Recruits (Keeper of the Water Book 2) (37 page)

Blood, Amazon blood based upon the overwhelming tingling that nearly knocks me down. Whoever was brought into Jack’s car did not go willingly.

The intense tingling leads to a blast of strength coursing through my body
and
my mind. The faint connection I experienced just seconds ago returns in full force. Afraid of losing this connection or the surge of strength, I don’t even tell John what I’m feeling.

Instead, I turn and run.

Jack and his hostages – or is it just
hostage
? – have a big head-start on me but no car could drive faster than I run at the moment, especially not Jack’s old clunker. For the first few seconds, I sense John behind me. But he’s still not fully healed and I doubt he’s ever been as strong or fast as me. I no sooner speed through the busted fence when I sense him falling farther back. But I don’t look back, nor do I give him a second thought. I’m completely focused on keeping hold on this connection, which grows even stronger with every passing second. It doesn’t even take a whole minute before the arena is nothing but a speck in the distance behind me.

I don’t remember ever feeling so worried – at least in
this
lifetime – but this allows me to tap into a source of strength I’ve rarely used. I weave in and out of traffic, sprinting by cars much slower than me, not unlike the way John drove his motorcycle through traffic. It’s never a smart idea to let regular humans witness my Amazonian abilities but I don’t have much choice now. Hopefully I’m harder to see since it’s night, more like an indistinguishable blur of movement.

My tracking abilities have also returned in full force. Despite how fast I run, my eyes are drawn to the tiniest clues about where Jack sped off: the slightest hint of tire marks in the roads, damaged shrubbery on corners that he took too fast. I veer into oncoming traffic and barely dodge several cars, leaping clear over a convertible that gets in my way. The rest of the world has slowed around me but playing in traffic for too long isn’t the smartest idea.

I’m not tiring yet but I know keeping this pace for much longer will be impossible. But an invisible hand seems to be guiding my way, which reminds me of the night of the camping tour when I found myself drawn to the former site of the water of life. It comes as little surprise that I’m being guided on the exact same path that I was already tracking; for some reason, this gives me a
really
bad feeling.

The number of cars around me begins to dwindle as I get farther away from the downtown area. It’s not long before civilization and concrete are replaced with swamps and dirt roads. I feel like I’m on a different planet and I’m certain the increasing isolation can’t be a good thing. It’s much darker and quieter on these country roads so it’s difficult to avoid seeing the bright headlight and hearing the
whirring
engine approaching from behind.

John pulls up beside me on his motorcycle and calls out for me to get on. He doesn’t slow down as I throw my leg over the seat and pull myself on behind him. Being on the bike again is worrisome but hanging off the back of it is my bow and quiver, which might come in handy if we find them.

When
we find them,
I tell myself. The motorcycle fishtails like crazy on the dirt roads but John never once slows down and manages to keep us from wiping out. I still keep a close watch for clues – the fresh tire tracks in the dirt may as well be an arrow pointing us the right way – but the pull toward the water is so strong that I could be giving John directions with my eyes closed.

“Stop!” I call out so suddenly that I surprise myself nearly as much as John. He squeezes the brakes and the bike swerves wildly as it slows, finally tilting up on its front tire for a second before dropping down to a full stop. “Cut the engine.”

He does as I tell him. I climb off the back, holding my bow at the ready. With the bike’s lights off, the world around us is plunged into near total darkness, a far cry from the city we just escaped. We’re deep in the Everglades, a beautifully horrible stretch of land that’s alive with the sound of chirping crickets. Just when I think the big dirt road can’t become any more rural, I spot the tire tracks making a sudden turn down an even smaller dirt road.

“This way,” I tell John. “And leave the bike. I don’t want them to know we’re coming.”

