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It was late afternoon. The day was overcast. The air was muggy. The four friends had rented a small boat and traveled about three kilometers into the swamp. Linder glanced up from his global positioning device. “Okay, we’re close. The black swamp oaks have to be around here somewhere. Keep your eyes peeled.”
Chartrand maneuvered the boat to an island about fifty meters in diameter, dense with vegetation. The edge was fringed with pond cypress trees interspersed with bald cypress. Linder attached the painter to a cypress root and pushed through thornless green briar, grimacing at the putrid smell of the plant. “There’s green briar all over this little island. Seems to me with that smell to keep the tourists away, this would be an ideal place for a black swamp oak that needs to remain hidden.”
“You mean,” said Dave, “we’re going to have to put up with this stink all night while we transfer to Abaddon? The things we do for Al!”
Linder didn’t answer but pushed toward the center of the small island. “Dave, you’re the only one of us who’s seen a black swamp oak. Why don’t you lead and see if you can find one?”
“Well we know this is the right island,” said Dave pointing to a pile of brush. Under the dense brush, they could see a camouflage-painted boat.
On the second pass of the island Dave found a cluster of three pear-shaped trees with ten-centimeter diameter stems. Next to the middle tree, he saw a note wedged into a cypress root fork. It contained Al’s scrawl.
I took the middle swamp oak. I’ll try to follow Pam’s trail and leave markers.
Go with God!
Al
Dave passed the note around. “Now what do we do?” asked Larsen.
“I’m going to stick with the original plan and follow Al right now, said Linder. “Anyone coming with me?”
“I’m in,” said Chartrand. Chartrand and Linder looked at Larsen.
“Yeah, I’m coming. I just wish Al had waited for us.”
“I’m heading back to pick up Arlana and Hanomer,” said Dave. “Tomorrow when you’ve transferred, Arlana, Hanomer and I will climb into the swamp oaks and join you. But what am I supposed to do with your car?”
“Remember, Makalo? He lives not far from here near Astoria. I called him last night and told him the situation. He’ll store my SUV and drive you and Arlana back here. He’ll likely even take the rental boat back for you.”
“You know there’s a chance that the twins of three black swamp oaks are located in different places in Abaddon,” said Dave. “Linder, since you’re taking Al’s tree, you’ll go to wherever he went. So, Larsen and Chartrand, what are you going to do if you end up some place else and don’t find Linder on the other side?”
Chartrand looked at Larsen. “I guess after a thorough search of our arrival area, if we can’t find you, Linder, we’ll come back and line up to take Al’s tree.”
“Dave, I think you’re worrying needlessly,” said Linder. “Bigelow had to transport Pam and Little Thomas back as prisoners. Each tree can take one adult and one child or Hansa, I suppose. At the most. There’s no way this plan would work if Bigelow used black swamp oaks in different locations.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Dave.
Dave watched the men climb into the foliage of the swamp oaks and try to make themselves comfortable for the long night, with their packs nestled on their laps. After a few minutes, satisfied that they could last the night, Dave headed back to the rental facility with the boat.