It was raining hard on the tin roof when he heard a noise. He went onto the porch where the noise of the rain grew louder. He stepped out onto the pier and looked at the river. He could tell the noise was a tug coming up the river in the dark; big one by the sound of it.
He turned to go back on the porch. He heard a different noise from the side of the house and when he turned again his neck was stopped by a cold, wet barrel.
"Don't move. You got a boat?"
Nothing.
"God damn it! Do you have a boat?"
A nod yes.
"Where is it?"
Turn of the head, left, to the other side of the pier.
"Let's go."
The man pushed him forward as another man came around the corner holding a gun and two black bags. They all moved out on the pier and got into the boat. One man in the bow with the bags, one man amidships holding a pistol, and one man driving the boat.
His name was Henry Leblanc. He was a fisherman. Every day of his life for the last twenty years had been spent in this boat, an eighteen foot aluminum skiff, long and skinny, powered by a fifty horsepower Mercury outboard. It was driven by a handle on the motor that also controlled the throttle.
"Where to?" Henry asked.
"Morgan City. Can you get there?"
A nod.
"How long?"
"An hour. Maybe more with the rain."
"You can drive in this rain?"
A nod.
"Let's go."
The tug was just coming around the bend, the noise from its powerful engine growing louder by the second. The lights on the derrick that the tug was pulling could be seen now; ghostly in the rain and the light fog that covered the river at night.
Henry accelerated the boat downriver, directly at the oncoming tug. It was still fairly far away and he wanted to get a bearing on how it was running in this part of the river. He wanted to give it a wide berth, but not so wide that he was in danger of hitting an obstruction alongside the bank.
The derrick was fairly small, but impressive at night; when all the lights were lit and it was shining brightly, it was a sight to behold. It was easy to get around the tug and the derrick following because the whole river was lit up. Then it became very dark. It was extremely hard to see anything because the rain was hitting them in the eyes.
After the bend, the river widened considerably. You could almost make out a faint line of trees on either horizon but it was hard to tell. After a couple of miles the river split into two big bayous. Bayou Magazille runs to the left. That's the way they went.
Henry had been fishing in this bayou all of his life and it was one of his favorite spots. He knew that you could catch catfish in the deep water right when you enter and leave the bayou, and that the small runouts along the bank could be a great spot for big bass. The first five pound bass he ever caught was in this bayou. The bayou made a gentle curve and then opened up into the bottom of Lake Verret. Henry made a right turn into Four Mile Bayou, which runs about four miles, with twists and turns, into Grassy Lake.
Henry drove by watching the banks, when he could see them. If he could see one bank he could tell where he was in the bayou and try to remember the turns. He had run through here before at night but not in the rain, and not with two guys with guns in the boat with him.
There were lights ahead on the bank. T-Man's Store. As they passed you could see lights in the windows; music could be heard faintly over the rain and engine noise.
Country.
Hank Williams Jr.
There were two large S-curves after T-Man's and Henry brought the boat closer to the bank so he could see the right side. As he came around the last curve the bayou began to straighten. He stayed on the right side and increased the throttle slightly. The man next to him motioned for him to move away from the bank. Henry increased the throttle.
The man now turned completely around and was bringing the gun up again when Henry went over the side. He turned back again just in time to see the oak limb smack him in the face. Three men were in the water. Two men were dead. One man was swimming.
Henry came up from the water in front of the giant limb. At its highest point there was a small white cross that was bent now and bloody. Henry looked at it for a moment gleaming in the night.
Two years before a young boy and his girlfriend had come around the corner at dusk and hit the limb. The boy was killed instantly; the girl survived. Henry had found her huddled on the bank; bruised, battered, and going into shock. He got her into his boat, put a blanket around her, and took her to T-Man's to call an ambulance and the police. It took them several hours to find the boy's body.
There were no bodies to be seen in the bayou as Henry swam to shore where the boat had come to rest. The engine was still idling as he pulled himself in. He noticed the two black bags were still in the front of the boat. He turned the boat back around the curve towards T-Man's Store. He walked into the store where a few people were at the bar with beers standing in front of them. There was music playing.
The Blues.
John Lee Hooker.
Boogie Chillun.
The bartender, a pretty young woman, walked down to where Henry stood dripping.
"You look wet, honey. What can I get you?" She asked.
"Budweiser." Henry said.
THE END
(1999)
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