Five Miles to Paradise

41

Heck stopped by Abadie Abernathy's shack before heading toward the swamp. 'Birdie,' as he was called, gladly loaned Heck a small skiff. Together, the two men tied it to the top of Heck's car.

"Like I said, she a fine boat, dis one. Why she can float on just the dew, but dat liddle outboard, she as moody as a woman. She can get cranky, dat liddle motor can. She runs," Birdie said, "but she need some work. Don't let dat motor get too hot. She won't start for a week!"

"Don't worry about it. You've been a great help," Heck said, securing a pole to the top of the car. "This pole will be my backup, in case the engine konks out."

"Here's that gas can. Got plenny in it."

"Thanks, Birdie. I owe ya."

"No trubble. No trubble."

Heck headed down the long dirt road leading to the swamp. Clancy had an old hunting shack that he liked to think no one knew about. The old boarded and tin roofed house looked as if it had lived in the swamp for millennia. 

Heck had known about the place, even as a boy, but it was like a haunted house that all the kids avoided. He hadn't been out that way in decades. He could only hope his memory served him well. As he pulled up to the edge of the swamp, the telltale oil stain was visible from Clancy's vehicle.

His hunch was right. Clancy had been here alright. He untied the little wooden boat and set it into the brackish waters of the swamp. He attached the engine to the back, filled the tank with gas, and pulled the string to start it.

It sputtered and coughed oily smoke. 

Birdie was right. It did need some work. He tossed the pole into the bottom of the boat, his plan B, should the engine refuse to cooperate.

The Spanish moss lifted in the breeze that suddenly came up. Strangely, it pointed the airy plants in just the direction that Heck needed to go. It was at that moment he remembered an off-the-cuff remark he'd made to Leah about Marie Laveau. Who knew, he wondered, maybe she was watching him from someplace beyond this world.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, but it was only a gator slithering into the brackish water from a rotten log to Heck's left.

At least, that's what he told himself.

* * *

A journey into the swamp felt like taking a voyage back in Time. 

Heck felt a complete sense of isolation. He steered the small, flat-bottomed boat through the maze of channels. The green algae parted in his wake, like Moses parting the Red Sea, only to drift lazily back into its unbroken carpet, mossy and undisturbed. Large gray herons eyed him as he passed. And the mosquitoes followed him in droves, like swarms of pestering locusts, biting unmercifully at his exposed neck, hands, and face.

Large trees, water tupelo and bald cypress, aged and wizened, looked down on Heck as he passed. A canopy of shade provided by the trees overhead suddenly parted, allowing brilliant golden rays of sunshine splash and shine upon the tiny boat. Shadow and light. Shadow and light. 

It seemed like an infinite tug and pull between the gloomy murkiness and happy brightness. And all along the way, Heck watched the moss undulate and move as if alive. Snakes slid along atop the water, leaving behind a curving 's' wake as fluid as the water itself.

"Marie Laveau, what a wonderful place to haunt," he said, half-jokingly and only to hear the sound of his own voice.

The smile left his face when he remembered Leah's chiding.

***

Heck listened to the putter of the little motor. It sounded like a wheel with a flat spot on one side. Putt – putt – putt – then, pudd. He prayed the engine would last and get him close to Clancy's hide-out. The old man was mean alright, but he was smart, too. Cunning. And that's what made him dangerous.

Heck wondered what kind of traps Clancy had set up for him. How long had th.e old coot been planning this latest escapade? He prayed that Leah was okay, that Clancy had not done to her what Heck supposed was his reason for breaking into his home in the first place.

It set his teeth on edge. He felt the bile rise in the back of his throat. He knew without a doubt that he would kill Clancy, no qualms or hesitation, if he'd hurt Leah in any way.

It would almost be as if Clancy had hurt his wife, Rayanne.

Rayanne.

Heck's head began to swim at the thought of his deceased wife.

"Not now, Rayanne. Not now," he pleaded with the ghost of his beloved.

He shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts.

Concentrate on Leah, he told himself. Leah needs you, now. You let Rayanne down. Don't do the same thing to Leah.

Would the ache in his heart over Rayanne ever leave? 

Not that he really wanted it to.

Heck's thoughts abandoned Rayanne completely when the engine of the little boat sputtered and quit. He yanked and yanked on the pull chord, but the motor refused to restart. Now, he would have to pole his way to Clancy's shack.

Dusk was just falling when Heck spotted the cabin. It was a few unpainted boards with a rusty tin roof. Heck could just make out the broken sign with the letters 'EEP OUT,' noting the 'K' must have rotted away during Heck's boyhood.

Nothing about the place looked welcoming. The shack floated on a small piece of solid ground barely larger than the footprint of the house itself. There was an opening where a sagging screen door hung and to the right, a tiny window. The glass was dark and dirty.

On each of the remaining three sides, a small window had been placed in each wall, just large enough for a small man like Clancy to slither out of should he be surprised by an uninvited visitor. A large gator skin was tacked to the side wall. A large white tin pan hung beside the door. Great holes with stains of brown rust marred its bottom.

Several swamp rat skulls littered the front porch. Someone had decorated the top front porch beam. A large gator skull hung by a rusty nail between a small animal trap on a chain and an old lantern. Hanging on the wall, next to the door jam, was a larger animal trap. 

Some kind of door knocker, Heck thought.

The cabin was surrounded by lush over-growth, a perfect screen and hiding place for the mean, old codger. Heck would have to be careful. Luckily, tonight was a full moon. Otherwise, this place would be pitch-black dark once the sun completely set. A swamp panther screamed in the distance.

There was no sign of life around the shack, but Heck knew that Leah was in there. He felt it in his bones. Seldom had his hunches been this strong. But he must be patient. He knew that Clancy would have some kind of trap waiting in store for him. Something painful, and nasty.

He tied the flat-bottom boat to a large cypress root and climbed out of the boat into the shallow slime and muck. He squatted low. He would wait until nightfall, just like Clancy often did, to make his move.