Acts of Nature

than wait until morning when they’d be operating in the open? Maybe they’d grown cocky, working out here where they knew the territory, where they knew the water routes and the range of boats and sounds of intruders. Maybe they thought they were invincible.
    My own head work was draining my energy. It had to be close to sunup. I closed my eyes and might have even dozed off because when I woke, all my planning of the night before went down the tubes. Circumstances out of my control forced my hand, and like every good special op gone funky, you sometimes do best by saying “fuck it” and adapting on me fly.
    From the reaction, all of us heard me sound of the chopper blades at the same time.
    My eyes snapped open; my fingers, numb from the loss of blood and movement, had that tingling sensation in them that makes you want to yelp, then they almost involuntarily went down to my pant leg where the knife was hidden.
    Across the room the kid, Marcus, stood up with the shotgun, the wooden legs of the chair scraping across the plank floor. When I focused, Buck had changed positions from when I last checked him. He had been sleeping, stretched out next to the lamp, but was now sitting with his back against the wall, eyes fixed on the light. Wayne just rolled over on one elbow and said: “Huh?”
    “It’s a helicopter,” Buck said. His voice not anxious or even surprised. “Small one by the sound.”
    Marcus moved toward the door and his buddy quickly got to one knee and, uneasily, still unsteady from sleep, followed him. I was thinking, “Now! While they’re distracted,” but when I glanced back to Buck he was pointing the .45 directly at me.
    “That’s all right, officer,” he said. “Don’t bother getting up; we’ll check it out.”
    The boys stopped at the door, Marcus now with his hand on the knob.
    “Cops, you think?” he said back at Buck, who was now on his feet. He did not have to shake the stiffness out of his joints. He was moving sleekly, like a cat that had already stretched.
    “Maybe a rescue chopper,” Wayne tossed in. “You know, hurricane relief stuff.”
    “And maybe the fucking dope dealers just swinging by to see if their stash is still here or blown over hell’s half acre by the storm,” Buck said, approaching the door and causing Marcus to pull his hand back away from the knob. He then turned to me, showing the nose of the pistol. “Or maybe the boy is right, Officer Freeman. Maybe you got some friends out there after all.”
    No one moved for a handful of seconds, listening to the woofing sound of the blades, the volume increasing and then slightly beginning to fade.
    “Well, boys. That’s his first pass,” Buck said. “Let’s wait while he goes out to bank a turn back around and then go eyeball ’em.”
    They waited ten more seconds and then Buck nudged Marcus, and the boy opened the door, letting the other two out first. His mistake.
    “You watch Freeman,” I heard Buck say. “And stay the hell under the overhang.” I then heard the thumping of footsteps on the deck, maybe a splash of someone jumping into the water. Marcus stood just outside, his hand wrapped around the door keeping it half open as he peered out. I was thinking I’d lost my chance at the shotgun, but would I even need it? If it was a police chopper, Buck and his crew might run. If it was rescue, maybe they’d wave it off. I listened to the aircraft sounds start to build again, coming back. Marcus looked inside to check on me and his face was anxious but void of any new recognition. The chopper now sounded like it was hovering and the kid stepped out again, pulling the door nearly closed with him. I couldn’t afford to hesitate again.
    I pulled my pants leg up and secured the knife taped to my calf, and in a quick and silent slice I freed my ankles. Without hesitation I then squeezed the handle between my boot soles, looped my wrists over the blade, and pulled through once. The edge was so sharp it flowed through the tape like paper. I rolled to my knees, eyes on the door, and stood, but that tingle, that electric shock of muscles gone to sleep and suddenly called upon, zinged through my right leg and it buckled. I went down to one knee but the fall was not nearly as startling as the sound of blaring music that jumped alive from the next room and then the electronic beep and metal clack of the computerized door lock snapping open.
    I was stunned for a second by the opening beat and chords of Bob