Nuclear Jellyfish

BIG WATER

End of another day in paradise. The atmospheric conditions were Serge’s favorite. Cirrus clouds refracted the setting sun into chromatic brilliance, while a distant storm front sent flaming shafts across some of the most wide-open ranch and wetlands in all of central Florida. Nearer to his vantage, waning light peeked through palms and danced off a tiny nest of silver mobile homes.

Serge and Coleman had binoculars. Serge scanned the horizon. Coleman uncapped an eyepiece on his nonfunctioning pair and swigged from the hidden flask inside. Serge panned to the south. “Absolutely beautiful. I can never get enough of the lake.”

“Lake?” said Coleman. “Thought that was the ocean.” “Coleman, we’re in the middle of the state.” “Are you sure? I can’t see the other side.”

“Because it’s Lake Okeechobee. Big Water in the Native-American tongue.”

“What’s that smell?”

“Baked muck. Never seen the lake level so low.” Binoculars panned the eastern shore. “Down at least eight feet from the drought, killing the local sportsmen economy. Probably finding all kinds of bodies and weapons and stolen cars at receded banks. On the bright side, it’s the perfect opportunity to add bodies.” Serge pulled out a pen and pad. “Note to self: …”

Coleman looked over a railing, got dizzy and stumbled back. “How high up are we?”

“Five-story viewing platform. I’m helpless to resist viewing platforms, and my life record is still intact: never passed one without stopping and climbing to the top, or at least being told to get off the fence if the gate is locked.”

“What’s that giant grass wall in front of the shore?”

“Massive berm. Runs all the way around the lake. That’s why we have to be up here to see the water.”

Coleman chugged his binoculars. “What’s the berm for?”

“To prevent a repeat of the ‘28 hurricane, which literally pushed the lake onto the surrounding countryside, killing hundreds.”

Coleman walked across the platform and looked over the opposite railing at a flat tar roof. “I’ve never seen a viewing platform on top of a motel before.”

“It’s the Pier 2 Resort.” Serge jotted in the notebook. “That’s why they’re getting extra-high marks in my report. They didn’t have to, but the owners spared no expense for the enjoyment of their paying guests.”

“So this is our hotel tonight?”

“No, we snuck up here.” Serge slipped his notepad in a pocket. “Let’s go to the bar.”

They climbed down and started across the parking lot. Coleman poked Serge. “The hotel’s back there. Where are you going?”

“To the bar.”

Serge headed away from civilization and toward the lake. Just outside the berm, the lake was surrounded by a man-made access waterway, which shallowed into a dense swamp that stretched the last couple hundred yards to shore. Serge reached the edge of land and stopped at a sign: NO SWIMMING, BEWARE OF ALLIGATORS.

Coleman caught up. “That’s the bar?”

“One of the finest in all of Florida.”

They strolled a lengthy boardwalk. Ahead: a small building on stilts in the middle of the swamp. Serge circled its wraparound porch until they reached another boardwalk that extended from the pub’s screened-in back deck, farther toward the lake.

“Serge, we just passed the bar.”

“Exactly. I’m checking all escape routes. Then we enter from the rear. They won’t expect that.”

“Who won’t?”

But Serge just kept walking. Even though the planks were elevated a good six feet, the surrounding reeds and cattails reached above their heads and, with the growing darkness, came alive in a racket of nightlife.

Coleman clutched Serge’s sleeve with both hands. “What’s all that eerie noise?”

“Bullfrogs and insects.”

“What?”

“Bullfrogs and insects!”

“It’s freakin’ loud!”

“That’s the thing about inland Florida. The coasts deceive us into thinking we humans are running things, but out here you realize nature’s the true boss and can swallow you in a blink.”

“Serge, I’m scared.”

“We’re perfectly safe up here, just stay on the boardwalk. Whatever else you do, keep telling yourself: Never get off the boardwalk.”

Serge eventually came to the end of the pier. The water’s surface was, as they say, like glass, reflecting the last twilight, perfect for picking out ominous, drifting bumps.

“There’s an alligator,” said Serge. “And another. And another. Man, they’re everywhere! Coleman, let’s see how many we can count. Five, ten, fifteen … Coleman?…”

Serge turned around. Empty boardwalk.

