Dale cycled the bolt action and aimed with a new confidence at the second boat.  The operators of the lights were having a rather difficult time following Clayton’s boat as they were swept back and forth in their evasive motions, so he turned the night vision back on.

Twenty five seconds.

Dale peered down the rifle and slowly squeezed the trigger once again.  The hammer fell against the primer and set in motion the explosion inside the round.  The spark traveled down the flash hole of the cartridge and ignited the powder charge.  The burning gas propelled the seven-hundred-grain bullet forward with a deep resounding, Boom!  The bullet spun faster and faster as it traveled along the rifled barrel.  It exited the long barrel in a blinding flash and shot forth in an arc towards the second boat.  The bullet hit the water mere feet from its bow.  The operator panicked and jerked the boat hard to the right, nearly causing a catastrophic collision with his comrades.

Fifteen seconds to the cutoff.

The boats returned fire at Clay and the others, barely missing them. Clay could feel the shots as they pierced the thick night air around him.  He ducked as low as he could in the vessel, minimizing his silhouette as much as possible.  Dale huddled tightly behind the large rifle and continued to search for his targets.  The wide sweeps taken by the pursuing boats made illuminating Clayton difficult, and accurate return fire more luck than skill.  He knew that if Dale had frozen in fear rather than engaging the assailants as he had, they would certainly be dead.

Ten seconds.

Dale was finding a rhythm with the rifle.  He began to work the action more smoothly as he fired off a steady volley of rounds between the two boats.  He would alternate back and forth, back and forth, at his adversaries.  His shots were hitting closer to their marks each time, but the boats stubbornly continued their chase.

One round finally connected with the second boat.  The men panicked and slowed as the other boat shot past them at full speed.  After several moments, they throttled back up and continued the chase from at a distance.

Five seconds.

Clayton could see his sanctuary rapidly approaching.  He swung wide into the middle of the river so that his angle of entry would be straighter and his boat would be easier to control in the narrow strait.

“Hold on!” he shouted as he performed the maneuver.  Dale wrapped his arms tightly around the rifle to keep from being slung from the boat. Clayton slowed only the slightest bit as he disappeared into river swamp.  The adrenaline rush forced a high pitched howl from deep within him as they were engulfed by the thick canopy.

The predator had now become the prey.

With every additional bend and turn, the distance between the boats increased in Clayton’s favor.  He could have closed his eyes and navigated the stretch.  They had tried him on the open river and expected an easy victim.  Alone with only his old friend Moses, he would have been surely overtaken.  With the bold display from Dale, however, their ambush had been thoroughly repelled.  Now, if they were foolish enough to follow him into his sanctum, they would be his.

A little over half way through the cutoff, he killed the motor and guided them into a cluster of thick brushwood.  He urged the three to remain quiet while he listened to the sounds of the boats as they ventured towards him on the dangerous waters.  He whispered to Dale to get down in the bottom of the boat and comfort his mother and brother, while he reached for the M1 Garand.

***

The boats foolishly pushed deeper into the cutoff, not realizing the snare that they had already stumbled into.  The rear boat had caught up with his companion vessel.  They were navigating the waters almost as one boat, blindly urging each other onward.  The crew of the front boat looked back just in time to see their compatriots collide with a submerged stump and turn skyward, before rolling towards the trees along the submerged bank.  The intense spotlight from the first boat found and tracked one of the victims as he was slung through the air in a sweeping arc.  The body collided with a cypress tree in a sickening crunch, before disappearing into the dark waters.

The first boat slowed and spun around to rescue any survivors.  As they idled back to the scene of the accident, they panned their light and searched for their comrades.  They followed the sounds of the panicked screams and found the bobbing head of a lone man.  He thrashed violently in the water, terrified of unseen monsters that were surely lurking an arms-length away, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.  He pleaded desperately for them to pull him to the safety of the boat.

As he reached the side of their boat, his friend stretched forth his arm and began to pull the hysterical survivor aboard.  As he tugged at the man for leverage, a shot rang from somewhere in the darkness. The man went limp and fell headlong overboard; the survivor sunk back into the murky depths.

He screamed in horror as two more reports echoed through the night.  Two more bodies collapsed on the boat somewhere nearby.  As one of the men fell, the spotlight he had been holding plunged into the water and was immediately extinguished.  Darkness rushed in and filled the swamp again.

The man cried out for mercy as he struggled to climb into the boat.  As he pulled himself up and over the sidewall, eight more shots rang out. The bullets perforated the boat and its motor.  Again, eight shots again rang out in the same manner, ravaging the vessel’s hull.  The panicked survivor pressed himself against the bottom of the craft.  He lay in complete silence, gasping for shallow breaths, fearful of another barrage.

“Your friends’re all dead.  Their blood is already inviting all manner of creatures to this place.  I don’t have to tell you what’s coming, because you’ve already imagined them, eh?”

The man remained in the bottom of the perforated boat, too afraid to respond.  Water was beginning to seep in.

“Your boat’s disabled; it’s not going anywhere ‘cept straight down.  There’s nowhere to run and no one to hear your cries for help.  You’re surrounded by water on all sides.  Even if you could make it to higher ground, every river bend and every third tree in the swamp looks exactly the same.  But you’re too frightened to even consider making a run for it, so here you’ll stay.”

The man said nothing.

Clayton turned his boat back around and silently trolled away from the wreckage.  After several a short while, he climbed back to his seat and prepared to continue onward.  As he prepared to start the motor once again, a fearful voice cried out, “You’re not going to leave me here to die, are you?”

“You wouldn’t be so lucky.  I’ve some business to attend to first, but I’ll be back.  Then we’re going to talk and talk, almost like old friends – almost.  I can’t wait to hear all about you and your friends.  But until then, don’t go anywhere.”

Cha pter 17

Jake

Mississippi

Jake, Kate and Geram were having much better luck by the light of day.  They had been driving since dawn’s first light and had only seen a handful of vehicles on the road.  Parts were getting increasingly difficult to locate, so as vehicles started to break down, they were often simply abandoned.

Besides the difficulties associated with repairs, fuel had priced out of reach of all but the wealthy, or the scarce few that were still employed.  The only people with jobs were the ones that worked for the government or critical infrastructure such as energy and utility companies.  Even those workers had seen their salaries eroded away, but at least it still provided them a meager income.  Some companies had forgone payment with currency altogether, and were compensating their employees with food and water.