We hurry down the narrow path, which is little more than a stretch of raised dirt cutting through the swamp. The night air is so hot and muggy that my clothes cling tightly against my body. I imagine John as Ponce de Leon and wonder how uncomfortable he must’ve felt while exploring this area in heavy woolen explorer garb. Heavy vegetation lines both sides of the road and it freaks me out when I hear movement rustling nearby; I’m not sure whether I’d prefer it be Jack and Cassie or a bloodthirsty alligator. I can’t believe Jack would’ve driven his car down this path. If I don’t run perfectly straight, I could easily stray right into the swamp.

The path widens into a bigger section of dry land and I hold up a hand to slow John. We proceed cautiously since my tingling has grown so strong that I expect to see Cassie or Celeste at any moment. My eyes have adjusted to the dim light of the moon so when John points across the dirt clearing, I can see the dilapidated building. A little bit bigger than a detached garage, it looks like it could crumble under the slightest breeze. Several shingles dangle off the edge of its roof and none of the windows have escaped being broken. I don’t know why someone would’ve built such a place in the middle of nowhere to start with but maintenance apparently isn’t a high priority.

But what’s parked
next to
the old building is far more interesting: an old car that looks appropriate next to the rundown garage. I
have,
however, seen this car before.

“That’s it,” I tell John. “That’s Jack’s car.”

I rush toward it but can’t help notice John’s mouth slightly open, his face ashen in the moonlight.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s not the first time I’ve seen it,” he admits. “When I used to drive near your house in the Poconos, I remember passing that same car several times. I just figured some poor yokel lived nearby. If I’d paid more attention to my surroundings instead of thinking about you, I could’ve stopped Jack before any of this mess happened.”

For the briefest second I feel myself flattered by this comment. But I shake that thought away and tell John to focus on what
is
happening now instead of what
could’ve
happened back then. We reach the car but it’s empty, leaving me frustrated again. But the car door remains cracked open and I see even more blood, not to mention drag marks within the dirt.

The
growl
of a starting engine cuts through the chorus of insects and causes me and John to spin around. We’d been so focused on the building and car that neither of us spotted a small path at the back of the clearing that leads down to the swamp. Parked along the edge of the swamp is an airboat but it doesn’t remain still for long. John and I run toward the water as the airboat’s huge fan roars to life and the boat starts to speed away.

“Wait!” I yell instinctively, worried that I’m going to be just too late again. But I also ruin our element of surprise. We nearly reach the edge of the swamp when I see a sudden blur speeding toward us. I turn and tackle John just as an arrow zips right above his head. I roll off him and to one knee, readying my own bow to return fire, but hesitate until I figure out
who
shot at us.

In the darkness, I see Jack standing on the airboat’s raised seat, bow in hand. I’d been holding out hope that this whole situation was a misunderstanding, that my father’s son – the young man whose life
I
saved – wasn’t the evil monster John portrayed him to be. But with a single fired arrow, Jack has declared his intention and I realize there will not be a good ending to this story.
Father, forgive me for what I must do to him…

Jack sits back down on the airboat and steers it deeper into the swamps. In the moment before the airboat disappears beyond a thicket of heavy swamp vegetation, I catch a quick glimpse of two human forms slumped down in the front of the boat. My chest swells with worry since I can’t tell if both of them – or either one – is alive or hurt or dead.

“Come on, there might be another airboat in the garage!” John yells.

But we don’t know that for sure and I don’t know how to drive one anyway. John rushes off toward the garage but I sprint toward the water. There’s solid land adjacent to the water so I run along that area, following the hum of the airboat’s fan. Eventually I have to turn into the swampy water, which comes up to my knees. I try to run as quickly as I can but that’s impossible in the wetlands. I nearly trip several times over the long grasses and marshy vegetation, as well as more area of dried dirt lands rising above the waterline. I doubt most people would dare to walk in here let alone run but I soon spot the airboat and the sight urges me to move faster.

I’ve never been to this area of Florida before; the Amazons moved on from here long before I was even born. But I know this difficult Florida landscape holds special significance for John and Cassie. It was here that John’s second assault for the water failed; it was here that Cassie walked into the Amazon camp and convinced the women to include her in the tribe. If she’s having any doubts about the story of her past, then traveling to the spot of her Amazon initiation should answer those questions. If I can’t stop that airboat, I won’t be able to stop her from turning back into the monster of a person who was Queen Isabella.

