.”

“Fair-minded—always so damn fair. Now I feel like a total shit.”

“That wasn’t my intention.”

He laughed again in a weary sort of way. “Dear, I am not the kindly, sweet old gentleman I pretend to be. I took you in, Hannah. It was all an act. Just like Carmelo’s idiot act. No different. What I told you about Kenneth, that much is mostly true. But I used you. I wanted to find that gold shipment just as much as I wanted to find his killer. I thought your distant uncle’s journal might be the key. So I was sweet and charming—all an act, and I’ve got it down pat. The truth is, I’m actually a fairly ruthless con man. Well, self-interested anyway. Fifty years, nearly sixty, that’s how I’ve made my living. When I said I’d sold my business? It was actually hard to keep a straight face.”

Under other circumstances, I might have been angry, but I felt drained. “We all make our way as best we can, Belton. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve treated me—” Midsentence, I halted. “Wait a minute. How do you know it was my uncle’s journal?”

The man stood upright and tested his broken hand. “Kenneth and his mother were right to disown me. I’m a fraud. That’s all I meant. I figured you’ve earned the right to know.”

“Thank you. Now answer my question.”

“Guess I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“Too late. How? Did you sneak a peek on the boat yesterday?”

“Your stubborn streak, I forgot. Okay . . . I know Ben Summerlin was your uncle because I read the journal. All the pages Theo could open and photograph anyway. He told me about the family
connection. The whole journal, diagrams, everything, it’s on my computer.”

I said, “Good lord,” and distanced myself by a step.

“Like I said, a con man. The award I supposedly brought Theo? It was a box of oxycodone tablets. Pharmacy-grade. Earlier tonight, Theo had quite a laugh thinking you’d never figure out the Masonic connection. That led to an argument. No sense going into why.”

I didn’t understand the Masonic reference but took my eyes off the horizon long enough to say, “Yes, they were. Your son and wife were both right. And I feel like a fool. Have you rested long enough? Or maybe I should just jog on ahead and leave you.”

I located the fire’s orange thread and started toward it. The last thing I expected Belton to say was “I think that’s a good idea. But leave the pistol. If the chimp follows you, I’ll kill it.”

I faced him. “Noble. Is that part of your act, too?”

“Actually, yes. One of my best bits, but this time I mean it. Not the noble part. I can’t go any farther, Hannah. I would love to put a bullet in that son of a bitch.”

Once again, under different circumstances, I would have been furious. All the anger in me, though, had to remain focused on escape. I walked back, took the man’s elbow, and said, “Come along, Belton—before you really piss me off.”

•   •   •

W
E WERE MIDWAY
through a stand of palmettos, heartened by the sound of distant bawling cattle, when the water Belton had drunk caused a stomach cramp that bent him over. The cramps
worsened. Soon he requested privacy to deal with his gurgling stomach. Walking had been difficult—thick brush and hidden stumps in what had once been pine forest. Palmettos resemble Japanese fans with fingers and their roots are a relentless series of snares. Belton and his bad heart needed a break.

I said, “There are plenty of bushes to choose from,” and stepped away. My joke didn’t quell my anxiety. Diarrhea for a person his age, in a place so far from help and as waterless as sand, was serious. A raging chimpanzee, even if alive, became a secondary problem.

Or so I believed until I saw the light. It moved toward us from the south, a few hundred yards away. The light blinked off, then blinked on and stayed on just long enough for me to gauge a slow, loping rhythm.

Belton saw it, too, but didn’t understand. “Thank god. I hope it’s the police. I don’t care as long as they have water. Out here in hell’s half acre, who else could it be?”

I controlled my breathing and said, “Let me know when you’ve finished your business. It wouldn’t hurt to hurry, if you can.”

He was wary of my tone. “What’s wrong?”

“We shouldn’t linger in one spot too long, that’s all. Those cattle we hear belong to a ranch and the ranch can’t be far.” I had my back to him, of course. Hopefully, he didn’t see me slip the pistol from my pocket. My bag was on the ground. I knelt to open it.

“A rancher, then. Good. Try to get his attention.”

“Not coming from that direction. If there’s a ranch, it’ll be somewhere north of here.”

“I don’t care who it is. They might hear if you yell. Hannah . . . ? Hannah! Why don’t you yell something? Christ, don’t let them get away before they see you.” After several seconds, bushes rattled and I heard the jingle of his belt. “Okay, I’m done. Damn it, tell me what’s wrong.”

I picked up the bag . . . thought for a moment and put it down again. Placed it on a tree stump that smelled of pine. It was one of many stumps amid a few old-growth survivors scattered across the field, trees as tall and straight as power poles. On this milky blue night they resembled the masts of schooners that had struck a reef and sunk in shallow water.

Belton, striding toward me, said, “That was a flashlight. Who else would be out here with a flashlight?” Then surprised me by waving his arms and hollering, “Hey . . . over here. We’re over here!”

I grabbed the man’s sleeve but let go when the light blinked on. It searched through two hundred yards of darkness for the source of the human voice. Too far even for a dazzling little LED, my gift from the biologist. I waited until the light was out and kept my voice low. “He would’ve found us anyway. It’s not your fault.” Said it in a comforting way, I hope, then patted Belton’s shoulder and got busy.

“Are you afraid it’s Theo? Hell, I’d be happy to see Theo. Crazy as he is, trust me, I’ll work out some sort of deal.”

I was kicking among the palmettos and gathering wood while a plan organized itself in my head. Not a last-minute plan either. We’d been walking for half an hour and I’d spent every quiet
moment calculating a way to deal with Oliver if he caught us in open country. Now here we were. What I feared, though, was Belton’s heart, how it would react to more stress or even gathering wood.

I talked while I tossed splinters and chunks of lighter pine into a pile. “The best thing for you is to rest while you can. I can’t do this alone. I need you ready.” I looked south to where a small, vague darkness was now occasionally visible. It appeared and disappeared like a bear humping through tall grass, the grass silver because of the moon. Not fast but steady, although an occasional pause as if resting.

“He’s hurt. I’m surprised he made it this far. Maybe it’s the craziness driving him. We both know what that means.”

Belton, following at my shoulder, didn’t want to believe it. “Please tell me you’re not starting a fire. What if it’s Theo? He wouldn’t just go off and leave his boat. Think about it—chimpanzees
don’t carry flashlights
.”

“They aren’t supposed to wear sandals either, but some do. And pants. The flashlight’s been on my mind since it went missing. Ask yourself why he switches it on and off like that instead of using it to see. Trust me, Theo’s not out there—unless that big gator carried him all this way.”

“Are you saying the alligator got—”

“Pretty sure. Now’s not the time to talk about it.”

I stood and checked Oliver’s progress, decided I needed help after all. Facing the animal, I extended my arms to create a forty-five-degree angle as Belton grabbed his stomach and winced but paid attention. “I’ve got fire starter and lighters. On this line and this line, we’ll light pieces of wood, get a bush burning, then walk
five or six steps and do it again. Sort of a reversed arrow shape, if it burns the way I hope.”