LYING BOUND AND blindfolded in the bottom of the canoe, jammed among the packs and bags crowding the narrow hull, Casey felt she had lost all sense of equilibrium and time. Only her hearing was unimpaired, and the sound of her abductor’s relentless paddle strokes and the bow of the canoe cutting through water told her that they were moving downriver at a steady pace. She had no idea how much time had passed or how far they might have traveled. It seemed like a long time, and she was sure that Grant and Jessica must have returned to the place where she was supposed to be guarding the bikes by now. She wondered if they had been successful in getting a canoe, but most of all she wondered what they must have thought when they did not find her where she was supposed to be. Would they even be able to guess she had walked upstream? Was there a chance they would find her shoes and other things she had left there? What would they think if they did? It would have to appear to them as if she had simply vanished. They might be able to figure out that she had gone to the secluded sandbar to find privacy for her bath—after all, she did leave her shampoo on the log beside her shoes and backpack, and her underwear was hanging from a nearby branch. But what would they conclude from that? She wondered if they would think she got swept away in the river and perhaps drowned. She felt awful thinking about how upset they would be, and how she had ruined everything by getting herself in this situation. Would they even try to get to Grant’s cabin now, or would they spend who knows how much time looking around for her in vain in the vicinity of the bridge? One thing she was sure of was that they would have no way of guessing what had really happened. And if they didn’t know, there was absolutely no one who would.
She was all alone in her predicament, in the hands of this person she had not seen or even heard speak since she was grabbed from behind. Where was he taking her, and what did he plan to do to her? Casey shuddered to think about it. She had heard all too many news stories over the years of young women and girls being taken to entertain any thoughts that his intentions were anything but the worst. She knew she would have to fight for her very life, but so far she had failed miserably at that. The man was so strong, and his attack so sudden and unexpected, that her resistance to being bound and gagged had been futile. She could only hope she would have another chance whenever they got to wherever he was taking her to carry out his evil intentions.
She decided then and there that she would fight to the death and do everything in her power to defend herself. She would claw his eyes out, kick him in the groin, bite, scratch, and gouge—whatever it took to stop him. It angered her that she had been through so much in the past few days only to become a helpless victim, and she vowed to resist and not give up. Just as she resolved these thoughts and made up her mind to survive, she heard the paddling stop and felt the canoe slow down, drifting with the current. There was a bumping sound of the paddle being set down in the hull, and then she heard the rustling of the plastic tarp or whatever it was covering her being pulled away. For the first time since she was grabbed, her captor spoke:
“No need to keep you all covered up like that any more,” he said. “We’re a long way from the bridge or any other roads now, so you might as well enjoy some fresh air. It’s a nice afternoon to be on the river.”
Casey was startled by the voice. Far from sounding like some crass backwoods redneck, as she expected, the man spoke clearly and precisely, with correct pronunciation and a calm, steady voice. She twisted and tried to turn her head in his direction, tried to demand that he untie her and let her go, but managed only to make unintelligible noises through the cloth gag that was in her mouth.
“I’m sorry about that, but I couldn’t have you screaming back there for your friends and whoever else might be nearby to hear. I know you’ve got to be thirsty, and I’m going to give you something to drink soon, so just hang tight a bit. I can’t have you hollering out loud while it’s still daylight. It’ll be dark in another hour, and I’ll take it off then. I don’t think there’s much danger of seeing anyone on the river at night once we get past Franklinton. We’ll stop somewhere past there for a few minutes, then keep pushing on through the night. I want to put a lot of miles behind us before daylight.” Casey heard the dipping of the paddle as he resumed his relentless stroke.
“I know you’re not very happy with me right now, but the time will come when you will thank me for what I did today. I want you to know that you are safe now, and that nothing or nobody can hurt you as long as you are with me. I don’t know where you and your friends came from on those bicycles, but I do know that if you were on the road, you’ve seen how crazy things have gotten out there, and how dangerous it is to travel. It makes a whole lot more sense to be on the river now than on the road, and traveling the river at night is even better. Where we’re going, two people in a canoe can disappear without a trace. You don’t have to worry about running into gangs of looters and hordes of desperate refugees from the cities out here, because the ones that make it to the country are going to be too busy trashing the houses and stores they come across in the small towns and along the road. They’re not thinking about long-term survival, because in their ignorant and naïve minds, they still think everything’s going to be fixed and they’ll be able to watch their stolen flat screen TVs again just like they used to. While they kill each other over things that will never work again, you and I will be just fine, living in harmony with nature, and wanting for nothing that we really need.”
