Black Tides: Historical Action Adventure (Nick LaBounty Series Book 3) by Jay C. LaBarge

Author:Jay C. LaBarge [LaBarge, Jay C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-19T00:00:00+00:00

“You’ve had the most time to evaluate it Emanuel,” Dr. Storm said. “What do you make of it?”

They stood around a large, well-lit table in Emanuel’s office at the Outer Banks History Center. The door was locked, the maps and overlays leaked from the DoD spread out before them.

“It’s interesting Philip, this seems to indicate the colony might have moved over to this area.” Emanuel pointed to a spot in the Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge that was relatively unexplored. “Those outlines indicate there may have been buildings there. Europeans tended to build shelters more substantial than the natives. At least better footprints for us to trace, anyway”

“There were rumors they may have gone up the Albemarle Sound, opposite Edenton,” Nick said. “But nothing was ever definitively discovered there.”

Emanuel traced his finger along a possible route on the map. “This would have even been closer to their original site. That might have made more sense to have simply gone over here.”

“Occam’s razor,” Nick thought aloud. “The simplest solution is usually the right one.”

“Perhaps this warrants boots on the ground to investigate,” Dr. Storm suggested. “To at least eliminate another possibility.” Both he and Emanuel looked expectantly at Nick. Youth would be served.

“I know, I know. I have not failed, said Thomas Edison. I have merely found 10,000 ways that don’t work. I’m on it.”

When Emanuel and Dr. Storm went out to lunch, Nick drove over to the Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge. An understanding Park Ranger had given Nick unfettered access to search the coordinates he wanted, which were within a restricted zone. A protected pack of red wolves was known to frequent that very area. They had grown increasingly bold and were exhibiting a distinct lack of fear around humans. “Best to be aware,” he was warned.

Nick took off his hat and wiped his brow while doublechecking the GPS coordinates. He was close, but the vegetation was growing denser. The wetland bog he was trudging through was known as a pocosin. It was covered with a sandy peat soil and ever encroaching woody shrubs. He cursed when he stepped through a soft spot in the bog, the tepid water flooding into his low-cut boots.

Boots on the ground, he thought. Yeah, my fricking boots. While you two catch up on old times.

Nick pulled one foot, then the other, out of the morass, the boots nearly sucked off in the process. He searched about until he found a firmer piece of ground, near the edge of one of the many streams that crisscrossed the bog. He sat and removed his boots, turning them upside down to drain while he wrung out his socks. He slapped at the bugs congregating along the salt line of sweat on his neck, then spied a bunch of small, squirming critters near the water’s edge. They looked like some type of eel or fish. He stood and squinted for a better look.

Crap, an alligator nest! Where the hell is mama?

He grabbed his boots and socks and backed away, sinking up to his calves, seeking safer ground.

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