Key Weirder Page 12

  Jeremy hadn’t been outside her door when she’d gone to lunch. Carol was a little concerned about him. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to the person who had caused her to lose two thirds of what she needed to have anything she wanted in the whole world, forever. Jeremy needed to stay reasonably healthy until she had all three Chacmools, since she might need someone to try out her new powers on. A couple of quick taps on the transmitter in her bag would let him know she was thinking about him. Maybe give the little weasel a call when she got back to her room.

  Carol’s thoughts drifted back to the details of the previous night. She picked up a handful of breath mints on her way out of the restaurant.

  ♦

  “Hello?”

  “Just thought I’d call and see how you were doing.”

  “Shit, Carol! You think you could lay off the collar a little? I just mashed a jelly donut all over my new tropical shirt! I could have hurt myself bad if you did that while I was shaving!”

  “Poor Jeremy, I’m just sooo sorry. What time do you usually shave?”

  “Very funny, Carol. You’re a real laugh riot.”

  “I want you to get your chubby little ass over to Old Town and see if your fortune teller has anything for us yet.”

  “She said it would be a couple of days. Besides there’s something coming up on the Food Channel that…”

  There was a quick gasp and choking sounds. Carol put the little transmitter back in her bag.

  “What’s that, Jeremy? There seems to be something wrong with the connection here.”

  “I, uh, said I’ll head over there right away, my Queen.”

  Carol didn’t really like Jeremy’s tone of voice, but decided to let it pass.

  “Give me a call as soon as you talk to her. I’ll be waiting.”

  She stretched out on the bed and found the Food Channel on the television.

  “Oh gross! It’s the one about eels!”

  She held the remote up to change channels, then relented and watched the entire show repulsed, but thoroughly captivated.

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  50

  The Boys

  Despite Sara asking several times, neither boy would talk about the Temple. Instead, they spent the day showing her more of the fascinating wilderness surrounding the cabin. She soon forgot her concerns and was once again caught up in witnessing the flow of life with her two guides.

  It was a tight fit, but all three of them went in the little dugout canoe. Henry stood in the back and poled them east for miles through the swamp and then when the terrain changed, they went up narrow channels. Henry was pointing out things to Sara sitting with Newt in the bottom of the canoe.

  “This is far enough. From here the water goes only a short distance more. In the dry months, there is a path that goes to an Indian store along the highway. There are some houses there where people live.”

  Sara listened carefully and thought she could hear road noise off in the distance.

  She thoroughly enjoyed being out in the wild with the two boys. She gained an appreciation and knowledge of the Everglades in the short time she spent with her hosts that would have taken her years to acquire on her own.

  That evening, Sara was instructed in the making of the mysterious soup. She had expected an extensive process bordering on ritual to make such fine-tasting soup, and hoped her own cooking expertise would help her grasp the finer points.

  Newt lit a candle and then laid the vegetables they had brought from the garden on the table. Earlier, he’d watched Sara carefully wash them in water from the rain barrel.

  After the vegetables were laid out to his liking, he took one of the dried tubers that hung from the rafters. He softly chanted while carefully removing some cobwebs and the string that had held it in place. He laid it on the wooden table with the vegetables and passed his hands palms down over the table several times. The chanting became louder. His eyes were closed.

  Suddenly Newt reached up to a shelf along the wall and with a flick of his wrist an old paring knife landed blade-first on the table and stuck there. His eyes slowly opened. He stared at Sara and pointed his finger at her without missing a beat in his chanting. Sara never took her eyes from Newt. She pulled the blade out of the table and held it in her hand, ready for whatever. Newt’s chanting suddenly stopped.

  Sara had never heard a voice so low, or so loud. The voice that came out of the boy seemed to shake the little cabin.

  “Now you must cut the sacred vegetables!”

  Newt’s voice startled her so bad she took her eyes off him for a second and glanced at the other boy. Henry had his hand over his mouth like he was about to explode with laughter. When she looked back at Newt, he was sitting cross-legged on top of the vegetables right in front of her.

