Mercy

Hawkins stepped out from behind a tree he had been using for cover and slid into the muddy water. He got as low as he could until only his nose and eyes were above the water. As quietly as possible, Hawkins moved toward the back of the cannibals' camp. As he got close, he could hear a couple of men arguing with one another inside one of the cabins. Hawkins couldn't make out was being said, but it sounded as if the men were drunk. His heart began to beat faster when he spotted what he was after: a couple of canoes, laying on their side in the mud. The water level dropped as he closed in. Like an alligator getting out of the water, Hawkins crawled forward until he was between the two boats. He took a quick look around to make sure he wasn't being watched and then crawled back into the swamp pulling the two canoes with him. Hawkins moved back to his hiding spot, dragged the boats one by one into the woods, and hid them.

  Hawkins glanced up at the waning sun. It wouldn't be long before it was dark. All day long he had remained hidden while he watched the camp. He counted twelve men living in the two ramshackle shacks. They had spent most of the day drinking and eating dried meat hanging from hooks on the outside of their cabins. When Hawkins saw a fat man wearing a blood-stained apron walk over to the rotisserie and start a fire, he knew he had to act before anyone else died.

  With his knife clenched tight in his hand, Hawkins crept through the brush until he was behind a foul-smelling outhouse. He needed to get his hands on a weapon if he was going to rescue his compatriots. After a couple of minutes wait, a man with a long, scraggly beard staggered out of the closest cabin and made his way to the outhouse. Hawkins waited until the man had finished his business and stepped outside to pull up his suspenders. Without hesitation or mercy, he struck. He wrapped his left arm around the man's neck and squeezed tight while he thrust his knife repeatedly into the hapless man's side. In seconds, his victim's feet gave way beneath him. Hawkins dragged the man back into the woods to finish him off.

  When the man let out his dying gasp, Hawkins let go of him and laid his body down. He grinned when he pulled a pistol from a holster on the man's leg and saw it was fully loaded. He rummaged through the man's pockets until he found a box of matches. Hawkins took the box and placed it in a shirt pocket. He left the body where it lay and crept forward until he could see the fat man by the fire. A chill went down Hawkins' spine when he heard the man singing to himself while he sharpened a long curved knife in his hands. If he were going to get to the pit unobserved, Hawkins knew he would need a distraction. He looked around and spotted a lantern sitting on a stool at the side of the nearest cabin. A plan quickly formed in his mind.

  "Hey, Yankee, move back," said a voice from above.

  Cooper looked up and saw a bald man he didn't recognize. He was about to ask why he should move when his ear caught the sound of a pistol's hammer being cocked.

  "I'm gonna pull back the cover and then lower down a ladder for you and the boy standing next to you to climb out with."

  Cooper saw the fear in Francis' eyes when he realized he was going to be the next one eaten. "What if we don't want to climb out?" asked Cooper.

  "If you don't, I'll have the woman shot followed by her husband," said Taylor as he stepped forward into view.

  "Don't you kill Mrs. Melancon," said Francis. "I be coming up."

  Rose grabbed him by the arm. "No! Don't go, they're going to kill you."

  "Everyone done got to go meet his maker," replied Francis. "You done said so yourself, ma'am."

  A rickety ladder dropped into the hole.

  Cooper leaned forward and whispered into Francis' ear. "Don't move when we get up top. I'm going for one of their guns."

  Francis nodded and climbed up followed by Cooper.

  The bald man pointed his pistol at Francis. "Step aside, boy."

  The young man stood his ground and shook his head.

  "I said move, boy," said bald man, raising his voice.

  "Tell him to walk or I'll kill the woman," said Taylor to Cooper.

  Cooper held his breath. Taylor's outstretched hand was only a few feet away from him. He felt the familiar mix of adrenaline and fear building up in his body. He knew in the next few seconds he would either be dead or a free man.

  Hawkins unscrewed a metal cap on the lantern and smelled the kerosene in its tank. He turned it over and poured the oil on a woodpile at the back of the cabin. Next, Hawkins dug out his matchbox and struck a match. As soon as it lit, he dropped the burning match onto the kerosene. With a loud whoosh, the oil caught on fire and spread quickly onto the side of the old wooden cabin. Hawkins had his distraction. He turned and sprinted back into the woods. Through the thicket, he rushed to help his friends trapped in the pit.

  Cooper could see the anger building up behind Taylor's eyes. It was clear the man wasn't used to people defying him. Cooper's heart began to beat faster as he readied himself to go for the pistol in Taylor's hand.

  "Fire!" bellowed a man.

  Taylor and the bald man turned their heads to see what was going on. Like a cobra striking, Cooper shot his right hand over and grabbed ahold of Taylor's arm and pulled him toward him. At the same time, he turned on his heel, brought up his left elbow, smashing it into Taylor's face. Knocked senseless, Taylor's knees buckled and he fell to the ground.

