6 Miles With Courage Page 4

  “Dad, you can stop right there. I have a job to do and it’s time to get going if I’m going to make the Oklawaha River by dark.” Ryan pops the door open.

  Rob did it!

  It worked!

  He breathes a sigh of relief.

  Ryan stepping out turns and looks into the cockpit, “Hang in there, for as long as you said you would— I will be back with a rescue team by 6 pm tomorrow. Maybe it will be sooner!”

  “I love you dad.”

  “I love you too son and all our love and prayers go with you — hurry back I’ll be waiting.” Ryan firmly closes the cockpit door.

  Chapter Ten

  The Great Horned Owl is again awakened by Ryan but this time he does not see a gangly youth emerging from a wayward space craft. He sees a confident explorer about to set off on a journey.

  The eyes of the Owl aren’t the only eyes on Ryan. If you count the insects, there are thousands of eyes. Most eyes are there out of curiosity. A few are on the defense weary as to what they would do, should he walk their way. Some would run but others would stand their ground. One set of eyes—in particular—analyzes Ryan with hunger.

  Ryan made up the ground he lost. In just a short time he was back at the place where he had met the spider. Ryan decided that with every half-tick of the GPS unit, or about every two hundred and fifty feet he would tie a bright pink survey ribbon around a tree. That would be ten ribbons to the half mile, and it was two miles to the river and his camp site. That means a total of forty ribbons would be needed. The last ribbon must be able to be seen from the rescue boat. Then they can follow the ribbons to his father—should the GPS fail. He should not need any ribbons on the other side of the river. If he is successful he would be returning by boat.

  Ryan peered back through the trees one more time at the cockpit. Then he turned and headed in the proper direction—leaving the cypress behind and entering into the darker sweet gum swamp. The trees are thicker, filtering out much more light, it is darker in here.

  He had a new trick. He was not going to look down at the GPS unit as he walked. He would get direction—pick out a tree for reference—then walk towards it. The tree he picked out would be two hundred and fifty feet in front of him. It became his ribbon tree. This allowed him to watch where he was going and to be more aware of his surroundings. He was tying his tenth ribbon now which put him about a half-a-mile from the plane, one mile from “no-name” creek and one and a half miles from the Oklawaha River and his campsite. He was well into the sweet gums now leaving the cypress far behind.

  The floor of the cypress swamp is much firmer than the sweet gum. The sweet gum drops large leaves which decay, leaving a spongy deep bog to walk through. This makes for dark muddy mire compared to the clean and firm cypress swamp bottom. The sweet gum swamp is also known as “hat floater” country.

  What’s a “hat floater” you ask? Ryan’s father knew all too well what it was. A hat floater is a dinner plate size puddle in the middle of the swamp. When you step in it—you disappear—leaving nothing behind but your floating hat. Sounds impossible but its true! Rob stepped into one and if it were not for the tripod on his shoulder he would have gone completely under. It looked like a little puddle on the forest floor.

  Hat floaters are formed when a large sweet gum has blown over due to a storm or just from old age. This will leave a large deep hole. Soon the roots from the other sweet gums and the ferns grow over the hole making it look like solid ground. But it is not solid ground. Step on the roots and the ferns and you’re alright. Step in the bottomless dinner plate and you disappear. Ryan was lucky for he knew not that he was already well into “hat floater” country. His luck was about to change.

  After tying a ribbon around a sweet gum tree, Ryan noticed that in the direction he was traveling the swamp was getting shallower. He quickly moved out onto dry ground but he was still in the sweet gum swamp. He looked back with pride at the ribbons behind him. He looked with apprehension at what lies ahead.

  The late afternoon sun is casting its long shadows giving a different look to the swamp. The sun shining on the bark of the sweet gum really shows it texture and colors. A certain tree catches Ryan’s eye. He notices a spider on the trunk of the tree. At first he did not see the spider because it took on the same texture and color as the bark. He breaks off a twig and holds it up to the spider. The spider rose up its front two legs to quickly bite the twig with its fangs. Ryan pulls back the twig and sees drops of venom. Ryan shudders throwing the twig down. He promptly slices the spider in two with the machete, leaving a green sticky blob behind. He pulls the machete out of the tree.

