Warpaint

Trip and I were the last ones to get in. We both stood in front of Kowi, Celia, and Coli just a couple feet behind her.

“Hey,” Celia said quietly.

“Hey,” I responded.

Trip just nodded.

“I just wanted to wish you luck.” Her eyes filled with tears but she blinked rapidly to make them go away.

“Thanks. We’re going to do our best,” I said. I probably should have said something more poetic or quotable, but I was in a panic. I couldn’t promise her anything, much as I wanted to.

“I know you will. I wanted to tell you too that if you aren’t able to do everything you want, it’s going to be okay. For me. I’m going to be okay.” A tear escaped her eye.

I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder, just above her bandages. “I know you are. I absolutely know that.”

She continued, raising her chin a little. “But it would be a lot easier and a lot faster if you killed those bastards for me and brought those poor kids back here.”

Tears came to my eyes too now, a couple of them slipping past my defenses to drip down my cheeks. I gave her a weak smile. “Consider it done.”

It was the best I could do for promises, and it made me want to panic and run the other direction, away from all these kids who were counting on me to make things right, away from this swamp with its false sense of security making everyone believe they couldn’t be touched by the ugliness, and away from even the two boys I now loved - because I was so afraid they were going to die today and it would be all my fault.

***

The paddles and poles the indians used to move their canoes dipped in and out of the water. It was just before dawn, and the sky should have been alight with the beautiful pinks, yellows, and oranges that I was used to seeing here in the morning; but instead it was dark gray, giving a spooky atmosphere to the swamp.

Hopefully, the canners would decide to sleep in today on this dreary morning and give us time to get into position around their house. No one said a word out loud. The danger of our mission was weighing heavily on everyone, much like it was on me.

Nina’s shriek startled me out of my depressing reverie. A few of the others giggled. I looked up and saw some sheepish grins, apologies almost, for being startled.

Bodo had his harmonica to his lips and gave one short blow on it. I heard and saw nothing of his bird from then on.

We arrived at the rental place where we had taken our canoes from not that long ago, dragging them up on the beach and chaining them together and to the canoe rack, using the chains and locks we had taken from there before.

“Good thing we kept these,” said Peter, lugging an end over to Fohi to connect with his part.

“Yeah. I guess I thought we wouldn’t be coming back so soon,” I said, getting out of the boat and stepping onto the wet sand. I lifted up a foot and looked at the bottom of my moccasin which was now covered in clumps of the wet stuff.

“They’re treated to be waterproof,” said Winky. “Just don’t go swimming in them and you should be fine.” She walked past me to climb the bank towards the rental shack.

“Thanks for the tip,” I said, putting my foot back down and following her.

She reached her hand down once she was at the top of the hill, pulling me the rest of the way up. We watched the guys finish the canoe-securing from the top of the bank.

Bodo stood apart from them, staring up into a nearby tree, sliding his harmonica into his pocket.

“That’s pretty cool … Bodo and his hawk,” said Winky, watching him.

“Yeah. It is.” I tried not to look at her face, but I was drawn to it. I wished I could read her mind and know if she was lusting after Bodo. I didn’t want to feel competitive with her over him. I liked them both too much.

“You’re lucky,” she said, wistfully.

“How so?”

“He loves you.”

“Why do you say that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just don’t see it that often anymore. I miss it … being in love.”

“Did you have a boyfriend before?”

“Yeah,” she said, looking down. “He was older.”

Oh, crap. I knew what that meant. But I couldn’t just not say something. “He died?”

“Yeah. Along with my parents and everyone else.”

“I’m sorry.” I reached over and rubbed her back a couple times before letting my hand drop to my side.

“Thanks. But anyway, I have hope that I’ll find someone again,” she said, turning to me and smiling. “And don’t worry. I know it’s not going to be Bodo.”

I was taken aback by her bluntness. “I … uh … didn’t think it was. But that’s good to know.”

“I thought I saw you looking worried a few times. I don’t blame you.”

We both watched as Fohi and Rob got tangled in the chains they’d been using to tie the boats and fell into the sand. “The options are kind of slim around here.”

We both laughed at the spectacle being provided courtesy of the crack team of indian warriors.

“Holy crap, what are we getting ourselves into?” I said under my breath.

Winky punched my arm lightly. “We’re not getting ourselves into anything except that canner house to rescue those kids and to kick a little ass. They started this, not us. We’re just going to finish it.”

I nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go finish this.”

We walked over to the shack, joining the rest our team who’d finally made it up the bank to assemble there. Fohi and Rob took off running into the trees.

“Where are dey going?” asked Bodo.

“Getting our transportation,” said Kowi. He looked out over the small group. “Is everyone here, now?”

I scanned the immediate area. Everyone was present and accounted for, even a struggling Buster who Peter was trying valiantly to contain.

