Chills & Thrills Paranormal Boxed Set (21 page)

She unbuttoned that pocket, too, pulled out the sealed
plastic bag, and lifted it. The pale light revealed no sign of water, just the
journal and the
gris-gris
. She let out a sigh.

"What're you doing?" Zach asked.

"Just, uh, just . . ." she said defensively,
shoving the bag into her pocket. "Nothing. I just wanted to be sure is
all."

Considering his state of mind, she expected a sarcastic
reminder of what she already knew, but he simply inclined his head and kept
walking.

"When the sun comes up," she said, "we'll
hunt for Papa. Maybe he made it here, too."

"If he did, he's gone," Zach repeated impatiently.
"Your pa's an expert swamper, and it didn't take him any two days to make
this trip. Whenever his business, he's already finished it."

"But his heart . . ."

Zack breathed out a weary sigh. "Liz, don't we have
enough problems without you inventing more?"

"I just want to be certain. Indulge me, okay?"

He sighed again. "Sure. Wouldn't dream of coming all
this way, fighting off alligators and raccoons, surviving a near drowning, and
not mount a wild-goose chase."

Satisfied that his expected sarcasm was an agreement, Liz
ignored his tone. They were almost to the trees, and she saw the ground beneath
them was sandy. No rocks to poke their backs, and that small serendipity lifted
her spirits.

"Things will look better in the morning," she told
Zack as they shook the residual water from the tarp, then laid it on the
ground. They collapsed together, their sighs of relief coming out in a single
sound, and she felt his hand touch hers. She slipped her fingers inside his
palm and held on.

"We better hang our wet clothes on a tree," he
said, bringing a groan from Liz.

"We can't sleep in them," he insisted. "We'll
be frozen by morning."

Every inch of her was scraped and bruised, her muscles cried
out for sleep, but she saw his logic. She sat up to strip, then realized her Sketchers
were water-soaked. Groaning again, she stood. "I'm not convinced this
makes sense," she grumbled, spilling liquid out of her shoes. "We'll
be just as cold sleeping naked."

"Not if we roll up and share body heat." He
regarded her thoughtfully for the space of a breath, then grinned. "A
delicious thought crossed my mind, but tonight you couldn't be safer if I were
a monk."

He sat up and began pulling off his clothes while she
stepped out of hers. The pale moonlight cast silken shadows on his defined
muscles, and now he did look like a monk, celestial, otherworldly. The many
aspects of this man fascinated her.

"You going to take all night?" he asked. Quickly,
she peeled off the remainder of her clothes and hung them on the tree.

Zach watched her strip, enthralled by the graceful lines of
her body, the smooth upward tilt of her small breasts, the long concave curve
between her ribs and her hips. The ethereal light gave her body a silvery
shimmer that made her appear like an angel. An angel in the midst of hell.

"Hang these up, will you?" he said gruffly,
handing over his shirt and jeans. The stirring between his legs unnerved him.
His body was spent. How could he be having this urge? He'd heard that facing
death aroused a primal need to perpetuate the species. Now he felt the truth of
it.

When she turned back for his briefs and socks, her eyes
grazed the length of his body, then hesitated.

"Get rid of those things,
cher
," he
growled, "and come down here with me."

He reached out his arms. She threw the items on the limbs,
then practically dove onto the tarp. He pulled one side of the canvas over
himself, then reached across Liz for her side. This rolled them face-to-face.
His erection pulsed between them, and he moved to taste her lips.

"You're no monk, Zach Fortier," she whispered just
as their mouths touched.

And then primal hunger exploded. He slid inside her, filled
her up, riding her as she bucked uncontrollably beneath him. This was hot and
rough and dirty, filled with desperation, and neither tried to subdue their
urgency. Eternity passed in so little time, and when fulfillment neared, Zach
had only one thought, which he whispered in her ear.

"I love you, Liz."

She moaned his name, then shattered. He drank in her
trembles, her shudders, and surrendered to his own. When the moment was over,
he held on to her, filled with emotions, filled with love. Finally she shifted
and he moved over, gathering the tarp more closely around them.

