“ You’re gonna love it. You go real fast and your tube spins around and it shoots you into the river below the dam and you get all wet and everything.”
He wanted to reach out, grab the boy and shove him under the water till he turned blue, but he held himself in check.
“ Get ready,” the boy said.
Storm felt the current as it picked up speed. He looked ahead and saw that the river was dammed and that part of the running current was funneled down a man-made chute that appeared to be sucking in the shouting, yelling, happy tubers. They were having fun and so was he. He clutched onto his tube and followed the summer revelers into the chute.
The chute was a collaboration of man and nature, an unpredictable waterslide that whipped around the dam, depositing the tubers in a small lake below. The smooth flowing river, when compressed into the funnel, churned and foamed, spinning the tubes and spraying the riders. Children loved it. The college kids loved it. And Storm loved it.
He started paddling to shore the instant he shot out of the funnel. It had been years since he’d had this much fun. He reached the bank and trudged out of the water, carrying his tube behind. He spotted a lifeguard and asked. “How do I get back?”
“ The bus leaves from over there every fifteen minutes. It’s a free ride if you parked at the landing.”
Storm’s eyes followed the man’s pointing finger to a group of people in wet bathing suits stuffing their oversized tubes into the back of a blue painted school bus.
“ That thing still runs?”
“ Since 1963.”
He slung his tube onto his shoulder and walked over to the bus. He handed the tube to a tanned youth who stuffed it into the back, then he got into line behind a group of young people. By the time he got on board there was standing room only, but he was still able to search out and find Morrow and his friends seated toward the back of the bus, near the tubes that were piled to the ceiling. They were involved in a conversation that had them all laughing.
Their laughter stiffened his resolve.
Back at the landing, he watched as Morrow’s group headed back for another ride down the river. When they were out of sight, he carried his tube to the car. The hot West Texas sun had him dry by the time he got the tube in the back.
He drove to the motel, stopped at the desk and asked the rouge-faced woman if she knew where he could get a strong bag. She sent him to the kitchen and the cook gave him a gunny sack. Then he went to the dead kid’s room, stuffed the scuba gear into the sack and hauled it out to his car. He sang along with the radio on his way back to the landing.
He made his way to the river landing with the gunny sack over his left shoulder and his right arm through the tube. Once in the water, he set the sack in his lap and floated down river. When he reached the pool where the fishermen were on his first run, he was pleased to see that they were gone. He paddled into the pool and continued on under the overhanging trees to the riverbank. He waded out of the river, squeezing between the copious bushes, where he concealed his tube and donned the scuba gear.
He lowered himself back into about two feet of water, hidden by tree and bush, and waited. Forty-five minutes later his patience was rewarded. He spied Morrow and his friends floating toward him. The two girls with their red and blond hair acting as beacons made them easy to single out. Like a shark, he lowered himself into the water.
Three separate groups of river runners passed him, unaware of the danger he represented. He swam out to the center of the river as the two girls grew closer. The blond passed three feet overhead and he thought of her cover-girl looks as he eyed her legs through the murky water. He let her float on by, waiting, a still predator set on his kill.
The redhead floated over next, kicking her feet and splashing water with her hands. Storm imagined her chewing on her hair and clowning around. Morrow’s friend Ronny floated over with his belly down, paddling furiously with his arms. Storm watched, worried that the boy might see him, since he was floating face down, but the boy was more interested in catching up with the girls than checking out what lay below.
Then came Danny Morrow, sitting in his tube, buttocks hanging down through the middle, arms and legs dangling over the sides. Here was a man without a care in the world, Storm thought, just floating down the river, watching the sky go by.
Storm swam under Morrow’s tube, coming to the surface behind him. He reached out of the water, clamping a strong right hand over Morrow’s mouth and with his left, he brought the Bowie knife up through the center of the tube, up between the young man’s legs, driving it point first into his belly. Then he dragged the head below the water and held it there, to make sure.
He held on to the body as it went through the dancing spasm of death and when it was still, he pulled the tube over to the calm water. He felt a slight twinge of guilt, but he shrugged it aside, and brought the knife around the dead man’s neck, pulling it through, severing the head.
Then he swam back to his hiding place, removing the weight belt, regulator and tank on the way, letting them drop to the bottom of the river. He left the mask and fins at the river’s edge, grabbed his tube and went back into the water, heading for the chute. He gave the tube with the headless body a slight shove as he passed.
He entered the current behind a gaggle of giggling girls from Texas A amp; M. He listened to their banter and smiled when the giggles turned to screams of delight and anticipation as they neared the chute.
He followed them into the churning water, holding fast to his tube as it spun in the spray. He came out of the chute paddling with the current, directing himself to the opposite bank. He dragged the tube out of the water and made his way to the blue bus. He shoved his tube into the back and climbed on board. He took his seat as the bus started and didn’t look back when the screaming began.
Chapter Nine
Rick woke on the living room sofa to the smell of coffee. He thought about Christina upstairs and he wondered if last night had been a dream.
“ Morning, Uncle Rick,” Torry said.
“ Yeah, morning,” Swell echoed.
“ Morning.” He yawned.
“ We gonna do something today?”
“ Does your mother have anything planned?”
“ Yeah, she’s gone flying.” Torry smirked. “She said you’d entertain us today.”
“ She’s gone flying?”
“ Yeah, on Sunday some people go to church, Mom goes flying.”
“ Every Sunday?”
“ Never misses, thanks to you.”
“ Thanks to me?”
“ Well, you sold her the plane.”
“ How long does she stay in the air?”
“ All day. She says it clears her head.”
“ Yeah. She needs the time to herself, at least that’s what she says,” Torry added.
“ I had no idea.”
“ There’s a lot about Mom you probably don’t know,” Swell said.
“ Like what?”
“ Like she’s in love with you.”
“ Come on.”
“ No, really, she is,” Torry spoke up.
The girl’s words tore at his heart. He thought of Christina as a special person and he loved the twins. They were the children Ann and he couldn’t have.
“ We’re just very good friends.”
“ Come on Uncle Rick, how can you say that?” Torry said.
“ Yeah, especially after last night,” Swell said with a knowing smile.
“ Look, Mom’s back,” Torry said, looking out through the living room window. “Guess she changed her mind about flying.”
“ Went to the airport and came right back,” her twin said.
“ We should go to the mall.”
“ We should go now.”
“ Right.”
The girls grabbed their purses and headed for the front door in time to greet their mother.
“ Hi, Mom,” they said as one.
“ Where are you off to?”
“ The mall.” Torry held out her hand.