Fort Mudge

Incessantly he rubbed his bruised torso with mud-caked palms to dislodge the gnats and mosquitoes that clung to him, gorging shamelessly.

To the east, he could see the lights of Fort Mudge, where the railroad cut through on its way to Jacksonville.

He had planned to ride the freight into Jacksonville, but by now they were stopping every train and searching along every foot of the railroad right of way.

In the distance he heard the eerie keen of a train whistle and visualized the scene as it was flagged down and searched from engine to caboose.