“Coleman!” His eyes shot left and right. Off to the side, a cluster of nearby reeds shook wildly. Serge ran over. “Coleman! What are you doing down there?”

“I found this big dope plant!” More shaking vegetation. “I can’t get it loose. Come help me.”

“Coleman, it’s just a swamp reed.”

“Are you sure ?”

“I’m sure you’re an idiot. Give me your hand!”

Serge reeled him up just as unseen reptilian jaws snapped below his feet.

Coleman rubbed scratched-up palms on his pants. “Now can we go to the bar for that meeting of yours?”

“Sure, he’s here.”

“You just saw him arrive?”

“No, he’s been here the whole time.”

“Then why weren’t we in the bar?”

“Had to give the alcohol time to take effect.”

They entered through the back deck. Tables pushed together again in the middle of the room. The Okeechobee Coin & Stamp Show.

Serge and Coleman proceeded directly to a pair of empty stools at the bar. A draft and bottled water arrived.

Coleman toasted his buddy. “Pretty cool joint.”

“One of the coolest.” Serge pointed above rows of bottles behind the bartender, where three-sided bay windows provided a panorama of the darkening swamp. “That’s my number one rule for bars: All the best have views behind the bottles, like the revolving lounge at Tampa International or the top of La Concha in Key West. Except those have views over stuff. This is even better, looking out from inside the swamp.”

Coleman signaled for a refill. “Where’s Story? I almost forgot about her.”

“Studying back at the motel.”

“I didn’t see her at the motel, either.”

“Got her a separate room.”

“What for?”

“Our relationship is progressing more rapidly than I’d anticipated. We’re getting on each other’s nerves.”

“How do you know it’s the relationship? Men and women do that anyway.”

“You’re right,” said Serge. “But she’s also started using sex as a weapon.”

“What’s that?”

“Remember how the Romans built their empire by laying siege to a city? Think of that with guest towels.”

“Can I use sex as a weapon?”

“You already do, except in your case it’s a nuclear deterrent.”

“But she’s still hanging with us, right?”

“She’s still with us, just won’t be around as often now that classes are about to start at the college.”

Coleman turned toward the crowd at the tables. “Where’s Steve?”

“Over there on the end.”

“Why didn’t you meet with him before, right after we saw him talking with those guys you left in the pigpen?”

“Because the Master Plan has to evolve and constantly change its approach, or the gang will scatter before I have a chance to pick off a satisfying number.”

“So how’d you convince Steve to meet?”

“Oh, he doesn’t know we’re meeting. That’s why this has to be handled very delicately. My gambit must be completely …”

Coleman stuck two fingers in his mouth and made a shrill whistle. “Yo! Steve!” Big waving motion with his arm. “Over here!” (,

“… subtle. Thanks, Coleman.”

Steve came over and gave the pair a look of non-recognition. “Do I know you?”

“Met a bunch of times,” said Serge. “Hotel bars.”

Steve didn’t like the vibe. “Sorry, you got the wrong guy. I don’t know you.”

“Let me buy you a drink.”

“I remember you now.” He grabbed a stool. “Bart?” “Serge.”

Steve raised a finger to the bartender. “Double Chivas on the rocks, his tab.” He turned to Serge. “So how’s business been?”

“Business is wonderful! Couldn’t be better! So good, in fact, that I have a proposition for you.”

Steve laughed. “I’ve heard this come-on before. Should have known: There’s no such thing as a free drink.”

“Seriously,” said Serge. “My business is taking off.”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” said Steve. “Your business was…”

Serge leaned and lowered his voice. “I fix problems. Heard you have a big one.”

Steve cocked his head back with a new expression. “Who are you, really?”

“Close friend of Howard Long.”

“Howard?”

“The guy who sold vintage Florida souvenirs at your shows.”

“Ohhhhh.” Steve began nodding. “I remember him. Great kid. Just terrible what happened to him. Absolute shame, the decline of this state.”

“Interesting perspective since you were in on it.”

“Huh? Me? …”-pointing over-innocently at his own chest- “… What are you talking about. I barely knew the guy.”

