Bayou Remedy

Part 27

His journal. All his notes. All his observations. His whole life's work for the past ten year held so callously in the the big brute's fingers.

"You have no right-" Kisin lurched forward as the ground lunged up to meet him, pain blossoming in the back of his skull. He hit the dirt with a thud, his arms refusing to break his fall.

Rebecca sighed and stepped over his prone form, a small weighted club dangling almost cheerfully from a strap encircling her wrist. She strode over to crouch next to Beau, a childlike fascination blooming across her features as she began reading the scrawled words before her.

Kisin tried to move. To stand. To run. To do... something, but his limbs refused to cooperate.  He felt oddly disassociated with his body, able to see and hear without the ability to do anything about what he witnessed. A prisoner in his own flesh.

He must have blacked out at some point, for he felt sharp nails digging into his scalp as his head was savagely wrenched off the ground by the hair. But wasn't Rebecca by the hammock? He groaned, shying away from the touch as his camera was jerked from around his neck. The strap caught under his chin for a moment, half strangling him before his attacker pulled it free. The nails released his hair and his head dropped back into the mud, the impact illiciting another groan from his throat, but the pain cleared his head somewhat.

Kisin blinked open his eyes, vaguely discerning his surroundings as his gaze settled on the duo seated beside the camp stove. Coffee gently perked in his pot atop the small flames. As he watched, Beau leaned over Rebecca's shoulder to get a better look at the recent pictures on his camera.

Kisin turned his focus back to his surroundings, wincing at the bright light as it intensified the pounding in his skull. The sun had almost reached its zenith for the day, not a cloud in sight to mar it's progress. That didn't leave him with too many options if he hoped to sneak away. He glanced back at his attackers, but both seemed oblivious to his lucidity.

He shifted slightly, watching them closely for any sign that they had noticed the action. There was something binding his hands together behind his back at the wrist. Not rope, it didn't have a rough enough texture for that. He could tell that it was thin and it was smooth, but the very tightness of the binding prevented him from discerning much more than that. It could be wire, or it could be a plastic zip tie, or it could be something else entirely. Whatever it was, it effectively dashed any hopes he might have been harboring for a quick escape. At least for the moment.

Kisin cautiously adjusted his position until he could get a look at what bound his feet together, all the while keeping a wary eye on his captors. It took him longer than he would have liked and several acts of feigned unconsciousness before he could get a clear view of his feet. At first he was confused, for there didn't seem to be any bindings on his legs at all. As he tried to separate his feet again however, it became readily apparent what had been done. Someone had tied his bootlaces together. Childish, yes, but very effective. He was well and truly trapped.

He glanced up at the sound of approaching footsteps and silently cursed. The hunter had noticed his movements. The man stopped a few feet away from Kisin and crouched, studying the biologist. "I don't suppose you'll be co-operative, now will you?"

Kisin's answering glare was statement enough and the man sighed heavily. "It would be so much easier, for everyone, yourself included, if you'd just tell us what we want to know. But it's not a necessity. Whether you like it or not, you will be helping us draw in the beast. Why not save yourself some pain now and answer our questions?" Beau paused, searching Kisin's face for some flicker of fear or weakness. "How do you call it to you? What is it exactly, you notes are incomplete on that point? And why did it choose you to respond to? What did you do?"

Kisin pointedly turned his face away, ignoring the man in favor of the swamp. A moment passed before he heard the rustled of fabric as Beau got to his feet, "Have it your way, then." The hunter snarled and for the second time that day pain blossomed in his  skull as he was struck, this time with Beau's combat boot. His world faded to black.

At first all he was aware of was to the pulsing throb in his temple, then the uncomfortable sensation of the ground swaying beneath his body registered in his brain. With a start, kisin came to immediate wakefulness and just as immediately wished he hadn't. The sun was too bright, the wind too chill. He shivered and realized that his jacket had been removed. Now the only thing that separated him from the cool autumn breeze was a thin tee shirt that had seen better days several years ago.

He turned his head, cracking an eye open in the vain hope that the sunlight wasn't quite as painful as he'd first believed. It still was. Pain lanced through his skull and he had to bite off the groan that was forming in his throat. What met his gaze once his eyes adjusted to the light was the rough interior of a boat. An interior he recognized, even if he'd only glimpsed it from the bank. Kisin craned his neck around and confirmed his predicament as he caught sight of Beau at the wheel. But where is Rebecca?

The boat wasn't large enough for her to have hidden herself aboard, so she must not actually be on the boat. The thought didn't reassure him. All her absence insured was that this man could do whatever he wished now without the possibility of witnesses reporting it to the authorities. Kisin cringed at the thought and desperately tried to calm his suddenly racing heart. Calm down. Calm down, there you go Kisin. Deep breaths. In. And. Out. In. And. Out. Don't panic. Panic solved nothing. Breath.

The problem was that he very much so wanted to panic just now. He was on a boat, with a man he didn't know, in who knew where, and completely unable to defend himself because his hands were still bound behind his back and some infantile person had tied his fu**ing bootlaces together! That's not helpful, Kisin!

He grudgingly agreed with himself that no, that wasn't very helpful, but what else was he supposed to do? He had few options available to him. He could tell them what they wanted to know, but his knowledge was limited in that regard. Maybe if he'd had a few more days, he could have established open communication with the swamp dweller, but he hadn't yet! Not as Beau and Rebecca seemed to think he had! On top of that was the very real possibility that they were going to kill him out here in this swamp, whether or not he answered their questions. Rebecca would know that he wouldn't just let this slide, she'd seen him report other biologists for unethical practices in the past, often resulting in those biologists being dismissed from their employment with the Institute. No, she would make sure he wouldn't be able to tell anyone what she'd done. So what did that leave him with? Not much.

He was alive for the moment and had a rather good chance at staying that way so long as they needed him for information. John would be coming to find him in a day and a half. If he could hold out that long then he'd have help, perhaps sooner. Would the man be smart enough to call in the authorities if Kisin didn't call to check in as agreed upon tonight? He had the tracker still, he could feel it on its cord around his neck. The small device looked like a tribal necklace of some sort, the kind of thing he could have picked up on his travels any number of places. It had been a gift from his mother after she'd had to track him into the jungle one too many times, and he'd worn it faithfully ever since. It had become almost a lucky charm over the years and he'd never had to use it before now. Hopefully, someone would think to use it before it could only be used to find his corpse. And wasn't that a happy thought? So much for not panicking.