Bonded by Accident

  “Brandi? Brandi, I got the police coming,” called Bud’s voice from a few feet behind her.

  “Did they say they could bring bloodhounds?” Brandi backed out of the swampy thicket and ran back to her stepfather hopefully.

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. They said they only bring out the dogs if the situation warrants it. And they won’t know if it does until an officer comes out and evaluates the scene.”

  “Well when are they coming?” Brandi demanded. “My God, she might have been gone for hours! You said Mom came in at four and if Emmie left right after she came in—”

  “I’m sorry!” Ida-Mae wailed. “Oh Brandi, I’m just so sorry! You know I wouldn’t do it on purpose. I love that little girl!”

  “Be quiet, Mom!” Brandi snapped again and turned back to Bud. “Are they on their way? Do you know?”

  “They said they were.” But Bud’s thin voice sounded doubtful. The local police were reluctant to come out to this part of town and it usually took them a good long time to respond to any calls from the trailer park.

  “I did find this.” Bud held out a long, sharp knife with a short handle. “My old machete,” he explained as he handed it to Brandi. “Used to use it to get firewood when we went camping. It’s still pretty sharp—should be able to cut through the trees and creepers with it.”

  “All right.” Brandi took a firm grip on the worn wooden handle. “I’m going back in the woods—I just wish I knew for sure that’s where she went!” She felt panic rise up in her and tried to tamp it back down.

  “At least she’s got Charlie with her,” Bud offered faintly. “He should be some protection.”

  “If he really went with her and didn’t just run off in the woods,” Brandi snapped. She didn’t have much faith in the Boxer-Lab mix. He still acted like a puppy half the time. She thought it was more likely that he would have led Emmie into the woods and then left her than that he was doing the faithful, protective dog routine.

  “I’m going in,” she said again, gripping the machete harder.

  “No you’re not—I am,” a deep familiar voice said behind her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Brandi whirled around.

  “Slade? What are you doing here?”

  “Helping you find your daughter,” he growled. “And I’m in no mood for a fight. Just give me something she always wears so I can get her scent.”

  Bud and Ida-Mae were still standing there, staring at the huge Kindred with bug eyes so Brandi ran into the house and grabbed her daughter’s little pink jacket. For a moment tears filled her eyes and she wanted to crush the jacket to her.

  Oh Emmie, please come back to me!

  But she was afraid she might obscure her daughter’s scent with her own. So she just held it by the hood and ran back outside to hand it to Slade.

  The big Kindred took the little jacket and sniffed it deeply, closing his eyes and frowning as though he was analyzing and memorizing the smell. Then he looked at Brandi.

  “Okay, tell me what you know. Where does the trail start?”

  “Here—at least I think so.” Brandi ran over to the place where Emmie’s small tracks mingled with Charlie’s. “See? I think she must have gone into the woods from, here. And Slade…” She gripped his arm, feeling her stomach clench. “There are supposed to be gators in there! People have lost dogs to them. And Emmie…Emmie is so small…”

  She couldn’t make herself go on. The fear was rising inside her like evil, black water, threatening to drown her completely.

  If I lose my daughter…if I lose Emmie, I want to die too, she thought as despair gripped her heart. I know where Bud keeps his gun locked up and I know where the key is. If Emmie is gone—

  “Stop it! Don’t think like that!” Slade grabbed her by the arms and shook her briefly. “Come back to me, Brandi—come back and listen,” he demanded, glaring into her eyes.

  Brandi blinked and looked up at him. “Y-yes?” she finally managed to get out.

  “You and Emmie are mine to protect,” Slade growled. There was a fierce, protective light in his mismatched eyes and a determined set to his square jaw. “You’re mine and I’m not going to lose either one of you!”

  “Sorry,” she whispered through numb lips. “Sorry, I’m just so scared.”

