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ent when she talked.
John had to force himself to put one foot in front of the other. The relentless pounding of wind-propelled rain and, more and more often, ribbons and stalks of sawgrass whipping into them like writhing, angry razors was taking a heavy toll. Hundreds of tiny, burning cuts covered his arms and face, and Ariel fared no better. The constant push of the wind against them was like having a hundred pound wall leaning on you while you walked, and it had been that way without respite for hours.
An hour later, in a two-second lull in the wind and rain, John saw two tall palms on the opposite side of the four-lane, maybe two hundred yards ahead. He pointed and said, “It’s something we can check.”
It was the Sawgrass Recreation Park, the popular tourist area that showcased everything about the everglades. John and Ariel pushed against the wind and crossed the roads, making it to the large, sand-colored one-story building that was the park’s center.
It was latched shut and all the windows were heavily shuttered, with no one on the premises. John and Ariel took shelter on the off-wind side of the building and rested. It felt so good to be out of the main force of the hurricane that Ariel almost cried.
John told her, “Stay here, I’ll scout around.” She didn’t argue.
He lowered his head and shoulders and fought the wind as soon as he rounded the corner. He could see twenty feet occasionally, but other times it was five feet. A half-submerged unpaved road branched away from the main area and John followed it. Several small alligators ran across the road, and almost every place that was above water housed snakes, especially rattlers, moving in one boiling mass as they huddled together. He had never seen so many at one time in the wild.
When he saw the outbuildings ahead, he hurried to them, splashing water with every step. They were metal sheds, with chains looped to hold the dual sliding doors closed, and locks holding the links together. He moved around the building, hoping to find something to help him break inside. There were discarded items, but nothing that would work. At the edge of the far corner, he found a loose edge of metal siding. It was slick with rain, and he searched for something to aid his grip, but there was nothing.
He turned to the lose edge and grabbed the corner as tight as he could. Setting his body to use legs, back, shoulders, arms and his grip, John worked and pulled and pushed the metal sheet. Metal screws popped out with the sound of .22s. Some of the screws were so tight they wouldn’t budge. He reset his grip and twisted the metal until it tore away leaving the screw in the interior pipe. His arms quivered with the effort and despite the rain, sweat ran down his face.
A hand touched his shoulder and he jerked. Ariel was there, watching. She bent to the side and looked at his work. “Let me see if I can fit through.”
John held the loose side away from the opening as far as he could as Ariel got on her hands and knees and wormed her way into the interior. She turned on her side halfway in to let her hips fit, then inched inside the shed. She said, “There’s an old pickup in here.”
John dropped to his hands and knees and looked through the hole. It was an early seventies Chevrolet, black with a little rust on the hood. He watched Ariel walk to it and open the driver’s door. She rose up and shook her head no, meaning no keys.
John said, “Look around for them.” She nodded and moved through the building, starting nearest the pickup. John sat on the wet grass and rested. Trying to tear away the metal siding had exhausted him. He closed his eyes and let his head hang to his chest to keep the water out of his eyes.
Ariel let her hand run over things: tools, folded rags, magazines, but felt nothing. She returned to the pickup and sat in the driver’s seat. Her hands ran over the steering wheel, then across the instruments to the knobs on the radio. That’s when she felt it.
A vehicle started and someone revved the engine. John jerked his head up so fast the back of his head hit the shed with a metallic bonk. He rolled to his side and looked through the opening.
Ariel sat in the driver’s seat, grinning and waving at him. She left the pickup running and almost skipped to John. She said, “Should I drive it through the doors? They’re locked with chains.”
“Do you have enough room to back it around and use the rear bumper?”
Ariel looked over the space and said, “If I move some things, I think so.”
John smiled at her, “I’ll be waiting outside.”
Ariel was not a great driver, but she was adequate. She moved several tires and boxes from the center of the room, then got in and began jockeying the pickup back and forth, turning the steering wheel this way and that. When she was ready, she honked the horn twice, then put it in reverse and hit the gas.
John stood far to the side, and it was a good thing because the doors flew off the shed to crash and bounce fifty feet across the yard.
Ariel stopped the pickup, but left it running, then moved to the passenger’s seat. She motioned for John to drive, and he slid behind the wheel.
As they drove out of the park and turned left on 27, John checked the fuel gauge and saw the tank was half full. More than enough, he thought. He looked at Ariel and said, “Good work. Where did you find the keys?”
“I saw the driver hang them on a nail in the bathroom.”
John nodded, a little smile beginning. “I’m glad you’re with me Ariel.” He increased their speed but still drove cautiously in the wind and rain. The pickup shuddered and slid when the big gusts hit it, but John kept it on the pavement.
No other traffic was around, and it was as if the area was deserted. They drove almost to the Fort Lauderdale Airport, then turned south on 95. Downed trees were more evident this close to the ocean, as were damaged homes and businesses. John saw an entire roof lift off a convenience store and sail a hundred yards before impacting the doors of another business and collapsing its front. John slowed further. He was going as fast as he could but it would still be a while before they reached Dania Pier.
He hoped Randall and Hunter were safe, and he wondered where Marc Dessaline and his killer friend, Ringo Bazin were. The thought of them made John’s jaws clench.
~*~
Dessaline parked the Escalade at Dania Pier, leaving it on the road rather than using the parking lot, which was vacant and had a foot of water sloshing across it. When he exited, the wind blew the door out of his hand and it bounced back and slammed into him. He slipped out of the way and closed it, then walked toward the pier without looking up to avoid the god-awful stinging sand hitting his face.
On top, he and the others used the bulk of the Quarterdeck Restaurant building to shield themselves from the hurricane’s wrath. They scanned north of the pier and Ringo was the first to see their men. Four SUVs sat above the high water.