  “I will remember to keep my hands off of these bay trees,” he said.

  Ryan has been on dry spongy ground for one hundred feet. It feels good not to be sloshing through the water. He is on a small oak hammock. It’s small because it consists of only one oak tree thirty feet to the left of Ryan’s path. It is a huge oak tree with long and low sweeping limbs. Ryan steps into a small circular clearing. On the other side of the clearing is a fallen bay tree. All of the roots are exposed making for a curious sight. The root ball is at least ten feet tall. Ryan walks out across the opening not even knowing that he is walking across a root covered chasm that has been created by the fallen gum tree. He is walking across a “hat floater” but it is a dry one. It is dry due to the raised elevation of the oak hammock.

  Ryan is halfway across when there is a sudden snapping noise. He looks down at his feet to see the ground give way beneath him.

  WHOOSH!

  Ryan has disappeared down into the belly of the swamp. One second he was there, the next he simply vanished.

  Back at the wreckage at that same moment, Rob’s seemingly lifeless body twitched jumping as though he awoke from a dream.

  Down in the chasm Ryan gathers his thoughts. He has fallen through several rotted roots and stopped with his head being a few feet from the top. He is entangled and is dangling precariously in a massive root system some twenty-feet above the bottom of the abyss. The place is infested with insects of every imagination. Ryan feels them crawling about but it is much too dark to see them. Looking up through the crossing-maze of broken and unbroken roots he is not sure what to grab or even what hand to move first. He was thinking it over when it came—descending down from the light above—an arm, the arm of a man!

  It is dark bronze in color with black finger nails. It stops short of reaching for Ryan and instead pointes at and then pats a certain root next to Ryan’s left hand. Ryan reaches out to grab onto the hand but the hand recoils. The hand comes back down and repeats the process on the same root. It was telling Ryan where to place his hand! But it would not allow Ryan to grab a hold of its own! This process of “pointing and patting” went on until Ryan—being directed each time as to which root to grab—climbed out of the chasm.

  Once reaching the top Ryan quickly knocks off the insects that are crawling on him and while talking and slapping said, “I am so glad you came along! I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” and spinning around he looks everywhere but sees no one.

  “Hello, where did you go, don’t go away, I need to talk to you.” Ryan pleaded.

  “Please come back, you don’t understand, our plane crashed my father is trapped, PLEASE! Tell me where you are! Oh God no, please don’t go away.” Ryan’s voice fades.

  Then, in a dark shadow of a sweet gum tree, Ryan sees him—or it. He is not exactly sure what he is looking at.

  Hunkering down in the shadows is a large—hulk of a man. Two eyes are looking back at Ryan intently. They appear to be lit from the inside like a jack-o-lantern. They look peaceful, not threatening. Chills run up and down Ryan’s body. He moves forward cautiously saying, “I just wanted to thank you,” and extends a hand in friendship. The figure rises up, and up and up until the top of his head is seven feet off the ground. He extends an open palm in a halting motion so as to say—stop right there!

  Ryan, frozen in fear looks him up and
down starting at the top. There’s a foot of hair piled high in a bun. There are bones and feathers protruding from the bun. The face is too dark to see but it looks painted. The skin is a dark bronze. His chest is tattooed and adorned with ornaments and so are his arms and wrists. Wrapping around his loins—a white cloth. His legs above the knees are adorned with ornaments too. Ryan cannot see his feet. In one hand is a six foot long-bow. The bow has ornaments also.

  Ryan does not lower his extended hand and inches closer motioning in a handshake fashion saying, “please sir, I would just like to thank you.” The man extends a second open palm forward so as to say— stop I mean it. Ryan gets the message and lowers his hand. The man points down at Ryan’s feet.

