Gateways, page 24
“Got a pretty penny for it too,” she said.
Carl looked from Luke to Semelee. “Looks like I ain’t the first to break the no-outsiders rule.”
Score one for you, Carl, Jack thought.
“That was different,” Semelee said.
Carl didn’t seem to hear. His eyes were fixed on the hole.
“I was a-fearin this,” he said, “what with the drought’n all. The lights hole ain’t never been above water before. That’s bad enough. But then you went’n had sand sucked out.”
“Why’s that bad?” Semelee said. “I think that’s good.”
“Good? How can it be good? The light used to have to come up through the sand and the water, and even then, look what it did to us. Now there ain’t hardly nothin in the way.”
Semelee grinned. “Ain’t it cool?”
“Nuh-uh. That ain’t cool. That’s scary.”
Jack knelt at the edge and peered into the depths. He didn’t like deep holes, at least not since the spring when he’d had a bad experience with one out on Long Island. But that one hadn’t had a bottom. This one…
He found a thumb-size stone and dropped it. He heard a satisfying plop, saw ripples on the water far below.
…this one definitely had a bottom.
But for how long?
“What are these lights like?” he asked.
Semelee squatted close beside him. He glanced up briefly and noticed the others wandering off. The two of them had the hole to themselves.
“Like nothin you ever seen in your life.” Her voice was full of hushed wonder as she spoke. “I mean, whoever heard of lights comin outta the ground?”
Jack had seen light shooting up from a hole in the earth…just last spring.
“What color are these lights?”
“Sorta like pinkish orange, but that ain’t right. Every time you think you got the color pinned, it melts into somethin else just a teeny bit different. I can’t describe it. You gotta see it to believe it.”
Jack believed. He’d seen a light just like she described.
“How often do they come?” Jack asked, knowing the answer.
“Twice a year.”
“No kidding. When’s the next show?”
“Tonight.”
“But—” Jack caught himself. Anya had said the nexus points opened during the equinoxes, but that wasn’t until tomorrow night. He knew; he’d checked. But if he admitted that, Semelee would realize that he knew way more than he should.
She frowned at him. “But what?”
What to say? “But that’s too soon!” he blurted. “I won’t be able to get my cameras set up for—”
“Who said anything bout cameras?”
“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I take some pictures of the lights and we sell them to the papers, to National Geographic, to—”
“Wait-wait-wait,” she said, waving her hands in front of his face. “What makes you think you’re gonna take pictures? Nobody takes no pictures of the lights.”
“No exceptions?”
“No way, no how. As a matter of fact, I can’t even let you see them, cause then you’d talk about them.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
Jack had no desire to see these lights, but he didn’t want to appear anxious to leave. Maybe the way to get out of here was to pretend to want to stay.
Semelee shook her head. “Maybe you wouldn’t, but I can’t risk it. Not yet, anyways. But maybe when I get to know you better…”
Jack noted how she said “when” instead of “if.”
“What’s wrong with getting to know each other now? We could go back to town, have that drink, maybe two or three, and do some serious talking.”
“Not tonight, or tomorrow or the next night, for that matter.”
“Why not?”
“The lights run for three nights. I gotta be here for that. But after Sunday…” She leaned closer and he caught her pleasant, musky scent. “…. We got all the time in the world.”
That’s what you think, sister.
But he had to be careful here…hell hath no fury and all that.
Then he noticed the black shell dangling from the thong around her neck. The same size and shape as the one he’d found in his father’s hospital room. Even had a hole drilled at the hinge end. Had to be the same.
He pointed to the shell. “How’d you get that back?”
Semelee started and clutched the shell. Jack figured from the sudden widening of her eyes that she hadn’t wanted him to see it. Because that meant she’d visited the room a second time—and he didn’t like that one bit.
But if that were the case, why had she worn it around her neck and left the collar loose?
“What do you mean?” she said.
