Chapter 5: 1817 and the Seminoles
The Prior
I guess we jumped years, but I find myself alone in the woods. The spookiness of the silent woods sends a shiver down my spine. Who knows whatâs out here. Wolves? Crazed hunters? The silence is interruped when from behind me, âHello?â echoes.
I shout back. The voice sounds like Elliot. He finally appears from the density of the woods. The moment I see his face, I regret answering his call. Ick.
âHey. Whereâs everyone else?â he says.
âNo clue,â I say, rolling my eyes. He frustrates me so much.
My mild annoyance is interrupted as a shrill scream echoes through the air. I glance at Elliot.
âBelle or Cassidy?â he asks.
âI donât know. Whereâd that come from?â I glance around us, in circles. Elliot does too. I nearly run into him as we both look around. My jaw tightens involuntarily in disgust. Why is he even here?
âUp here!â The voice shouts. Elliot looks up and points. I glance upwards. Cass is sitting on the end of a tree branch, at least 40 feet above us. I swallow the lump in my throat, just thinking about that height.
âItâs Cassidy,â Elliot says, as if I couldnât see with my own eyes. Finally, I can pinpoint it. Thatâs what bothers me. Cass. He calls her Cassidy. Thatâs not her name.
âWhy do you call her that?â I spit, almost accidentally. I donât know how much I really meant to say that outloud.
âCassidy?â he questions.
âYeah, she goes by Cass,â I correct.
âI donât know. She originally introduced herself as Cassidy and it, like, stuck. She hasnât corrected me,â he explains. I have to restrain my eyes to keep from rolling them. What an idiot. He looks back up towards her.
âCan you climb down?â he shouts.
âI think so!â she says. I watch her carefully walk, one foot after another, to the trunk of the tree.
âThereâs no way I can do this in a dress,â she calls back after a moment. I just stare at her.
Elliot looks over to me, âWell, one of us has to go get her.â hell, no. I am not going up there. My limbs are paralyzed in just the thought of climbing that tree.
âIâm afraid of heights,â I tell him. Itâs my weakness. He looks up at the tree and shrugs. At least someone will go get her. I know sure-as-hell it wonât be me.
âSo, I guess thatâs me. Give me your shoes,â he says.
âWhat?â I blurt.
âI canât grip the tree in these!â he says, pointing to his loafers. My shoes, for some reason, are boots. More traction than his.
I slip them off. He puts them on and ties the laces.
âDude, your feet are huge,â he says. I snicker to myself, hiding a smile. I took enough science classes in undergrad to know that just means I have a biggerâ¦.
He walks over to the tree and climbs up to Cass. Iâm getting queasy just watching them up there. Any second now, that branch might just fall. She gets on his back and I can just hear her laughter. I hope he didnât tell her I was afraid of heights. He sets her on the ground and she smiles wide.
âHave you guys found Belle?â she asks me.
âNot yet, Cassie,â I say.
âDonât call me that. Cass, please,â she says. Elliot looks straight at me, a cocky smile painted on his face. What is his problem? A shudder of annoyance ruffles through me. I hate him so much. We walk around looking for Belle, even glancing up at trees. Until finally, she just appears. Like, she physically just appears out of thin air.
âHi?â she says. We all stare at her.
âWhat was up? That was the weirdest time change Iâve ever had,â she says. Cass laughs.
âI woke up on the top of that tree right over there,â Cass says. Belle joins her in laughter, which spreads to me eventually.
âHowâd you get down?â
âElliot climbed all the way up there and carried me down. I am not a âheightsâ person,â she says.
âMe either, Cass!â I say. She smiles at me a little and turns back to Belle. Great. Another moment that I get to to overthink.
âSo, does anyone know where we are?â Elliot pipes in.
â1817. And we have to prevent some dudesâ death,â Belle says, reading off her paper.
âWho is it?â Elliot asks.
âA seminole? I donât have his name. Just this drawing,â she says before showing us a sketch of him.
âOh, fun. So, where are we? And whatâs a Seminole?â Cass asks, more amused than she should be. I really feed off her enthusiasm. Iâm convinced that she makes me braver. Somehow.
âSeminoles are Native Americans who migrated to Florida,â Belle says.
âSo, weâre in Florida? I thought itâd be warmer,â I joke. I give Cass a wink. She sighs. Add that to the overthinking list. Maybe I need to dial down a notch. Too obvious?
âItâs February. And in the evening,â Belle snarks. Sheâs annoying too. I really canât deal with teenagers. Gross. I typically prefer to be alone anyway. Iâve always worked better alone, thatâs why Iâm in forensics and not another field. If only I could just be back in my lab, running tests, in the peace and quiet.
âLetâs just go to the town or whatever. Weâre in Florida. I donât want Malaria from all these mosquitoes,â Cass says. Her hair gets larger, curlier, from the humidity.
âHow long until this guyâs supposed to die? Like, do we have an hour or seven?â Elliot asks.
âThree days,â Belle stutters.
âThatâs a long ass time,â Cass says. I nod in agreement.
âI guess weâll have to find somewhere to sleep,â I mutter.
âAnd soon,â Cass says, âItâs sunset.â I look up at the orange sky, the sunâs fading into the horizon. Cass talks about seeking shelter at the Spanish fort. Itâs right in front of us.
âIâm exhausted,â Belle says.