The Gillbury Swamp Gold, Part 5

June 20, 2020 ~ jsettger ~ Leave a comment

(The adventure continues in the swamp as Leo deals with losing his way.)

A shot of adrenaline cleared his head, and quickly. He back tracked on his last few paces, and then a few more, before giving up. The reeds, growing in thick clumps, left too many gaps to clearly make out the way. The ground was too sloppy to make out footprints.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Leo grumbled as he pawed through his pocket for his cell. Charles is going to rub this one in, he thought as the screen lit up.

‘Lost the trail. Will try to back track,’ he thumbed into the cell. He waited, hoping Charles would respond quickly. The message stalled, not going through. A glance at the signal strength showed a depressing no signal indicator.

“This is bad,” Leo muttered to himself. He tried holding the phone up high enough to get even a single bar, enough to get the message out, but to no effect.

There were only two choices: keep moving or stop and wait. Waiting was usually the best approach. His brother had the GPS and knew the geography. It would only make sense he would come looking and be better equipped for the search.

Leo wanted to keep moving. It was a gut feeling that drove him, despite the lack of good sense. It occurred to him that the air felt heavy, almost suffocating. His mind wandered to obscure ideas, maybe even facts, about swamp gases and what mild oxygen deprivation could do. Leo shook his head and got moving.

It made sense that the trails would all be interconnected, Leo reasoned, so finding any trail would ultimately lead to the one he lost. And odds were good that the original trail would be nearest. The shotgun stayed in a ready carry, just the same.

The mist got thicker, somehow, making movement trickier and the hand light nearly useless. Every step was taken with care not to slip or step into soggy ground. It was like being blind. Twenty minutes later, Leo checked his phone to find his text message still hanging, unsent.

“Well, in for a penny,” he muttered to himself as he pocketed the cell and started moving again.

Ten steps later he found himself on a trail. It was hard to make it out, but the gap in the reeds was unmistakable and the ground too firm to be open swampland. Score one for gut feelings, he thought, moving in the direction that felt right. It was only a matter of time, and not losing the trail.

A rare break in the clouds flooded the scene with light and, instinctively, Leo took in the surroundings. The mist limited the light, but for the first time in nearly an hour, he could make out the trail ahead of him for half a dozen yards or so. The rest was open swamp. The encouraging detail was a distant house, the Gibson place, off to his right, barely visible between the reeds. This instantly gave him bearings. The line from the house to his position was at a right angle to the trail, and the house was on the right side, making his direction north. The clean geometry in his head, Leo knew, was not as clean in reality, but better than a moment earlier. The gap in the clouds closed, and the light faded out.

North he continued, hoping to find a way west, presumably back to Charles. The house had seemed close, though a distance was hard to factor out. Charles had to be close, and had to be west of him. The slow, blind man’s walk along the trail continued.

A branch to the left came up some thirty yards later, and Leo nearly laughed out loud. The trail might have turned or twisted, making this a bad move, but it was more likely it would bring him west. He moved along, carefully and slowly through the soup of mist and unsteady ground. Some twenty yards later, he thought he heard something ahead. It was muffled, the direction difficult to pin point, and sounded like something moving in the reeds. There had not been puff of wind since they left the truck, so the sound could only be something or someone up ahead.

The easy math suggested it was Charles. Bears and coyotes were not usually big swamp dwellers, and whatever made the sound was at least that big.

Step at a time, Leo thought. He moved with more care to be silent, as much for stealth as to hear any more sounds ahead. Staying on the trail was proving easier, with practice, and Leo was able to focus on staying low and quiet. He heard the sound again, certain it was something moving in the reeds and directly ahead. Each step was made with great care, and growing angst.

The clouds broke open, just for a moment, again, revealing a crouching figure ahead of him. The details were still blurred, but it could only be Charles. Leo took a short step forward, about to announce his return, when a hand clapped over his mouth and an arm about his waist dragging him back into the reeds. The clouds closed and darkness smothered the swamp.

The Gillbury Swamp Gold, Part 4

June 13, 2020 ~ jsettger ~ Leave a comment

(Mystery adventure. The brothers continue their search in the face of growing dangers)

Two hours later, they found relatively solid ground again. Half crawling and half swimming through the muck and slop of the swamp proved a test of endurance. They felt as though every insect in the area had descended upon them with fury. The smell was almost beyond suffering. On several occasions, one or other needed help to avoid getting trapped in the soupy ground that threatened to drag them under; and they both knew a bog could make them disappear for good. Inky darkness, broken up only by rare moments of moonlight through the clouds, made everything just a little bit worse. Neither of them thought about gold. It was all a matter for surviving to reach firmer ground.

