Bayou

Chapter 31 ~ Bayou Sunset

Chapter Thirty-One

My eyes widened, heart lurched, and I jumped up and spun around to see him standing at the front of the boat, gripping the rail with both hands. "Merle!" I ran forward, watching him swing himself over the side and down the ladder. We met halfway, and I jumped into his arms, knocking us both down into a crushing hug. "You're alive!"

His hands shook against my head as he patted my hair. "So are you, girl."

I lifted up and looked at his face, then back over to the boat. "So that's..."

"Tex," the man greeted with a nod.

"Without the map, I couldn't find this place, so I went to his spot along the river." The whole time he spoke, his eyes strayed to Croc. The wild man still surrounded by alligators.

My breath shook at his expression, because it was the same he always got when impatient for answers. He was here, alive, and able to look that way. A million stories filled my mind at once. "I have the wildest shit to tell you."

Merle smiled. "You ain't the only one."

The front door banged open, and Julia rushed out with a hand shaking over her mouth. She looked like a walking swamp thing, covered in dried mud from head to toe, but Merle didn't seem to care.

He strode away from me, heaved her up into his arms, then held her like she was the only thing holding him to the ground. Julia sobbed into his neck, gripping his shirt with one hand while the other half-heartedly smacked his arm.

He held her pinned to his chest and supported her weight until she'd calmed. Then, as if they'd never been separated, he said, "I see you dolled up for me."

She smacked his arm harder and gave a high cackling laugh. "You asshole! I was worried to death!"

He rumbled. "Dammit, woman! I went as fast as I could. I'm not a young man anymore."

She craned her head back. "So, you like this look?"

Her smile was watery, but it wasn't diluted. Not like the ones she'd given since he disappeared from view that night. Julia was so good at pretending to be okay, it was easy to believe her. But seeing her now, it was obvious she hadn't been. She hadn't looked like this.

Merle dipped her back and kissed her hard, and a chorus of hoots and catcalls echoed from the boat. He pulled back, grinning like a cat. "You could cover yourself in cow shit and still be the hottest damn thing on God's green earth."

"I'm glad you think so. Just wait until you see your car."

His smile fell, eyes narrowed. "What about my car?"

My chest tightened. They were both alive. The kids slowly emerged, pulling all of our attention, and I dropped down and opened my arms wide. My family.

They ran forward, collapsing into me, and I lifted them both like I had the first night we'd met. Only this time, we were safe. We had help. We had hope, and we had a real chance.

***

Tex's men set forward with a plan to dispose of the officials. They sent the half-eaten ones floating down the canal, and the ones hit by bullets were buried deep within the woods. When the stain of the greater good was cleansed from the swamp, Croc mourned. He mourned each animal individually, saying his goodbyes, murmuring his gratitude. Giant men helped him give each its own grave. We stood on the bank of the canal, looking at row upon row of upset earth.

Then, Croc sang. Just as he had that night. Only this song wasn't joyous. It had no words. It was long and low and haunting, composed of a language he'd built, and the surviving animals joined in to mimic each rise and fall, each echo and sorrowful moan.