chapter 106
THE FRIGID WATER pouring over Jake woke him. Both his legs were burning, as if they were on fire. Dazed from the electrical shocks and disorientated by the circumstances, he took a few moments to realize what had happened to him. It was inky black around him; but, when he looked up, he could distinguish the night sky.
Though the pipe wasn’t flooding yet, Jake could not move his legs. Pain shot through them when he tried to stand. He surmised they must be broken. He could tell that his ankles were still zip-tied.
The air reeked of rotten bottomland mud. The top of the pipe appeared to be about six or seven feet away, and the walls were slick with algae. It was the flowing water that really concerned him. He had no way out, and stifling his growing panic was his most immediate challenge. His face was against the pipe wall, and his shoulders had only a few inches of room. with: He considered bouncing, to force his way out though the lower end of the pipe, but he was stuck too deep in the mud, and there wasn’t enough water flowing though to break the below obstruction of silt and beaver limbs.
Jake’s coffin was to be long, cylindrical, and rusty.
After several deep breaths, Jake remembered his cell phone. His wrists were still zip-tied together, but painfully and slowly, he contorted his arms until he pulled it from his pocket. He mashed the center key, and the screen glowed. It showed forty-one missed calls and eleven texts. He smiled as he recalled putting it on silent before he slipped up on Moon Pie’s trailer. Most of the missed calls and texts were from Morgan. His hands shook as he tried to click on her name to redial. On the third try, the phone dialed, but the call immediately failed. Jake noticed that he didn’t have service.
The phone started getting wet from the water splashing down around it, so he leaned forward a few inches to shield it so he could read Morgan’s first text, at 4:43: “Can u get some bread on the way home?”
“I wish I could, babe,” he said out loud and then smiled.
He read the rest of his messages.
5:35: “Where are you?”
6:01: “Did you go hunting?”
6:20: “Jake I’m worried Call me.”
6:33: “Richard Pharr at ur office said u never came back from lunch Where r u?”
6:51: “I called the police Please call or text!!”
7:02: “Jake I love u! Call me”
7:07: “Dad when r u coming home ☺”
Jake choked up. His missed his family. The more texts he read, the more upset he became. The water falling over him was relentless. He couldn’t imagine that waterboarding was worse than what he was experiencing. He would confess to anything to get out of this pipe. Jake did his best to wipe the moisture from the phone, and with great effort, he placed it into his right pocket. He felt it hit something and remembered the flashlight. As Jake pushed himself against the left side of the pipe, intense, fiery pain shot from his left leg, almost making him black out. What the hell happened? Somethin’ ain’t right, he thought as he struggled to catch his breath.
Careful not to apply pressure on his left leg, he reached slowly down into his pocket for the flashlight. His mind was working faster than his muscles, and he assumed that was caused by all the electrical jolts. He was shaking from the cold and the pain, but the flashlight in his hands was comforting…until he clicked it on and could now clearly see that he was in a death trap.
The steady flow of cold swamp water was growing stronger. Vapor from his heaving breathing filled the pipe. The outside temperature was in the low forties. That and the cold water were taking their toll on Jake’s body. He considered that hypothermia might kill him before drowning did.
Jake knew that he had to get the water flowing out of the pipe so the rising level didn’t overtake him. His right leg would barely move but it didn’t hurt like his left. He tried to push down with his legs to clear some of the mud and limbs, but it was no use. At least the water backing up was beginning to numb the pain in his legs. He tried to see his left leg with the flashlight, but the beam couldn’t penetrate the muddy water. He noticed that every movement he made stirred more silt, so he remained still to let the dirt settle enough so he could see.
Standing motionless and looking up, Jake tried not to think that this would be how and where he died, never to be found. Moon Pie—that son of a bitch—is gonna win. Jake shook his head, trying to clear his mind, but he was beginning to feel claustrophobic.
The water in the bottom of the pipe had cleared somewhat. With his left hand, Jake lowered the flashlight, shining it down into the water. He could see his blood flowing like spilled red ink. Apparently a bark-skinned stick had impaled his leg. Jake looked up, took a deep breath, exhaled, and contemplated trying to pull it out. He looked down, shined the light again to get a better assessment and then realized that it was not a limb sticking into his leg but his exposed bone protruding through his pants.
Jake’s head fell forward, hitting the pipe with a thud, as everything went dark.