She sat listlessly in the channel, listening to the subtle sounds of the earth around her — the chirping birds and the trickling of the water around the worn hull of her canoe. In front of her knees sat her pack and tent, neatly bundled.
Neely had remained motionless against a large mangrove shoot for nearly thirty minutes when she heard it. The sound of an engine approaching. It had a distinct pitch which told her it was an airboat, a common craft in Florida used in shallow waters. And she was surprised to hear it.
Neely was miles from the larger lakes and channels. She hadn’t seen a soul for days, which filled her with a sense of both curiosity and concern.
It was unlikely to just happen upon someone that far up the Watson River, but the sound of the engine told Neely that the craft was headed straight for her.
She hadn’t seen anyone… but it didn’t mean someone had not seen her.
Someone had seen her. Someone she was about to wish had not.
Sitting on tall seats atop an old and dingy airboat, Sal and Jered Hicks had grown up in the backwoods and swamps of Southern Florida. Brothers who both had spent the better part of their lives among the unpatrolled waters of the northwestern Everglades hunting anything they could sell on the black market, protected or not. Yet the Glades provided something far more important to the brothers than just a source of poached alligators. It provided obscurity. The ability to simply disappear within the jungle-like terrain for months at a time. Especially when people might be looking for them. To the Hicks brothers, the state of Florida’s greatest natural treasure was the ultimate protection to its inhabitants from the world outside.
Sal and Jered spotted the red canoe earlier that morning and had been quietly following it until they were sure the woman was alone. Because once they started the engine, they had to move fast.
Neely leaned forward as the boat sped into view around a nearby embankment. Two men were aboard. Each was dressed in a T-shirt and shorts with one donning a large camouflage hat, the wide circling brim hiding much of his unshaven face. The second man looked to be wearing a similarly sized, and seemingly dirtier, straw hat.
As they roared down the channel toward her, she could hear the throttle ease up, causing the boat to dip forward and begin slowing. When the men were within two hundred feet, they dropped the engine to an idle and examined Neely as the last of their boat’s momentum took them the rest of the way.
The short-bearded man at the controls smiled under his straw hat. “Howdy.”
Neely’s response was reserved. “Hello.”
“What’s a perty thing like you doing way out here? You lost?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
Her eyes left the first visitor and were now watching the man whose face was partially concealed.
“I’m sure.”
The pilot of the craft nodded and scooted in his seat, turning around and scanning the area. “I don’t see any friends. I hope yer not alone out here all by yerself. Lot a nasty things crawling around out here, worse than gators and crocs.”
“I’m fine.”
“You want us to tow you in? Be a lot faster.”
“Really, I’m fine. Thanks.”
The pilot nodded again and scanned behind them a second time. He turned to his brother Jered, who was watching the woman with his dark eyes. Without a word, Jered lowered his hand and dropped his empty beer can onto the already littered floor of their boat. His foot was resting on the top of a dirty ice cooler, held in place by an even dirtier and fraying bungee cord.
A smile slowly spread across his thin lips. “I guess she doesn’t want a tow.”
“I said I was fine.”
Her response caused Jered’s smile to widen, exposing a set of yellowed teeth. “She says she’s fine.”
The larger and fatter Sal shook his head. “I don’t think she knows what a dangerous place it is out here.” His eyes peered intently at Neely. “Why, there’s gators out here big enough to-” He suddenly stopped when he noticed her position.
Her body was leaning forward as though supporting herself with a hand on the forward seat. But her hand wasn’t on the seat. Instead it was just a few inches farther, resting inside the opening to her pack.
“What you got there, girl?”
Jered noticed it too and continued smiling. “I don’t think your phone is going to work out here.”
She watched quietly as both men laughed. Jered nodded and stood up out of his chair, approaching the front edge of the flat-bottom boat. The engine was still idling as the craft inched slowly forward, leaving less than fifteen feet between the two boats.
Sal responded to his brother’s nod by reaching down for the throttle. Another quick blast of air would push them within reach of the canoe.
But just as Sal’s hand fell onto the metal knob, his entire body abruptly froze at the sight of Neely sliding a gun out of her bag, her hand wrapped firmly around the handle.
Her index finger was resting just above the trigger of a nickel-plated 9mm Sig Sauer, the 1911 her father had given her after graduating from Officer Training Command.
Her eyes remained fixed on Jered, who was now leaning toward her and had been waiting for his brother to push them forward. Instead, his eyes widened when he too noticed the bright glint of the gun’s barrel. He immediately straightened and looked back up to her face where her gray-blue eyes stared at him, unblinking.
His hands shot up in front of his chest. “Whoa. Easy, sweetheart. We’re just being friendly now, right?” He turned to Sal who still wasn’t moving either.
“T-that’s right. It’s a long way back. Just thought it’d be gentlemanly if we gave you a hand.”
“I don’t need a hand.”
“We can see that.”
Jered calmly glanced down at a large duffle bag beneath his seat. Inside was his own gun. He had put it away to avoid getting it wet. Now he wished he hadn’t. He was also wondering how quickly he could retrieve it. It was loaded and ready.
The two men stared at each other with the same thought. They’d been in scrapes before… far worse than this. They exchanged a knowing look that just because a woman had a gun didn’t mean she knew how to use it.
They were considering their options when Neely unexpectedly reached into the bag with her free hand and retrieved another item. This time, it was a piece of clothing, and it was about to put an end to any thoughts the two had of escalating this confrontation.
She calmly pulled out a dark blue baseball hat and pulled it over her head from back to front. Above the cap’s bill were four large, unmistakable white letters.
N-A-V-Y.
Both men’s expressions changed instantly. This woman clearly knew how to use the gun in her hand.
“She doesn’t want any help, J.”
Jered nodded his head and stepped back from the front edge of their boat. Behind him, his brother throttled up and turned the vertical rudders, twisting the fanboat into a hard turn. It slowly curved away from the canoe and continued a 180-degree turn, just clearing the embankment on the far side of the channel. Once clear of another mangrove patch, their engine and fan emitted a deafening roar and accelerated the craft back along the path from which they came.
The burst of hot air, coupled with the smell of grease and gasoline, washed over Neely as she watched their retreat. Her heart was pounding in her chest and a bead of sweat escaped from under the cap, running down past her left ear. She hadn’t been that frightened in a long time.
Hours later, Neely Lawton rounded the river’s mouth in her canoe. She was heading for Tarpon Creek, situated on the southeast end of Whitewater Bay. She took a break and glanced at the sun, which was beginning its descent into another stunning Everglade sunset. As she stretched her back, Neely watched dozens of birds take flight into the warm, windless sky. Near the edge of the water, an alligator watched her intently with only its eyes and nose protruding above the surface.