  The shock of seeing the boy suddenly only inches away caused her to fall back off the box she was sitting on. Somehow Henry had gotten around in time to catch her before she hit the floor. The two boys were in hysterics. She stared at them dumbfounded, which just seemed to prolong their spasms of laughter. Henry finally caught his breath.

  “Don’t feel too bad, Sara, he did something like that to me once.”

  He gave Newt a stern look. Newt looked the picture of innocence, sitting on the table wiping his eyes.

  “At least he didn’t make you take off all your clothes and get ‘purified’ with swamp water first.”

  Newt got another stern look.

  “Actually, all we do is cut up whatever we have, and add some spices and other things.” He held up the gnarled little tuber.

  “If Newt will leave you alone for a few minutes, I would appreciate it if you would go ahead and make up the soup. I, for one, am getting hungry.”

  He handed her a jar of powder from the shelf.

  “Put a pinch or two of this in there too.” He gave her a wink and went out into the darkness, followed closely by Newt. She could hear whispering and muffled laughter coming from the front steps as she prepared the soup.

  Later that evening Sara sat on her usual place on the mat and the boys sat on the floor facing her. She was beginning to feel more comfortable with them, despite their clowning and mystery. The boys were restless, squirming around, and couldn’t seem to sit still. Something was up. Newt made a show of clearing his throat.

  “I told you things had changed since you pierced the dream.”

  This was the first mention of the Temple dream all day. Sara leaned forward and cocked her head slightly, her eyes locked on Newt.

  “You probably noticed.”

  The boy held up his left hand. Sara had noticed, but hadn’t said anything. The little finger on Newt’s hand was missing.

  “We’ve felt for a while now that something was going to happen here, so we’ve been getting ready.” Both boys smiled and fidgeted. “There’s no way for us to know what it means or how long it will last, so we’ve decided to leave.”

  The boys were so excited they could hardly hold still and for once were really acting like young boys. Sara’s perplexed look sent them into a short giggle fit. She couldn’t for the life of her imagine where two young boys living in the swamp dressed in rags would be going.

  “Where will you go? What will you use for money?”

  The boys were obviously ready for her questions. They each pulled large stacks of bills from their clothes and fanned them out like a deck of cards on the floor. There was a lot of money there, maybe thousands of dollars. Sara’s jaw dropped at the sight of all that money. The grinning boys had an announcement as well.

  “We’re going to Disneyworld!”

  Henry and Newt began pulling more money from their clothes and throwing it in the air. They jumped to their feet and ran laughing out the door. As the money floated down to the floor, Sara thought at least there wasn’t ever a dull moment with these two.

  Sara scooped up the money and put it in a pile along the wall. There really was an impressive amount of cash. Sara heard a noise and looked up t
o see Henry, then Newt come through the door. Her mouth dropped open again as she stared at the transformation. Both boys were wearing brand new clothes that looked like the latest fashion. They were both sporting designer backpacks, and Newt was wearing headphones. He was listening to a CD and bobbing his head. Both boys looked like they had just stepped off the set of the latest MTV commercial.

  With dead serious expressions, each boy took a few steps toward Sara and slowly turned like fashion models on a runway. Newt reached down to Sara sitting on her mat and gently pushed her chin up to close her mouth. He slipped the headphones on her head for her to hear – it was chanting, the same chanting he had been doing earlier with the vegetables. He took the headphones back and sat next to Henry on the floor in front of her. Both boys were grinning from ear to ear. Sara shook her head to clear it.

  “You guys are too much! So now you’re going to Disneyworld? You’ve got clothes. You’ve got money.”

  It dawned on her that they really were going to leave her. She felt crummy that her first thought was for herself, when she should be happy for them.

  “But how will you get there? You’ll need an adult to go with you, or else they’ll never let you in.”

  Newt nodded his head.