Casey couldn’t believe what she was hearing. This guy was even scarier than the abductor she had first imagined. He talked as if he actually thought of himself as her savior. What could possibly make him think he had a right to take her anywhere?
“Oh, and my name’s Derek, by the way. I guess you can tell me yours later. You know, you couldn’t have possibly run into anyone more prepared for what’s going on than I am. No, you don’t have anything to worry about now. I’ve been expecting something like this for years. I knew things couldn’t go on the way they were, I just didn’t know exactly what was going to happen to bring it all down. As it turns out, it seems that a massive solar flare was pretty effective. I think in the long run this will take out about 90 percent of the population of this country, and really clean things up for a new start in the aftermath. You can bet that we’ll be in that 10 percent or whatever the exact number is that ultimately comes through this. You’ll see when we get to my little piece of paradise. I’ve been getting ready for this for a long time, and you’re going to appreciate all I’ve done in advance. There’s still a lot to do, but time is one thing we’ll have no shortage of now. I’d always hoped to find someone to share it with me, and it looks like you’re that person. Of course I was hoping for a pretty girl, but you’re way more than that—you’re absolutely beautiful.”
Casey squirmed and struggled, and kicked at the bags near her bound feet in protest. Her efforts got her nothing but a cold splash of water in the face, dipped from the river by the man’s paddle blade.
“Now just calm down before you capsize us. I like your fighting spirit, but I’m not going to argue with you right now. If you keep that up I’m going to have to lash your legs to the thwarts. I imagine you’re uncomfortable enough as it is, so just stay calm and I won’t bother. Like I said, soon as it gets dark, I’m going to take that rag out of your mouth and I might even take that blindfold off and let you get a look at me. We might as well start getting to know each other, because we’ve got a lot of time to spend together, just the two of us.”
Casey had little doubt now that she was in the hands of a psychopath, whether he spoke articulately or not. It was clear now that he had no intentions of letting her go, but it really scared and angered her that he seemed to think that she should somehow appreciate what he was doing—that in his mind he was saving her from a world gone mad. He was mad, of that she was certain, and the way he talked of how he had been preparing and practically hoping for something like this very thing made it seem that in his case, unlike those of many they had seen, it was not a condition brought about by the recent events. Now she was more afraid than ever about where he might be taking her. From what he said, she could only deduce that it was someplace remote and far from roads, likely some cabin or camp like Grant’s that was deep in the woods somewhere along the course of this river. She did know that it wasn’t in Mississippi, though, because they were still downstream of the state line, and Grant had said it would be a real struggle to paddle up the river to his cabin from the bridge where they planned to begin. She could tell from the sensation of speed and the feeling that they were moving even when her captor wasn’t paddling that they were riding the current of the river downstream. But she had no idea where this river went. Casey hadn’t given much thought to the geography of the local waterways since she’d moved to New Orleans, at least none of them beyond the shores of Lake Pontchartrain and the banks of the Mississippi River where it wound its way through the city not far from campus. She was at a loss as to whether the Bogue Chitto might empty into the lake or directly into the Gulf of Mexico, and she wished now she’d asked Grant more questions as they traveled together. All she really knew now was that no matter what, her top priority was to escape from this man. The chances of Grant and Jessica finding her and helping her could be little better than zero. Sadly, she realized that even if she escaped, she might be unable to find them. Every mile the canoe traveled downriver was just that much farther in the wrong direction from Grant’s cabin, and even if she could find a way to travel back upriver, they might not be there by the time she made it. Her thoughts turned to her dad and her Uncle Larry as well. She wondered what they were doing and knew her dad would be thinking about her constantly and doing his best to find a way to get back to New Orleans, but she doubted it would be possible until the electricity was somehow restored. She didn’t know how she was going to make it happen, but she was determined to see him again as much for his sake as for hers. She knew what he had gone through when they lost her mom, and she couldn’t let him down by failing to survive this and putting him through the loss of his only daughter as well.
Derek, if that was really his name, had not spoken again after he started back paddling for what seemed to Casey like much longer than an hour. She hadn’t really wanted him to either, as she was lost in her thoughts of escape and of Grant and Jessica, and of her dad and Uncle Larry. When he finally did, his voice startled her as much as it had the first time.
“We’re going to pull over to the bank and stop for a little while just ahead here. It’s getting dark now.”
