Terror at Bottle Creek Page 5

  15

  Liza returned from Francie’s room and I switched off the television. We’d both seen enough. There was nothing left to do but stay inside and hope for the best.

  “How’s she doing?” I asked.

  “She’s fine. I told her she could sleep with me.”

  “You give her that little flashlight?”

  “She’s got it next to her.”

  Liza went to their bookshelf and pulled down a Monopoly game.

  “You want to play?” she asked me.

  “I guess,” I said.

  I sat across from her on the floor as she stacked the cards and arranged the money. I suddenly realized that I was going to be alone with her all night, and things weren’t so bad anymore. I studied her face, thinking how pretty she was. I wondered what she really thought about me. She is so much better than me, I thought. She’ll have boyfriends like Jason. She’ll never have a boyfriend who lives on a houseboat.

  She finished sorting the money and looked up. “You want to be the car again?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  She got the car and put it on the board. Then she got the hat for herself.

  “Do you think it’s weird to live on a houseboat?” I asked her.

  She looked at me. “I think it’s kind of cool.”

  “But what if you were older? Would you want to live on one?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Sometimes I wish I just had a regular house,” I said.

  “One day you can.”

  She picked up the dice and rolled them on the board. I watched her face.

  “You remember when we found those flying squirrels?” I said.

  Liza smiled. “I remember. You wanted to keep one for a pet, but we couldn’t catch them.”

  “We tried all day.”

  “They were too big.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I think you have to get ’em when they’re babies.”

  “You found Catfish,” she said.

  “You did, really.”

  “I saw him, but he liked you best.”

  “He likes you, too.”

  Liza moved the hat to the Just Visiting square. “Visiting jail,” she said. “Boring. Your roll.”

  “Do you still wanna leave?”

  “What?”

  “Leave here. One time you said you wanted to move away.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “But you never said you changed your mind.”

  Liza studied the board, but I could see she wasn’t thinking about Monopoly.

  “And you don’t come down to the river much anymore,” I said.

  “It’s different now,” she said.

  “But your family’s had this place for a long time.”

  She looked at me. “My family’s not here anymore. At least not all of it.”

  I felt the stab of her answer. I knew what she was saying without her really having to say it.

  “But how would moving help?”

  I saw she didn’t want to answer me. She didn’t have to. Suddenly we heard a loud boom and a crash. The lights flickered and went out.

  16

  We sat in complete darkness, listening to the storm batter the house.

  “I guess that’s it,” I said.

  Liza reached out and touched my arm. “I can’t see anything,” she said.

  “Momma!” Francie yelled from the back bedroom.

  “It’s okay,” Liza called to her. “I’m coming. Turn on your flashlight.”

  I stood. “I’ve got another one on the counter,” I said. “Let me feel my way to it, and I’ll get the generator going.”

  I found the flashlight, went out to the garage, and started the generator. I plugged up an extension cord and walked the end of it back inside. Liza was standing in the middle of the floor, holding Francie by the hand.

  “See,” she said to her. “Cort’s getting the lights on.”

  “Where’s Momma?” Francie asked.

  “She had to go check on Mrs. Delacroix.”

  “When’s she coming back?”

  “We can call her if you want.”

  “I wanna call her.”

  “Hold on, Francie,” I said. “I’ll get the phone working in just a minute.”

  On the kitchen counter was a power strip. I attached it and plugged in the freezer and two lamps. Then I plugged in the phone base and gave Liza the handset.

  “You know the number?” she asked.

  “No,” I said. “Check the caller ID.”

  Liza found the number, called it, got her mother on the line, and told her we were okay. Then she let Francie talk, and whatever their mother said calmed Francie.

  I got the propane lanterns, lit them, and took one to each of the back bedrooms. By the time I got to Liza’s room she was in bed with Francie, reading a storybook to her with a flashlight. I put a lantern on the bedside table. Francie eyed it and eased deeper under the covers.

  “You like that?” I said.

  She smiled and nodded.

  “Like camping out.”

  “Thanks,” Liza said.

  “I’m going back to the garage to check on Catfish and look at the houseboat.”

  “He needs some food,” Francie bossed.

  I smiled at her. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll get him something.”

  * * *

  Catfish was standing and staring anxiously into the storm when I found him. Mrs. Stovall had retied him to the tracks of the garage door, and he was straining at the end of the leash, nearly in the rain. In the distance I saw the houseboat lights glowing dull and yellow.

  “What you see out there, boy?”

  He whined and continued studying the darkness. I got his dog food out of one of the garbage bags and poured it into a bowl for him.

  “Come on,” I said.

  But he was more interested in whatever he saw beyond the garage lights. I set the food down and approached him. I knelt and scratched his neck and stared into the static of wind and rain. As my eyes adjusted I saw the vague silhouette of a doe standing still as a statue. I’d never seen a deer that close to the house. She seemed stricken with confusion.

  “I see it,” I said.

