With an answering grin, Tommy Graves stepped out from behind the slender Jacaranda tree he’d been leaning on. Johnny was once again impressed at the big man’s ability to just fade into the background with such sparse cover, and move so lightly, silently, through the crisp and crackling leaf litter.
“How the hell do you do that, John?” grinned Tommy, flicking a mock salute at him
“‘s real simple, Tommy,” chuckled Johnny, ” I jes’ listen fo’ whut’s ‘sposed to be there; where it ain’t, that where you are, make life much easier! So wassup, Tommy, them fellers stakin’ out the crossin’ like we reckoned?”
Tommy nodded, and drew Johnny closer into the shade of the trees, indicating the wall of cane -stands.
“There’s two of ’em back in there a ways looking for you, they walked right by me, talking about catching up with you, big ugly bastard with a machete, and a little skinny rat of a guy with an Ingram; dunno what he’s gonna do with it, I hear tell you couldn’t hit a guy in a phone-booth with it if you were in there with him; maybe it’s true what they say about little men and big ole guns…”
Johnny grinned. “An Ingram ain’t that big!” and Tommy grinned right back.
“That’s true, but he’s a tiny little guy; maybe that’s big to him? Anyway, BOLO, isn’t that what you cop-types say? Or should I call you ‘LEO’?”
Johnny smiled at Tommy’s gentle dig at his law-enforcement past.
“You a cruel man, Tommy Gra… back up, someone comin’!”
Tommy slipped back behind the tree and Johnny faded into the brush just as a huge, brutal-looking man carrying a wicked Latin machete with a 2-foot blade stepped out of the dense stand of cane, followed closely by a small, skinny man in jungle camo carrying a suppressed MAC-10 in a neck sling.
*
Felipe Ribeiro glared at his companion.
“So you think they will come this way, do you, Edson? You tell me this is the way they must come, and so I follow you, and there is no-one here; tell me, canalha,(little turd) what is our next move, heh? Where is that campone Bastine? Tell me, or tell this!”
He waved his razor sharp machete under the sweating, trembling little man’s chin.
“Nos vamos encontra-los, chefe, eles estao perto, eu juro (we will find them boss, I swear, they’re close!”) gabbled the little man, his prominent Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down in his rush to speak.
Felipe sneered at the frightened little man, chucking him under the chin with the point of his fearsome Latina machete.
“Find them, canalha, find them now, or I will leave this place alone, and you, no-one will miss you…”
Stuttering with fear, the smaller man turned to look back into the cane brakes, and his eyes widened.
“Chefe…!” he choked out as Tommy reached out, grabbed him by the gun’s neck-sling and yanked him face first into the trunk of the tree. Blood sprayed from his mashed nose and mouth, and he dropped, out cold, as Felipe roared and raised his machete. Johnny tucked and rolled, leaping up inside Felipe’s swing, to slam the heel of his hand into the man’s face, pulping his nose and staggering him back.
Felipe hissed and spat like a cat, swinging the giant machete in a vicious cut that Johnny hurriedly ducked to avoid. Even as he bobbed up again to close with Felipe, the huge man, moving with blurring speed, reversed his swing, crashing the thick spine of the bolo against Johnny’s head with numbing force, dazing him and knocking him to his knees. His eyes blazing with bloodlust, his face contorted with a killing rage, he closed, raising the machete to finish off Johnny, forgetting completely about Tommy in his rage.
As Felipe raised his machete, Tommy cannoned into him, body-checking him and sending him flying onto the low, flood-damaged levee bordering the bayou. Felipe staggered to his feet, teetered, and slid off the crumbling, mounded earth bank into the bayou as the weakened dirt wall sloughed away under his feet and dumped him in the shallows. Roaring like a bull, he floundered through the water, clawing at the levee-side foliage to grab a handhold, and for a second it looked like he’d succeed, but then, with a hoarse scream, he was yanked back into the water, into a churning, confused maelstrom of flailing limbs and glimpses of dead eyes, wide-open jaws, and a huge, scaled tail; Tommy watched in horror as Felipe surfaced, gasping, streaming water and draped with water-weed and his eyes wide in terror, before the huge alligator rolled over him and took him under again, just a quick glimpse of vast jaws opening and massive, razor-edged peg-teeth clamping around the big man’s head before the whole thing was over, and Felipe was gone; all that remained was a scummy froth where a man had been standing.
Tommy stared at Johnny in shock.
“Did you…?” he murmured, pointing at the frothed-up water, the only sign something had just happened, and Johnny nodded carefully through the ringing in his head.