  Cooper pulled his adversary's pistol from his hand, cocked the hammer with his thumb, and aimed it at the bald man's head. At less than a yard away, he couldn't miss. He pulled the trigger, blasting a bloody hole through the side of the cannibal's head.

  "Quick, get the others out of the pit," said Cooper to Francis.

  The loud blast of a weapon firing made Cooper duck. He dropped to one knee as a man ran out of the burning cabin firing his pistol while he ran toward Cooper. The man's shots went wild. Cooper waited a couple of seconds before calmly pulling back the hammer of his pistol and firing it at his assailant. With a shocked look on his face, the man dropped his gun and collapsed onto the ground. Cooper saw another man turn to face him. Just as he brought his weapon up to fire, Hawkins rushed out of the woods and shot the man dead before he could react.

  Cooper swung his pistol down to kill Taylor.

  Moses cried out and ran from behind a woodpile. He threw his body on top of Taylor's. "Please don't kill him," begged Moses. Tears filled the young boy's eyes. "He's not a monster, he's really a good God-fearing man."

  Hesitation took hold of Cooper. He couldn't bring himself to shoot Moses just so he could kill Taylor.

  Confusion gripped the camp. Without their leader, some men took cover behind the burning cabin while others dropped to the ground and took ineffectual potshots at Cooper and Hawkins.

  "This way," yelled Hawkins as Francis helped Rose climb out of the pit.

  Cooper decided it was time to leave. He stood and began to walk backward toward his compatriots' side, firing his pistol every time someone foolishly stuck their head out to see what was going on. When Joe ran past him, Cooper knew everyone was safely out of the hole.

  "Hurry up, Captain," said Hawkins as he fired the last bullet in his pistol.

  Cooper turned and began to run. He soon caught up with Hawkins, who was running down a narrow game trail. A couple of seconds later, they came out at the water's edge. Rose and Joe were hurrying to help the pastor into one of the canoes.

  "What happened?" asked Cooper when he saw a stream of blood dripping from Melancon's right arm.

  "A stray bullet hit him under the arm," replied Rose. Fear filled her voice. "I need to bind his wound or he'll bleed out."

  "Damn it all to hell." Cooper clenched his jaw in frustration.

  "Captain, we don't have time to treat him," said Hawkins. "You go with Mrs. Melancon and I'll go with Francis in the other canoe. We'll paddle for a while until it's safe to stop."

  "Please! I need to help him now," pleaded Rose.

  "Joe, get this canoe in the water," ordered Cooper. He looked into Rose's worried eyes. "Sergeant Hawkins is right. We have to get away from here. It won't take them long to figure
out where we've gone. We'll stop as soon as I think it's safe to. Now please get in the canoe."

  Rose wiped the tears from her eyes and climbed into the middle of the boat. Cooper bent down and helped push the canoe out into the swamp. He jumped in the back, picked up a paddle, and began to row as fast as he could. Within seconds, the two boats were moving away from the woods. Not knowing where they were going, they soon found themselves in the middle of a large lake. A wave of relief washed over Cooper. They had gotten away. For now, they were safe. Cooper knew as soon as Taylor figured out what had happened, he and his men would come after them. They were days away from civilization and plenty could still go wrong.

  "Colonel, are you alive?" asked Moses, squatting next to Taylor's body. When the man didn't answer, Moses prodded him with a stick. "Time to wake up, Colonel."

  With a weak moan on his lips, Taylor opened his eyes and looked up.

  "Glory be," said Moses. "I knew them Yankees hadn't killed you."

  A dull throbbing ache filled Taylor's head as he sat up. He grimaced when he saw the bald man's corpse lying only a couple of yards away with part of its skull missing. "Help me to my feet, boy."

  A tall black plume of smoke rose skyward from the burning cabin. Red walked toward Taylor with a sad look on his soot-covered face.

  "What's wrong?" asked Taylor.

  "We lost four good men to them Yankees," replied Red, shaking his head.

  Taylor looked around, expecting to see their prisoners laying on the ground, dead. "Where are they?"

  "They all got away."

  Taylor pushed Moses from his side and clenched his fists in anger. "What do you mean they got away?"

  "They stole two of our canoes and used them to get away."

  "God damn it. Round everyone up. We're going after them."

  "What about our men? We can't leave their bodies out here for the pigs to eat."

  Taylor ground his teeth. He couldn't care less right now what happened to their remains, he wanted revenge.

  "Colonel, we can't leave until we bury our own," insisted Red.

  "Very well. Bury them, but be quick. The longer we wait, the further away those bastards will get."

  "Colonel, they don't know the swamp like we do. They won't get far."

  Taylor hadn't thought about that. His colleague was right. They knew the bayou like the back of their hands. It was only a matter of time before they picked up their trail and found them. This time, there wouldn't be any hesitation on his part. Taylor intended to kill them all and feed what they didn't eat to the pigs.

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