Casey’s stomach knotted up as she wondered what he had in mind. Was he going to try and drag her out of the canoe and rape her here and now, as night had fallen and they were in a sufficiently remote place? She thought it was highly likely. In the silence after he said this, she noticed for the first time the sound of night insects, a distant hum from the riverside forests that surely must be surrounding them in this lonely place. She clenched her teeth as she felt the bow of the canoe slide onto something solid, then felt it rock and surge forward as the man stepped out and pulled it farther up on the bank.
“I want you to understand something, okay? I have no intention of hurting you or doing anything else to you. I don’t want to keep you tied up and gagged like this, but I can’t have you screaming and trying to fight me either. So if you and I can reach an understanding, I’ll get that gag out of your mouth so you can drink some water, and eat something too, if you like. Then maybe we can have a conversation like the newfound friends that we are. The first thing I’m going to do is take that blindfold off of your eyes though, so you can see that I’m not the monster you probably think I am. I really am a nice guy and you’ll see that and appreciate it more and more as we get to know each other.”
Casey didn’t believe for a minute that he wasn’t going to try something, but she did want the blindfold off, and especially the gag. She was dying for a drink of water and really needed it, but the thought of eating anything that he might offer her made her sick. Food was the farthest thing from her mind right now. She tried to shrink away as she felt his hands near her head, but all he was doing was untying the knots. He removed the blindfold and she could see partly over the gunwale of the canoe into a starry night sky—the first stars she’d seen since the night they had camped on the Causeway before the rainy weather moved in. She couldn’t see her captor because he was behind her, but presently she felt his hands lifting her from under her back until she was in a sitting position against the packs. She could see the outline of the treetops on the far bank, and the glint of the river as it rippled by in the faint starlight. Then he walked around the canoe to face her, squatting on his haunches to get down to her level where she sat propped up. It was hard to see his features clearly, but she could tell just from his silhouette against the night sky that he was tall and lean, and that he had a full beard and thick, shoulder-length hair. His movements were fluid and powerful, and squatting there he looked as comfortable as most people would look sitting in an easy chair. She got the impression that, even more than Grant, he was in his element in the outdoors.
“Okay, I know it’s dark out here, but you can see I’m just a regular guy. I’m not some creepy serial killer or something like that you may have seen in a scary movie. I’m just a man who happens to have a lot of experience living off the grid, and to tell you the truth, I couldn’t care less whether the power ever comes back on again—in fact, I sincerely hope it doesn’t. The world will be a better place without it, but we can talk about all that later. First, I just want you to relax a bit and I want you to be more comfortable and to know that I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to take that gag out of your mouth, but I warn you, if you scream, I’ll put it back just as fast as I did the first time. What do you say? Can I trust you to keep quiet?”
Casey looked at him and nodded, indicating that she would. He reached behind her head with both hands to undo the knot, a movement that drew his face much closer to hers. She bent her head down as much as possible to avoid eye contact with him, and then felt the awful dry rag pulled away from her mouth. She tried to spit, but her mouth was so dry she couldn’t. It was all she could do to resist the urge to scream at him, but she feared he would do exactly as he said and stuff the rag back into her mouth if she did.
He reached for something in the canoe and she saw it was a canteen of some sort. “I know you need some water.” He unscrewed the cap and held it up to her lips. She tilted her head back enough to allow the water to flow into her dry mouth. She took several deep drinks and turned away when she’d had enough, causing some of it to spill on her shirt before he moved the canteen away.
“Why did you do this to me?” she yelled. “Let me go!”
His hand was over her mouth before she could utter another word. “I told you to keep it down. You can talk, but there’s no need to shout. Do you understand?”
Casey nodded again and he removed his hand. “You can’t do this to me,” she said much more quietly. “I’ve got to get back to my friends. They’re looking for me.”
“It’s not safe back there. It’s much more dangerous up there around the state line than it is where we’re going. I don’t know where the three of you were trying to go, but you wouldn’t have made it on those bicycles. It’s a wonder someone hadn’t already killed the boy you were with and raped you and your friend, then killed you both; that kind of thing is happening everywhere, whether you know it or not. I don’t know what you three were thinking, traveling the roads like that.”
“We were fine, until you came along,” Casey said. “I don’t know who you think you are, and why you think you’re above the law, but you’re going to pay for this when you get caught! You can’t take someone prisoner against their will just because the power is off.”
“You still don’t get it, do you? Here’s a news flash for you: everything has changed now, in case you and your friends didn’t figure that out on your little bike ride. Where did you come from, anyway? Covington…Mandeville? None of you look like you are from around here.”
“New Orleans!” Casey spat. “And we were getting where we were going. We knew there were scumbags like you everywhere trying to take advantage of the situation. We even passed the bodies of people who were murdered. But we weren’t stupid. Grant knew what he was doing, and we had a gun too.”