“Better let him run around and pee or something so he can get that energy out of his system. We don’t need him spazzing out before it’s time,” I said.

“Did you bring something to muzzle him?” asked Kowi.

Peter pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. It was pink. “Yep.”

“Where’d you get that?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

“Coli. She gave it to me right before we left.”

I shook my head in wonder. I hadn’t taken her for a girl who wore pink. But then again, I hadn’t known her before when she was a girl who walked the halls of a high school, putting books into a locker and wondering who was going to ask her to prom.

Fohi and Rob returned, both of them wheeling bikes next to them. They were the ones Bodo and Peter had ridden to get here.

“Hey! That’s my bike!” said Peter. I couldn’t tell if he was pleasantly surprised or mad they were using them without permission.

“Yeah. We needed ‘em,” said Fohi. “We’ll see you guys in a few.” They jumped onto their seats and took off.

“Where are they going?” I asked, completely mystified.

“Getting our ride,” said Trip, not even looking at me.

“Are we gonna walk? Cuz dat’s a long way,” said Bodo, coming up to stand next to me.

“No. We have a truck. We keep it hidden and only use it in emergencies,” said Kowi.

About twenty minutes later, as the rain was drizzling down, a huge black SUV pulled into the area surrounding the shack. It had an extended back end and could easily hold all of us.

“With the extra kids I hope we can save at the house, it’ll be a tight squeeze, but I think it’s do-able,” said Kowi.

“Hell, yeah,” I said, thrilled with the idea of not having to walk all the way there and back. I had been imagining the tremendous amount of luck we’d need to get in and out undetected, especially with injured kids on our hands. The fewer people who knew there were kids living out here, the better.

The passenger door flew open and Fohi stood on the running board. “Come on, y’all, this ship is heading out!” He disappeared inside again before any of us had taken a single step.

“I guess Fohi’s riding shotgun,” I said, moving towards the truck.

“That’s what he thinks,” said Trip, standing in front of the vehicle’s grill, sticking his thumb out and jerking it to the side.

Fohi’s excited look fizzled to be replaced with a mutinous frown. But then all we could see was his backside as he climbed into the second row of seats, diving in head first, his legs hitting Rob in the side of the head.

Rob turned around and punched him several times. The truck rocked back and forth with their antics.

We all climbed in once things settled down, Rob driving with Trip and Kowi in the front seat, three across. Trip sat on the cupholders in the center. He looked comical, hunched over to fit his frame in under the low roof.

Once we were all in, Rob pulled out, making his way onto the main road and then turning right to head east. We drove for a couple minutes in silence, everyone lost in thought.

“Where are we going to park this bad boy?” I asked no one in particular, about five minutes later.

“A few blocks away from the canner place,” said Kowi, looking at a map he’d pulled from the glove compartment. He put it over Trip’s lap and pointed to something. “Right here, Rob. Take that right near the shell shop and then left into this neighborhood area.”

The place I met Celia for the first time. Her mother’s shell shop business. I hadn’t realized she lived so close to where the canners were hiding out. Man, that is some seriously crappy luck.

The truck reached what should have been civilization and cruised slowly through the streets. At first it was all businesses, but then after turning near the shop, we saw houses too. It was like a ghost town, not a single person out, and no signs of any living beings anywhere. Every house looked abandoned.

“This place is freakin’ creepy,” said Fohi from behind me. He’d been relegated to the way-back and was hanging over the back seat, embracing the headrest in front of him.

“You ain’t kiddin’,” said Rob, turning the wheel slowly as we entered an intersection.

“We need to park this in a garage,” said Peter. “If we leave it out, it’ll get stolen or destroyed. I know this place looks empty, but there has to be kids here somewhere.”

He was right. “Are we close?” I asked.

“Yeah. Search for a house that looks empty with a garage,” said Kowi

“Right there,” said Bodo. “Dat one. All da glass is broken. No one would liff dare.”

“What do you think?” Rob asked Kowi, glancing to his right and slowing down, waiting for a response before he committed.

“Looks good. Back in.”

We all waited breathlessly as Rob pulled up a little past the driveway and then reversed in. I was halfway expecting a bullet to come flying into the car.

As if reading my mind, Peter ducked down, putting Buster on the floor so he wouldn’t squish him.

“What are you doing?” asked Fohi, sounding disgusted. “You’d better not be barfing, dude. I don’t wanna ride around in no barf mobile.”

“I’m not vomiting, you idiot. I’m trying to keep from getting my head blown off by some kid who might be hiding in there with a gun.”

“Ain’t gonna happen in this thing,” said Fohi cheerfully. “This is a genuine VIP car. Bulletproof glass.”

“No freakin’ way,” I said, looking at the side windows, trying to detect their strength somehow with my stare.

“Yeah. We had a few of them on the reservation for special guest visits. Paid for by the white man’s gambling money.” Fohi was obviously proud of his tribe’s accomplishment. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">