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Tuesday, September 17, 2024

#TeaserTuesday: As if He'd Never Left

  The following post contains spoilers for Lord Have Mercy Part Four: Big Son, which you can grab here:

You can also snag the complete novel, all four installments compiled, for Kindle.

Lord Have Mercy: The Complete Novel





It took ten books, and ten years, but the big man finally got back to the swamp. A bit of a blessing and a curse for Mercy, really. But wonderful for me; I love seeing Swamp Thing in his natural habitat. 

The cigarette flicked down into the water, a tiny red shooting star, and Bob straightened away from the pillar so the moonlight carved a sickle down the side of his face, layering shadows in the corner of his eye where he had a half-dozen more smile lines than Mercy remembered.

“As I live and breathe,” he said, and his voice was the same, and Mercy wondered how he’d ever made room for trepidation within the maelstrom that was worrying over Remy, “if it ain’t ol Merci himself.”

“Nobody calls me that anymore.”

“Well, I’m gonna. You can’t go forgetting where you came from.”


Mercy closed the final gap, and Bob still smelled like Lucky Strikes and spearmint gum. He still gave the best damn hugs. When he squeezed back, Bob chuckled and said, “Shit. Did your arms get bigger?”

He pushed Mercy back so he could examine him, hands on the crooks of his elbows. In Mercy’s memory, they’d been of a height, but the reality was that Bob was a good two inches shorter. He had to tip his head back a fraction so the bright gleam of their eyes could meet in the darkness.

His smile remained, but it softened. “I’m real sorry to hear about your boy.”

“Yeah.”

As if sensing that was the only response Mercy could manage to choke out, he clapped him on the shoulder and said, “I got you a boat.”

It was a small runabout with a massive Mercury engine on the back; though larger than the narrow bateau Mercy would have preferred, it would carry all four of them, their gear, and get them moving fast when the need inevitably arose. Bob showed where he’d already stashed high-powered spotlights, a first aid kit, a CB radio, and a pair of emergency shotguns in the bow, and Mercy stepped down into it, the water shifting pleasantly beneath him, so he could reach up and accept the bags the others handed down.

The mist thickened while they loaded, and by the time they were all onboard, water slap-slapping against the sides, it had become the sort of murky dark that only the most seasoned of boatmen would have dared navigate.

Toly clutched wildly at the siderail, face ghostly white in the blue, ambient nighttime light, and his eyes were uncharacteristically big.

“Don’t like boats, son?” Devin guessed.

“I’ve – I’ve never been on a boat.” He made a sickly gulping sound that didn’t bode well. “Shouldn’t we wait for daylight?”

“It’ll be alright,” Mercy said. “I know where we’re going, and I’ve got good night vision.”

Toly looked stricken.

Devin patted him on the shoulder. “All you have to do is sit there and enjoy the ride.”

“Guh,” Toly said, elegantly.

Bob hunkered down to crouch at the edge of the dock and tossed the end of the rope over. “Felix, if you need anything,” he started, and Mercy nodded.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll radio you. Thanks, Bob,” he said, and meant it fiercely. “I don’t know…” He didn’t know a lot of things, right now, mostly how to find the words to express his gratitude to everyone who’d already helped them, and would doubtless help them more before this thing was through.

Bob nodded. “Yeah. Go find your man. Happy hunting.”

Mercy offered a salute and moved behind the wheel to put the key in the ignition. It started like a dream, purring and snorting and ready. He sat, and Gray slid soundlessly onto the seat beside him.

“Ready?” Mercy asked him.

A wink of silver proved that Gray had a rifle laid across his lap. “Yes.”

There was a moment, powering across the open water toward the mouth of the channel, when the meager light from the dock was left behind, when the darkness ahead swallowed them whole. The moment between worlds, when, for even the bravest of navigators, the belly curled in on itself and the mind whispered turn back, you can’t do this. But he could do this, had done it more times than he could count, and after another dozen yards, his vision adjusted, and the darkness took shape. Welcomed him. And it was like he’d never left the swamp at all.


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