“You mean this one?” Derek reached for something in one of the bags in the canoe. She saw that it was her father’s pistol. “Rule number one in using firearms for self-defense: Always Have it With You! You walked off and left this in your pack for anyone to come along and pick up. What good did you think it would do you there? You’ve got a lot to learn about survival. You’re lucky you’ve found the right teacher.”
Casey realized that if he had taken the gun from her backpack, he had obviously been watching her from the woods while she was bathing. She shuddered at the thought that she had been walking around naked on the sandbar, oblivious to having been watched the entire time.
“If I’m going to be that teacher, and we’re going to be best friends someday, as I’m certain we are, I need to know your name.”
“Screw you!” Casey said. Her voice was defiant, but not quite a shout. She didn’t want his hands on her again so she restrained herself from provoking him by yelling it too loudly.
Derek laughed and rose to a standing position, putting the gun back wherever he’d stashed it in his bags. “That’s okay, you can tell me later. As I said, we’ve got plenty of time to get to know each other, so it’s not a problem.” He took another small bag out of the canoe and squatted down in front of her again.
“Hungry?” he asked, taking something out of the bag and taking a bite of it. “I shot a deer and smoke-dried most of the meat before I put in upriver a few days ago. I’ve got enough to last for a couple of weeks. It’s good; have some,” he said, tearing off a chunk of something she could barely see in the dark and holding it up to her face. Casey turned away. It did smell a lot like the beef jerky she had been sharing with Grant, but she was far too upset to have an appetite at this point.
“I’m not hungry!” she said when he didn’t take it away.
“Okay.You will be soon enough, but you can decide when. Do what you like, but I’ve got to paddle all night. We’ll make another 15 miles before daylight. I’ll feel a lot better then, the closer we get to the big swamp. That’s where I feel most at home, and I’ve been going there so long that it’s like it’s my world down there. It’s one of the best, most unspoiled places in the whole Southeast, and there’s no way to get to the best parts except in a canoe. I can’t wait to show it to you.”
“You’re insane! I’d rather die than go see some swamp—or anyplace else with you,” Casey said.
“You may think that now, but you’ll change your mind. And you’re not going to die; I intend to make sure of that. If anyone tries to do you harm, it will be them doing the dying. I’ve been doing this kind of stuff alone for too long, and I’m through with that. I need you to stay alive, and you need me in order to do that, so let’s just say we’ve got ourselves a mutually beneficial relationship here, and see if we can’t just get along.”
Casey still couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and she was even more surprised when Derek pulled the canoe back into the river and resumed paddling without touching her again. She had been certain that he would do something to her immediately, but now, after listening to him talk, she concluded that he must be even crazier than she imagined. She was beginning to think that he actually believed she would somehow start to like him, look upon him as her protector, become his lover, and live happily ever after with him in some remote swamp! As dangerous as his delusions likely made him, however, she was overwhelmingly relieved that he had not tried to do anything to her yet, and because of what he thought would develop between them eventually, she could at least half-believe that he wasn’t about to kill her at any moment, as she’d feared when she was first abducted.
Artie couldn’t recall ever seeing so many vultures in one place. They were wheeling overhead by the hundreds, gliding in tight spiraling circles, while hundreds more congregated on the concrete railings of the two massive bridge spans they were about to sail under. Connecting New Orleans East to the north shore city of Slidell, the Interstate 10 Twin Span Bridge was one of the major traffic arteries out of the city, and had apparently been the scene of a massive exodus sometime in the previous days. Their first glimpse of this bridge pretty much confirmed all that Craig had told them about conditions in the city. Aside from the grotesque sight of so many of these big black birds of death, stalled vehicles were strung out along the overhead lanes for as far as they could see from their perspective on the water. Some of them appeared to have been burned in the days since the pulse left them stranded there, and lots of smoke could be seen off in the distance in the direction of the city to the southwest. A few haggard-looking people were walking on the bridge among the abandoned cars and vultures, all of them apparently headed away from New Orleans, using both the north and southbound lanes as escape corridors. Some of them yelled down at them like the teenagers on the Overseas Highway near Marathon had done, while others just leaned over the rail and stared, but at least here no one threw anything at them. Because of that incident in Florida, Larry had asked Artie to bring the shotgun on deck before they sailed under the bridges. He hoped they wouldn’t need it, but said they needed a means of deterring anyone who might have a similar idea here, as rocks the size of the one that had barely missed them that night, thrown from a height, could do serious damage to the boat or even kill someone.
