The Buck Stops Here (45 page)

Careful not to make too much noise, I found myself gasping for air nevertheless. Tom surfaced beside me and did the same.

“Come on now, Callie,” Armand was saying loudly from the boat, calling out into the darkness. “You know you can’t get outta here alive. You’ll get bit by a snake, eaten by an alligator, no telling what.”

I looked at Tom, but neither of us could think of what to do next. With Ton Ton standing on the dock, holding onto a gun and shining her own light out on the water, the only choice was to get into the waterway, past Armand.

“Maybe we can overpower him in the boat,” Tom whispered.

“He’s got that rifle,” I said.

“What about the neighbors?”

I glanced at the other houses on the peninsula, where lights were starting to come on from all the noise.

“They’re his family,” I said. “Which means they’re probably going to believe whatever he tells them. I think we’re out of luck there.”

Suddenly, the spotlight on the boat started sweeping toward us. Clutching hands, we ducked under the water, staying down until it had swept past. The whine of the boat engine changed, and I realized it was turning around to head back this way again.

After a quick gasp of air from the surface, we dove back down again, clutching in the mud for the root. I couldn’t find anything to hold on to, but my long gown was now so weighted down, it was almost like wearing a weight belt. I could only hope Tom’s tuxedo and shoes were serving the same purpose.

As soon as the boat passed by, the shrill roar of the spinning blades overhead, I tugged on Tom’s arm, pulling him forward. I knew that Armand would go up and down this same little channel all night, if need be, to find us. We needed to seize the opportunity to slip away while we could.

Surfacing carefully for air and to get our bearings, we worked our way up the channel to where it met with a larger waterway. It wouldn’t be long before Armand came out that far and started looking for us there, so I knew we needed to hurry.

“There’s dry land,” Tom whispered, pointing to a far bank. “We might do better there, on foot.”

I shook my head.

“Armand’s a tracker,” I said. “He would find our trail. We’ve got to stay in the water for as long as possible.”

Once we rounded the bend, at least we were out of the possible line of sight from the peninsula and its channel. We started swimming on top of the water rather than under, though with all of the muck and mire, it was slow going.

Ahead, I spotted a dark shape in the water. Afraid that it was an alligator, I wanted to give it a wide berth. On the other hand, if it were a log, it might save us. I pointed it out to Tom and he stared hard in the darkness, convinced in the end that it was a log.

We inched our way closer until we were sure, then we swam to it and grabbed hold. At his insistence I pulled myself onto the log and straddled it, while he stayed in the water and hung onto the end. The balance was tricky, and after a moment I rolled right off.

We tried different variations of the same, but it was no use.

“We need two logs,” I said. “Bound together. That would work.”

Holding on the one log we already had, we paddled and kicked into the darkness, farther and farther from the sounds and lights back near Armand’s. I didn’t even want to think about being hopelessly lost in the swamps—but the unknown elements there were still a safer bet than the gun that waited for us closer to shore.

We paddled toward a stand of trees out in the water, and I recognized them as the dead trunks Armand had shown me on my tour. Cringing at the thought of snakes or spiders making their homes among the wood, we pressed at each of the trees until Tom identified a slim one that was loose and ready to snap. Hoping it wouldn’t make too much noise, we worked together to pull it down. As it fell into the water, it pulled a second tiny tree with it. They hit the water, sank, and then sprang back up and floated there.

“Do you think he heard that?” I asked.

“We’ll know in a minute,” Tom replied.

Luckily, the sound of Armand’s boat motor did not seem to be coming any closer. As quickly as we could, Tom and I lashed the three logs together. We used his cummerbund for the front of the raft, and strips of material torn from my skirt for the middle and back.

“I bet Veronica’s sister will never loan me a dress again,” I muttered as I ripped off another piece.

But our miniscule raft worked. We were able to climb aboard and kneel there, me in front and him in back, using sticks to pole ourselves forward. From what I could recall, if we could pass through a narrow, shallow area lined with millet grass nearby, then we would end up in the wide oil passage canal. There wasn’t much current where we were now, but I had a feeling if we could get to that canal, we would be quickly carried out with the tide.

By the time we finally made it, we could hear several motor boats on the water behind us. Armand must have roused his family members to help in his pursuit. For a brief moment, I hoped that maybe these were cops or NSA agents come to rescue us. But then I could hear the unique
patois
of Cajun French being shouted back and forth, and I knew we were out of luck.

Still, they hadn’t seemed to spot us yet. As we poled through the millet, we finally broke free to the other side. Sure enough, we were at the canal.

We gave it one last big heave and then pulled our sticks out of the water and collapsed into each other, letting the strong current grab hold of us and do its work. I wasn’t sure where we were going to end up, but at least we would get there fast.

I opened my eyes and looked up at the brilliant, starry sky, grateful that the commotion of the Cajuns was well behind us. Tom said a prayer softly aloud for our safety, and then we simply floated into the night, holding onto each other as we went.

Fifty-Two

The mosquitoes were the worst part. As the minutes turned into hours, it felt as though we were being eaten alive. The bugs seemed to abate somewhat with the daylight, but then, as the sun crept higher in the sky and the morning turned humid and hot, we both began to grow unbearably thirsty. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to take a scoop of water and simply drink it. Tom and I had talked about it, though, and we knew that would be too risky. Surely somehow, soon, we would run across some sign of civilization and be saved.

