Chapter 7 -Escape-
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Johanna swore loudly, and Juan winced. He was getting tired of her griping, but as long as she had that shotgun, he felt it was safer not to voice his opinion. Billy tugged, and Juan shoved, and between them they maneuvered the boat into the water.
"Can't you idiots do anything right? We've lost almost an hour while you fiddled around wit' dis boat!"
She climbed past her brother and plopped into the pointed bow of the boat. Billy sighed, and followed, seating himself in the center, leaving Juan to settle in the stern. Billy fitted the oars expertly into the locks, and began to row, allowing the current to carry them downstream. Juan looked out at the shore; bored, and certain they were wasting their time.
"If the turtle fell in the river, who knows where it ended up," grumbled Billy.
"If it could swim, it'd crawl out on shore somewhere, idiot," said Johanna.
"If it could still swim, we're dead meat," muttered Juan. "I'm tellin' ya, those turtles are bad news."
Johanna patted her gun fondly. "Not as bad as a Roberts," she said.
I believe that, thought Juan. I hope Mamma isn't worried. And that Maria got on the bus ok this morning. I should've been there to walk her down to the stop. Mamma shouldn't have to do it, not with her heart so bad these days. Dis turtle better be worth all the trouble.
He was so lost in his thoughts he nearly missed the marks on the shore. "What's that?" he pointed. Billy expertly steered the little boat into the bank. It rocked as Johanna scrambled out, not bothering to secure the boat. Billy climbed more carefully after her, pulling the boat up onto shore so it wouldn't drift back into the river. Juan crawled forward and stepped out, glad to find his feet once again on solid ground.
The three of them stared at the drag marks in the soft sandy shore where something large had obviously drug itself up out of the water and paused there.
"Lookit these tracks," said Johanna, a note of triumph in her voice. "No natural critter made these. Is this from yer turtle, Billy? Looks like it went inta da swamp."
Juan wrinkled his nose at the stench assaulting his nostrils, but Billy and Johanna scurried eagerly forward as if they didn't notice it.
"Da tracks lead right in, look. He went into the swamp. Let's go." Billy actually sounded excited at the prospect.
"You are both loco. I'm not goin' inta no swamp after one a those turtles!" Juan stood with his feet planted firmly, glaring.
"Have it your way. Stay here and guard da boat. Mebbe it's still in the river," sneered Johanna. Juan looked nervously over his shoulder. He had two choices; follow Billy and Johanna into the swamp, or stay by the river and risk having the turtle-creature surface while he was here alone. He shivered.
"All right. I'm coming," he said. With one last glance toward the river, he turned and followed the others into the swamp.
***
Raphael woke with a start. Morning was shining clearly through the window, bathing his face in warmth and forcing his eyes open with its piercing brilliance. He sat up, groaning.
Shell… my leg still hurts. Below the familiar ache of healing muscle was a sharper, deeper pain, which would have worried him if he had taken a moment to think about it. The cabin was quiet. Raphael looked around, feeling a chill despite the warm sun shining on his plastron. His eyes landed on the empty bed and the crumpled blanket, and he swore. The window was open. Raph stood up, ignoring the pain in his leg. He quickly climbed the ladder, his narrowed eyes scanning the loft to see if the kid was hiding up there. Nothing.
Aw, shell. Mebbe I should just get outta here. But I can't travel very far or fast yet, an' if da kid gets ta his brother, they'll be huntin' me. I can't let him get to his brother and his friend. No, I've gotta stop him.
Raph moved the cot aside, grabbed his walking stick and a length of rope and limped outside. Moving to the back of the cabin, he searched under the window until he saw the boy's distinct footprints in the dirt. The boy's trail led off into the woods. Raph began tracking him.
Half an hour later, Raphael stopped, listening. The kid was good; he'd give him that. He was leaving very little trail to follow, and he moved almost as silently as Raph himself through the woods. Only the occasional rustle of clothing and squeak of his sneakers against a rock gave away his presence. If Raph's leg hadn't been paining him so, he might have been impressed with the boy's skill as a woodsman.
Got to make this quick. I don't think I can catch him if he runs, thought Raph. He moved forward, silent on the pine needle carpet. The boy had paused near a trickling stream.
Probably runs into the one I drank from, thought Raph. He watched as the boy leaned down, cupping his hand to catch the cool water and sucking it up greedily. Now, while you're distracted… Raphael slipped up behind the boy, and pounced.
The woods were filled with a keening cry. "No, Pa,… I was comin' home! Please, Pa, lemme go!" The boy's pitiful wails twisted Raph's heart.
"Kid, it's just me. Take it easy," he growled.
The kid struggled harder, thrashing. "No! Lemme go!" he cried.
"Hush, now, Kid, or I'll hafta gag ya. Why'd ya run away? You lookin' fer yer brother so he can have me stuffed an' mounted ta hang on da wall?" Raphael staggered to his feet, keeping a firm grip on the boy's arm. He spun him around. Cameron ducked, throwing up his hands to shield his face. Raph swore. Geez, I ain't gonna hit ya. The boy shrank away, but Raph kept a tight hold on his arm.
"Yer hurtin' me," the kid whimpered.
"Ya shouldn'ta run away, Cameron," said Raph gruffly, but he loosened his grip slightly. With his free hand, he began unwinding the length of rope.
Cameron went pale. "Wh…wh…what're ya gonna do?" he stammered.
"Make sure ya don't take off on me ag'in," Raph told him. He wound the rope firmly around the boy's waist. "Now, hold still." Cameron stood like a statue as Raphael knotted the rope. His shoulders slumped with defeat. Raphael gave the rope a tug.