  “There is a man who lives not far from the store we told you about. The man has not lived there long. He takes care of sick and injured animals at his house. We are his friends, and he will take us.” Sara started to say something, but Henry held up his hand.

  “He is quite a good man, Sara, and has helped us with our financial matters recently. You see, there really was an old treasure hunter living here at one time.” Henry gave the other boy a quick wink. “Our friend was taught accounting by an Asian gentleman and has helped us sell some of the treasure discreetly. He is a large, gentle man and a great friend to us. Perhaps you have heard of him? His name is Horatio Bloomer, but he likes to be called Horse.”

  Sara had never heard of anyone named Horse before.

  “No, sorry.” She looked at the two amazing boys sitting in front of her in their new clothes, in an old cabin in the middle of a tropical swamp miles from anyone or anything. “It does look like you’ve got things thought out pretty thoroughly.”

  “These clothes came from Miami, our friend bought them for us several days ago.”

  Newt’s eyes went wide. “Almost forgot! We also have credit cards!” He pulled out a wallet and proudly held up a shiny new American Express.

  Henry worked his eyebrows up and down provocatively and took out a card of his own. “Gold card!” He stuck his nose up a little and slowly panned the card for Sara and Newt to see.

  Newt was not about to be outdone and pulled out another card, holding it up triumphantly.

  “Platinum!”

  Sara couldn’t believe these two guys. Henry frantically dug through every fold in his wallet. He stopped and slowly produced a silver card.

  “Titanium!”

  He gave the other boy a smug, self-satisfied look. Sara looked at Newt.

  Newt made a big production of going through his wallet and pockets. He finally pulled something from the bottom of his backpack and held it up. The card actually glowed in the dim light of the cabin.

  “Plutonium! When only the very best will do!”

  The nightbirds and raccoons in the swamp were the only ones awake to hear the laughter coming from the cabin.

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  51

  Taco Bob the Chef

  “It’s all in the presentation!”

  I spent a couple of days hanging out and resting up at Mary Ann’s in Orlando. It was too late, and the women were too upset from the guy trying to bust into the apartment for any fish cooking the first night. The next day we cooked up that big trout the ol’ fella in Homosassa gave me. It was mighty fine.

  Whole Baked Trout

  One nice size trout, head and all

  One large orange, sliced

  Cajun seasoning

  ♦

  Clean out the trout out real good (remove the innards and gills) and scrub the scales clean with a brush.

  Make some little cuts on the outside of the fish and squeeze a little orange juice over the whole thing.

  Stuff the body cavity with orange slices and give the fish a little Cajun seasoning all over.

  Wrap loosely in aluminum foil and place in a cooking pan.

  Check with a fork after baking at 350 for 30 minutes or so. Might take an hour if it’s a real big fish.

  If you want to get fancy you can throw a few sprigs of parsley on there before serving, and maybe even a topwater plug in the mouth for that great first impression when you put it on the table.

  ∨ Key Weirder ∧

  52

  Taco Bob Goes Back to the Swamp

  “Always time for a little trout fishing!”

  Heading down to Chokoloskee to do some trout fishing was as good an excuse as any to go check on old Mr. Small down in the Ten Thousand Islands. It was the next place I had planned to go on my trout tour of Florida.

  Turns out the security outfit Mary Ann and her roommate worked for was sending them down to Key West for a few days to work the big benefit concert coming up with Marty the Manatee. Mary Ann was a big fan of Marty’s music, and she jumped at the chance to take the job.

  The roommate was driving down to the Keys with one of her dogs, and Mary Ann was riding with me over to Chok. The plan was to put the boat in there at Chok so I could do a little fishing and pay a visit to the old man up in the swamp. Mary Ann would drive my old truck with the boat trailer on down to Key West, and I’d just head on down there in my boat after I got in enough fishing and visiting.

  It was about as fine-looking a day as you could ask for as me and Mary Ann made the drive on down to the southwest coast. We got out of Orlando before the morning rush and Mary Ann had some Marty the Manatee songs going on her CD player. Pretty soon we were singing along and laughing at ourselves. After singing “Tequila Breakfast” too many times, we naturally had to have a Tequila Sunrise with our lunch once we got to the restaurant there in Chok.