Up ahead, Jack seems to be driving relatively close to some of the swamp’s drier main lands. But just beyond, the swamps open up into wetter areas and I’m sure the water is much deeper than knee level. This is my only chance, especially since I can’t swim nearly as fast as I can run. If the airboat reaches open water, it won’t be much of a chase.

I reach a strip of dry land and sprint with everything I’ve got left. At the water’s edge is a small bent tree jutting out over the water, a perfect launching point to hurl myself into the airboat. I
should
reach it just as the boat zips by but I sense danger once I’m beside the airboat. I’m so busy trying to peek into the front of the boat – to see if Celeste
or
Cassie are breathing – that I almost miss what’s on the ground in front of me. Should that fallen log be moving like that?

I
know
it shouldn’t have such a big mouth full of sharp teeth. The gator was hidden in plain sight, blending in perfectly with its surroundings, waiting patiently for the meal running straight toward its open mouth. I leap just as the beast snaps its huge jaws toward me. I feel the beast’s hot breath on my ankles but my feet clear its mouth by mere inches. The tip of its snout grazes the bottom of my shoe, just enough to make me stumble when I land. The gator turns and snaps at me again but I’ve already recovered and rush up the tree. The branch isn’t nearly as strong as it appears and I feel it bending beneath me. I only have to run a few steps but I can feel that it’s going to break under my weight. I might not be able to spring off enough to reach the airboat but I can’t stop now.

The branch snaps just as I jump. The jump should be easy to make but my forward momentum has taken a serious hit. Making matters worse, the snapping gator got the airboat captain’s attention. Jack swerves the boat aside as I soar toward it. I don’t think I’m going to make it but Jack couldn’t turn quickly enough. The bottom of my body splashes into the water but my torso crashes against the airboat’s metal side. Stars explode in front of my eyes as my face smacks into the side and the force of the speeding boat nearly pulls me off. But I somehow find the strength to hold on with one hand.

I throw my other arm over the side and try to drag my body in but Jack pushes the airboat to full throttle. The boat skips along the water and my body does the same. Every jostle threatens to break my grip but I hold on even tighter, the boat’s metal bending under my fingers. My body crashes into a particularly heavy thicket of reeds and I feel my bow and quiver shifting on my shoulder. I’m sure my supply of arrows is slipping into the swamp but I can’t reach back to save them.

The next bump sends me airborne and I see a split-second view in the front of the boat. Cassie and Celeste are both crouched there, sitting back to back with their hands tied together. Celeste is bloodied and beat up but Cassie looks fine, her eyes still blank and staring straight ahead. She doesn’t appear to make any effort to free herself and doesn’t even glance in my direction before I splash back down.

I’m not sure I’ll survive many more of these bumps. Once the splashed water clears from my face, I look ahead of us to see yet another bumpy patch sticking out of the swamp. We won’t be able to avoid it – not that Jack minds – so I decide to use it to my advantage. As soon as we hit the bump, I pull with all my strength. The momentum flips me right over the side of the airboat and I land with a thud on the passenger seats just below Jack’s raised platform.

He looks down and our eyes meet. His are narrow and cruel, full of rage and murderous intent. I can’t believe I ever missed the hatred with which Jack now glares at me.

“Why are you doing this?” I call out.

I start to stand but he jerks the airboat to the right so sharply that I almost fall over the side. The entire boat tilts dangerously on its side, threatening to spill us all into gator-infested waters. And considering Celeste is hurt so badly and Cassie appears to be in her semi-catatonic state, it wouldn’t be smart for us to end up dumped into the swamp. Instead, I remain crouched in the front part of the boat below Jack, making sure to appear non-threatening to him, at least for now.

“Because you and your
women
tribe
kept my father away from his real family,
my
real family!” Jack yells back.