been so good to me – risked his life so many times for me – but I can’t stop being such a mean bitch. I want to apologize but I’m too angry to find the right words. Instead, I turn away from him, the only sound coming from the whining airboat fan and the swamp.
Within minutes, the small inlet – as well as the former water source, my mother’s final resting place and Celeste’s watery grave – fades into the distance behind us.
CHAPTER FIVE
Amelia slows the airboat as we approach the dock near the old garage. The return trip through the swamp already passed painfully slow since more of the airboat’s fan fell apart along the way. It also didn’t help that tension between John and I hung heavier in the air than oppressive heat. I want to yell at my recruit to hurry up but it’s probably smarter to approach with caution, just in case the Queen Clan left anyone behind to wait for us.
“Now that the clan is down one woman, I doubt Cassie would’ve left anyone behind; I’m sure she wants as many queens protecting her as possible,” Amelia says. “Besides, she couldn’t have thought we’d make it out of the swamp alive or she never would’ve left us.”
Still, I raise my bow, pulling an arrow back in the string, waiting for the slightest sign of movement. John holds the other bow, which looks clumsy in his hands. He’d wanted to take the gun but I threw it in the swamp before leaving the inlet. Luckily, nobody is here, at least none of the queens. An old pickup truck is crashed in the swamp near the docks. I cringe when I see two young men still sitting inside – sporting matching mullets – with arrows sticking out of their chests. There’s no point checking their vitals.
Once we reach land, the airboat’s engine finally dies. I jump off the boat first, relieved to feel solid ground beneath me again. I rush over to the motorcycle that Amelia and my mother rode in on. It’s smashed to pieces, directly in the middle of huge tire tracks created by the swamp buggy. With Amelia and John close behind, I rush down the long dirt driveway that leads to the main road. I run faster with every step, slowly regaining more of my Amazonian powers but not quite reaching my usual speeds. I suddenly wish I drank more of the water before leaving the inlet.
We find John’s second motorcycle – the one he and I drove from the Poconos to Florida – but it’s also demolished, another victim to the buggy. Huge tire marks head off into the distance. I stop and kick the bike out of frustration. We’re on a country back road, miles from civilization and who knows how far from the Queen Clan. A dust cloud suddenly appears in the distance and a car emerges from it. I raise my bow again but John grabs me by the arm and pulls me behind a thicket of brush, out of view from the driver.
A police car drives by a minute later. I’m not afraid to face anyone at this moment though I suddenly find myself short of breath. Our run from the swamp garage wasn’t lengthy but the other two heave for air as much as I do. I keep reminding myself that our bodies still haven’t fully healed yet. For that matter, I’m not sure they ever will without another sip of the water of life, the pure kind straight from the source.
I’m frustrated by this humanly weakness, frustrated that we’re still miles from nowhere, frustrated that the only other living person around is the cop, who we don’t want to see. He turns down the driveway leading to the swamp garage; who knows how much harm the queens caused with the swamp buggy but I can only assume the cop is here to investigate. It won’t be long until he finds the pair of murdered young men. We don’t want to be around for that.
This dirt road is still so far from civilization that the swamp buggy’s tracks haven’t yet faded. They lead back toward the nearby town but I don’t need to see the tracks to know that. I already feel a slight tingling at the thought of Cassie. I