“I found it by my father’s bed in the hospital, right after you were there. When did you go back for it?”
“I…I didn’t.” She kept the shell wrapped in her fist. “I had two.”
“Oh.” That made Jack feel a little better—if she was telling the truth. “I guess I saw the other one then.”
“Where?” She grabbed his wrist. “Where’d you see it last?”
Jack was about to shrug and say he’d left it on the bedside table and assumed the housekeeping staff had chucked it out, but her tight grip on his arm and the intensity in her eyes made him hold off.
“I’m not sure. Let me think…”
Why was a damn shell so important?
He glanced around and noticed Carl was missing.
“Carl?” Jack broke Semelee’s grip on his arm as he rose to his feet and scanned the lagoon banks. “Hey, Carl! Where are you?”
“Never mind him,” Semelee said, rising with him. “What about that shell?”
Jack left her behind. He skirted the edge of the cenote and headed in the direction of the huts where he saw a number of the men sitting around the little fire, smoking, drinking, but Carl wasn’t among them.
Shit! Where was he?
He called his name a few more times but got no response. He asked the group by the fire where he was but they ignored him.
Jack’s gut began a little crawl. If they’d done anything to Carl it would be Jack’s fault for inducing him to come back here.
Luke strolled up to the fire. The men around it looked up, their mismatched eyes questioning, and he nodded to them.
“Where is he, Luke?” Jack said.
Luke didn’t look up, didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge Jack’s existence.
Jack’s concern boiled over into anger. He pulled the Glock and sent a round into the fire. The mini-explosion of ash and flaming embers scattered the men, sending them rolling and tumbling. Luke ducked away and faced him.
Now he had their attention.
“I’m going to say it once more, and this time I’d better get an answer: Where…is…Carl?”
“Right where he belongs,” Luke said. “With us.”
“He doesn’t want to be with you. He left, remember?”
“Maybe. But he’s had a change of heart. He’s gonna stay.”
Jack sensed movement around him. His peripheral vision caught about a dozen clan members scurrying toward him, armed with rifles and shotguns. Should have figured they’d be armed—couldn’t live out here and not do some hunting.
The newcomers didn’t seem to give Luke much of a boost in confidence, especially when Jack pointed the Glock at the center of his chest. “I want to hear that from him.”
Luke’s eyes darted left and right. He seemed about to say something when Semelee spoke up.
“Don’t worry, Luke. He ain’t gonna kill you.”
Jack glanced left and saw her standing a few feet away, smiling at him.
“Right, mister,” Luke said, licking his lips. “That’s because you’ll be full of holes if you do.”
“That won’t make you any less dead.”
“You won’t,” Semelee said to Jack. “I know it, and you know it.”
She was right. This wasn’t a killing situation. He lowered the pistol a few inches.
“Maybe not. But one of these hollowpoints can mess up a knee like you wouldn’t believe.”
Luke was sweating now. Taking one in the knee seemed to bother him more than one in the chest.
“Semelee…?”
“You won’t do that neither. Because we ain’t hurt Carl and we ain’t keepin him here but for a few days.”
“You’ve got no right to keep him a minute.”
“Yeah, we do,” Luke said, emboldened by the fact that Jack hadn’t pulled the trigger again. “He’s kin. He’s blood.”
“I promised I’d get him back home. I intend to keep that promise.”
“It’s only gonna be three days,” Semelee said. “We want him to stay for the lights. But I tell you what: You find my other shell and we’ll do a trade…the shell for Carl.”
“Semelee,” Luke said. “You got no right. Carl belongs here.”
She turned on him, eyes flashing. “What’s more important—givin Carl a light show or gettin my eye-shell back?”
Luke looked away and said nothin.
Semelee turned to Jack. “So that’s the deal. How’s it set with you?”
“Lady, I don’t know where this shell of yours is. If I’d known it was going to matter, I’d have kept track of it.”