  “I know you are, baby.” He gave her a rough, one-armed hug, pulling her against his broad chest for a moment. “But I swear to you now, I’m going to find Emmie or die trying. Now let me see…”

  Leaning down, he sniffed around the area where the tracks were. Then, still crouching low as though to catch a scent that was close to the ground, he followed the path that Emmie had partially made into the woods.

  “Well?” Brandi couldn’t keep the hope and fear out of her voice.

  Slade straightened up.

  “She definitely went this way. The canine went too. Hopefully they’re still together.” Looking at Brandi, he noticed the machete in her hand. “Here—I need this.” Plucking it from her fist, he waded back into the tangle of vines and weeds and branches and started swinging.

  Brandi watched in awe as he started clearing brush, cutting a way into the heart of the swampy forest and stopping every now and then to crouch and sniff, to make sure he had the right scent.

  “I want to come with you,” she sent through the link, expecting that he would deny her and say it was too dangerous. But Slade seemed to understand her need to go after her daughter herself.

  “Get changed into something that covers your legs and feet,” he sent back shortly. “Then you can follow my trail.”

  Looking down at herself, Brandi realized she was barefoot and was still wearing her old, faded nightshirt, which was now all ragged and torn from where she’d tried to force her way through the trees and sharp branches. Slade was right—this wasn’t a good outfit to go out into the woods in.

  Rushing back into the trailer, she threw on some jeans and found a pair of cowboy boots she’d gotten a long time ago before Emmie was born, when she and Crystal had gone line-dancing. She left her nightshirt on but tied it in a knot at her waist. Then she rushed out the door again and, ignoring her mother’s and step-father’s questions about who the huge man was, plunged into the forest behind Slade.

  I’m coming, Emmie-bear, I swear I am. Just hold on, sweetpea—hold on!

  * * * * *

  Emmie didn’t like the forest.

  It was a lot scarier on the inside than it looked on the outside and there were lots of bitey-stingy mosquitoes. She’d lost one of her slippers in the mucky mud and her little pink flashlight got dimmer and dimmer as she tried to follow the little stream of water that she knew would lead her to the river.

  But the stream didn’t turn into the river after all—after what seemed like a long, long time, it became a marshy lake instead. The plants around the water’s edge were so thick they looked like solid ground and Emmie sank down into their muddy roots almost up to her waist when she tried to step on them.

  Charlie had grabbed her by the back of her nightgown and pulled her back up again but then her flashlight had gone completely out.

  Emmie had begun to cry then—the woods were too scary and dark and muddy and awful and the river wasn’t anywhere and her real daddy and the Daddy-man were nowhere to be seen.

  She wanted to go back but it was dark and the thick branches hid most of the moonlight. She and Charlie wandered around some more until they came to a big old tree with mostly dry roots sticking out of the ground. Emmie sat between two of them and Charlie curled himself around her and nuzzled her face, trying to lick away her tears.

  It didn’t help much, but it was something. She hadn’t found the Daddy-man but at least she wasn’t completely all alone. Finally, Emmie buried her face in Charlie’s furry neck and fell into a fitful, exhausted sleep.

  When she woke up, it was daylight and Charlie was whining in her ear. The first thing she thought was that she was itchy and stiff all over and the second thing was that s
he was terribly thirsty.

  Emmie looked around.

  Even though the sun was up, it was still really dark in the woods, maybe because the trees were too thick to let the sunshine in. Emmie didn’t like that—it was creepy. How could a place be creepier in the day than it was at night? She didn’t know but somehow the woods were.

  Getting up, she looked down at her torn and muddy nightgown and her missing slipper. Mommy was going to be really upset at her. She always said that clothes were expensive and money didn’t grow on trees. Emmie had verified this for herself by looking at all the trees she could find. Sure enough, none of them had dollar bills for leaves.

  She suddenly remembered that Mommy had also told her never to go into the woods. Oh, she was going to be in so much trouble when she got home! She would probably lose her cartoons for a month.

  But right at that moment, Emmie didn’t care. She just knew she wanted to be home safe, watching cartoons or reading, with Mommy making her special Saturday morning galaxy pancakes and Charlie barking at the dog commercials while Grandpa Bud was drinking his first cup of coffee—what he called his “Morning Joe” for some reason.