  Catfish strained at the leash and trembled and whined.

  It suddenly occurred to me that the animals were being driven from the swamp. Deer, wild hogs, bears—everything. There was no telling what was out there. They were all fleeing for their lives.

  17

  It was close to nine-thirty and none of us were sleeping. The storm continued to pound on the house like it wanted to get at us. Francie was still up watching cartoons in the back bedroom. Liza was reading a book and I was catching a catnap on the floor. The generator hammered away in the garage, lighting our storm shelter, giving us a small sense of security.

  “What was the deer doing?” Liza asked me.

  “It was just standing there. Like it was confused.”

  “How many do you think will drown?”

  “I don’t know. Prob’ly a lot. I remember after the last hurricane there were dead animals floating in the river for a week. Until the alligators ate ’em all.”

  “Maybe—”

  We heard breaking glass followed by Francie screaming. I jumped up and rushed toward Liza’s bedroom. Francie collided with me in the hall and I picked her up and held her.

  “What happened, Francie?”

  She was too hysterical to answer. Liza came up and took her from me and went back to the living room, talking softly to her.

  I walked into the bedroom and saw a pine limb jammed through the curtains and wet glass splinters glistening on the carpet. Rain was running down the wall. I returned to the girls and found Liza on the sofa, holding and rocking Francie. In place of her pajamas Francie had on a T-shirt and tiny jeans with red hearts sewn onto the pockets. Her flashlight was peeking out from one of them.

  “It’s just a broken windowpane,” I said. “Tree branch punched through the
plywood.”

  “It’s just a broken window,” Liza whispered to her.

  “I’m scared,” Francie said.

  “It’s okay,” Liza said. She looked at me and rolled her eyes. “She says she’s not going to bed. So she got dressed.”

  “I want Momma,” Francie said.

  “She’s not back yet, Francie,” Liza said.

  “I don’t wanna go to sleep,” Francie said.

  “That’s fine,” I said. “You can stay out here with us.”

  “What’s gonna happen to us?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “It’s just a little wind and rain.”

  “Is Catfish okay?”

  “He’s fine,” I said. “Don’t worry about him.”

  “I wanna go see him.”

  I looked at Liza. She didn’t object.

  “You can go see him,” I said. “Just stand by the door and talk to him.”

  Francie got up and started toward the garage.

  Liza looked at me.

  “If she just stands by the door, she won’t get wet,” I said.

  Liza stood. “I better go with her.”

  I got duct tape and a plastic garbage bag out of the kitchen and returned to the bedroom with them. I slipped on my sneakers and crunched through the glass and shoved the pine limb outside. Then I took off my shirt and used it to protect my hands as I picked the jagged remains of the windowpane from the frame. I spent the next twenty minutes taping the garbage bag over the hole and cleaning up the glass on the floor. When I was done I walked back into the kitchen and started shaking my shirt over the sink.

  “Cort!” I heard Liza shout.

  I dropped the shirt and bolted for the garage. I ran into Liza in the hallway. She was soaking wet and her eyes were wide with terror.

  “Catfish ran off! Francie’s wrist got caught in the leash!”

  “Where is she?”

  “Out there! I can’t see her! I can’t hear her, Cort!”

  18

  I ran straight out into the storm.

  “Francie!” I yelled.

  The wind swept my voice away like tissue paper. Liza ran up behind me and put her hand on my shoulder. I turned to her and saw her face rain-streaked and horrified.

  “I’m going down there!” I yelled to her.

  She clung to my arm. I heard cracking and snapping and the tremendous crash of a tree from somewhere below.

  “Go back inside!” I shouted.

  Liza shoved me ahead. There was no time to argue. I shielded my eyes and started downhill, trying to see the lights of the houseboat. I didn’t look back, but I knew Liza was following me. The wind gusted and the rain stung my bare skin like cold lead shot. I couldn’t see anything, but I could find my way through the darkness on memory. What squeezed at my gut was the fact that I should have been able to see the lights of the boat. And they weren’t there.

  I turned to Liza. She was a vague silhouette only a few feet behind. “Go back and get a light!” I yelled.

  “Cort!”

  “Go!”

  She turned and disappeared.

  I continued downhill until my shoes slapped into cool water. I thought it was impossible to be at the river so soon. I took another step and the water was up to my shins. I looked up and saw the outline of the treetops against the sky glow. My mind raced to reference it, but everything was twisted and moving and not like I remembered. I ran blindly along the water’s edge looking for the boat. Suddenly I crashed into a muddy, gnarled mass of tree roots and slipped into a depression of wet clay. I fought my way out of the hole and around it to find the trunk of a fallen water oak disappearing into black water. I immediately looked up and saw the top of the second oak waving and tossing not far from me. I hopped the fallen trunk and splashed to the second tree, feeling for the rope, waiting for it to clip me in the stomach.

  “Francie!” I yelled.