They agreed to take a more prolonged halt.

Leo sipped at his canteen, trying to ignore the worse of the mosquitoes. “I hope you are ready for some constructive criticism,” he said, “because I am going to give it to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Charles said, already getting his GPS out for another look.

Leo capped his canteen and tried his best to stretch his tired joints. He had not stood up straight for nearly two hours. “Let me be entirely reasonable, here,” he began. “There is no way we can go back this way. A little bit of body surfing through some shit is one thing, and two hours is another. We are not athletes. Point two: there is no way we can haul fifty pounds, let alone a hundred, of anything through here. Not feasible. You getting this?”

Charles was distracted with the GPS, not overly concerned with his brother’s gripes. He knew, though, that keeping Leo’s head in the game mattered.

“Leo,” Charles said, after fully processing both the GPS information and Leo’s words, “this will all work. This stretch of swamp was worse than I expected, point taken. It is not the end of the world. Yes, it is going to be tough, so we just have to work through it.”

“Work through it?” Leo interrupted. “What’s to work through? Did you even listen to me? I’ve lost a quart of blood to mosquitoes and feel like it’s been two hours of wind sprints. And if you didn’t notice, we both had some close calls back there. You think adding fifty pounds of gold to that is something we just work through?”

“All we need to do is get some flotation devices,” Charles said, finally taking some liquids for himself. “Something in foam would be safer than an inflatable, too many pointy branches out here. It doesn’t matter. This is only path we have to get us through without being seen, so it has to work. Anyway, the good news is that we are almost exactly on course. It’s only about twenty minutes to where we can start looking.”

Leo was slightly calmed. The idea of bring floats to help them through the swamp had not occurred to him, and the proximity to their goal refocused him.

“Fair enough,” Leo said. “I am taking another ten minutes of down time, though.”

“No problem,” Charles agreed. “We have to pace ourselves. There is more to do.”

“You know,” Leo said, swatting at the latest swarm of insects, “all I want to do is drain this fucking place and pave it. The bugs are killing me.”

Once rested, they continued toward their goal. The ground continued to firm up until it was just wet and muddy. The reeds grew higher than their heads as they approached the search area. Charles consulted the GPS several times before calling a quick halt.

“This is it,” Charles said, pulling two, odd lights from his pack. They looked like square cell phone with straps on the back. “The Gibson house is that way. It’s just close enough that we would see it, except for the reeds, but we will be getting closer as we search. That means they could see us, too. So watch out for breaks in the cover, especially if the clouds thin out; there’s a lot of moonlight coming through. These lights are red and dim, but enough to see with. Strap it to your palm, like this. Just use it in short bursts. No need to attract attention if anyone happens to look this way.”

“And we are looking for open areas, maybe with recent growth, right?” Leo asked, testing his light.

“That, or anything unusual,” Charles said. “Watch out for trails, especially as we get closer to the house. The Gibsons like their skidoos and quads. If we are lucky, they are using the same paths from years before. Whatever the case, keep an eye out for anything. Stay behind me. I will focus on the right side of our path. You watch left. All good?”

“Got it.”

“We have a few hours to do this, so we don’t have to rush,” Charles said. “It would be a costly miss.”

They set out slowly, moving along in as close to a zigzag pattern as they could. Charles kept their GPS checks to a minimum, though even he admitted there was some guess work involved. It was not long before they came across the first trail. It was also that same time they noticed a thin mist was beginning to form, catching wisps of it with their dull, red lights.

“This is good,” Charles whispered excitedly, going straight to his GPS. “This is really good.”

“What’s good?” Leo asked. “The trail or the mist?”

“Both,” Charles said. “The mist will mean added cover, especially if it thickens up. This trail is pretty far from the house, and it doesn’t look like it is used much. I need to mark this point before we split up.”

“Whoa now,” Leo exclaimed. “When was splitting up ever part of the plan? I don’t have a GPS to work with. How the hell do I find my way around with you elsewhere?”

“Listen, chickenshit,” Charles chided, “if it makes you feel all safe and snug, you can hang onto the GPS. I’m not suggesting you go trailblazing blindly into the Gibson’s back yard. We each follow this path in a different direction and then return.”

“The trail could be awfully long. What about that?”

Charles sighed, repacking the GPS. “Simple. You follow the path until it ends, starts splitting up too much to follow, or brings you out into the open. If you check one of those boxes you can scamper back to your stronger, braver brother for safety.”

