As the boat moved up the channel, Nicolas peered down at the water, fascinated at how it appeared to be a black mirror, reflecting the trees and the violent colors of the sky. He had always enjoyed the solitude of his profession. He found peace in nature, and the bayou offered a startling glimpse into another world. He had been reared in a world apart, accompanying his grandfather into the mountains for weeks, even months. Those were joyous times, a young boy learning from an elder wise in the ways of the land, even as he could run free and play like the child he was. Nicolas smiled at the memories and offered up a silent thanks to his grandfather, long gone from him, but always held close.
Nicolas knew he belonged in the wilderness. It was where he felt most at home. He often thought he belonged in another era when there were fewer people and much more wilderness. He was grateful to Lily for the use of her home and for the work she did to enable all of them to live in the outside world. Her father’s experiment had opened their brains to continuous assaults from the people around them, and they needed the home and training Lily provided. But Nicolas still had trouble being in such close proximity to so many others—it had little to do with the enhancement and everything to do with his background and nature. Volunteering to retrieve the woman in the sanitarium was not just about saving his teammates from their own compassion. It was necessary to be able to get away on his own where he felt he could breathe.
Twice Nicolas consulted the map Lily had provided for him. In the maze of channels and canals, it was easy to lose one’s way. Some of the channels were so narrow the boat barely scraped through, while others were wide enough to be considered a lake.
Lily’s father, Dr. Whitney, had deliberately hidden the sanitarium on an island, mostly marshland, overgrown and still primitive. It was so deep in the labyrinth of canals that even the local hunters had only a vague idea of where it was located. Lily had found the detailed map in the Trust papers, but even with the map and his unerring sense of direction, Nicolas was having a difficult time finding the right island. He was still searching when night fell, darkening the swamp and complicating his mission. Twice he had to pull the boat through waist-deep, reed-choked channels, and even with the occasional sliver of light from the moon, it was difficult to see if the dark shapes in the water were alligators or floating logs.
As the boat rounded a small island he caught sight of several birds lifting into the sky from somewhere behind a thick stand of trees. At once his skin prickled and his belly churned. Nicolas shut off the boat’s motor. He drifted, waiting in silence, listening to the sounds of the wetlands. Insects had been humming and frogs croaking. They went silent now. Nicolas immediately slid low in the boat so that his body would be much more difficult to detect. He could slide into the water if necessary—he had been close to alligators on more than one occasion—but he wanted to keep his weapons dry if at all possible.
Nicolas avoided the pier and dock and the worn ribbon of a trail leading toward the center of the island. He knew most of the island was spongy and probably filled with sinkholes an unwary traveler could fall into, but it was safer there than being on a path where someone might be waiting in ambush. And he was very certain someone was waiting in the heavy shrubbery.
He eased the boat into a small inlet several hundred yards from the dock and around a bend, out of sight. Nicolas slipped into knee-deep water, pulling the boat behind him to tie up to a tree. It was a slow process, taking care not to splash as he slogged through the mire until he was on higher ground. It was still a bog. Grass grew wild and tall and a multitude of shrubbery and flowers filled in spaces the trees didn’t take up.