“Gotta be fifteen-footer at least; I bin seein’ him on an’ off couple days now, we prolly in his range; he bin follerin’ us fo’ while, prolly jes’ curious-like; guess he ain’t that curious no more…”
Tommy carefully examined the welt on the side of Johnny’s head. Felipe had hit him hard enough to daze him, but there was no blood, and he’d never lost consciousness, so, after sitting for a while to let his head clear, the two men set off to the cabin and check on the girls. As they set out, after having taken the time to strip the unconscious henchman of his boots, pants, and machine-pistol, all of which went into the bayou, and wedging him in a fork of the jacaranda tree out of reach of random reptiles, the sound of shots echoed through the brakes, so quickly capped-off they sounded like a drum-roll, five in all. Johnny glanced at Tommy, who nodded back.
“Yeah, I know, those shots came from Bouvaise’ place, c’mon, the girls’ got trouble…”
*
Back in the cabin, the four women were preparing to settle down for the night. Justine had initially been sceptical about the strength of the cabin door if any of those monsters in the lake decided to come calling, but closer inspection revealed the door was made of seasoned oak planks at least an inch thick, reinforced with steel stripping and hinges, set in a sturdy steel frame; it looked like an ordinary wooden door, but a cannon wouldn’t get through those tough White Oak boards. Justine was also intrigued at the way Kelly had reacted to the threat, her obvious fighting skills, and she asked her how she’d done what she’d done. Kelly was happy to explain.
“It was Big Jon’s idea,” she started. “The first time I met Jonny I was doing something real stupid, some men had hold of me, Jonny rescued me, which is kind of how he ended-up being one of the people who looked after me. He sort of hinted pretty loudly a few times how I needed to be able to look after myself, in case he couldn’t be there, so I started karate lessons, which was fine, but then I discovered Taekwondo, and that’s when it all came together; I used to be a gymnast and cheerleader in High School, and that helped me pick up the moves and gave me the flexibility; I didn’t get the lead in ‘Demonslayer’ by accident, you know; they needed someone who could at least fake the whole ‘martial arts’ thing, and I could do it for real. Johnny made sure I kept up my training, I even got my Black Belt 3rd dan.”
Justine suddenly made the connection. After making her name playing cute, ‘sassy little sister/sassy teen girlfriend/sassy sorority girl’ parts in several blockbuster movies, and her breakthrough role as the heroine of a fantasy vampire movie franchise based on a best-selling video game, Kelly had made her television acting debut in a supernatural TV show with a huge cult following, ‘Stormbringer’, playing ‘Morrigan’, an old-time Death-Goddess banished to Earth and cursed with immortality, now living in Los Angeles and fighting demons and supernatural horrors sent against her and her friends by her old enemies. Now Justine realized the martial arts and action sequences were not camera tricks and CGI, it actually was Kelly doing those roundhouse kicks and high-kicking, spinning, cart-wheeling, athletic moves in the slinky leather outfits the fans and cosplayers loved so much. Kelly grinned at her.
“If it wasn’t for Jonny, I wouldn’t be where I am today; he gave me the push to learn what I know and how to use it, and for that alone I love him like the best big brother in the world. He’s the real deal, and all his family are just like him. When I used to come down here to the Atchafalaya with him, mostly to get away from Hollywood and Beverley Hills and the gossip and the paparazzi and all that ‘fame’ crap for a while, his family didn’t go all ‘she’s a movie-star, treat her special’ on me, that would have been just as bad. To them, I’m just that little gal Jean-Bastienne looks after, they treat me just like family, half his cousins and shirt-tail kin think I’m related anyway, so they just treat me like one of them. ”
Kelly smiled wistfully at the memories.
“Johnny’s uncles and cousins take me hunting and fishing and make me take my turn watching the stills just like everyone else, his aunties have me cooking, cleaning, and looking after the kids, I eat the best food in the world, cooked by the best cooks in the world, and when Lubin or Audhemar’s boys take me off in the swamps and out on the lakes for a little gator-hooking, catfishing, or frogging, it’s because they think of me like family, too, and they’re teaching me stuff they think I should know. His folks are real, he’s real, and I’m glad I’m part of his family.”
Justine glowed at the description of her Jonny, and once again noted the love and hero-worship in Kelly’s voice whenever she mentioned Jonny’s name. Not wanting to explore that too deeply, she changed the subject.
“Kelly, where are you from? I can’t place your accent, you sound Southern, then you don’t, there’s no East Coast or New England, and you really don’t sound like you do in the movies, so…?
Kelly chewed her lip thoughtfully, before smiling.