"Sleep
, cher
," he murmured, tucking her
head on his shoulder. "Sleep."

She fell off almost instantly, and as he heard her even
breathing, Zach looked up at the gloomy sky, finding that despite his
exhaustion slumber wasn't easy to come by.

They faced death, and even now Liz hadn't said she loved
him.

* * *

No birds twittered to greet Liz when she woke up. No bright
round sun beamed down to celebrate their love. In fact the gray morning and its
cold, dead silence could only be described as dreary. But as she snuggled next
to Zach's warm body, her hand resting on his chest, her head touching his
shoulder, she'd never felt so complete. Together they could face and overcome
whatever was ahead. Together they could accomplish anything. Together they
could escape this hellish island.

And then what? Go to Chicago with him? Introduce him to all
the people who thought she came from a small Pennsylvania town? Expose the
truth of who she'd been? She didn't understand why that terrified her so. What
had she been hiding when she'd reinvented her beginnings? She should be proud
of what she'd made of herself, so what forces had driven her to lie?

Zach rolled in agitation, turning his head from side to
side. A frown creased the space between his eyebrows, and his chest rose and
fell erratically. Goose bumps covered his skin, though the day was already
growing warm.

A troubled sound passed from his lips.

She touched him and softly called his name. He didn't
respond.

"Zach," she repeated.

"Unh!" He bolted upright. His eyes shot open and
he looked around wildly, clearly unsure of where he was.

"It's okay," she said. "You had a bad
dream."

He jerked his head toward her, his gaze unfocused.
"Izzy?" He stroked her face with tender reverence. "You're safe.
Thank God, you're safe."

"Yes, I'm safe," she said, smiling reassuringly.
"It was a nightmare, that's all."

"A nightmare . . . Right." He slumped forward and
wrapped his arms around his body, shivering. Spiders again, thousands, no,
millions of them, and this time they'd been attacking Liz. "Christ, it seemed
so real."

"Want to talk about it?"

"No, ma'am, I don't!" He could barely contain the
shudders. The sooner he pushed it out of mind, the better. "It's bad
enough dreaming it all the time."

"You've had this dream before?"

"More times than I want to count."

He could tell she wanted to pursue the topic, so he jumped
to his feet. "We've gotta leave here right away," he said, taking his
briefs off the tree.

"Look," Liz said unexpectedly, pointing inland.
"This island is actually a mountain."

Zach looked in the direction of her finger. The futility and
dread from his dream instantly reappeared in his waking life.

"A mountain in the middle of the swamp," he said
leadenly. "Now that's one for the books." He scooped her clothing off
the tree limbs and threw it down to her. "Get dressed right now. We're
getting out of here."

She stared at him in dismay. "Papa . . ."

"Liz . . ." He went to his knees on the tarp, and
put his hands on her shoulders, desperately needing to make her understand.
"This place . . . it's not right. The longer we stay . . ."

"The better chance we have of finding Papa." She
tilted her head, looking quite upset. But not as upset as she was going to be
if they hung around too long. Why he was so certain of that he couldn't quite
say. Or maybe he could.

"You believe the legends!" Liz abruptly said,
leaning away from him to shimmy into her overalls, buttoning them as she
talked. "That's why you're so scared. How could you swallow that crap? I'm
stunned, completely stunned."

"Be stunned all you want," he said harshly,
unwilling to waste a minute convincing her. "But take a look at the facts
first. Don't you think it's weird that in the space of a day and a half you
were attacked by animals twice, and we nearly drowned in a sudden whirlpool?
That's more disasters than I've come across in years, and I hunt crooks for a
living."

"This is a swamp."
 
She jerked on her shoes.

"Yeah, and it's where we grew up. The closest you ever
came to being bit by an alligator is the time you stepped on one by mistake. And
it just turned tail, if you remember."

"It was small and it wasn't mating—"

"Damn it all, Liz! Just finish dressing and let's get
out of here!"