  I thought I heard a faint cry just before the rope cut against my chest tight as a cable. I grabbed it and rushed into the water, pulling myself toward whatever it held.

  “Francie!”

  I heard her scream.

  “Don’t move!”

  Several yards out from the bank I felt the river current pulling on me. I lost my footing and continued on arm strength alone.

  The rope suddenly lost its tension. I didn’t know why. I was still pulling myself through the current when I heard a wet, oily, cracking sound. A moment later something hit me across the back like a baseball bat, tore the rope from my hands, and pressed me straight down against the river bottom. I was suddenly repositioned in a swirl of liquid darkness. It seemed everywhere I moved, I came up against a tangle of vines and limbs. I kicked my shoes off and swiped and twisted my way toward the surface. When I broke the water I was in the midst of the treetop. I grabbed and pulled my way through it.

  “Francie!”

  I didn’t hear an answer. I kept fighting my way clear of the tree branches until I felt the river current swirling around me. I was disoriented. I didn’t know where the rope was. I suppressed the fear and was able to reason that I needed to find my way back to the base of the tree, find the rope again, and start over. Going by the way the current was moving, I instinctively started pulling myself in a direction I felt was the riverbank. In a moment the current was gone and I kicked down and felt mud underfoot. I stood and crashed through the shallows.

  “Cort!” I heard Liza yell.

  I saw her flashlight yellow and dull through the rain. I ran up against the tree and crawled along it until I felt the rope. I stood with it, limp in my hands. I thought maybe the tree had fallen on the houseboat and had it pinned. I reeled the line frantically until a loose end came flipping whiplike into my face.

  I dropped the rope and felt my belt for the radio. It was gone.

  “Cort!” Liza yelled again.

  I ran past her. “Go call Dad!” I yelled.

  “I tried! The phone’s out!”

  My mind raced. “Go wait at the ramp! The houseboat’s loose! Francie’s on it!”

  19

  I slipped and fell on the hillside, clawed my way up, and sprinted for the house. I grabbed the tongue of our boat trailer and pulled it out the driveway. Then I shoved it backward down the gravel road toward the ramp. As it picked up speed I ran behind, holding on to it, until it got ahead of me and I fell face-first, the wet rocks tearing into my face. The boat and trailer plunged into the darkness below. I scrambled to my feet again and went after it. I soon found the boat again, still on the trailer but lodged against a cypress tree and partway in the water.

  “Liza!” I yelled.

  I leaned into the boat and rocked it up onto its side with strength I’d never had before. Liza appeared next to me and got under it. We lifted until the back end was propped on the tree. Then I ran to the front and pushed. It slid off the trailer and slapped into the water.

  “Get in!” I yelled.

  She climbed into the front and I crashed through the water and rolled over the gunnels into the stern. There was water up to my ankles. I remembered the drain plug was out and leaned over and felt around till I found it and crammed it home. Then I squeezed the fuel bulb three times and turned the key. The engine roared to life and I slammed the gearshift into reverse and swung out into the current.

  “Get the light out of the dry box!”

  I felt the water in turmoil beneath us, twisting and sucking in all directions at once. I shoved the gearshift forward and found the gap in the trees that told me where the main channel was. I flooded the engine with fuel and raced straight out into the river.

  “Light!” I yelled again. “In that box!”

  Liza knew what to do. She found the spotlight and plugged it into the power outlet on the bow. Suddenly we had a white beam cutting through the rain, over the black swirl of water. We were fully exposed to the winds moaning across the trees and down into the river channel. The boat vibrated and shuddered, and it occurred to me the storm might just lift us
like a magnolia leaf and bowl us into the trees. The boat hit something and veered right. I thought about life vests, but I didn’t want to waste time. Liza waved the light over a massive tree as it slid by us like a passing ship.

  “Keep it on the riverbank! To the left!”

  The river was strewn with silent, floating trees, their root systems standing torn and jagged against the light. Hitting any of them would flip us or tear a hole in the hull. I raced past them, going twice as fast with the current. Even then, the boat felt sluggish, like a wet mattress. Then I felt the water splashing around my calves and I knew we were still flooding. And the water was coming too much too fast for just catching rain.

  Liza passed the light across the surface ahead. I started to yell at her to keep it against the bank, but then I saw a faint slash of white in the middle of the river.

  “There!” I said.

  She’d seen it, too. She jerked the beam back again. I rammed my palm against the throttle to get every bit of speed I could and veered toward what appeared to be the roofline of the houseboat.

  As we drew closer I was certain it was the houseboat. The weak battery-operated lights glowed from the windows. But I didn’t see Francie on the deck. It was like a ghost vessel in the night.

  It seemed to take an eternity to close the gap. When we finally came alongside I slammed the jon boat into the pontoons. Liza reached out and held the railing as the back end of the jon swung into the current, aiming to wrench us apart. I scrambled to the bow, grabbed the painter, and rolled over the railing.

  “I can’t hold it!” she yelled.