She pointed to Carl’s borrowed canoe. “Maybe you’d better start lookin.”
Keeping his pistol trained on Luke, Jack considered his options. He had a few, but didn’t like any of them.
He could do a little shooting, but he could see how that could turn counterproductive. He could do his own search for Carl, but he’d be a stranger looking for someone who’d been stashed away by folks who knew every nook and cranny of the terrain. He could head back and take one of these guys with him, then trade him back for Carl; but Jack had no place to stash him.
Or he could go back and find the shell, which was one tall order.
Going back…there was another challenge. He wasn’t Woodsman Jack. The closest he ever wanted to get to outdoor life was a copy of Field & Stream.
“I don’t know the Everglades,” he said. “I’ll get lost out there.”
Semelee laughed, a musical sound, void of harshness or derision.
“No, you won’t. The drought ain’t left too many wet channels. Every time you come to a fork, just take the eastmost. It ain’t all that far.”
“And if I do find this shell, how will I let you know?”
“Easy. Just stand outside you daddy’s house and say, ‘I found the shell.’ I’ll hear you.”
Jack didn’t think she was lying, and that gave him the creeps.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll go.” He hated to leave without Carl, but he’d be back. He also hated leaving without satisfying the reason he’d come here in the first place. “But I want to know something before I go: What have you got against my father?”
Semelee looked away, then back to him. “Nothin.”
“Like hell. You folks tried to kill him the other night, and somehow sicced that freaky alligator on him yesterday. Let me ask you: What did he ever do to you?”
“We ain’t after him,” she said.
Jack caught Luke giving her a sharp look, but she didn’t see it.
“Why don’t I believe that?” Jack said.
She shrugged. “That’s up to you. But I tell you true, your daddy ain’t got nothin to fear from us.”
“How about me?” Jack said. “What happens when I turn my back on you and your clan?”
“Nothin. You can’t find me my shell if you’re dead, now, can you.” She turned to the clan. “Ain’t that right, fellers.” They looked at one another but didn’t say much. Semelee’s expression turned fierce. “Ain’t that right? Cause I hate to think what would happen to anybody who stopped this man from doin what I need him to do.”
Jack saw a lot of uneasy, fearful expressions as the men nodded and lowered their weapons.
What kind of hold did she have on them? What could that slim little woman threaten them with?
Taking a breath and hoping he wasn’t making a mistake, Jack holstered the Glock and walked back to the canoe. He stepped into the water, pushed off, and slid in. A couple of pulls got the engine going. He putted away, propelled by the weight of dozens of eyes on his back.
6
“Why’d you let him go?” Luke said.
Semelee stood on the bank and watched Jack’s retreating form as he turned the canoe left and disappeared around the bend.
“Told you why.”
“You believe him?”
She could hear lots of anger in his voice. She knew he was jealous, but she figgered his pride had got hurt bein on the wrong end of Jack’s gun.
“Yeah, I do.”
She wasn’t sure why, but she had the feeling that he’d thought there was only one shell until she told him otherwise.
“You’re actin like a fool, Semelee. We coulda gone lookin for that eye-shell ourselfs.”
“Yeah? Like where? Like how? We can’t go to the hospital and ask about it when I wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. We can’t search his daddy’s place like he can.”
“We coulda tried. Way it stands now we ain’t never gonna see him or your other eye-shell again.”
“Oh, we’ll see him again…one way or the other.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Didn’t you hear him? He said he promised Carl he’d get him back home. If he finds the shell he’ll be back to make the trade. But even if he don’t find it he’ll be comin for Carl. He’ll take him home again or spread a whole lotta hurt tryin.”
Luke snorted. “What makes you think you know so much about him? You ain’t spoke to him but twice.”
She turned to him. “Let me tell you somethin, Luke. That’s a man who keeps his promises.”
