Second Chance Gold (Buck Reilly Adventure Series Book 4), John Cunningham [polar express read aloud .txt] 📗

leaf rolled into the opening. There was about an inch of brown liquid inside the clear bottle, which made me cringe.

“You know what it’s like to puke and dry heave with only rainwater to drink? I was so dehydrated and weak from that—must have been two weeks.” His eyes shone a bright cerulean blue from deep, dark sockets.

“You lucky to be alive, man,” Truck said.

“How’s my family?” He shuddered again.

“They’re okay, Jerry, and they’ll be amazed to see you, to learn you’re alive.” I glanced back at St. Barths. Flamands beach was a bright white line. Jerry’s house was visible from here.

He saw me looking in that direction.

“You probably know my house is right on that beach—” More spasms. “I stared at it … couldn’t do a thing … about it.”

Truck turned sideways so Jerry couldn’t see his face. “What about the map?” he whispered.

I held a finger to my lips. Jerry’s story didn’t add up, but if we had him, we’d get the truth sooner or later. I bent down to grab his shoulder but felt only bones beneath the thin, filthy T-shirt.

“Let’s get you out of here—”

“After all that … I was too weak to swim—hell, it’s not even a full mile—not that I could have done it … when I was drinking …”

“It’s okay, Jerry,” I said. “You’re going to be fine. Let’s get you back to your family.”

“My family …” His voice was a whisper. “It’s all that matters, man. I squandered so many years—” Another tremor. “And it took this … to get that. And the money!” His face turned sour. “Don’t ever believe free money’s any answer in life! Life’s meant … to be a struggle, making ends meet working hard investing in … yourself … each other … Free money … take it from me it’s just a different kind of desperation …”

“Don’t try to talk any more,” I said. “Let us concentrate on getting you out of here.”

It took both of us to carry him—no easy task, given Truck’s injuries. On steeper sections of the descent, I carried Jerry myself. His ribs cut into my back and he barely had the strength to hang on. I told him his uncle had hired us to come try to find out what had happened.

“But everybody thinks you drowned, Jerry.” I was worried how he’d react to this news but he didn’t seem to notice it.

“Can’t believe … Lou … sent you.” His voice bounced as we walked. “We aren’t … close.”

I swallowed any questions about the Eden Rock, Remy de Haenen, or the Concepcíon. Jerry was barely lucid. Now was not the time.

Near the bottom, he spotted the Beast.

“Thought that plane was another … hallucination.” He laughed and one of his ribs cut into my back. “Diet of lizards can do that to you.”

So would going cold turkey.

When we reached the gravel beach Jerry insisted on standing. His legs wobbled and his hands shook as he slid down the side of the fuselage toward the hatch, but his eyes were clear. I helped him inside. After he crawled toward the seat facing the aft section, he stopped and peered back outside.

“Let me take one last look.”

“You won’t ever come back here again?” I said.

His eyes caught mine, but he didn’t answer.

We’d been to the hospital this week so many times nurses and orderlies greeted us like old friends when we brought Jerry in.

“Last place I wanted to be coming back to,” Truck said. He had the sling pulled tight, not because he was worried about the doctor admonishing him but because he’d hurt it again while helping carry Jerry down the side of Ile Chevreau.

“At least this time nobody got beat up—”

“Beat up, my ass! Those bastards got me in my sleep! I’d of kicked their asses—”

“Buck!” Gisele ran down the open air corridor and threw her arms around me. “How did you find him?”

“We got lucky.”

“I don’t believe in luck—and you!” She placed her palm on the side of Truck’s face. “You poor thing, you were attacked too—”

“Beat up.” I smiled.

Truck curled an eyebrow and pinched his lips together.

“Trying to help our family.” Her voice caught. “Thank you both, so much.”

Her statement made me cringe. I was looking for gold when I went to Ile Chevreau—I’d long ago written Jerry off.

Inside his room, three adorable towheads sat on and around the bed. I guessed their ages to be between six and thirteen. Their faces were a collection of bewilderment, concern, and joy at the resurrection of their dad.

Jerry was beaming, and even though he’d only been here a couple of hours, he already had better color and his eyes didn’t look quite so sunken.

The doctor was on the far side of the bed, along with a nurse who was replacing a spent IV bottle.

“The heroes of the day,” the doctor said. It was the first time I’d seen him smile.

“How’s the patient?” I said.

“Nothing short of a miracle,” the doctor said. “He has a kidney infection, was seriously dehydrated, and only weighs 126 pounds—”

“I lost thirty pounds!” Jerry said.

“—but I think he’ll be fine with the antibiotics and some rest.” The doctor grimaced. “Assuming he takes care of himself when he’s released, and starts back with a bland diet—”

“More bland than lizards, bugs, and rainwater?” Jerry laughed.

The doctor hesitated. I sensed that by “bland diet” he meant “no alcohol.”

“I hate to end the party,” he said. “But visiting hours are over and this patient needs rest—”

“Hell, I been lying on my ass for a month,” Jerry said. “I need to get the blood moving!”

“Listen to the doctor,” Gisele said. She called the children in French, each of whom hugged and kissed their father on the cheek. Jerry teared up. I hoped he’d be able to maintain the conviction he shared on the island—family first.

Gisele then kissed Jerry on the lips, hugged him gently, and promised to be back in the morning with her parents.

The doctor