Beam-reaching on a light breeze out of the south, they soon cleared the bridge and the overpowering smell of death that surrounded it. “I sure hope Casey didn’t try to leave,” Artie said, his face pale and his stomach twisting as the horrific scene on the bridge receded astern.
“I doubt she would have,” Larry said. “After all, the only way she could have gotten out would have been to try to walk. I’m sure she and Jessica and maybe some of her other friends are holed up somewhere on the campus and are just fine. I think she’s too smart to do anything stupid.”
“I hope you’re right, but this is one unbelievable scene. I can’t imagine how frightened she must be. I just hope she and Jessica stayed inside out of sight and have had enough to eat all this time.”
“I think we’ll find that she’s just fine, but a lot of these people must have really suffered. It looks at least as bad here as Craig said it was, doesn’t it? And I’m sure it’s only going to get worse, but at least we’re here. Now we just need to get in and get out while we still can.”
Despite his worry and dread, Artie could scarcely contain his relief when he first saw the skyline of downtown New Orleans come into view from the deck of the Casey Nicole. They were sailing parallel to the south shore of Lake Pontchartrain from a couple of miles out, Scully steering for the elevated span where they could pass under the Causeway in the channel closest to the south shore. According to the chart, there was a vertical clearance of 60 feet at that point. Looking south to the distant, familiar buildings, Artie could dare to believe that Casey was really within his reach. After sailing some 1500 miles and surviving all the dangers they had encountered along the way, maybe they really were about to achieve what they’d set out to do.
“We won’t waste any time,” Larry said as they talked over their plan while sitting in the cockpit. “We’ll be off the south shore near the airport by mid-afternoon if this wind holds. You and Scully can paddle up that canal and find your car as soon as it gets dark enough to cover your movements. That should still give us time to sail back over and maneuver the boat as close to the canal at West End Park as possible, and hopefully you two can be on your way to the campus before midnight. With any luck, you can get her and Jessica back to the boat and we can be out of here before daylight tomorrow.”
There were a lot of unknowns and variables that could impact their plan, and as they sailed west through the lake, they discussed what they would do if things were not as they expected. One question that came up was the possibility that Casey would be taking refugee with several other friends, and would not want to leave them behind. Artie asked Larry what they would do if that were the case, and they decided that they could take as many as four more people on board, including Casey and Jessica, but any more would put too much of a strain on their supplies and the space available on board.
“We could shuttle a few more than that across the lake, or drop them off somewhere on our way back out to the Gulf, but we couldn’t accommodate them long-term. I really hope it’s just Casey and Jessica, because keeping enough food and fresh water on board is going to be enough of a challenge as it is.”
“What are we going to do about water?” Artie asked. “We’re getting low already.”
“I know. We’ve got to take on more before we leave the mainland. The good thing about this area is that there are several freshwater rivers that empty into the Mississippi Sound. Since our draft is not a problem, we can sail up one of them, maybe the Pearl, just far enough to get beyond the tide range and top off our tanks. Thankfully, I’ve got plenty of filter cartridges for the galley pump filter, so we don’t have to worry about getting sick from it. When we get to wherever we’re going to hang out until this is over, I’ve got what we need to set up a rain catchment system for longer-term use.”
Sailing under the Causeway illustrated the severity of the situation in New Orleans yet again. Like the Interstate 10 bridge, the lanes above them were full of abandoned vehicles and apparently the bodies of some of those who had waited too long to try to leave the city. There were the telltale flocks of circling vultures, though not in the concentrations they had seen on the Twin Span. They sailed under it without incident and continued some five miles farther west until they reached the point adjacent to the south shore that was nearest to the airport and the entrance to the canal that ran near it. Scully rounded up into the wind and Artie lowered the anchor from the bows. They were approximately a mile from land, far enough out to be safe from swimmers and to have a good escape route if someone ashore started heading their way in a rowing or sailing craft. While waiting for darkness to fall, they all stayed on deck to keep a sharp lookout for such dangers, and Artie changed his brother’s bandages and inspected his wounds.
“You’re doing good, little brother, considering the lack of proper medical treatment.”
“What do you mean, ‘proper’? I know you’re a little rusty when it comes to ER trauma work but I think you did a passable job,” Larry laughed. “It still hurts like hell, especially when I’m trying to sleep, and I still can’t use it much, but at least it hasn’t fallen off.”
“Yet!” Artie said, “But, seriously, you’re doing fine. Give it a little more time and you’ll be good as new.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m not complaining, I just wish I could go ashore with you and Scully. I’m worried about you, Doc.”