She’d seen that in his eyes. Not a lick of fear, just stubborn as all get out. And that made him all the more special. Brave and loyal, two traits any woman wanted in a man. But Jack wasn’t just any woman’s man. He was destined to be hers.
The way things was fallin into place…it was like it was all part of a plan. His daddy gets chosen to die, but he don’t. He lives and that brings Jack down here where he and Semelee can meet and be together. She lost an eye-shell, but now Jack was gonna find it, and that was gonna bring them even closer together.
“What do you need that other eye-shell so bad for anyway?” Luke said. “You been doin all right with just the one.”
“No, I ain’t. Ain’t the same. Much harder to keep control and see where I’m goin. I need the two of them.”
“Awright awright. But you was kiddin bout layin off his daddy, right?”
“Wrong. We ain’t interested in his daddy no more.”
“But Seme—”
“We got us a new target.”
She didn’t know how, but Jack had somehow connected her and the clan to what had happened to his daddy. If his daddy got killed, he’d blame her, and that might keep them apart and wreck their destiny. No, she had a better victim, someone who needed killin.
Luke was starin at her. “Who?”
“The old lady. She’ll be takin daddy’s place.”
7
How was he going to find that damn shell?
The question plagued Jack as he drove toward Novaton.
Semelee had been right: It hadn’t been all that hard to find his way back to the real world. He’d left the canoe beached by the air-boat dock and headed toward town. The clouds persisted but hadn’t dumped drop one of rain.
Where to start? The hospital was the obvious place, but Dad had checked himself out almost twenty-four hours ago. Jack was sure the room had been stripped and scrubbed by now. Probably even had a new occupant. That meant he might have to go pawing through the hospital’s Dumpsters.
He shook his head. Maybe if he had half a dozen people helping him they might—just might—come up with that shell. He doubted it.
He decided that before he gave the hospital another thought, he’d check out his dad’s place. Maybe by some freaky turn of good luck the shell had wound up there. But again, the chances—
If nothing else, he could get out of these sodden sneakers.
He’d stopped at a red light. A dump truck was turning in front of him, going the opposite way. He wouldn’t have given it a second thought except for the insignia on the door of the cab. It looked like a black sun…a shape that might be mistaken for the head of a black flower.
Jack would have hung a U right there if he’d been in the left lane. Instead he had to cut through two parking lots to turn himself around. By the time he was heading north, the truck was out of sight. Racing along as best he could in the Friday afternoon traffic, trying to catch up, he almost missed the truck parked in a Burger King lot.
Jack pulled in next to it and got out. It had been backed diagonally across two spaces at the rear of the lot where it was out of the way. The cab was empty but the big diesel engine was running. He checked out the logo—definitely a black sun. And beneath it: Wm. Blagden & Sons, Inc.
He walked around it. It sure as hell looked big enough to inflict heavy damage on any car, even a Grand Marquis. He wondered what the left end of the front bumper looked like.
Jack stopped and stared at the dent in the fender…and the streaks of silver paint ground into its black surface.
“Can I help you with something?” said a voice behind him.
Jack turned to find a prototypical truck driver—big cowboy hat, big gut, big belt buckle, big boots—walking his way with a bag of burgers in one hand and a travel mug of coffee in the other.
“Yeah,” Jack said. “Just admiring the ding in your fender here.” A euphemism; the “ding” was a deep dent. “Looks pretty fresh.”
“It is. Best I can figure it must’ve happened Monday night when the truck was stolen.”
“Stolen? No kidding? By who?”
The driver unlocked the door to the cab, put the burgers and coffee inside, then shrugged.
“Damned if I know.” He rubbed his weather-beaten face. “Never happened to me before. After she got the first part of her load Monday evening, I locked her up and hit the hay. I got up the next morning and she was gone. Couple hours after I reported her missing the cops found her in a liquor store parking lot. I was so glad to get her back—I mean, you don’t know what kind of shit was gonna come down on me if she was gone for good—that I didn’t notice the ding till later.”
