Chapter 21
For both Sam and Faith, walking through the cemetery was like walking through a macabre fun house. Instead of simple names and dates, many graves had epitaphs that read like love letters from their loved ones. Tombstones came in multiple shapes and sizes, from a simple granite block to an ornate porcelain conch shell. Gifts of money, beads and small bottles of liquor adorned the stones; all kept safe under the watchful eyes of the multiple lizards and iguanas living beneath the structures.
As they made their way through the graveyard, the conversation that had gotten so heavy became a distant memory to both of them with too much to see and comment on around them.
"Oooh! I like this one! 'Dedicated Fan of Julio Iglesias'". Faith read aloud.
"Nice. Don't think I'd want something like that on my tombstone though."
"Come on, 'Here lies Samuel Phineas Drake. A devoted fan of Depeche Mode'," Faith proclaimed with her hand raised high in the air for emphasis.
Sam turned to face Faith, leaning back against a hearty slab of granite stone.
"Alright. First of all, my middle name is not Phineas, no matter how much you want it to be."
"What is it then?" She pried.
"Not Phineas," He snorted.
"You're no fun," Faith said with a playfully phony pout.
"Second," Sam continued, ignoring her retort. "Depeche Mode? Really? Depeche Mode?"
"What's wrong with Depeche Mode?"
"Nothin'! Just that it's Depeche Mode. Who wants them as part of their epitaph?" He remarked while they began to walk further through the cemetery. They turned and passed a small mausoleum made of red bricks shaded by massive banyon trees and strangler figs. Faith glanced between the ropey roots of the tree only to be met with the stare of a stern, point face. The small man with the white shoes stared back at her. Faith's breath caught, making her clench her teeth. She scurried around the side of the mini brick building clear of the trees only to find nothing but more headstones.
"Now this one here, this is more my style," Sam said, oblivious to everything around him.
"What?" The words he had said not registering with her.
"'I told you I was sick.'" Sam said and gave a little chuckle.
"Uh huh, sounds like you," Faith said, her voice hollow as she stared off into the distance, looking for any sign of the man she was almost sure was following them.
"Remember the Maine!" Sam proclaimed as he strode forward towards a sectioned off part of the property.
Inside a small gated section stood almost a hundred simple white grave markers, clustered tightly together while a sizeable concrete aisle ran through the center of the group, separating them into two sides. In the middle stood a towering limestone statue of a sailor with an oar in hand, his other hand raised to his eyes as if to forever shield the sun while he scanned the horizon for enemy ships. Beneath the statue was a plaque, detailing the tragic story of the USS Maine and its doomed sailors that were laid to rest in Key West.
Faith caught up to Sam, who stood at the base of the statue, his eyes quickly reading the copper plaque affixed to it.
"February 15th, 1898. Remember the Maine," Sam repeated.
"I don't recall being told to remember the Maine. I was told to remember the Alamo though."
"She sunk in Havana Harbor and it helped to start the Spanish-American War," Sam told her.
"I didn't think US History was your strong suit. I thought that was more your brother's thing," Faith questioned, looking up at him.
"It is more Nathans thing but sunken ships though, that I pay attention to."
"Let me guess, especially the ones carrying gold?" She said with a raised eyebrow.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
Faith chuckled to herself and meandered around the graves, checking each engraving for the 3rd Artillery. Nothing. They had reached the end of the road. Not a single inscription about the elusive military troupe. Faith met Sam back at the statue. She stared out into the distance, scanning the landscape with a frustrated, sour look on her face. For the first time, she was starting to appreciate Sam's desire for a simple map with a big, red X on it.
"Can I see the map again?" She asked Sam with a deep sigh.
Sam, busy reading the plaque on the statue still, took the now crumpled map from his back pocket and handed it to Faith. Faith shook it open, smoothing it against the side of the pillared statue. Orientating herself towards the rest of the property, she ran her finger over the slim lines on the map, which indicated the access roads around the cemetery. As she ran her finger over each part, her eyes flicked up to the graves, looking out to verify and remember if they had searched that area.
"Jewish section," She muttered to herself, gazing out towards the right. She recognized the far gray fence that they had walked through earlier adorned with the Star of David.