“You recruited him to be a courier. He told me in the hospital,” said Serge. “But I could always be wrong. I’ll check with the police-“

“Okay, okay, look …” Steve glanced around, then scooted closer. “I lied about not knowing him because the whole courier thing is very confidential and I don’t know who you guys are. But if you say he told you at the hospital … I mean, you understand my position.”

“I understand your position. Ten percent.”

“What?”

“More or less. But ten would be the standard cut for fingering Howard.”

“I have no idea what you’re-“

“You recruited him, and he gets hit on the first run. What are the odds? Nobody knew where he was staying or that he was holding. Except you.”

Steve shook his head and got off his stool. “Thanks for the drink.”

Serge raised the edge of his tropical shirt, revealing a pistol butt. “Don’t be rude.”

Steve sat back down and became verbally incontinent. “… I’m so sorry. It was all a mistake. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the room. These guys are crazy. They’ll kill me. I just want to sell coins. You’re not going to kill me, are you? I’m so sorry …”

“Get a grip. And stop crying-you’re attracting attention.”

He sniffled and wiped his eyes.

“That’s better.” Serge handed him a napkin. “Nobody’s going to kill you. At least I’m not. But you have to do me a favor.”

Steve blew his nose. “What is it?”

“I’m guessing right about now the gang is pretty pissed at you for the two guys they lost going after your last target.”

“You know about that?”

Serge smiled.

“Oh my God!”

“Keep your shit together,” said Serge. “I told you: I fix problems. If you go back to them with a new courier, it could go a long way toward smoothing ruffled feathers.”

“But I don’t have a new courier.”

“I do. The perfect guy.”

“Who?”

Serge beamed and thumped his chest. “Me!”

“You?”

“I know. Isn’t it great?” Serge slapped Steve on the back. “We’re going to be partners! Spending all kinds of time together, barbecuing in each other’s backyards …”

Tears returned. “I can’t take this anymore.”

“I’m afraid you’re between a rock and a hard place. Of course I’m the one who put you there. Sometimes I’m the rock, sometimes the hard place, sometimes both if there’s enough elbow room.”

“You’re insane.”

“Just plug me into your network, and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Can’t do that.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“No, I mean my distributor will never go for it. He’ll smell this a mile away.”

“Look, I’m not going to be a real courier. So there won’t be any gems to worry about.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m asking you to plug me into the gang, not your distributor,” said Serge.

“You just tell the crew I’m your new recruit.”

“Why on earth would you want me to do that?”

“It’s better you don’t know. I’m watching out for your safety. They can beat you stupid for days, and what can you tell them?”

Sobbing again.

Serge pulled a scrap of paper from his wallet and slid it along the bar. “Here’s where we’ll meet tomorrow night.”

Steve studied the address. “What’s this place?”

“Excellent joint. I’ve been dying to go there. If you survive long enough, we’ll get to see all kinds of Florida funk together. It’ll be a gas, right, Coleman?”

“All party, all the time … You do weed?”

“What?”

“Just meet us there at seven,” said Serge. “I’ll give you all the details to feed the gang so they can take me down.”

“Take you down?” said Steve. “You really are insane.”

“Going to play ball?”

“Forget it. Those guys will kill me for sure if they ever find out.”

“Then I’m afraid I’ll just have to go to the gang myself and tell them you’ve been blabbing. Sorry, I don’t make the rock-and-hard-place rules.”

“Dear God …”

“Let you in on the big secret,” said Serge. “They’re already going to kill you. My guess is sooner rather than later.”

“But we’re in business together.”

“You’re a tool. When you finally want out, you think they’re just going to let you walk away: ‘Hey guys, it’s been a load of yuks.’ Then you’ll go to another routine meeting to get your final cut, and the Coast Guard will find your torso in a shipping channel. Your torso doesn’t have any tattoos, does it?”

Steve shook his head.

“Then it’ll be your torso.”

“But why would they do that?”

“Because you’re a schmuck. One of the biggest risks they have right now is you eventually turning state’s evidence, and that’s a risk they’ll never take.”

“Dear Jesus, what am I going to do?”

“You’re in luck!” Serge grinned and put an arm around Steve’s quivering shoulders. “I’m your only hope.”

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