  Right at that moment, Emmie felt more homesick and tired and scared and thirsty than she ever had in her life—even on the first day of Pre-K when her Mommy had to leave her alone with a bunch of kids and teachers she didn’t know.

  Plus, she really had to pee.

  “Charlie,” she whispered to her dog, because it seemed wrong to talk too loud in the creepy woods. “Charlie, we need to go home.”

  At this, Charlie’s ears perked up and he gave a happy sounding, whuff!

  “Do you know the way home?” Emmie asked him.

  Charlie hopped up and did a little prancing step—the way he usually did when he wanted to play ball or fetch. Emmie looked at him doubtfully. Did that mean he did know the way home? Or did he just want to play?

  Well, she would have to hope he knew the way home because she couldn’t find the river or the Daddy-man and her Mommy was going to be upset with her if she stayed out here much longer and plus she was beginning to really hate the creepy woods.

  “Let’s go home,” she told her dog. “Only first I’m really thirsty. I haveta pee too but there’s no TP here so I guess I’ll just have to hold it. But maybe we can get a drink.”

  She eyed the lake, which was supposed to be a river, doubtfully. She could see the marshy plants place where she had fallen down and gotten tangled up last night, but there was a clear spot too—a grassy bank that led down to the edge of the water.

  Emmie took a few steps towards the clear spot on the bank. The water looked nasty and brown but at least there wasn’t any of that green al-bee scum stuff floating on it that Mommy said was pond slime. Maybe it wouldn’t taste too bad. Right now she was so thirsty Emmie thought any kind of water would be good.

  “Come on, Charlie,” she told her dog. “Let’s go get a drink before we go home.”

  She walked further down the bank, being careful to step around the plants that had looked like firm ground last night but weren’t. But for some reason, Charlie didn’t follow her. Instead, he started growling.

  Emmie turned to look at him.

  “Charlie?” she said, frowning. “Come on—aren’t you thirsty?”

  But Charlie wouldn’t move. His shoulders had gone all stiff and his short brown hair seemed to be sticking up all over. He was facing the pond where she was going to get a drink and his growl kept getting louder and louder.

  Emmie frowned again—why was he growling at the pond? There was nothing but water there—water and a big old bumpy log floating half-submerged in the murky, brown depths. But why would Charlie growl at a log?

  “Charlie?” she asked again. “What’s wrong?” And then the big old log did something strange.

  It opened its eyes.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Slade heard the canine growling and smelled the scent of an apex predator long before he reached the clearing. He also heard Emmie’s high, piping voice asking why Charlie was growling.

  Goddess, help me get to her! His arm rose and fell, rose and fell tirelessly, cutting a way through the tangled tropical brush. The vines and underbrush dragged at his boots and tried to trip him and the branches whipped his face but Slade scarcely noticed. He had a feeling of impending danger growing inside him—an anxiety so sharp it bit into his soul the way the machete was biting into the brush.

  Behind him, trying hard to control her panic, was Brandi. Slade wasn’t happy about letting her come out into this dangerous, wild place but he was smart enough to know a mother couldn’t be left behind during the hunt for her child. So he prayed he could keep between her and any danger and save Emmie too.

  At last he burst out into the clearing and saw everything at once.

  The little girl was there and the canine was beside her, its hackles raised and a low, warning growl rising in its throat. Directly across from them, not five feet away, was the hugest reptile Slade had seen since his master had put him in a fight with a durga from X’line Four back in his Blood Circuit days.

  “Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, taking in the scene. The reptile—“Gator—it’s a gator,” Brandi sent frantically through their link—the reptile looked sleepy enough but Slade was sure that could change at any minute. Its yellow eyes were open and it was watching Emmie. Slade didn’t like how close the little girl was to its lethal jaws—not one fucking bit.