Faith caught a glimpse of movement out of her left eye. So many lizards here! She thought to herself. Turning to see how big the iguana was, she instead caught the final stride of a loose tan pant leg and a familiar white penny loafer before it quickly disappeared behind a nearby family size, grey mausoleum. Her stomach churned.
Ok, that's it. I gotta say something. I don't care if it makes me look paranoid.
"Hey Sam," She prompted him calmly, folding back up the map in her hands.
"Yeah?"
"I think we're being followed."
"Yeah, I saw them."
Faith's head snapped towards him.
"Them?" She questioned with wide eyes.
"Two of them. The Don Johnson wannabe who's been tailing us since we got here and then the squirrely lookin' guy with the really big ears hanging around the front gate. Jasper might wanna think about hiring people that blend in a little better because these ding dongs-," Sam ended his thought with a whistle and an eye-roll before he stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit it quickly.
"How'd you know?"
"I've been in this life long enough to know what the bad guys look like. Now c'mon."
Sam gently turned Faith by the shoulder and led her out of the section for the USS Maine Memorial. Faith walked next to Sam towards the back section of the cemetery, an older part with more family owned large crypts. Her jaw was clenched tight, her spine rigid as she tried desperately to resist the urge to look wildly around her.
"What the hell are we gonna do?" Faith whispered furiously.
"Well, first thing sweetheart is you're gonna have to calm the hell down. Second thing, I'm gonna finish my smoke and then we're gonna get out of here, ok?" Sam said with a calm, confident grin while a lazy jet of smoke escaped out his nostrils.
"Yeah? How?"
"Trust me; I've gotten out of tighter spots than this."
Sam had kept tabs on the two men since they had entered the cemetery, both of them stuck out like sore thumbs, one following too close while the other lagged too far behind. Also, not to mention their non-touristy clothes and none too subtle communicative glances to one another. He was confident that he could get both Faith and himself out of the cemetery and lose them no problem, but the only wildcard for Sam was if either one of Jasper's goons was stupid enough to pull a gun in a place with other people.
Sam steered the two of them down a small road that cut through one of the more significant sections of the graveyard. As the small mausoleum where Mr. Pennyloafer was hiding got closer, Faith felt herself begin to panic.
"Sam, please tell me you have a plan."
He flicked the butt of his cigarette in the dusty indent of the road in front of them, making sure to step on it as they stalked ahead.
"Here's what we're gonna do." He chanced a glance back towards the front gate to see that the man with large ears, the one he had been calling Dumbo in his head, had started to make his way towards them to try and pin Sam and Faith between the two goons.
"When we hit the crypt he's hiding behind, run. You take off towards those gravestones up ahead and find a hiding place. I'll take care of these bozos."
The distance between the two of them and the mausoleum grew shorter with each step. A couple of paces before, Sam gently squeezed Faith's shoulder and shot her a look of confidence. Faith nodded and gave him a couple of quick taps on his side with the back of her hand for reassurance before she took off running.
As soon as Faith put her part of the plan in motion, Sam climbed atop the sturdy granite stone next to him, leaped one foot onto the shoulder of the nearby statue of the Virgin Mary and pushed off. He jumped and clutched onto the edge of the little gray building.
"Blessed Mother, please don't send me to hell for that one," He muttered regretfully under his breath as he grunted and pulled himself quickly to his feet on the roof.
Sam ran across the top of the building. He took a split second to see Faith running ahead before he launched himself off. Sam landed on top of the man in the white suit who had just started to give chase. Tackling him, he fell with a knee in the middle of the man's back, knocking the wind out of him as he hit the ground stomach first with a loud 'oof.' Roughly, Sam turned him over and gave him a quick right jab to the face, making sure that he would stay down.
Picking himself up, Sam turned just in time to see the other goon swing and land two quick punches to his gut. He doubled over, letting a wheezy swear escape his lips. Dumbo grabbed Sam by the back of the head and slammed his knee into Sam's face, driving his kneecap into his eyebrow. Sam sunk to his knees as edges of the world began to blur. Not bothering to check on his friend in the white shoes, the man with the big ears took off after Faith.