“Well, as you said before, we have to worry about the boat too. We couldn’t leave it alone in a place like this even if all three of us were able. I’m also worried about how you’re going to defend it if someone does come out here while we’re gone. We’re going to have the shotgun.”
“That’s why we’re anchored out this far. I know it’s a pain in the ass for you and Scully to have to paddle an extra mile both ways, but if the breeze holds at all, as I think it will, at least I can sail off the anchor from out here if I have to. I don’t think I can haul it in with one arm, but I can cut the rode. I know I can get the jib up, and that’s enough to get going.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Artie said. “I hope we can make this quick and get back out here so we can get over to the West End Park canal and then go get Casey.”
“Me too, Doc. Me too.”
They ate a meal of rice with rehydrated dried fish steamed on top of it as they watched the sun go down and twilight fall over the city spread across the land to the south of them. As in all the populated areas they had seen since arriving at Charlotte Amalie on St. Thomas, when darkness fell there were no streetlights, vehicle headlights, or any other significant man-made lights.They could, however, see the glow of countless fires in the increasing darkness, some of them apparently large and burning homes or buildings, and others scattered near the shoreline, pinpricks of light that were probably the campfires of frightened survivors. Artie and Scully lowered the kayak from the forward deck and climbed down into their seats, with Scully in the stern and Artie in the bow position. Larry handed down their gear before casting them off. Artie had the shotgun tucked under his legs, close at hand, and a small canvas shoulder bag of Larry’s that contained his key ring, extra shotgun shells, a large fixed-blade dive knife, a hand-bearing compass, two LED flashlights with fresh batteries, and a pair of heavy-duty wire cutters from the ship’s toolbox. Scully had his machete, the same one that had proven so effective in the fight against their unexpected visitors at Isleta Palominito.
Artie wasn’t familiar with the use of the awkward, double-ended kayak paddle, but with some quick tips from Scully, he was soon able to contribute to their forward motion, though Scully’s paddling was so strong and efficient it hardly mattered if Artie paddled at all. As they approached the shore, Artie began to feel nervous. There was no telling what they would find, and he feared a confrontation with desperate survivors who might want to take the kayak if they were seen.
“Got to stay quiet now, mon,” Scully said as the opening to the man-made canal appeared in front of the bow. “Bettah if you don’t paddle. I an’ I don’t make no splash. Got to creep up in dis place like a thief dem don’t hear. Jus’ keep dat shotgun ready,” he whispered.
Just as he said, Scully’s solo paddling was virtually silent, even from Artie’s position just in front of him in the boat. He slowed down and carefully controlled each stroke, letting the blades enter and exit the water with as little disturbance as possible, exerting force only when each one was fully buried. In moments, they were off the open lake and within the confining banks of an arrow-straight, man-made ditch with undeveloped marsh on the west side to their right, and a high levee on to the east, forming the bank on their left. Beyond this grassy levee on the east side were the warehouses, office buildings, and city streets the levee was supposed to protect from rising waters in flood events such as the storm surge of hurricanes. From their perspective low on the water in the kayak, they could only see the rooflines of most of these structures, as well as the overhead power lines strung from poles running parallel to the avenues below them. Artie relaxed a bit, seeing that they were blocked from the view of anyone on the other side of the levee by its elevation, and that under the cover of darkness in the silent kayak they would likely be able to transit the canal unnoticed unless someone just happened to be on top of the levee looking out over the water. The marsh on the right side of the waterway was nothing but a flooded wetland of grass and low bushes, completely inhospitable to any kind of travel on foot, so they didn’t have to worry about threats from that side. There were also numerous side channels leading off to the west on the marsh side of the canal, and these gave Artie even more comfort as they offered the possibility of an escape route other than just going back the way they had come. As they paddled, Scully also kept their course as close as possible to that marshy edge of the waterway, where they would be farther from anyone throwing or shooting something at them from the levee.
But, to Artie’s relief, the entire area in the vicinity of the canal seemed lifeless and abandoned, as Larry had suggested it might when they were studying Craig’s city map earlier as they planned their route. Few residents would have a reason to hang around a place like that, and the gangs would be more interested in controlling the busier streets where there were plenty of abandoned houses and stores that might still have useful goods in them.
