Ghost River by Jon Coon (best non fiction books of all time TXT) 📕

hand and a black plastic briefcase in the other. “The current took me too far downstream. But I found this. Is it your Pelican case?”

CHAPTER 35

2135

Florida Swamp

Carol helped Gabe crawl up the mud bank to a dry knoll and dropped her gear.

“Unzip me,” she said.

He did, and she dropped the top of the dry suit, wrapping its arms around her waist. With a small razor-sharp dive knife, she opened the side of Gabe’s suit and dive underwear to see his wound.

“You need stitches,” she said and unzipped the top of her polar fleece jumper. She pulled it off her arms and with the knife, cut off the sleeves.

“You’re going to owe me; this wasn’t cheap,” she said as she packed the wound with one sleeve, split the other and used it to make a pressure dressing. When the bleeding was stemmed, she slid out of her dry suit and laid it between them. She then took the knife and cut Gabe out of his, leaving him wearing his wet sweats and the dry suit boots. She pulled off her fleece underwear, cut off the feet, slit the sides vertically and waited.

“What?” he asked.

“Get out of that wet stuff. We need to warm you up.”

“But—”

“But nothing. I’m a trained medical professional. Give me your clothes.”

He turned modestly away and stripped down to his shorts.

“I guess you can keep those,” she laughed. She helped him into her polar fleece underwear, which fit him like a 1920s swimsuit. Then she took the remains of his dry suit and split it to make a tarp. She spread it on the ground and ordered, “Down.”

He did as she instructed, moving to get as comfortable as possible. She dropped beside him, wrapping him in her arms and pulling her drysuit over them.

“Kiss me,” she said.

“What?”

“Kiss me. If that doesn’t warm you up, you’re probably going to die. And besides, Emily is worried we don’t touch. She wanted to know if we’ve ever really kissed. I think she’s expecting a written report.”

“Oh . . .”

“So? Remember it’s just a kiss.”

“Well, then for Emily . . .”

They were awakened in the morning by sirens and shouts from the river. A chopper circled overhead, and a rubber assault boat pulled into their little island retreat.

Nick and Bob jumped from the boat and waded ashore.

“We saw you surface, but with the current there was nothing . . .” Nick said.

“We’re fine,” Gabe said. He had pulled on his sweats, which were still river damp and bloody.

“We only saw the two of you swimming. Is Jim all right?” Gabe asked.

“We abandoned ship when we were hit with that clam bucket. It tore the boat to shreds, but all the stuff floated. Jim caught a ride on what was left of the hull, and he made it halfway to the Gulf. He’s cold and tired like the rest of us, but he’s fine.”

Bob was looking at the pile of destruction that was once dive gear and noticed something unusual.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked.

“I pulled it out of the river,” Carol answered. “Isn’t that what we were looking for?”

“How?” Bob asked with astonishment.

“All that pounding on the boat must have broken it free. It came up with a lot of other junk while I was rescuing Gabe,” she smiled. “I saw it and went back out to grab it. Thought you might want it for a souvenir after almost dying and all.” She hugged Gabe and laughed.

“What?” Nick asked. “You rescued Gabe?”

“It’s true,” Gabe said. “Carol saved me. I was trapped inside the boat and out of air.

“Wow,” Nick said and saluted. “Nice work.”

Bob was looking at the briefcase. He unsnapped it from Carol’s harness, lifted, and shook it. “It’s still dry. Amazing. That’s going to make our DA a happy camper.”

“You can make me happy by getting us out of here,” Carol said. “I’m starving, and Gabe needs stitches.”

Twelve stitches and a batch of antibiotics later, Gabe was placed on sick leave for the rest of the week. It was a good thing because Carol had plans for them both. The next day, while they were on the way to the prison, Bob called.

“Bad news. Our unit bringing Wes Rogers from the airport was hit. A pro with a full auto. Killed Rogers and two of our officers.”

“There goes our witness and maybe our case.”

“What?” Carol asked.

“Rogers and two officers were killed on the way in from the airport. Automatic weapons. It was a professional hit. Everything he knew, all those answers, gone.”

“How big is this? So many deaths. It’s like a drug war,” she said.

“Exactly. And, like the drug wars, we’re losing.”

In the prison, with Gabe on crutches, they went to the infirmary to find Stony, only to discover he’d died the day before. However the guard handed them a letter:

Dear Gabe and Carol,

Tried and couldn’t reach you. Your department said you’ve been injured. They didn’t say how bad or when you’d be back. In case I don’t make it until then, I wanted something in writing to conclude the sale of the land.

If you will pay the average of the appraisals to my ex and daughter, and deduct from that a memorial for me as we discussed, I will be happy for you to have the property.

My attorney has a copy of this letter and is expecting to hear from you. Finally, thanks Gabe. You and Ramona are the only ones who ever visited me.

Your friend,

Stony Waller.

Reading over his shoulder, Carol said, “That’s so depressing. I don’t want to die alone like that. Promise you won’t let that happen to me.”

“But, if I go—”

“Spare me the logic. Just promise.”

“Okay, I promise.”

“Thanks. That makes saving your life twice a little less painful.” She hit him with her elbow and then kissed his cheek.

“Let’s go see that attorney. We’ve got checks to write.”

They celebrated with dinner and were back at the Montana RV in time for Bob’s call.

“McFarland is stonewalling. We met with Mitchell Conners, the CEO.