Faith found herself in an older section of the cemetery where the graves were above ground and double, even triple stacked in long rows that looked like crazy towers of white LEGOS. With the tombs packed close together, she knew this would be the best spot to hide and lose them. Breathing heavily, she took a quick look behind her. The man in white shoes and Sam were on the ground while another quickly approached. Breathing heavily, Faith squeezed herself between the two large white structures on her right. C'mon, think thin, think thin, she chanted in her head as she shimmied her body through the gap. The back of her jeans and the front of her shirt scraping against the close walls. Emerging on the other end, she backed up flat against the side. Listening quietly, Faith heard the sound of heels being scuffed along the ground, the sound getting closer. She turned and peaked around the corner, and waited for her bad guy to come into sight. She had formulated a quick plan to double back around him and take off in the other direction at the first glimpse of him. Her throat closed and her mind went blank when she saw a handgun gripped between Dumbo's hands just before she saw his face walk by the small crevice.
Faith took careful, silent steps as she backed away slowly down the narrow corridor behind her. Despite what had happened in Illinois, she really hadn't thought of the bad guys having guns. Not here in a public place.
As she tried to talk the sudden terror out of her brain, a large hand came around the side of her head and clamped over her mouth and stifled a startled yelp. Another pushed her shoulder back into the side of the column of tombs. Faith's back hit the hard surface while her eyes flicked up in anger as she prepared to scream. It died before it began when she found her face inches away from Sams.
Sam quickly took his hand off her shoulder and held it up defensively; he remembered how she had reacted when he did it the first time the night they met. He waited a moment until he was sure she had her wits about her before he removed his hand from her mouth.
"You alright?" He asked as quietly as possible.
"He's got a gun," Faith breathed shakily.
"Shit." There was his wild card.
"Sam."
"Yeah?"
"Sam." She repeated his name while she stared straight ahead, her mouth slightly open as she breathed heavily.
"What?" He urged.
"Look," She said, nodding her head towards the gravestones across the way.
Three iguanas sunned themselves on the crumbling, cracked covers of two side-by-side in-ground plots. The largest lizard, near the base of the two headstones, sauntered off into the grass, which let Sam clearly read the markers. ROBERT WORTHINGTON. SERGEANT. 3RD ARTILLERY 1862 – 1895. STEPHEN MCCALEB. PRIVATE. 3RD ARTILLERY 1881 – 1904.
"Son of a bitch," Sam said with a small grin, rubbing his jaw with his hand.
"You know what this means?" Faith asked in a low voice, despite the sparkle of excitement in her eyes.
"We're in the right place," They said in unison, sounding happier than they both had been in days, despite having to whisper for fear of being shot.
That gnawing feeling had been festering inside both of them since they arrived. That question that gained strength like a brewing storm in their minds every time they went to a new location on the island, just to come up empty-handed at the end of each day:
What if Remy was wrong and we're looking in the wrong place?
This was their first definitive proof. These graves were their answer. Remy was right.
"Then let's get the hell out of here so we can find our treasure. Go in here," He motioned with his head to another one of the narrow gaps next to them. Faith slid in between the two structures while Sam followed in close behind her. Faith peered out from her side, finding no one. She turned her head to tell Sam what she had seen when Sam saw the sight of the gun come into his view beside him. Reacting, he grabbed the arm and thrust himself out of the gap, slamming Dumbo's wrist against the far edge of the pillar. Sam felt a hollow pop in the man's wrist, causing the goon to cry out in pain. His fingers slid open, letting the gun drop. Faith scooted out from the crevice in the wall and saw the gun on the ground. I hate these fucking things, she thought. Instinctively, she picked it up and pitched it as hard as she could over the nearby fence and into the street. By this point, Dumbo had regained his faculties. He blocked an incoming overhead blow by Sam and kicked him squarely in the jewels, causing Sam to sink to his knees immediately. Deciding to take advantage of his low blow, the big-eared goon socked him in the jaw and splayed him out on the grass.
Faith knew she should be running, but she knew at heart that she couldn't leave Sam like this. A kick in the nuts was a vile, underhanded and depraved tactic in her book. She looked around quickly and saw a large porcelain vase sitting at the base of a nearly sand colored gravestone. A large bundle of lilies rested inside, which Faith removed hastily and set down on the base of the grave.
"I'm so sorry Ma'am," she said as she grabbed the large lip of the vase with two hands and swung it in a wide arc. It crashed against one of the large ears on the side of Dumbo's head before he could land another shot on a prone Sam. The vase cracked and left the goon knocked out cold. Faith pushed him quickly off the top of Sam. Offering her hand, Sam took it gratefully; the shots to the body had already begun to take their toll. With Faith next to him to steady him if need be, Sam started to walk as quickly as he could towards the side exit of the cemetery.
