The Melting Dead by Doug Lamoreux

Author:Doug Lamoreux [Lamoreux, Doug]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Creativia
Published: 2018-11-14T05:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

The river valley on both the Iowa and Illinois sides of the Mississippi were, outside of the Palisades, predominantly low lands. In seasons of high water, like that spring, much of the land took a bath, becoming twisted, tree-filled back channels and, in the open clearings, temporary lakes. It abandoned its usual look of monotonous stereo corn and became something beautiful and mysterious. But, in so doing, it also created uncounted miles of blind waterways in which the Pucket boat bandits could run and hide. Searching those channels required more volunteers, with boats, than the authorities had on hand. If that weren't enough, the Jackson County Sheriff's Department had to work without the help of the Savanna Police. Strangely, Savanna couldn't locate their senior officers. Neither Chief Cross nor Sergeant Vance were answering their radios. Worse, the sky was growing dark over the valley and the predicted rain would soon be upon them. Despite these hurdles, a handful of volunteers were rounded up and, by late morning, a search of the back channels was on.

Rough and Melissa motored down the main river channel, headed for the Rock Island, but taking their time with eyes peeled in all directions. Compared to normal the Mississippi was quiet and, so far, neither the leather-clad thieves nor their purloined vessel were anywhere in sight. That didn't mean there was nothing to see. John P was on the water, Rough saw, and motoring at them from the south. The sheriff lifted a ham hand to wave and, even at that distance, saw the fisherman frown. When he signaled John over, his scowl deepened. Something was biting him. Sadly for John, the sheriff wasn't interested in his mood.

At sight of Rough Nelson, the thought reverberating in John P's head amounted to little more than, “Damn, damn, damn.” He'd used up his chivalry giving that young lady a lift to the island. He'd done his duty helping out the chief of the Savanna police. And he'd suffered the threats of the big deal sergeant Vance and delivered him. Now all John wanted was to get off the river and home. But, sure as shit, there stood the Jackson County Sheriff waving from his boat. John knew better than to pretend he didn't see him. He slowed his motor and brought his craft near the County vessel – but not too near. John idled the motor and nervously called, “Sheriff, what's the good word in Iowa?”

“None. No good word at all. We have fugitives on the river, John P,” Rough said. “They stole John Henry Pucket's new boat.”

“You don't say? That's a beautiful boat. I bet John Henry's mad as all–”

“He ain't happy. They're a gang of hippies right out of the Rocky Horror Show, dressed all in black leather, tattoos, piercings, for all I know they got snakes in their hair like the Gorgon. They're probably headed south. Have you seen anything?”

“In John Henry's boat?”

“Yeah, John. I thought we'd got past that? They're in John Henry Pucket's motor boat.

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