  There was a fella with a big mustache at the marina where we put the boat in, who was looking us over pretty good. I figured he was just checking out Mary Ann, but after she left with the truck for the Keys, he came over to talk.

  “You the same guy come in a while back pulling them folks in with the broke-down boat, ain’t ya?”

  I gave him a good look. He was the one I seen working there before. Good-sized fella, seemed all right. I didn’t say anything, but gave him a little bit of smile.

  “I ain’t meaning to be noisy about your business, but the cops come by asking questions about those folks you dropped off, then some big shaved-head guy was here a few days ago asking about the fisherman that pulled them folks in.”

  This here was all news to me. I wasn’t too surprised to find out the police would be asking about the folks I pulled in that day. No telling what they’d been up to, cause they sure didn’t look like they knew what they were doing out on the water.

  The big shaved head guy looking for me was interesting, and I wished I’d known a few minutes earlier so I could have told Mary Ann before she left. I thanked the guy for the information and asked him where there was a phone I could use. I called Mary Ann’s cell phone and told her the latest on Saul Thorpe.

  Mary Ann’s roommate had got the prints off the gun run down through a friend at work. The big shaved-head guy who had tried to force his way into the apartment, before Fluffy did her impression of a crotch-sniffer, was some kind of bounty hunter from Georgia. They were hoping to get more information sent down to Key West when it came in. We all wanted to have a word or two with Mr. Thorpe from Georgia.

  ♦

  It looked like the weather was going to hold as I left out of the marina at Chokoloskee on the start of a good incoming tide. Light wind, not too hot, a few puffy white clouds, and the usual one or two small planes droning away in the bright
blue sky.

  Since I was in a boat full of fishing and camping supplies, a little trout fishing seemed like a good idea. I ran down the coast a ways and found some nice looking grass flats in about three foot of water. I came up with some baitfish with the cast net, and set a pinfish out to soak off the back of the boat on one pole while I was throwing a plastic-tailed jig. I just drifted with the tide for a while and picked up the usual assortment of aerobatic ladyfish, small trout, and mean-ass little sharks. A three-foot blacktip shark was the last thing the little pinfish on the float seen, and I fought the shark for a while on the bigger pole before I got him up close to the boat.

  That little shark put me in mind of the huge Hammerhead that had pulled Mr. Small out of the boat when he was with me that time. The old man had been trying to get the hook out of the mouth of a big Tarpon, and the shark had come from up under the boat and grabbed the tarpon’s head and Mr. Small’s hand. The old man lost a finger, but it could have been a lot worse. Ever since that day I had a real healthy respect for sharks. Little ones, and especially big ones.

  That little blacktip wasn’t acting like he was going to let me try to take the hook out of his mouth without trying to do me some damage, so I cut the line and let him have the hook as a little souvenir to remind him of his encounter with Taco Bob.

  The whole coast along that part of the state is nothing but miles of mangrove trees. Everything looks about the same as it did back in the Indian days since the National Park folks took out just about any man-made thing except a few channel markers for the bigger rivers. Enough of a breeze kicked up the waves to where standing up in the boat without falling in was a challenge, so I ran on down to the mouth of Lost Man’s River. Got myself set up with a live bait on the big pole drifting out back of the boat while I worked on a Cuban sandwich.

  Nothing was interested in my bait off the back, so I used the trolling motor I’d put on the boat before I left Key West to ease on up the river and make a few casts with a topwater plug. Mr. Small had been with me once on that river showing me some places along the edge of the river where the snook would be hiding, but I didn’t recognize any of the spots I seen. I was about to get discouraged when I made a perfect cast up under some mangrove limbs and got a nice blowup on the lure. A fat little snook come in the boat that looked like he might fit in that unused spot in my ice chest I had saved for a dinner trout.