Almost at the large off-kilter black gate, Faith scanned the area behind her. She saw where Sam had initially taken down the man with the white shoes. The spot where Sam had left him unconscious was now just a patch of depressed, bent grass.
"Oh fuck, where'd the other guy go?" Faith asked as she scanned the surrounding graves frantically.
Both heard a slight whistle, followed by the resounding TANG of a bullet ricocheting off the fence a mere five feet away.
"Shit! Move!" Sam yelled, giving Faith a push forward to get her running while he followed, ignoring the pain in his groin. They darted through the gate and down the nearby side street, zig-zagging between cars and trees, trying to not leave an open shot for the asshole following him. Faith could hear the slap of the soles of his shoes on the pavement behind them but gratefully not the sound of a gunshot, yet. Sam kept up with Faith, steering her down side streets and through alleys.
"I can't keep running Sam!" Faith huffed, barely able to get the words out.
"Yes, you can!" "I wasn't made for running!" She yelled. Faith looked to her right. The water's edge, not two blocks away. An idea clicked in her head.
"Follow me!" She ordered Sam.
Finding a new burst of speed, she veered right down a small alleyway for the local trash trucks. With Sam right behind her, she used the large garbage bins and piles of boxes left to the sides of the alley for cover. Quickly, she turned right down a driveway. She took a fleeting glance to get a position on their bad guy, who looked to be a worse runner than she was as he was lagging a whole block behind them. Faith made a sudden left towards the ocean. A large ultra-modern hotel sat on its shore with a large parking lot in front of it and Faith happened to know what was on the other side of it.
"Straight off the end! Under the boardwalk!" Faith yelled.
"What?" Sam huffed, right behind her but he was rapidly losing steam, the pain in his groin radiating down his legs and up into his stomach.
Faith gave it her all, the last bit of power she had as she zipped up between the rows of parked cars. She hit the boardwalk that encircled that side of the island for almost a mile.
After three quick strides, Faith leapt off the edge of the boardwalk, held her nose, and she jumped into the warm, salty water. Underneath, she felt the water around her move suddenly as Sam plunged into the ocean next to her. Both made their way underwater and resurfaced underneath the solid wooden boardwalk above them. Sam and Faith tread water quietly as they watched between the slats. A familiar pair of white penny loafers appeared above their heads. Faith held onto Sam's shoulder and one of the supporting beams, making sure the wake from the nearby boats didn't bob her out into view. Sam watched as their goon looked around wild-eyed. He scanned the water and the faces of the droves of tourists that walked the path daily. It was a Key West highlight of the island after all; A point Faith found during her longtime research.
Frustrated, white shoes turned and stalked back through the parking lot and resorted to sniffing around the cars for Sam and Faith.
Underneath the promenade, Sam let out a chuckle of relief. His thoughts turned towards Faith. He wasn't sure what to say to her. Randomly jumping in water to get away from bad guys was a move he knew well and it seemed to just come second nature to her. She could think on the fly, not to mention finding evidence of the Third Artillery. After a few moments of thinking, Sam decided he wasn't going to say anything, but he knew what he was going to do.
Sorry, Sully. Like I said, I do things my way.
As Sam moved in close to kiss Faith, her hands shot up out of the water, splashing them both with salty sea water.
"Forts!" She exclaimed.
"What?" Sam shook his head incredulously as she caught him off guard.
"Forts! The Third Artillery! They gotta be stationed around here somewhere! Why didn't we do this before? We need to check out the forts!" Faith said excitedly with a large smile on her face, making Sam grin with her renewed enthusiasm.
"You're something else; you know that right?"
"Yeah, I know. But forts Sam! Forts!"
"Forts, tomorrow. Hotel and beer, now."
"You know, if we float that way for about half a mile, we'll end up across the street from our hotel," Faith said, pointing behind Sam.
"Why would we do that?"
"Honestly? Because floating is much easier than walking right now."
"Perfect cause my balls are killing me," Sam groaned as he began to bob his way down the shoreline, making Faith chuckle while she drifted through water next to him.