  Ryan looks down and sees a stone pointer, pointing in the direction of the path he is to travel. Ryan picks the pointer up. It’s a beautiful spear point tooled out of flint. An “orange point” the collectors would say. Turning, Ryan holds it up to the sunlight—it is translucent. Ryan is mesmerized by its beauty.

  A cold fog blows against Ryan’s face.

  Ryan turns.

  The man is gone!

  “Hey, wait a minute. Hold on we need to talk.” Ryan said loudly dropping the spear point.

  “I get it now, great get-up. I like the whole re-enactment thing.” Ryan listens intently for any sign of movement.

  “My uncle is into the re-enactment thing. What are you Seminole? Are you Timacuan? What?” Ryan spins around and around, bobbing up and down, trying to catch a glimpse of the man. He starts to become frustrated.

  “Hey, listen to me. I really need a ride out of here. Maybe we can take your truck or something?” Ryan stops and gets angry.

  “I am not playing around! You better show yourself I don’t have a lot of time.” Nothing heard but silence.

  Then in desperation, “Don’t make me come after you. Don’t let me get my hands on you. You don’t scare me.”

  And with humiliation, “Ha, I didn’t like your dang costume anyway! My mother makes a better Halloween costume than what you’re wearing!”

  Finally with a threat, “If I get my hands around your neck, you’re a dead-man!” Still there is nothing but silence.

  And then one final insult, “You’re a Coward!”

  There is no motion, nothing to be heard but the sound of the wind and the locusts in the trees. The echo of his last word rings with hollowness. It tells Ryan that he is truly all alone in this vast wildness.

  Then, out of the corner of his eye, a movement. A flash as something leaps up from the forest floor to a low hanging branch on the oak. Ryan turns and drops to a squat.

  “What was that?” He whispered loudly.

  He watches as the branch bows under the weight of something moving across the top of the branch. It is hidden from view due to the leaves and dangling Spanish moss. The falling dust and fleeing insects trace its movement. It comes to a stop near the trunk of the tree. It is high above the forest floor and out of Ryan’s site.

  Ryan looks intently.

  All is still.

  Ryan says in a low voice, “I didn’t mean to insult you,” trying to get a reaction, but not wanting to give away his exact location.

  There is no reaction.

  A short period of time passes.

  Then there is the sound of snoring from above. Ryan looks up just in time to see something flop over the branch and dangle amidst the moss. It’s a big hairy paw! It’s the paw of a Florida panther.

  Those analyzing eyes of Hunger had caught up to him.

  Ryan quietly picks up the spear point and slips it into his backpack. He takes his machete firmly in his hand forgetting all about the man. Slowly he starts to walk away towards his destination.

  A short distance and he is off the oak hammock and back into the safety of the sweet gum swamp. He can breathe a sigh of relief. He is safe for now. The panther does most of his hunting from dusk to dawn.

  With a length of seven feet from nose to tip-of-tail, and weighing-in at around one hundred and fifty pounds the Florida panther is not something Ryan wants to tangle with. Oh sure, people say that they will not attack a full grown man. Ask any old-timer however, and they will tell you that the newspapers of the bygone days had plenty of stories about panther attacks in Florida. Out west there are many attacks each year. With the Texas panthers being brought to Florida for interbreeding, who is to say that they will not be more aggressive? Some people have reported aggressive behavior and are worried as to where it may lead. Ryan needs to be alert if he is not to be “pounced” upon.

  With a renewed vigor and a sense of determination he slips through the swamp tying ribbons every two hundred and fifty feet. He is focused. He wants to find “no-name” creek and crossover the last half mile of swamp. He is looking forward to building a nice big fire on the banks of the Oklawaha River. He hopes for an uneventful evening of drinking water, eating beef jerky and reminiscing about the day. Unknown to Ryan, the rest of the day and the evening will be anything but uneventful.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ring-ring, ring-ring, ring— “Sykes surveying and mapping Judy speaking.”

