Free 6 Miles With Courage by Thomas LaCorte Page A

margin was written the words “ area to be scouted .”
    “Judy, I believe we found where they were heading ,” he said. Without looking at her he studied the photo intently. Judy moved up behind Bob and peered over his shoulder.
    “This boxed out area is about fifteen miles north of the river. It is five miles long by ten miles wide so we are looking at a 50 square mile area. Notice that there are several grass airstrips near the property.” Bob said as he let out a sigh of relief, “I bet they’re camping at one of these airfields right now as we speak.” His voice ended with certainty.
    “Well that’s it then,” Judy said, “the y’re most likely just fine,” and after slapping her palms onto the desktop—she gave Bob a big hug. It made him feel uncomfortable, but it was instinctive. Awkwardly parting from their embrace—Judy turns out the light—Bob takes the aerial as they head out of the conference room.
    Crossing through the atrium, Judy gather s up the coffee cups and arriving back at the kitchen—with Bob standing by the table—she rinses them.
    “The man at the airfield said that Rob did not file a flight plan, but this aerial is just as good, I think anyway.” Bob was saying as Judy continued at the sink, “I will head up to the grass airstrips in the morning where I expect to find them camping. If they are not there then I will call the bird in.”
    “That sounds wonderful,” Judy said as she put the clean coffee cups into the strainer, “and if I should hear from them I will call you right away Bob.” She said as she came up to his side at the kitchen table and said, “I suppose we should both get some rest now. It’s going to be a long day.”
    “Err-ah, yes of course,” Bob stumbled for words as he got the hint it was time to leave. They walked to the door without saying a word. Bob took his coat from the rack as Judy opened the door wide. He slung his coat over his arm and with the aerial photo in hand, stepped out of the door. After negotiating the slight downward step he turned to face Judy.
    “Judy, if it turns out that—”
    “What Bob, if it turns out like what?” She said cutting him off.
    “Na—nothing Judy, well alright then,” he said turning, “goodnight Mrs. Sykes.”
    Judy watches him walk away. She smiles as she thinks, thirty two years, and he still has not given up.
    “Men!” she sa id, closing the door.

Chapter Sixteen
     
    Ryan is not sure what made the cry in the swamp, but he takes comfort in seeing his machete lying next to him. Stirring the fire gives him pleasant thoughts and lets him forget about the alligator and the panther. The sun has set leaving just a slight brush of magenta in the western sky. The rising moon casts an eerie glow and sparkles across the open waters of the Oklawaha River. The frogs call for mates with a ceaseless noise. The day has slipped away.
    Who-who , who-who, said the Great Horned Owl as the ashes float by a little too close for comfort. Ryan looks up at the beautiful bird and then remembers the camera.
    “I wonder,” Ryan said as he picked up the camera turning it on. He thumbs through the images which appear to be pictures of his dad’s projects. Ryan would hate to erase something important of his father’s. He eliminates twelve blurry pictures. Now he can take twelve pictures of his own. He captures a snapshot of the owl in the firelight. He was zooming and cropping the image on the display screen when he heard the distance shrill of a whistle. He was thinking that it must be a far-off train when he heard it again. Only this time it seemed closer, setting the camera down he stood up.        
    He was gazing off in the direction of the sound when he heard it a third time. It captured his full attention. Ryan strained his eyes in the pale moonlight toward the twinkling river bend to the west.
    The bend made a sharp turn to the left and the river disappeared behind a towering stand of cypress trees. Only the