Scully paddled steadily without speaking, while Artie scanned the water ahead for any signs of movement. Using the street map, they had calculated that the distance to the airport from where the canal began at the lakeshore was about three miles. It took them approximately forty-five minutes to reach the overpass of Interstate 10 where it crossed the canal, and from there it was another half mile or so to the edge of the airport property. The main waterway turned west just beyond these bridge spans, but there was a flooded ditch that continued on south in the direction they needed to go. What they soon discovered, though, was that it wasn’t deep enough even for a kayak, much less any other kind of boat, and in places they had to both get out and wade in the muck, pulling the kayak along beside them as they slipped and stumbled along, sometimes sinking up to their knees in the soft mud of the bottom. It was tough going and took them twice as long as it would have taken to paddle the same distance in deep water.
When they came to the edge of the no man’s land of empty, grassy space surrounding the airport, they found the expected perimeter fencing, a 12-foot-high, chain-link barrier with three strands of barbed wire at the top. Very conspicuous “No Trespassing” signs were wired to the fence at closely spaced intervals that no one could miss. Though they could have walked around the perimeter of the airport property and perhaps found a way into the long-term parking lot where Artie had left his car, they had decided in advance that would take too long and expose them to too many opportunities to be seen by people who might be on the nearby road. Going through the fence and proceeding in the most direct route was the best option. Airport security would have been out of commission since the first day after the event, and worrying about trespassers on that kind of property would be the last thing on anyone’s mind now.
Artie took the wire cutters out of the backpack and went to work on the fence while Scully kept watch with the shotgun. As far as they could tell, there was no sign of life around the airport. Once they were inside the fence, they continued east, staying in the grassy perimeters of the property beyond the runways. Passing the terminals, they could see the outlines of the buildings and grounded jets that had been stranded when the pulse hit. They were too far away to see the details, and didn’t want to pass any closer to the buildings than necessary, in case there were people still holing up in them. The walk to the parking area took nearly fifteen minutes, and in the darkness, Artie had to stop and try to get his bearings in order to remember the approximate location where he’d left his silver Chevy Tahoe.
As they made their way through the hundreds of vehicles parked there, he was surprised to see that only a few of them had smashed windows. But then it made sense that most looters would focus their attention elsewhere, as vehicles parked long-term at the airport would be unlikely to contain food or money. When he finally spotted his own, he was relieved to see that all the glass was intact. Knowing the electronic door opener on his key ring would be useless, he inserted the metal key into the door lock instead.
“Nice truck, dis,” Scully whispered.
“It was at one time. I guess it’s just a useless pile of junk now, like all the rest of these overpriced vehicles.”
Artie slid behind the wheel into the driver’s seat and unlocked the glove compartment. He was certain the pistol was still there, because not only was the compartment locked but so were his doors, with no glass broken. He felt around under the owner’s manual packet and then pulled everything in the compartment out in disbelief. The pistol was gone! He was absolutely certain it had been there when he left the vehicle to check in for his flight, as he had consciously put his hands on it and covered it up with the manual before closing and locking the compartment door and getting out.
“Give me one of those flashlights, Scully!” he whispered. Turning it on, but keeping a hand cupped over most of the end of it to minimize the chances of it being seen from a distance, he directed the beam around the vehicle, onto the passenger seat and passenger side floorboard. Nothing else was out of place. Artie opened the lid to the center console compartment, despite knowing for certain that he had not put the pistol in there. As soon as he lifted it, a folded piece of notebook paper lying on top of his CDs and everything else he kept in there caught his eye. He took it out and turned it over to reveal what it could possibly be, knowing he had not left anything like that there.
His heart nearly stopped when saw that it was a letter and read the opening salutation: “Dear Daddy.” Casey had been here! It was a letter from Casey! “Scully! She was here!” he whispered, barely able to contain himself from shouting out loud. “Hold on… let me see what she said.” He continued reading.
I don’t know if you will ever read this or not, but if you somehow find a way to make it back to New Orleans, I know you will be worried to death about me and will be looking for me everywhere. My friend Grant is leaving this in your car in case you couldn’t get to my apartment for some reason and find the note I left for you there. If you read this before I see you again, I won’t be here on the campus or even in the city. Things have gotten really bad here just one day after the lights went out. Jessica and I are leaving with Grant, who was here through Katrina and says that it would be far too dangerous to stay here with no power. He says that if we don’t get out now, we may not be able to. My car won’t start, of course, and hardly anybody has one that will. We are going to leave later this afternoon on our bicycles, because riding them is much faster than walking. Grant’s family owns a cabin in the woods not far across the state line in Mississippi. He says we will be safe there, and I believe him. It is on a secluded river called the Bogue Chitto, and they have a well and lots of food and other gear stored there. He says we can stay there as long as it takes for the power to be restored. He drew a map that will tell you how to get there in case you find this before the power comes on. The map is on the back of this page. We won’t be coming back here (until/unless?) that happens.
