“Hurricane pushed that wreck up onto an oyster bar,” Dooley said, slowing the boat to a fast walk. “Makes a good navigation point when you’re cruising around the mangroves. It can get confusing out here at times, even with a GPS and compass.”

The boat had gone past the tip of Bonefish Key, a long, tapering point shaped like a shirttail. The marine center dock was no longer visible, and palmettos obscured the water tower. The low, monotonous islands offered no outstanding features that could be used as reference points, and perspective constantly changed.

“You must know these waters like the back of your hand,” Gamay said.

Dooley squinted at the sun-dappled water.

“It all looks the same, but you get so you can pick out little details that most people wouldn’t see.” He opened a storage box and pointed to a pair of goggles. “I cheat when I go out fishing at night,” he said with a smirk. “Got these night vision gogs over the Internet. Got some spare ones back at the boathouse.”

“Where does Dr. Lee go kayaking?”

“She paddles down the back side of the barrier beach. Lots of birds there. I’ll show you.”

Dooley headed between two mangroves. The passage narrowed, funneling them to a dead end. Dooley brought the boat to a halt and handed Gamay a pair of binoculars. She raised them to her eyes and saw dozens of snowy egrets and great blue herons wading in the shallows, looking for food.

Dooley pointed to a wooden stake that stuck out of the water a few feet from the shore.

“That marks a path that leads across the island. Only a few hundred yards, and there’s good surf fishing on the other side.”

Dooley powered up the outboard motor, and they sped out of the V-shaped cove and toward the wrecked boat. He made a sharp turn and headed back toward Bonefish Key. The water tower popped into view, and minutes later Dooley cut speed and expertly brought them alongside the dock. Gamay tied the boat off with a few turns of the bow and stern lines. She thanked Dooley and borrowed a chart of local waters, saying she wanted to see where they had been.

She passed Dr. Lee, who was on her way for her daily kayak paddle. Gamay said hello, and got the same polite reception as the first time they met.

She then stood at the top of the hill overlooking the marina and watched Lee until she paddled around a bend.

When Gamay looked past the superficial beauty of the island, she saw that it had a beaten aspect to it. The mangroves were half dead, and even the high ground had never dried out after the hurricane, producing rank decay that overpowered the flowers and hung over the island in an invisible miasma.

She wrinkled her nose.

This place stinks in more ways than one, she thought.

Unknown

NUMA 8 - Medusa

CHAPTER 21