Page 76 of Shadow of Death
“I guess so,” Amy agreed. “There is so much more to this history, of course. There were amazing leaders among the Seminole, but as in all wars, there was blood and death on both sides. Remaining are the Mikasuki, with their lands south of us. Now, you may be Mikasuki and a Seminole, but if you’re Seminole, you may not be Mikasuki. It’s complicated. Upper and Lower Creeks, two different language groups, but when the Native Americans fled south to Florida, they all fell under the heading Seminoles. The Seminole were finally recognized as a tribe in 1957 and the Mikasuki as a separate tribe in 1962. I loved hearing about them being “The Undefeated” when I was growing up and attended every event they offered. Oh! And my friend Mickey Osceola was in a great rock band! Anyway. Heading south and across the Tamiami Trail, you can visit a Mikasuki—or Miccosukee—village and learn more about Florida’s Native American culture, and how a fierce people survived so much for so very long.”
Hunter came up near her, pretending to study a tree. “Keep talking,” he murmured.
“Well! This is a spectacular eco area!” she said. “And there were other terrible problems. There was a time when feathers and plumage were all the rage in women’s hats. Now you might have noticed some of the amazing birds around here. Spectacular great blue herons, storks, kites, egrets, ibises, vultures, and even bald eagles find homes here. In the late 1800s and early 1900s, it was estimated that forty thousand birds were killed for hats! But enterprising women came together for many of those years and finally, in 1918, the Migratory Bird Treaty Act was put into place, and many birds were saved from extinction by it. Now, flamingos are not native, but they have done well, and they are beautiful creatures. Our problem these days is one you might have heard about—an estimated three-hundred thousand nonindigenous constrictors, boas, and pythons have now made the area their home as well. This has endangered deer and other native mammals along with many small pets in various areas. They have been trying for years to cease the escalation of the creatures and in weird ways upon occasion. Like, we have the Florida Python Challenge—hundreds of hunters vying for the longest and biggest python caught and killed. A little crazy because we’ve now built on land that is etched out of the Everglades and I have friends in those areas who are more afraid of eager hunters than they are of the snakes—not everyone can actually shoot with accurate aim.”
“Snakes! Big ones!” Ryan said, trying to keep up the show.
“We have our native species as well, many dangerous, including the coral snake, the eastern diamondback rattler, the pygmy rattler, and the moccasin. The Everglades is the only area in the world that is home to both the crocodile and the alligator. And mosquitoes! As you might have noticed, we seem to breed them big and hungry and—”
Her words were cut off. A terrified scream sounded from within the brush just behind Amy.
And then, a shot was fired from somewhere deep in the foliage.
Amy drew her weapon and started to run toward the brush; the scream had originated from there. But Hunter caught her and whispered, “No! Stay, you’re not an agent, remember.”
Aidan caught hold of her, drawing her back, and saying quietly, “He’s right, Amy. Let Hunter, Sean, and Ryan take this! You look like a tour guide, be a tour guide, just hold here with me, looking scared!”
She slid the gun behind her back and leaned against Aidan.
“I can’t sit still if they come this way,” she told him.
“Well, hell, no. I’mnotseeing it as a good day to die!” Aidan said dryly. “So, we wait.”
They waited. And waited.
And the morning remained still; the only sounds heard were the whispering breeze, a ripple from the nearby water, and the occasional cry of a bird.
14
Hunter raced through the brush, stopping when he nearly tripped over a body on the ground in a small clearing.
“Help! Help me, help, please, they... Someone took Sandra!”
Hunter dropped down by the man who lay on the ground, clutching his midsection. He looked to be in his midtwenties, with sandy-blond hair, clean-shaven cheeks, and desperate brown eyes. Blood was seeping from a wound in his abdomen, and Hunter quickly ripped up a piece of his shirt and set it under the young man’s hands, saying, “Hold this tight! Keep pressure on it.”
He had his phone out next, calling in for an ambulance.
“Help is coming—”
“They took Sandy! My girl. She screamed and I tried to stop them. They shot me and I guess they thought I was dead. I may be dead. I may be dying. Oh, God, I’m so scared, but... I love Sandy. You have to find them, you have to find her—”
Sean Masters burst into the small clearing.
“Oh, God!” the man screamed.
“Ambulance on the way,” Hunter said. “Sean, hold here, please. Help him keep pressure on this. And you, sir, I need your help. How many? You saidthey. They took Sandy.”
The young man on the ground winced with pain. “Two, both with guns.” His hand shook as he lifted it to point. “That way... They took her that way.”
Sean nodded to him and Hunter took off, heading in the direction the young man had pointed.Theyhad a lead on him, but they were also dragging a terrified and unwilling young woman with them. He had to be able to catch them.
He turned onto a wider path that was bordered by a stream running through two hardwood hammocks. Halfway along it, he leaped over a frightened moccasin in his path. In the water, two bull alligators suddenly began a thrashing fight, reminding him that the dangers along the way here were not always human.
But it was these very dangers that suddenly caused him to find his prey.
He heard a shriek of pain.
“It bit me! It bit me! The damned thing bit me!” a male voice cried.