“You’re such an asshole, sometimes,” Leo said.

“Soon to be a sometimes wealthy asshole,” Charles shot back. “Just stay on the trail. When you head back, text me; that way I know you’re coming. You keep an eye on your phone, too.”

There was not much to disagree with, to Leo’s chagrin; still, he had no love for the plan. Splitting up had not even been mentioned when they were planning. Charles set off in what he thought was a northward direction, leaving the other way to Leo.

Leo could feel his fatigue nibbling at his energy reserve. It was more than just the physical trial of the swamp or late hour; it was that plus the long week of short, irregular sleep and nearly constant work. The trail was, as Charles had suggested, not recently used. The mist continued to rise, steadily thickening and swirling, moving higher and higher, until it was nearly at Leo’s chin. He was not far before he noticed the insects had thinned out in the cool, damp air.

“When the hell did it get so misty in the dead of night?” he half whispered to himself.

The hand light was growing less effective, doing little more than turn the mist into a creepy, red blur. The trail felt like it was growing closer, tighter; and Leo found it impossible to notice anything unusual. His path twisted and turned more times than he could count. The experience felt vaguely surreal and dreamlike, in a spooky way. It was at that point he noticed two things: he had moved the shotgun to a ready carry; and he had lost the trail.

The Gillbury Swamp Gold, Part 3

June 6, 2020 ~ jsettger ~ Leave a comment

(More mystery adventure fun. Nothing weird.)

A day of preparation got Leo feeling motivated. The Wiltman case, he decided, would stay warm for a day or two. The chase for stolen gold was intoxicating, and a strange feeling for Leo. He kept feeling it was a moth to the flame scenario; and unlike the moth, he felt he should know better.

Charles simply ploughed ahead. He had been working on this as a side project for some time. Leo’s sudden interest and involvement was unexpected but welcome. It was all about execution, moving forward.

The evening drive to the Gillbury Swamp was an uncharacteristically talkative time for the brothers. A drive was usually quiet time.

“Is the twelve gauge all you are packing?” Charles asked his brother after they hit the main road out of town. The old Cooey, double barrel had been in the family for two generations, although it had fallen into disuse for many years.

“Yep,” Leo said, casually watching for traffic. “It’s also a great prop for our cover. How about you? Just the pump?”

Charles laughed. The pump action twelve gauge was a more recent addition; a remnant of Charles’ passionate days of duck hunting. It, too, saw little use in recent years. “Just the pump?” Charles chuckled, jovially. “Let me tell you, brother, that is a fine quality fire arm. No ‘just’ about it. But seeing how you asked: no, it’s not all I’m packing.”

Leo’s brow furrowed slightly, thinking about what Charles might have brought along. They owned very few guns, and rarely had need of them. “You brought the thirty cal? Really?”

“What else?” Charles said more seriously, opening his jacket to reveal the holstered pistol. It was an old, slide action peashooter their grandfather had acquired during the war. It was inaccurate past twenty feet, only had a six round magazine and was a bitch to clean. Still, it was very compact and never jammed or misfired. Their grandfather claimed it was lucky. As youngsters, Charles and Leo referred to it as the James Bond gun.

“Was it necessary?” Leo asked.

“Our hands will need to be free,” Charles explained, “so if the Gibsons jump us, I need a quick draw. Swinging a shotgun around is not terribly practical. And I’m not sure we could win a fair fight with them.”

“Mmmm,” Leo pondered out loud. “I really don’t think it will come to that.”

“Me either,” Charles muttered, “but better to have it and not need it.”

“Fair enough,” Leo agreed.

They drove along the back ways until they were technically out of Gillbury. They eventually found the spot they wanted and pulled in. It was an ancient property entrance, long fallen into decrepitude. It led into a fair dense clump of trees and brush that was too far from town to be casually used for drinking parties or such. The truck was invisible from the road.

Then they waited for the light to completely fail. Darkness would cover their approach to the swamp.

They had a two kilometre hike along a hedgerow, followed by another two kilometre tromp through the swamp; and this was assuming they found what they were after, right away. Physically, the brothers were in good shape, yet they were aware that moving through a swamp in the dark might push them. Neither felt any lack of confidence as they waited for darkness to fall.

“How much do you think we can haul out in one go?” Leo asked, more for something to do than for pure interest.

“Depends mostly on what we find,” Charles said, casually. He had almost every angle of the logistics covered, and it showed. “If it is bulky stuff, like decorative pieces, then not much. Tough to conceal that, even slightly. If we get compact bits like jewellery or coins, then I think we can manage forty or fifty pounds each, at least. If we hit the mother load and go back with minimal gear, then we could push that to a hundred each.”

