Public Enemy Zero

29

Mitchell stayed down as low as he could, trying to keep his body out of sight of the person on the dock above him. Did they stop because they saw or heard something? Or did they stop because they sensed something like everyone else who attacked him?

He decided to try to wait the person out. Rather than attract their attention and leap into his boat and make a getaway, he wanted to avoid having anybody know he stole the boat at least until morning. And even then he hoped nobody would make the connection right away between him and the boat.

Mitchell waited. He heard shifting feet, but the person wasn’t moving. This was bad. If it had been a security guard, or at least one that didn’t have the rage, he’d probably see a flashlight beam poking around.

This person was using his more basic senses to try to find him. Mitchell could hear a snort as the man took in more air. How did it work, Mitchell wondered? Did they get a small amount of his scent and try to zero in on him? Just one more question to add to the list.

Frustrated, Mitchell poked his head around the edge of the box and looked up on the dock. He saw a black man with a beard in a windbreaker who looked to be in his mid-fifties standing there. His face was curled into a snarl as he twisted his head around, smelling the air. The man’s head jerked toward Mitchell.

Damn! Mitchell cursed himself for not pulling his head away sooner. The man leaped from the dock and into the boat. The floor made a huge crack sound as the man landed.

Mitch shot up and threw himself over the stern and onto the dive platform below. He felt hands reach out and grab at his neck. The man was trying to choke him.

He tried to use his fingers to pull apart the man’s fingers but couldn’t get them to budge. Black spots began to form at the corner of his vision as his brain was cut off from blood. He felt something hot near his right ear as the man opened his mouth to bite it off.

Mitch pulled his knees into his chest, putting his full weight on the man’s hands. The man’s grip didn’t let go as he was pulled farther over the edge. Mitch kicked out against the platform and brought the back of his head against the man’s nose. He heard it crack and could feel the warm trickle of blood on the back of his neck.

The fingers slackened. Mitch wrenched his neck free and collapsed into his stolen boat. Blood returned to his head and the spots faded. He could hear the man behind him climbing over the edge of the larger boat.

Mitch’s hand was on one of the oars. He gripped it like a baseball bat and turned around swinging. The narrow edge of the paddle hit the man in the side of the head. The oar made a loud thwack as it connected.

Mitchell’s attacker slumped and fell over the edge of the boat and into the water. Mitchell leaned out and looked at the man as he lay face down in the water. Unconscious, he was about to drown.

Damn it! Self-defense was one thing, but leaving a man to drown was another. Especially a man that apparently had no control over his actions.

Mitchell set down the oar and grabbed the back of the man’s shirt. He pulled him toward the dive platform. Mitchell stepped out of his boat and dragged him out of the water and onto the platform.

He felt for a pulse. His hands trembled at the thought of the man regaining consciousness at any moment and biting off his fingers or face. Not any expert by a long shot, he felt something he thought was a pulse. That would have to do.

Mitchell pulled him into the back of the larger boat. He was tempted to try to lift him onto the dock in the hope that when the man awoke no one would notice that Mitchell had broken open the boxes. The risk of having the man come around didn’t seem worthwhile.

Mitchell climbed back into his little boat and shoved off. He started the engine and drove away. He wished he could just head off into the night and drive until dawn, but there was one more thing he needed to do.