"Come on, Kid. We got a long walk back."
"Yes, Sir," the boy whispered. He stumbled forward, following Raphael like a beaten dog.
"I tol' ya, Kid, da name's Raphael." said Raph, deliberately gentling his tone. The boy didn't answer. Raphael sighed. "Ya didn't really t'ink I'd let ya run off ta yer brother, did ya? Ya t'ink I want ta be some guy's trophy?"
Cameron sniffed. "I wasn't runnin' ta Billy," he said. "I was goin' deeper inta da woods, ta hide. I… I just wanted ta get away."
"Why, Kid? I said I wouldn't hurt ya."
A sniffle was Raph's only answer.
Well, I guess huntin' him down an' jumpin' on him like dat wasn't the way to gain his trust. But I don't need 'im ta like me. I just need 'im ta stay put fer a couple days so I can rest up an' let this leg heal. After that we can both go our separate ways. In da meantime, I've gotta find a way to keep him from sneakin' off like dis.
"What have I gotta do ta keep ya from runnin' away again?" asked Raph, half to himself. The rope jerked so suddenly, Raph nearly lost his footing. "Hey!" He spun to face the boy, who had stopped in his tracks.
"Ya said… ya said ya'd let me go," stammered Cameron. "I… I won't run off no more, honest!" he whimpered, backing away as Raph glared at him. The rope kept him from going far, and he tripped, falling backward. Raphael grunted, keeping his balance with an effort. He walked back to the shivering boy, and reached down. Cameron scrambled back, crab-like. Raphael sighed. He shortened the rope until Cameron couldn't back away from him any further. He met the boy's blue eyes, and held out his hand. Cameron flinched, staring.
"Take my hand, kid," grated Raph, holding hard to his patience. Slowly, trembling, the boy reached up and let Raphael grasp his wrist. He hauled the kid to his feet.
"Listen, Cameron. I know yer scared," said Raph. The boy stared at him with those huge blue eyes. "I gotta little brother, too. His name's Mikey." Raphael's eyes filled with unexpected tears, and he blinked them angrily away, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. "I'd… I'd take da shell right offa anybody who hurt my little bro. I ain't gonna hurt ya, ok? I just need ya ta stick around the cabin for a couple days. When I go, you can go."
"How da I know ya'll let me go?" quavered the boy, staring suspiciously at him.
"I'm a ninja, Cameron. I'll give ya my word of honor."
"A… ninja?"
"Yeah."
"I… I don't know what dat is."
"Oh." Raphael sighed. "Well, ya'll just hafta trust me. Come on." This time the boy walked along.
It took them longer to get back to the cabin than it had taken Raph to find the boy. Raph stumbled as they came into the clearing, nearly falling. He recovered, and made his way to the cabin, with Cameron trailing along behind him.
"Yer leg's bleedin'," blurted Cameron.
Raph grimaced. "Yeah, I know," he growled.
"What'd ya do ta it?"
"I fell on somt'in sharp, Kid. I had it stitched up, but chasin' aroun' da woods after ya didn't help it feel better, ya know?"
"Sorry."
"Not as sorry as ya'll be if ya try somethin' like dat again." Raphael knelt, knotting the rope to the bed frame. He tried not to look at the big blue eyes staring at him from out of a pale face. He walked slowly to the cot, and sat down. He lay back on his shell with a groan.
"Are ya ok?"
"No, Kid. Now be quiet and let me rest."
The boy was quiet for all of ten minutes. Raphael was cursing silently as the pain in his leg stabbed. Sweat trickled down his neck. He felt hot and cold at the same time, chills making his teeth rattle while he sweated with the heat.
"Raphael?"
"What, Kid?" He answered through gritted teeth.
"I can make ya somethin' fer da pain."
"I'm fine, Kid."
"I know dis plant, if ya boil it, an' drink it like tea, it'll help."
"I said I'm fine."
The kid lay down on the bed with a frustrated little sigh. "It would help."
"Shut up."
Raphael heard the bed squeak. He didn't bother to open his eyes to see what Cameron was doing. He knew those knots were too tight, the kid wouldn't get loose. Sweat continued to trickle down his neck, pooling in the crevice where his plastron met his neck in a chilly little pool.
Shell, Donny, I wish ya were here. I guess I'm not a good doctor after all.
Raphael heard movement from near the bed.
"Can't ya be quiet over there, Kid?"
"Yeah. Sorry." Shuffle, shuffle.
"I'm warnin' ya, Kid…"
Silence. Raphael drifted. The cot was cool under him, not quite as comfortable as his hammock at home, but at the moment, nothing seemed to matter. Raphael was drifting… floating. He never heard the boy getting up from the bed, was unaware as he stretched his fingers to reach the long hunting knife from the cupboard, and with slow, careful movements, began to slice through the rope that tethered him.
It was several hours before Raphael woke again. His amber eyes flickered open as he felt something cool brush across his forehead. He smelled a strong, herbal scent. "…Donny?" he whispered. His throat felt scratchy, dry.
"Yer ok now," soothed an unfamiliar voice. "Ya got a touch o' swamp fever is all. I… I ain't gonna leave ya." The herbal mixture's scent was soothing, and the touch on his forehead so cool and gentle, Raph's eyes slid closed again.
The boy kneeling beside him breathed a sigh of relief, and took his hand away from the hunting knife he'd been holding ready, out of sight on the floor. He bathed the turtle's burning forehead with the rag. The thing hadn't hurt him for running off, had even spoken kindly to him. The least he could do was save its life before he made his escape.