In truth, floating down a wide Louisiana canal on a hastily made impromptu raft could have been worse. At least we were together. At least the raft had held up. At least neither one of us had been injured beyond some minor scrapes and bruises. As we floated, we talked about what we would do as soon as we managed to get out of there. We didn’t talk about the danger of being swept past all land and out into the Gulf of Mexico. Surely, the mouth of this canal would have enough boat traffic that someone would spot us and that wouldn’t happen.

Several times we considered paddling to the bank and trying to make our way out of the swamp on foot. But there were no signs of civilization anywhere along here. We both agreed we were probably better off staying in the water for now.

In the early morning hours, we spotted almost all of the wildlife that I had missed on my tour with Armand. We saw a small brown bear and all kinds of mammals and plenty of snakes and birds and deer. Finally, as we rounded a bend, a loud crashing sound from the shore startled us, and we looked up to see a wild boar running after a scampering nutria.

Tom put his hands on my shoulders, gently kneading the muscles, and then he wrapped his arms around me from behind and simply held me. I closed my eyes, thinking how very much I loved him, how he was all I really needed in this world.

“Hey, Callie?” he said gently.

“Yes?”

“I have a question for you.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe it’s not the right time. I don’t have a ring with me. And I’m sure I’ve looked better. But I hope you don’t mind if I ask it anyway.”

I sat up and turned so that I could see his face.

“Ask,” I whispered, my pulse surging.

“Callie,” he said, looking me deeply in the eyes. “When we get out of this mess, will you marry me?”

I put a hand to my mouth. My mind, my heart, my soul were so full that for a moment, I couldn’t even speak.

“Oh, Tom,” I said finally, tears of joy filling my eyes. I thought about all we had been through and all that lay ahead of us, and the only thing I knew for certain was that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this man.

Before I could say yes, though, his eyes suddenly widened, and he reached up, grabbed my shoulders, and threw me off the raft and into the water.

“Watch out!” he screamed, jumping in after me.

I turned to look behind me and saw a giant barge nearly upon us. The massive vessel was so huge that all we could do was swim toward the side of the canal as quickly as possible. The barge’s passage was nearly silent except for the dull thud of the engines, and though we screamed as we swam, no one seemed to hear us.

At least Tom made it
, I thought as I slipped under, pulled backward by the boat’s strong current. Almost as if in slow motion, I knew what would happen now. I would be sucked into the engine and cut into a million pieces.

Then I felt Tom’s hand, tugging mine, pulling me, fighting the current. I kicked as hard as I could along with him, out of air but still underwater. He pulled me farther, and then suddenly the sucking current released me, and I burst through to the surface. With great gasps I caught my breath and found my footing and allowed Tom to half drag me to safety on the shore. We collapsed there in swampy mud, breathing heavily, the waves of the ship’s wake splashing up to our chins.

Once it had subsided, we could see our raft, splintered into six different pieces out on the water. I looked at it and then looked at Tom, knowing he had just saved my life. I threw my arms around him, both of us silent and shivering from the horror that had just nearly overtaken us. When I finally found my voice, it was to thank him for pulling me to safety.

“Are you folks okay?”

We turned to see a grizzled old man, looking down at us from the solid ground of the shore. He wore hip waders and carried a big fishing pole in one hand and a tackle box in the other.

“I heard screaming,” he added, looking at us and our odd garb warily. “Did y’all fall off that barge?”

“We need some help,” Tom said as we stood shakily and stepped up onto the bank. “Is there any way you could get us to a telephone?”

“Ain’t got no phone lines out this far,” the man replied. Tom and I looked at each other in despair until the man added, “Would my two-way satellite radio do?”

Fifty-Three

In the end, the NSA sent a helicopter down to get us. They brought us to a hospital in New Orleans, where we were both treated for mild dehydration and released. After taking showers and putting on some borrowed scrubs, we were brought to the NSA office. They assured us that they were retreiving our vehicles and that they would send an agent for some clothes of our own. After that, one of the agents updated us on all that had happened during the night.

Armand and his aunt were now in jail, arrested on a number of charges, not the least of which was the attempted murder of the two of us. Apparently, it was thanks to Veronica and Phillip that things came together as they did. When all was said and done and the ball was over, only two cars had remained in the parking area at Grande Terre last night: mine and Ton Ton’s. Veronica had spotted Tom incognito at the ball, so she had a feeling I had left with him. But she didn’t understand why Ton Ton’s car was still there, so they had made an obligatory phone call to the local police, just to have them go over to Ton Ton’s and make sure all was well. Knowing the woman’s history of overzealous imbibing, they were afraid she might have gotten drunk at the ball and tried to walk home.

Of course, by the time the police arrived out on the little peninsula, the swamp was full of Cajuns in boats brandishing shotguns. Chaos had ensued, but the NSA caught wind of it over the police radio and quickly stepped in and took over. They seized Armand and his aunt, but the agents had had to wait until daylight to begin conducting a swamp search for us from the air. Now they realized that they hadn’t even been looking in the area where we finally turned up. No one could believe we had managed to float that far.