“Osprey.” I bit back a smile. Outsiders! “It’s not much farther.”
The motor purred. The boat might not look like much, but Rabe knew his way around an engine. Though ancient, the Evinrude seemed to be in tip-top shape. The breeze was picking up. Puffy white clouds skidded across a brilliant sky. The wind gave the lake a bit of a chop. The boat thudded over the waves, making for a bumpy ride.
“If—you’d—slow—down—it might—be—a—little—smoother.” Carlos’ words stuttered out in time to the boat’s bounces.
“If I slow down, we might not catch up to Darryl.”
The boat pounded the water. I glanced at him. His face was white.
“You don’t get sick, do you? This chop’s not much, but I know Marty gets seasick staring at a glass of water.”
“I’m not sick.” He clamped his lips shut.
“If you say so. But you might want to sit back here, where you can look forward. And if you do feel queasy at all, it helps to stare at a fixed point on the horizon.” I gestured to the far distance, where blue sky met the dark waters of the lake.
“How—thud—do you find a fixed point—thud—when you feel like you’re strapped to a basketball—thud—in full dribble?”
I looked at my watch. “We’re maybe fifteen to twenty minutes away.”
“You didn’t tell me we’d be navigating the entire lake.”
“Not even close. Lake Okeechobee is thirty miles from east to west; about the same from north to south. After Lake Michigan, it’s the second-biggest freshwater lake that lies entirely within the continental United States.”
“Very impressive, professor, even though I’ve heard the stats before.” He turned his head right and then left. “It’s still too much water for me.”
With an almost imperceptible shudder, he cast his eyes down to the deck.
We were silent for a bit; me watching the compass on the console and the shapes of the clouds crowding the sky; Carlos apparently memorizing the squiggly lines running through the boat’s fiberglass finish.
When the engine sputtered, his head jerked up. “What’s that?”
It sputtered again and then coughed.
“Crap,” I said. “It sounds like we’re out of gas.”
He grabbed for the life vest.
“No worries. I checked the second tank before we left. It’s full.” I shut off the motor. “It’ll just take a couple of minutes for me to change the fuel line to the full tank.”
I was busy, tending to the tanks, pumping the gas, starting the engine to get us underway again.
“Mace?” Carlos said.
“Hmm?”
“Is there supposed to be water back there, inside the boat?”
“Well, a little water is normal. It might be rainwater from that storm a couple days ago. Or maybe some spray from the wake.”
“I’m not talking about a little water. I’m talking about a lot.”
I felt a tiny stab of fear. “C’mon over here and take the wheel. And don’t worry, Carlos. Everything’s fine.”
A moment later, I’d revised that assessment. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
I stooped at the transom, where earlier I’d seen the boat plug securely stuck into the drain hole when we set off from Darryl’s camp. Now, the plug was missing. When I stopped the boat to change the tanks, water had flooded in. It swirled now around my boots, soaking the toes.
“We’ve taken on some water.” I tried to squeeze out all inflection, making it a simple declaration of fact. Neither good nor bad.
“What?!” His voice rose. The boat lurched right as he jumped up from the seat, his shoes hitting a flooded deck. He stared for a long moment at the water eddying around his feet.
“We’ll probably be all right as long as we keep moving,” I said. “The water should drain out.”
I don’t think he even heard me. His breath was coming in ragged gasps.
“This cannot be happening again.” Staring at the flooded deck, his eyes were huge; the color gone from his face.
He stepped away from the wheel. I grabbed it. He moved to the bow, struggling to don the stinking life vest. The frayed strap with a clasp at the end fell apart in his hand. The fear in his eyes scared me. I’d never seen this man when he wasn’t in control of his emotions.
“Hang on, Carlos. We need to keep moving.”
I put a hand on his arm. He shook it off. And then he gave a short nod, almost to himself. He leaned down, removed a revolver from an ankle holster, and laid it carefully on the console.
“You don’t understand. I cannot stay on this boat.”
I had one hand on the wheel, my other arm reaching out to him as he stepped toward the bow. “Wait, Carlos … I …”
I’d barely gotten out those words before he climbed up, shut his eyes, and crossed himself. Then he stepped over the side, dropping feet first into the dark waters of Lake Okeechobee.
Carlos’ arms flailed. The unclasped life vest floated up, tight against his neck. Water splashed wildly. I cut the engine and stretched out on the bow, reaching a hand toward him.
“Look at me!” I yelled. “Right here! Look at me.”
Panicked, he paid no attention, just kept fighting the lake. The thrashing motion of his arms whipped up the water around him, like a hurricane’s surge. His head went under.
I stood on the bow, wiggled out of my T-shirt and boots, and went in after him. It took just a moment or two to reach the spot where he’d gone down. I grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him back up, still fighting.
“Carlos!”
As he turned his head to the sound of my shout, his chin barely grazed the surface of the lake.
“Stop struggling! You’re okay. Just stand up.”
His brows drew together in a question. The windmill of his arms slowed. Realization slowly dawned.
“The lake is shallow,” I said. “You’re less likely to drown out here than to get attacked by a gator. And with the way you’re splashing around, one of these big boys is going to mistake you for a distressed animal. He’ll make you his dinner.”
Standing now, he untangled the vest from around his neck. A sheepish look crept across his face.
“Walk around to the back of the boat with me. I’ll show you where to climb in.”
“But the boat’s sinking.”
“Not yet. But the longer we stay stopped in the water, the more likely that is. Even if it does sink, we’ll scuttle the piece of crap. We can probably wade all the way to shore.”
I scanned the lake, saw no other boat traffic on this weekday. Where were the weekend anglers, the “bassholes,” when we needed them?
“Good thing you didn’t jump in with your gun,” I said. “We can use it to scare away the gators.”
Casting an uneasy glance over each shoulder, he hurried after me to the stern.
“I guess I looked pretty stupid, jumping over.”
I’d seen real terror in his eyes. Nothing stupid about that. “Not at all,” I said.
Where had that fear of boats and his blinding panic come from? I wasn’t going to ask him. He’d tell me when he was ready.
Once we were onboard, I quickly searched through a bin below the console. A bottle opener. Bug spray. An extra set of keys. A screwdriver. And then, success.
“This is what we need.” I held up a spare plug. “As we get underway, bail as quickly as you can with that bait bucket. If we can get moving, the boat will angle up on plane, and the water should drain.”