  Need to get closer, he thought, edging out into the clearing. Just get a little closer and then try to call her away. Maybe if it’s not hungry it will let her go.

  But he didn’t have much hope of that. If gators were anything like durngas—and they looked remarkably similar except for their skin color since durngas were bright red—they were ambush predators. The gator was watching Emmie, sizing her up, getting ready to pounce—he was sure of it.

  “Then we have to get her out of there!” Brandi sent through their link, her mental voice panicky and tight. “We have to get her out of there right now!”

  “No, wait,” Slade tried to tell her. “Let me get a little closer first. Let me…”

  But Brandi was already calling in a low, trembling voice.

  “Emmie-bear? Sweetpea?”

  Emmie turned her head and a huge smile spread over her face.

  “Mommy!” She started to run to Brandi but it seemed like the sudden noise and movement set the giant gator off. With a low, hissing sound, it launched itself from the lake, splashing dirty brown water everywhere.

  Desperately, Slade dove for the huge creature and landed on its back. It had to be fourteen feet long, he estimated, and its skin felt like armor plating.

  Just as he landed on it, its jaws snapped at Emmie.

  The little girl let out a high-pitched shriek—a sound only tiny females could make, Slade thought to himself inanely as he grappled for a hold. Emmie would surely have been snapped in two by the toothy jaws if Charlie hadn’t knocked her over into the grass at just that moment.

  The gator’s jaws snapped on air and then Slade threw an arm over its small, yellow eyes, blinding it in the same way he would if he was fighting a durnga. He wrapped his other arm around its thick, scaly throat.

  The gator hissed some more and lashed its muscular tail, throwing up sheets of muddy water, trying to buck Slade off its back. But he was damned if he’d let go. Emmie was still lying on her back, not three feet away, screaming, and Charlie was standing valiantly in front of her, barking and growling but the gator still seemed determined to get to one or both of them.

  “No! No, not my baby!” Brandi darted forward and grabbed for Emmie but the gator’s thick, muscular tail thrashed, knocking her over into the grass. Now she was inches from the long, snapping jaws, trying to shield her daughter while the dog barked on and on.

  “Oh no, you…fucking don’t,” Slade grunted, squeezing the gator’s thick throat, trying to hold it back. He was strong but the animal had to weigh at least
a thousand pounds and it was incredibly powerful.

  The gator hissed angrily, its fetid breath like rotten meat gusting in his face. Someone was going to lose a hand or a leg or their fucking head if he didn’t end this soon. This damn animal was determined to eat Brandi or Emmie or both of them if it could—they were prey and it was a predator bent on their destruction.

  Rage rose in Slade at the thought of his females being threatened. He still had the machete in one hand—the hand that wasn’t locked around the gator’s thick throat. Gripping the hilt, he raised it high and drove the metal down hard into the flat top of the scaly head, hoping to hit the brain.

  The gator went wild for a moment, snapping and thrashing so that Slade could hardly hold on. Muddy water went everywhere. Emmie’s high-pitched shriek, the canine’s barking, the gator’s hissing, and Brandi’s screaming melded into a perfect cacophony of noise that he thought would make him go deaf. Gripping the wooden handle hard, he twisted, first to the right, then to the left, pushing in deeper until he felt the metal end of the long knife scraping bone.

  At last the gator gave a final shudder and lay still.

  “Oh God,” Brandi gasped, her eyes wide, her shaking body still shielding Emmie’s. “Oh God, oh God, oh God!”

  “It’s all right…” Slade let go of his hold on the scaly neck and levered himself off its back. “It’s dead—that bastard’s dead,” he told Brandi.

  “D-dead?” At first she seemed like she couldn’t believe it. “Really dead?” she asked Slade.

  “Unless it has another brain somewhere on its body,” he remarked, looking at the thick, muscular tail. “Does it?”

  “Does an alligator have two brains?” Brandi said, as though she was trying to get the idea into her head. She gave a jagged little laugh. “No…no, of course it doesn’t.”

  Then she burst into tears.