“A hundred pounds of gold,” Leo mused out loud. They had not discussed what would be done with the proceeds if they were successful. Leo’s mind went over their options, knowing his brother may have covered that base, too. “How would we move even a hundred pounds?”

“Tiny increments,” Charles said, right on it. “I have a few options that are likely to keep a trickle of money flowing for, oh, the rest of our lives.”

“Really?” Leo asked, wondering what Charles had in mind.

“Oh, yeah,” Charles went on without much prompting, “there is no point, otherwise. I suspect it will mean a big haircut on the raw value, but whatever. I feel pretty comfortable we can nail down thirty to forty percent of market price. Remember Bo?”

“Bo? Cousin Bo?”

“Yes, our distant cousin Bo,” Charles laughed at that. “He is a jewellery maker, did you know? Brick and mortar set up in Toronto. He’s not exactly poor, but he could be doing better. If we fed him gold at thirty to forty percent of his cost, partly as incentive and partly as shut up money, he might just go for it. Besides, distant or not, he is family. If we keep supplying him, long term, he is even less likely to say anything.”

“Clever plan,” Leo agreed. “Would it be enough? I mean, how much could Bo take on and still not attract attention?”

“Not tons, but he would be our slow, steady mover. Outside of that, we can pop into enough pawn shops with bits and pieces to add to that. It’s not a lottery win, and there are some risks, but it would add up. I was thinking we might never pay for gas, or meals, or office supplies again. Stuff that we could cover up more easily.”

“Imagine paying bribes for free,” Leo pondered aloud. “Shit, I hope this pans out.”

Charles smiled. “Only one way to find out,” he said, taking a good look outside of the truck. “And I think it is about dark enough to get going.”

They loaded up and disembarked. Charles led the way, carefully crossing the dirt road and keeping low until they reached the hedge. The slim remains of sunlight helped cast a shadow along the hedge, making them practically invisible for any distance. Both of them were used to moving around in the dark, precarious footing and all, and moderated their pace to avoid blowing an ankle or twisting a knee. The entire trip through the field passed without incident. They saw no one.

The field ended at a rarely used service road that bordered one side for the conservation area. It was a muddy track that was nearly grown in. A simple, wire fence along one side of the road was in bad need of repair, looking like it was a regular transit point for off-road vehicles; and several spots were completely toppled over. Charles found such a spot after a few minutes of searching and they pushed into the swamp.

They followed a set of vehicle tracks for a while until Charles decided they need to go more directly. After ten minutes of steady going, Charles stopped them for a short break.

“So far, so good,” Leo commented in a low voice.

“No complaints,” Charles agreed. “Like it was meant to be.”

“You holding up, then?”

Charles looked up from his pack, which he begun to look through. “Funny,” he said. “This stop is for navigation only. Now that we have some ground cover, I want to check the GPS. If that bush trail took us too far out of our way, it’s better we find out now. There are no real landmarks out here.”

“How far before we hit the softer ground?” Leo asked.

Charles turned the GPS on, the night mode hardly shedding any light. It started looking for a satellite. “I’m guess only another couple hundred meters,” he said, impatient for the GPS to find them. “It depends on how far we wandered on that track. I wish this thing would shit or get off the pot.”

Leo glanced up. The sky was cloudy, with patches of clear; nothing the GPS couldn’t handle with some patience.

“Here we go,” Charles announced, adjusting the screen. “Not bad, we are a little too far north, but hardly off course. This is good.” He figured out the general direction they needed to go and they set off.

They had hunted in their younger years, but neither thought they were outdoorsmen. Plodding through the swamp grew more difficult as they moved along. Charles checked the GPS a few more times as they progressed. It took them nearly thirty minutes before they reached the truly soggy ground near the middle of the swamp. Charles paused on a clump of halfway stable ground.

“This is brutal,” Charles admitted, though with no sign of discouragement in his voice. “All right, the next three or four hundred meters are boggy, watery crap. The danger is getting sucked in, so stay close and flat. Remember, too, that the cover is pretty thin here. You ready?”

“Absolutely,” Leo sighed. “Close and flat, eh? I am making you do my laundry tomorrow.”

“Deal,” Charles said. “Now just stick to the plan and don’t die.”

“So much love,” Leo laughed.

“Fuck that,” Charles laughed back. “I just don’t want to explain to mom that I got you killed.”