Miraculously, this was Bubba’s lucky day. When Tee threw the cinder block in the water, it dragged the tarp down by one end. The tarp, body, and all went to the bottom. The cinder block hit the bottom of the soft mud first, but the tarp, which had been tightly wrapped and folded at the ends, still held a small amount of air. The cold water engulfed Bubba and caused him to regain consciousness for a brief period. Unaware of where it came from, he inhaled the fledging amount of air still inside the tarp. Then he desperately kicked his feet loose from the line tied around the tarp near his feet. Having the use of only his right arm and hand, he was able to throw off the tarp. He swallowed a mouthful of dirty water. The water went rushing into his lungs cutting off his breathing. Gagging and coughing, he sucked in more water and was in a fit of choking. Then a fleeting second of hope; he felt the mud under his feet and pushed with every ounce of strength left in his weak body.
It was sufficient. Within a second, his head broke water. He grasped the precious air, but the weight of the cinder block pulled him below the surface again. His feet hit bottom, and he was able to thrust his body upward the second time As he broke surface this time, he saw a limb hanging over the water only a few feet away and grabbed for it. He missed. Down he went again. By now, his survival instincts kicked in to overcome his physical condition. He pushed himself upward the third time. This time he was able to grab the overhanging limb with his right hand. All he could do was to hold on and let his water soaked lungs repeatedly take in air. Dangling from the limb, he could now feel the line tied to his feet and knew that something was on the other end pulling down. It was a good thing that Oats and Tee had been spooked by the passing Ski-Doos, or they would have seen how wrong they were when they thought Bubba was dead.
Still gasping for air, he was able to see the shoreline. He held onto the limb with every ounce of his strength. He pulled along the outstretched limb with his one good hand. After several minutes, Bubba felt his feet in the mud. He was able to pull to the boggy shoreline dragging the cement block with him. With his head laying on a sod of grass and the rest of his body in shallow water, he just laid there, every bodily function totally drained. He passed out within seconds. Then his face dipped into the shallow water, and he became conscious again. He jerked his head up and crawled a few more feet to higher ground.
The most horrible pain he had ever felt encompassed his entire body. His left arm was shattered between the elbow and wrist and was dangling like a limp rag. Every time it moved, the pain became more intense. He lifted it with his right hand and tucked the useless appendage into his shirt between two buttons. This would have to do, he thought. Slowly he began struggling with a small piece of dry ground.
Bubba didn’t know where he was. He was unconscious off and on most of the time. He could only make a few feet before resting on any dry ground he found. Even when he crawled along, he was in a daze. As far as he could tell, he guessed he had been struggling in the thickets of the swamp for several days. He didn’t realize that he was near a major waterway, which on the weekends was well traveled by sports fishermen. Twice during his entrapment, he thought he heard the sound of a boat engine in the distance. Had he not been delusional, he would have realized that in the days he had struggled through the swamp he had actually gone no more than a mile and had actually crawled for most of this distance through the muddy undergrowth. He passed out repeatedly and was awakened several times by rats, crows, and once a ‘possum, nibbling on the flesh of his wounds.
Finally, he saw the large body of water through the leaning trees ahead. He realized it must be a river. He didn’t know which one, but his knowledge of the area told him it could only be the Combahee or Ashepoo. He felt a spark of hope, as he was aware that boat traffic frequently plied both of these rivers. Finally reaching the water’s edge, he let himself sprawl out on open sand on an inside curve of the river. His body hugged the soft, cool sand. He still possessed enough mental awareness to decide that he was going to stay there until he was found. Or until he died! An omen portending the latter event could be observed against the scattered clouds above.
Three buzzards searching for a meal flew high in the sky. Spying the prone body on the ground below, they made long swoops until their highly tuned olfactory senses detected the smell of death. It wasn’t long before the mysterious birds were perched on the smooth grass about 30 yards up the river’s slope. They were just watching and patiently waiting for the final breath of their prey. They were a strange sight indeed. Their black feathers with a blue sheen on them covered most of their bodies. The feathers stopped just at the top of their body, revealing long bare wrinkled skinned necks that were terminated by an ugly head with blood red beaks. Their eyes were surrounded by loose red skin. In the warm Sun, they reeked of the putrid smell of their last meal. Not used to human flesh, they looked forward to feasting on this rare delicacy. Unlike the rats that had been devouring Bubba’s flesh at every opportunity, the buzzards had very peculiar table etiquette. They had never been known to consume living flesh. On the other hand, the second the nearly lifeless body in front of them drew its last breath, and it didn’t look like that would be very long, they would begin their ravenous feast.