I have been thinking about you all the time since this happened and worrying about you out there on that boat, but I know you are with Uncle Larry and I’m sure he knows what to do and that you two are okay, wherever you are. I love you, Daddy, and I can’t wait to see you again!
Artie’s hands were trembling as he read the last line. There was another note at the bottom of the page, written in a different handwriting that he knew was not Casey’s.
Dear Dr. Drager:
I hope to get to meet you someday soon, I’ve heard a lot about you from your daughter. I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to keep her and Jessica safe. That’s why we’re going to my parents’ cabin in Mississippi. It is far off the beaten path and safe from the looters and desperate people who will soon be going crazy anywhere near the cities. I came here to leave this note for Casey before we get on our way. I hope you don’t mind, but I found your .22 pistol and a box of ammo in the glove box. I know how to use it, so I borrowed it, because it is dangerous to travel now and I thought it would be a good idea to have it. I know it’s unlikely you will be able to get here and read this, but I wanted you to know I will take care of it until I can meet you someday soon and return it to you in person.
Artie turned the letter over and for the first time saw the drawing on the back of the piece of paper. It was a map, just as Casey had said, roughly sketched, but with carefully printed labels in Grant’s hand identifying roads along the route, which led north over the Causeway to the other side of Lake Pontchartrain, and continued on beyond the state line. Artie looked at the squiggly line denoting a river and the tiny square that showed the cabin. It was at the end of a long private lane that was labeled “dirt,” which in turn was at the far end of a curvy country road labeled “gravel.” In the margin, Grant had made a note that the approximate distance from Tulane to the cabin was 90 miles.
“Ninety miles!” Artie whispered to Scully. “She says she and Jessica left here on their bicycles with a guy friend of theirs, heading for his parents’ cabin 90 miles to the north, on a remote river in Mississippi. They took my pistol for protection. They say they left the day after the lights went out.”
“I t’ink she and Jessica smart girls, dem. Goin’ to de river, dem havin’ watah to drink, an’ in de bush like dat, dem got some place to hide. Dis New Orleans dangerous place, mon.”
“But you saw what I saw when we sailed under those bridges today.” Artie couldn’t imagine his daughter traveling in such conditions; the thought was too horrifying to contemplate. But aside from that, he could scarcely imagine her traveling that far on a bike even in normal times. “I don’t know if Casey could ride a bike that far or not. She’s never done anything that extreme that I know of, but she is reasonably fit.”
“I t’ink she can, mon. When she and Jessica on de boat last summer, dem swimming strong every day. Paddle de kayak too. Not like most of dem tourist comin’ to de island from Bobbylon on de cruise ship, layin’ ’round on de beach like dem fat white whale, not to move ’cept goin’ back to de buffet table to eat.”
“Maybe so. At least I hope so. But I was counting on seeing her later tonight. I can’t tell you how it feels to come this far, and think I’m so close, only to find out she’s not here, though I’ve feared all along that might be the case.”
“It’s good dem got de young mon wid, and de pistol too. You said de note was written jus’ de day after Jah strike down de lights. I t’ink we gonna find dem safe in dat cabin he put on de map.”
“I hope you’re right, Scully, but getting there will probably be a lot harder and more dangerous than trying to get to the Tulane campus. It looks like that cabin is way out in the middle of nowhere across the state line in Mississippi. One thing is for sure, we can’t sail there, and it sure is a long way to walk. What are we going to do?”
“First t’ing, Doc, is we get outta dis place an’ bok to de boat. De Copt’n probably gonna have a plan when we discuss dis problem wid he. But we knowin’ now de girls dem not here. Too dangerous to stay in here for no reason now.”
“Yeah, let’s go.” Artie closed the glove compartment and center console, and reached into the back seat to get a small bag with an extra change of clothes he usually kept there when he traveled. Other than that, there was little of use in the Tahoe, so he got out and locked the door, and they hurried back across the airport property to the kayak. Thoughts of Casey’s journey with her friends ran through his mind with every step as he tried to picture the scene on that day when they left New Orleans on their bicycles. He had heard Casey talk about Grant, but had never met him. He could only hope that he was a young man who had a good head on his shoulders. The fact that he found and took the pistol showed that at least he was somewhat resourceful and recognized the possible need for it. It was also comforting that he’d written in the note that he knew how to use it. Artie could only hope that was true, and also that Grant wouldn’t have the need to prove it.