I wasn’t happy with the delay, but Lu’s life—and likely my own—depended upon our success, so we forced ourselves to proceed with caution. I stalked along the path behind my companion, who stared into the surrounding water as if it were tea and he might read the leaves that floated on the murky surface.

A two-by-four boardwalk on stilts disappeared back through the trees, and we climbed up on it to follow.

The narrow wooden path was raised above the water, but only by a few disconcerting inches. I could have dipped a toe into the scum without any trouble, but something about the smell of the place prohibited it. The air was heavy with the scent of rotting, soggy wood, and of other things decaying where the alligators had left them to soften and stink. Overhead the sky was almost blotted out by the interlacing branches of the tall cypress trees strung with fuzzy gray moss, and it was difficult to see deeper than twenty yards into the woods, so thickly did those black trees grow.

Just beneath the slime of the water, small and large things moved. Maybe snakes, maybe turtles. Maybe amphibians larger and more sinister. Across the top of the algae, mosquitoes and other light bugs zipped and buzzed.

The wet swamp world was alive with green, damp motion, and it was hungry.

Harry and I walked the path in silence until we’d gone more than a mile through the stifling, dank forest, each of us wishing we’d thought to bring a bottle of water. We were both sweating ourselves into dehydration by the time we reached the boardwalk’s end. It simply stopped in a cul-de-sac turnabout, refusing to take us any deeper. We stood on the edge and shielded our eyes, smacking at bugs and hoping to see some sign of habitation.

There was none. The trail did not go far enough. We’d been quite miserably wasting our time.

“Let’s go back,” Harry proposed, as if we had some choice in the matter. “We could rent a canoe over near the rangers’ station, and we could maybe use some wading boots too. And a couple of canteens. And if we have time, we can try our luck along the road before it gets too dark.”

“Okay,” I agreed, since there was no other action to take. I was frustrated because I knew we had to be close, but there was no practical way for us to safely navigate the oily, chest-high water. If the snakes didn’t get us, the bugs would take us apart like winged piranhas.