Part 10 (2/2)
”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 G.o.d 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 m.u.f.fs, 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 s.h.i.+ned 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.
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 a.s.sailants 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 cl.u.s.ter 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.
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