Zach leaped to his feet to yank on the rest of his clothing.
Liz continued protesting, but since she was still getting dressed, he ignored
her.
 
He was sick of this hardheaded
woman. He wanted the soft pliant girl back, and though a whisper of Liz's
accusations in the cypress swamp floated through his head, he shoved it away.
This was her
life
he was thinking about. He'd lost her once and wouldn't
let it happen again.

"I'm not going, Zach. Not until I'm sure Papa isn't
here."

"Look around you! This place is a toxic dump! How would
he survive even one day?" Christ, he had to stop shouting. It only made her
more stubborn. "Look,
 
your pa knows
what he's doing. He'll get home just fine, I guarantee it. But we're
greenhorns. We can't make it in a place like this."

She regarded him for a long moment. The hazy light made her
squint, causing her to look angrier than he suspected she was. So he waited,
praying she'd abandon her fool's errand.

She got up and started folding the tarp, then turned,
hugging it against her." All right. You've convinced me, but I still don't
like it."

Her bitter acquiescence was good enough, and he'd sure as
hell take it. He stepped into his jeans, buttoning them quickly, then reached
for his jacket. The pockets were somewhat waterproofed and, God, he hoped the
unopened pack of cigarettes hadn't gotten soaked. He didn't think he could
endure the horrific trip back without them. Luck was with him, and he ripped
off the cellophane, then reached into his shirt pocket for his lighter and lit
up.

"We're in such a hurry, yet you take time to
smoke," Liz said.

"You've never been a smoker, have you,
cher
?"

"No."

"Then don't comment on things you don't
understand."

He got his pocket knife and began slicing a strong slender
branch from the cypress, holding his cigarette between his teeth. From the
corner of his eye, he saw that Liz had folded the tarp and was holding on to it
while tapping her feet.

"I could have looked for him, all the time you're
taking."

"Alone?"

He saw her glance around, and shrink right before his eyes.
He held back a grim smile, and when the branch broke free, he scrapped off the
twigs and leaves.

"Okay, we've got a pole now. Let's get hiking."

He started for the shore and heard her trudging sullenly
behind him. She'd get over it, soon as she saw her father safely back at his
cabin. She'd get over it. Unfortunately, when and if they got back, he still
had some snooping to do. Jed's death could not go unavenged, and the undeniable
evidence of Frank's connection was still buttoned away in his windbreaker. He'd
been begging for this break for years, and now he had it.

He sighed, took another puff from his cigarette, and kept on
walking. One thing he knew: If he took Liz's father in for questioning, she
wouldn't get over that one quite so easily.

He was still lost in thought when Liz let out an alarmed
squeak. His faraway thoughts slammed into the present, and as they did, he
almost emitted a cry of his own.

The pirogue was gone.

"Guess I'm getting my way, after all." Liz felt no
satisfaction in that fact.

"We pulled that thing so far up." Zach crouched in
the vacant spot and picked up a handful of dirt, then tossed it down.
"Water level didn't rise. There's no explanation."

As he stood, Liz saw an unspoken statement on his face. See?
See what this place is like? In that instant, the old wives' tales she'd heard
as a child flooded her mind. Ankouer,
le fantome noir, la maladie malefique,
gris-gris
bags, candles of blessing, spells and chants, all of it, every
one of them.

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. She refused
to believe it, refused to even think of it. But that still left the vital
question unanswered.

"What do we do now?"

Zach looked around. "I guess I could cut cypress
branches and use grass to tie them together so we could make a raft."

Liz nodded eagerly. "Okay."

He smiled with dark amusement. "Using my pen knife, it
shouldn't take more than two or three days to cut enough branches. Weaving the
grass shouldn't take much longer. Think we can last that long on two plus
bottles of water and a handful of candy?"

"Do we have other options?"

"No. But after all that work, there's no guarantee it
would float."

"We could light a big fire. Somebody might see it and
send help."

She wasn't pleased that he responded by looking at her as if
she were a child. "Nobody even thinks this place exists, Liz. Which means it's
reasonable to conclude it can't be seen from the sky."