Clayton

Washington County, Alabama

Clayton drifted alongside the narrow pier in Hellcat Bayou and looped his bow and stern ropes around the piles.  Another run had not been scheduled for a couple weeks, but he had made an exception.  Clay decided it best to leave Moses with Claire for the night.  The cur did not usually tolerate strangers in his boat.  Clayton had looked back at the porch as he idled away and watched his friend whine and protest the decision.

The grief-stricken mother gingerly stepped out onto the pier with Teddy behind her to ensure she did not fall.  Clayton remembered the last time he was there and thought perhaps Deputy Greene should be the one helping her.  Clay took her hand and helped her balance as she stepped down into the boat.  Her two sons, sixteen and fourteen years old, followed behind Teddy on the pier.  Deputy Greene remained on the bank and aimed his flashlight at their feet.

Her husband had been a diabetic before the world had changed.  As false stability gave way to uncertainty, it had become increasingly difficult to find the medicines he needed to regulate his condition.  When they were finally able to obtain insulin, the periods of extended power outages ensured that it could never be properly refrigerated. Ultimately, it would be ruined by the heat.  After months without proper preventative medicines, his health began to decline.  His kidneys failed and slowly, over the course of several weeks, he succumbed to a very painful death.

The slow death of a loving father and husband was unbearable for the young family to witness.  The agony he went through near the end had driven their mother into a deep depression.  He was the love of her life and a wonderful father, and now they were alone.  They had no one else on this side of the river.

The remainder of their family resided not far from Clayton’s drop point on the opposite side.  He had arranged for several of his contacts to meet him at the usual location and escort the mother and her sons to her family’s homestead.  His contacts had dutifully agreed; it was the least they could do for one of their own.

Once everyone was safely seated in Clayton’s boat, he untied the vessel and pushed off.

As the boat drifted away from the pier, Deputy Greene called out, “Clayton.”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful out there tonight.”

“Why?  What’s the word?”

“Well, we’ve been having some problems over the last week or so and it’s getting worse.”

“Like what?”

“Mostly home invasions; a few people’ve been killed.  I could be wrong, but I’m afraid it’s going to turn up on the water soon enough.”

“I don’t doubt it.  Think it’s outsiders?”

“Not sure yet; we’ve been checking to see if anyone’s had family or friends move in from out of town, but so far we haven’t got any leads.”

“Keep looking, you’ll find them.  It’s hard to cause trouble ‘round and stay hid for long.”

“Agreed; anyway, be careful, Clay.”

“Always do; take care, deputy.” Clayton started the motor and slipped on his helmet, before disappearing into the night.

The stars were particularly bright.  They caught Clay’s attention, and he glanced up occasionally to marvel at them.  They sped under gnarled branches draped with Spanish moss.  The eerie limbs looked like the frail appendages of some underworld beast.  The slough beyond the lake began to narrow and wind more severely. Clayton slowed the shallow-draft boat to a more reasonable pace so as not to frighten the already-grieving family.

He watched as the mother stared blankly ahead into the darkness, unaware of his empathetic gaze.  Her boys sat on either side of her.  The elder son draped his arm around her while the younger clasped her hand tightly.  He admired the boys for their courage.  He knew their resilience was all that was holding their mother together.  He thought of his own children and hoped they had remembered all he had taught them.  He prayed that they were safe and that God would let him see them again.

Clayton shut off the motor as they neared the mouth of the slough.  They sat in silence as he listened for any unnatural sounds, but heard none.  He watched as the youngest boy occasionally glanced up at his helmet and goggles.  Finally the boy broke the silence of the boat with a whisper.

“Mister Clay?”

“What is it, little man?”

“What’re you wearing on your head?”

“That’s his night vision,” the older brother replied.

“Your brother’s right; it lets me see in the dark like a barn owl.”

“Cool, can I try it?”

“Joshua,” his mother scolded, “leave Mister Clayton alone.”

“He’s fine Hanna; here you go, Josh.” He pulled the helmet off of his head and plopped it onto the boy’s. “Try it out.”

“Wow!” The boy gazed all about and laughed as he said, “I can see everything!”

“That’s right,” Clayton replied as the Josh handed it back to him, “it’s my secret weapon.  Well, the coast sounds clear.  Let’s shoot across the river and back into the safety of the cutoff.  Is everybody ready?”

The boys replied, but Hannah simply nodded.  Clayton started the motor again and twisted the tiller throttle as far as it would allow.  The boat roared to life and leapt forward as it began to plane across the water.  They burst forth at full speed from the slough and flew down the river towards the cutoff.

Clayton squinted in an attempt to discern several objects that were barely visible along the bank in the approaching bend.  The closer he got, the more obvious it became as to what they were.  He yelled over the roar of the engine to the others, “Hannah, I want you and Josh to get in the bottom of the boat; get as low as you can.  Josh, try to keep your mother calm, alright?”

“But-“

“Do it, son; no time for questions.  Dale, I need you to come back here with me, okay?”

Dale nodded and complied.  He stepped over the dry well to the back of the boat and stood beside Clayton. Clay shouted over the motor again, “Open the dry well and grab some ear muffs, it’s about to get even louder.”

The boy did as he was ordered without question.  Clayton looked again and could now see several men in the two boats along the bank.  He knew it was only a matter of time.

Suddenly, two spotlights shined from the boats and illuminated Clayton’s vessel.  Clay turned off his goggles to avoid being blinded and guided the boat by memory and moonlight until he could get away from the bright beams.  As they flew past the boats Dale cried, “They’re following us!”

The boats were larger and faster than Clay’s, but they could never hang with him in the narrow sloughs.  Unfortunately, they were still at least a mile from the cutoff.  There was nowhere to hide, so Clayton continued to push hard and pray for Providence.

“Get on the gun!” Clayton yelled, “Aim just below the lights so it doesn’t blind you.  Alternate between the boats to rattle them both; I need you to buy me some time.  I’m counting on you, Dale.  Your mother and brother are too.”

Dale nodded and shouldered up to the fifty-caliber that was resting in the bracketed mount in the center of the boat.  He aimed slightly low just like he was told and squeezed the trigger.  He jerked the first shot for fear of the recoil.  The round sailed wide of the pursuers.  Much to his surprise, the kick was mostly absorbed by the home-made mount; all that he felt was the shockwave from the explosion in the chamber.

Being downrange of the huge muzzle flash obviously surprised the pursuers.  They certainly had not expected such a forceful response.  They began to slalom back and forth to avoid being an easy target for the cannon.  Clayton smiled; they were giving him the time he needed.  He yelled again to Dale, “That’s it!  Keep it up!”

Thirty more seconds to the cutoff.