WE DROVE FOR WHAT SEEMED FOREVER down a two-lane road. Civilization quickly disappeared. It was so dark I couldn’t see much of anything but the vague blur of trees and the occasional glint of water. Just when I thought there couldn’t be a more remote part of Louisiana, the driver pulled over at an old road-side garage. A single light dangling from the end of the building revealed a sign advertising “boats for rent,” and I could make out a dock behind the building. He turned off the engine, and we sat in silence. Before long a second SUV pulled up and out popped the two guys we’d left at the hotel. Why the overkill, I wondered. One man with a gun was enough to keep me on good behavior.
One of the suits signaled to our driver, and the man with the gun told me to get out of the car and walk slowly toward the dock, where I could see a series of small boats rocking against each other. I didn’t feel any wind, not even a breeze. The dark water seemed to be creating its own energy. My spirits rose when I noticed they were all marked as belonging to the local sheriff. Maybe any minute now a group of sheriff’s deputies would jump out of the shadows and surround my captors.
Instead, the guy with the gun waved his gun and pointed me toward the bow of the one unmarked boat. It was powered by an old outboard motor which roared to life when our former driver pulled the rope. We were soon gliding into what looked to me like a swamp, followed by two of the sheriff’s boats manned by the two other suits. So much for my imminent rescue. I wondered idly what kind of fish live in a swamp.
I thought about diving into the green slimy water, but the man with the gun never took his eyes off me. He seemed eager for me to make a wrong step.
If the circumstances had been different, I might have enjoyed the ride. The sun was rising, and the mist was beginning to lift, revealing cypress knees, trees laden with Spanish moss, and various birds taking flight. I didn’t see any alligators, but I felt sure they were lurking just beneath the surface of the dark water, hoping for an easy breakfast.
As we went deeper and deeper into the swamp, thick clouds darkened the sun again; at least the noise of the outboard motors prevented any conversation. I tried to think about escape, but knew I needed to focus first on how to stay alive. These guys seemed to fear Thibodeaux’s retribution. Maybe they’d just drop me off on some remote island. With no food or water, no defense against hungry critters, and no way out, I wouldn’t last long. But at least I’d have a chance.
Who was I kidding? The more likely scenario was they were going to kill me deep in the swamp where no one would ever find me. Before long the boat began to slow, and my heart sunk when we pulled up to what looked like one of the islands I had imagined. The man at the motor hopped out and began to pull the boat to shore.
“Ride’s over, Jack. Time to get out.” My companion pointed his gun directly at my head, and I obeyed.
“Wait a minute, now,” he said with a grin. “I’ve got a better idea. You just sit down—yes, right there in the water—’til I decide what to do with you. Don’t worry—it’s shallow enough, and I’ll watch for gators.”
I wondered which could be worse: sitting here in the murky water or him deciding my fate. The other boats finally pulled in, and he motioned me up onto the island. One man hauled the boats up onto the shore. The other grabbed the gas can out of my boat and emptied the remaining fuel into the swamp. He pulled the drain plug from the bottom of the boat, and for a second, I thought he was going to hand it to me. Instead, he laughed and chucked it into the swamp.
My guy sat down on a convenient stump and grinned. “You didn’t think we’d leave you a way out of the swamp, did you? When this boat is found, people will say, “Damn fool ran out of gas and didn’t even bring a paddle.
“Anybody checking your credit card records will see that you spent a few days in cheap hotels, then rented this boat to go fishing.”
“I thought you were going to give me a chance. What about not killing anyone protected by the syndicate?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Oh, we’re not going to kill you. You do have a chance. Not a good one, but still. You’re supposed to be a real Boy Scout. Maybe what you know about surviving in the wilderness will finally come in handy.”
We were now a circle of five men, not a good sign. One of the other three said, “Too bad you ran out of gas.” Then his fist slammed into my stomach.
I bent over gasping for air and saw the guy with the knife approach. Another blow came to the back of my head, and I fell to the ground.
“Don’t be a fool, Don!” My guy was clearly this mob’s boss, thank heavens.
The man with the knife grumbled. “But if I slice his Achilles, he can’t walk more’n just a few feet. No match for a hungry gator.”
I cringed at the thought of a knife severing my Achilles tendon. A hungry gator was more than I could even imagine.
“Don’t! Don’t do it!” His gun wavered from me toward Don who quickly backed away. “We want it to look like some animal got him, or he drowned. A few bruises are okay, but no knife wounds.”
The guy with the knife took out his frustration by sending me to the ground with a swift kick to my ankles.
I curled up in a ball as they started kicking my head and midsection. The odd thing was that none of them said a word, just kicked for the pure pleasure of it. Finally, the leader shouted, “Enough! It’s time to get out of here. There’s a bad-ass storm heading this way, and the gators won’t show until we leave.”
They all laughed, and one of them passed around a bottle of booze. I didn’t move, just listened and tried to remain conscious.
Finally, they all clambered onto the one boat and roared back into the swamp. I tried to stand but couldn’t get any further than up on my knees. I couldn’t help but think of that tired query about the tree falling in the woods. I managed to get myself to the same stump my captor had found and leaned against it, trying to get my breathing under control. Here I was alone in the middle of a swamp with a useless, half-sunk boat and a suitcase full of clothes. No use yelling, who would hear?
The sky was growing ever darker, and I wondered what time it was. I remembered that a tropical storm was on target to hit southern Louisiana sometime in the next couple of days. I hadn’t given it much thought before but felt pretty sure it wouldn’t bode well for me now.