F. Paul Wilson - Gateways

“Carl?” Jack broke Semelee’s grip on his arm as he rose to his feet and scanned the lagoon banks. “Hey, Carl! Where are you?”

“Never mind him,” Semelee said, rising with him. “What about that shell?”

Jack left her behind. He skirted the edge of the cenote and headed in the direction of the huts where he saw a number of the men sitting around the little fire, smoking, drinking, but Carl wasn’t among them.

Shit! Where was he?

He called his name a few more times but got no response. He asked the group by the fire where he was but they ignored him.

Jack’s gut began a little crawl. If they’d done anything to Carl it would be Jack’s fault for inducing him to come back here.

Luke strolled up to the fire. The men around it looked up, their mismatched eyes questioning, and he nodded to them.

“Where is he, Luke?” Jack said.

Luke didn’t look up, didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge Jack’s existence.

Jack’s concern boiled over into anger. He pulled the Glock and sent a round into the fire. The mini-explosion of ash and flaming embers scattered the men, sending them rolling and tumbling. Luke ducked away and faced him.

Now he had their attention.

“I’m going to say it once more, and this time I’d better get an answer: Where…is…Carl?”

“Right where he belongs,” Luke said. “With us.”

“He doesn’t want to be with you. He left, remember?”

“Maybe. But he’s had a change of heart. He’s gonna stay.”

Jack sensed movement around him. His peripheral vision caught about a dozen clan members scurrying toward him, armed with rifles and shotguns. Should have figured they’d be armed—couldn’t live out here and not do some hunting.

The newcomers didn’t seem to give Luke much of a boost in confidence, especially when Jack pointed the Glock at the center of his chest. “I want to hear that from him.”

Luke’s eyes darted left and right. He seemed about to say something when Semelee spoke up.

“Don’t worry, Luke. He ain’t gonna kill you.”

Jack glanced left and saw her standing a few feet away, smiling at him.

“Right, mister,” Luke said, licking his lips. “That’s because you’ll be full of holes if you do.”

“That won’t make you any less dead.”

“You won’t,” Semelee said to Jack. “I know it, and you know it.”

She was right. This wasn’t a killing situation. He lowered the pistol a few inches.

“Maybe not. But one of these hollowpoints can mess up a knee like you wouldn’t believe.”

Luke was sweating now. Taking one in the knee seemed to bother him more than one in the chest.

“Semelee…?”

“You won’t do that neither. Because we ain’t hurt Carl and we ain’t keepin him here but for a few days.”

“You’ve got no right to keep him a minute.”

“Yeah, we do,” Luke said, emboldened by the fact that Jack hadn’t pulled the trigger again. “He’s kin. He’s blood.”

“I promised I’d get him back home. I intend to keep that promise.”

“It’s only gonna be three days,” Semelee said. “We want him to stay for the lights. But I tell you what: You find my other shell and we’ll do a trade…the shell for Carl.”

“Semelee,” Luke said. “You got no right. Carl belongs here.”

She turned on him, eyes flashing. “What’s more important—givin Carl a light show or gettin my eye-shell back?”

Luke looked away and said nothin.

Semelee turned to Jack. “So that’s the deal. How’s it set with you?”

“Lady, I don’t know where this shell of yours is. If I’d known it was going to matter, I’d have kept track of it.”

She pointed to Carl’s borrowed canoe. “Maybe you’d better start lookin.”

Keeping his pistol trained on Luke, Jack considered his options. He had a few, but didn’t like any of them.

He could do a little shooting, but he could see how that could turn counterproductive. He could do his own search for Carl, but he’d be a stranger looking for someone who’d been stashed away by folks who knew every nook and cranny of the terrain. He could head back and take one of these guys with him, then trade him back for Carl; but Jack had no place to stash him.

Or he could go back and find the shell, which was one tall order.

Going back…there was another challenge. He wasn’t Woodsman Jack. The closest he ever wanted to get to outdoor life was a copy ofField & Stream .

“I don’t know the Everglades,” he said. “I’ll get lost out there.”

Semelee laughed, a musical sound, void of harshness or derision.

“No, you won’t. The drought ain’t left too many wet channels. Every time you come to a fork, just take the eastmost. It ain’t all that far.”

“And if I do find this shell, how will I let you know?”

“Easy. Just stand outside you daddy’s house and say, ‘I found the shell.’ I’ll hear you.”

Jack didn’t think she was lying, and that gave him the creeps.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll go.” He hated to leave without Carl, but he’d be back. He also hated leaving without satisfying the reason he’d come here in the first place. “But I want to know something before I go: What have you got against my father?”

Semelee looked away, then back to him. “Nothin.”

“Like hell. You folks tried to kill him the other night, and somehow sicced that freaky alligator on him yesterday. Let me ask you: What did he ever do to you?”

“We ain’t after him,” she said.

Jack caught Luke giving her a sharp look, but she didn’t see it.

“Why don’t I believe that?” Jack said.

She shrugged. “That’s up to you. But I tell you true, your daddy ain’t got nothin to fear from us.”

“How about me?” Jack said. “What happens when I turn my back on you and your clan?”

“Nothin. You can’t find me my shell if you’re dead, now, can you.” She turned to the clan. “Ain’t that right, fellers.” They looked at one another but didn’t say much. Semelee’s expression turned fierce. “Ain’t thatright ? Cause I hate to think what would happen to anybody who stopped this man from doin what I need him to do.”

Jack saw a lot of uneasy, fearful expressions as the men nodded and lowered their weapons.

What kind of hold did she have on them? What could that slim little woman threaten them with?

Taking a breath and hoping he wasn’t making a mistake, Jack holstered the Glock and walked back to the canoe. He stepped into the water, pushed off, and slid in. A couple of pulls got the engine going. He putted away, propelled by the weight of dozens of eyes on his back.

6

“Why’d you let him go?” Luke said.

Semelee stood on the bank and watched Jack’s retreating form as he turned the canoe left and disappeared around the bend.

“Told you why.”

“You believe him?”

She could hear lots of anger in his voice. She knew he was jealous, but she figgered his pride had got hurt bein on the wrong end of Jack’s gun.

“Yeah, I do.”

She wasn’t sure why, but she had the feeling that he’d thought there was only one shell until she told him otherwise.

“You’re actin like a fool, Semelee. We coulda gone lookin for that eye-shell ourselfs.”

“Yeah? Like where? Like how? We can’t go to the hospital and ask about it when I wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. We can’t search his daddy’s place like he can.”

“We coulda tried. Way it stands now we ain’t never gonna see him or your other eye-shell again.”

“Oh, we’ll see him again…one way or the other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Didn’t you hear him? He said he promised Carl he’d get him back home. If he finds the shell he’ll be back to make the trade. But even if he don’t find it he’ll be comin for Carl. He’ll take him home again or spread a whole lotta hurt tryin.”