  “Hi Judy, it’s Sheriff Bob Mallory, I wanted to let you know that the ‘bird’ is going to be down for a few days.”

  “What bird?”

  “The helicopter, it’s going in for maintenance,” Bob says, “it’s routine, but I thought you should know.”

  “Why are you telling me this now?” Judy asked.

  “Because if we need to go on a search for Rob, I’m going to need a couple hours of advance notice. So for this one time only, I’m telling you to call me by twelve o’clock noon tomorrow if you don’t hear from Rob by then.” Bob said.

  “Thanks Bob that makes me feel so much better. I know Rob has been a real pain with his ‘scouting’ trips but this time he has my baby with him.”

  “Did you say, Baby?”

  “Bob aren’t you the youngest in your family?”

  “Yes I am.”

  “Well then you will always be the baby, am I right?”

  “You’re right Judy. That one always slips by me.” He said chuckling.

  “Well alright then, I just wanted to let you know about the bird. I’m sure if they have to spend the night somewhere they will have an enjoyable evening bonding around a campfire so try not to worry.” Bob said.

  “I won’t worry, at least not until after seven o’clock.”

  “Oh, why is that?” Bob asked.

  “Because I got a call from a restaurant, Rob made reservations for nine o’clock, for Ryan’s birthday, but he never got back to them with the number of people in his party. I didn’t know anything about it.” Judy said.

  “Well then let’s just say for the sake of argument that if you don’t hear from Rob by seven o’clock, we can consider this to be an all-nighter.” Bob said with a comforting tone.

  “That’s what I was thinking and I wasn’t going to call you until three o’clock tomorrow, but you did say that twelve o’clock is OK now, right?”

  “Yes, did Rob say where he was going?” Bob asked.

  “Not exactly, somewhere north of his last job is all I know.”

  “OK Judy, then I will make some calls to see if he filed a flight plan. You get that peach cobbler going, and if I don’t hear from you by seven o’clock I will head over to your place. We are going to have to get into Rob’s office and try to see if we can find something about where this new job is. Perhaps an aerial photo or a description, sound good?”

  “Yes Bob, that sounds wonderful.”

  “That way we will have a starting point just in case we have to search but keep your fingers crossed, he may walk in at any moment.”

  “OK, and if he does I will call you and maybe you can come over for some cobbler after we get back from the restaurant.” Judy said.

  “Sounds good then, talk to you later—bye now.” Bob said.

  Judy went back to doing some chores and preparing the peach cobbler. She
did so with a song in her heart. Rob could walk in at any minute and if not, Bob would be there to comfort her and go over a game plan for noon tomorrow. It was a good thing that Rob had a track record of “all-nighters”. It’s this fact that allows her to keep a song in her heart. For if she knew that her husband was hanging on to life by a thread, and that her son was on a journey through a treacherous swamp to save himself and his father, that song would be replaced with terror.

  God is good.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rob is in a deep black hole with no way out. He cannot move his body, nor see, nor hear. The swelling on his brain has completely shut him down. He lies in a coma.

  He feels insects biting his neck but there is nothing he can do about it. He remembers the crash in the blackness of his mind, and he remembers communicating with Ryan, but he is not sure about anything.

  He is drifting through the past. He sees faces of people that he has seen before but he cannot remember when or where. He sees them in towering storms of electricity at the outer edges of the blackness in his mind. He is somewhere, and yet he is nowhere but in a broken body. That’s how it is with Rob’s coma.

  His time was limited as he knew. He guessed his survival time correctly. Ryan must bring medical help between the hours of three and six o’clock tomorrow afternoon. The exact time is dicey and known only to God.

  And so he hangs on, oblivious to the outside world and in this state he will stay until he is rescued and revived, or the darkness closes in and takes him home. The outcome lies solely with Ryan.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ryan continues at a steady pace, clearing vines, tying ribbons, all the while staying his course. In these late afternoon hours the yellow flies and mosquitoes are ravenous. He stops to reapply the bug spray, and for the first time cracks open a water bottle.