Gateways. Part 24

"Did you finish the old man?"

"No. I couldn't get to him."

"That old guy?" Luke's tone said he didn't believe a word of it. "He hurt Devil?"

"No-no. It was the same like in the hospital, only ten times worse. There was this line I couldn't cross without feelin' like I was gonna be sick or explode or both. I couldn't push Devil past it." Truth was, she couldn't push herself past it. "And then this pain in Devil's side that I felt too. Like he was bein' stabbed, but from the inside."

"The old guy's kid?"

"I don't think so. This wasn't even at the old man's house. It was at the old lady's next door. It's her. Gotta be her. She's the one that's been messin' us up."

"Whatta we do?"

"I don't know. I'll worry about that later. First thing I gotta do is get Devil home. He's hurt bad, and he won't know where he is. I gotta bring him in."

She looked down at her eye-sh.e.l.l. She knew that if she put it on she'd feel that pain again. But she had to. She couldn't leave Devil hangin'. Had to bring him back to his gator hole where he could wallow and heal up.

How'd that skinny old hag do it? How'd she hurt Devil whose hide was like armor plate?

Semelee didn't know but she was gonna find out. And when she did, that old lady was gonna pay for what she'd done to Devil. That b.i.t.c.h was gonna hurt like Devil. Maybe even worse.

13.

"Dad? Are you okay?"

Tom looked up from his chair and found Jack staring at him, a worried look on his face.

I must look like h.e.l.l, he thought. He tried to respond but all he could do was shake his head and sweat.

"Is it your heart?"

"No." Finally he could speak. "Not my heart. It's my head. I remember what happened Monday night."

"You mean, Tuesday morning?"

"Whenever I had the accident. That...that alligator was there."

"That same one?" Jack said.

"You think I could forget those horns and those extra legs?"

Anya was watching him from her recliner. "Don't go out at night like you do-how many times did I tell you that?"

"Countless times." He shook his head. "I should have listened."

Jack dropped into his own chair, opposite. "But how does that alligator figure into your accident? Or doesn't it?"

"Oh, it does. I remember it now. I was driving south along Pemberton, taking my time..."

No hurry, no place to go, no timetable to hew to on that warm yet unseasonably cool night. Cool enough to drive with the windows open, not worrying about the mosquitoes because even that easy pace was too fast for them. He remembered the hum of his tires on the pavement, the soft feel of the wind swirling through the car and the mix of fragrances riding it: the sour smell of the saw gra.s.s yearning for water, the sweetness of the flowering roadside bushes.

"...and as I came to the stop sign on South Road, I slowed to a stop-well, maybe not a complete stop, but a sort of rolling stop. I was taking my foot off the brake as the car eased into the intersection, but before I could give it gas again I saw something crawl onto the road ahead of me. I hit the brakes hard and came to a dead stop maybe three-quarters of the way through the intersection."

"An alligator?" Jack said. "The one we just saw?"

Tom nodded. "No question. I couldn't keep going. Something that size-I mean it must be twenty feet long-doesn't leave you any room to go around it. And truth be known, I didn't want to go around it. I felt safe in the car-especially after I put the windows up. It wasn't threatening me, just staring at me. I put on the high beams for a better look at it, and I must have been so fascinated by the sight of this horned gator that I didn't hear the truck until it was practically on top of me. My closed windows and its off headlights didn't help either."

"Wait," Jack said. "The guy was driving out there in the dark with no lights? Not even running lights?"

"Nothing. I heard a rumble to my right and looked and saw this dark shape roaring down at me from the west. It was practically on top of me. I didn't have time to react-or maybe I froze in shock. Whatever the reason, I couldn't move out of its way and it rammed me hard. I saw a big b.u.mper smash into my right front fender and then the car was jerked around like...like I don't know...like it had been punched by G.o.d. My head hit something and everything went dark for a while, I don't know how long, and then I was back again, but the world was blurry and full of steam. My ruptured radiator, maybe."

"Did you see any part of the truck? I mean, was it an old red pickup, by chance?"

Tom shook his head. "No. This was a big rig, and seemed to be in good shape. At least its b.u.mper was. I remember seeing what looked like a wall of shiny chrome slamming into me. Why did you think it was a pickup?"

"Just a thought." Somehow Jack looked disappointed.

"Getting hit wasn't the worst part. The really frightening part came after the impact. I was lying there, feeling sick, hurt, bleeding, barely able to move, but alive and so thankful I'd worn my seat belt, when I heard these voices, growing louder as they got closer. I remember hearing someone sounding mad, cursing, saying something about hitting me too hard and what if they'd killed me. And then the door was pulled open and I almost fell out of the car. That was when I heard someone say, 'Look! He's moving! You d.a.m.n well better thank your lucky stars he's still alive!'"

"That sounds like they meant to hit your car."

"They did." Tom repressed a shudder. He glanced at Anya who was watching him impa.s.sively, her expression neutral. "It didn't click then, but now I'm sure they did."

"Sure?" Jack said. "What makes-?"

"By what came next. They unbuckled my seat belt and pulled me out and laid me on the road. I thought they were being awful rough with a man who might have a spine injury. As I was lying there I saw the big truck pulled over down along the side of South Road."

"Wait," Jack said. "The truck pulled over? But the police said it was a hit and run."

"In a very real way, it was. It's just that the run part was delayed a bit. Let me finish, will you?"

"Okay," Jack said. "Just trying to keep all this straight in my head."

"Forget about the truck for now. I know I did as soon as I saw that big alligator start to waddle toward me. I couldn't be sure, but I thought the men who'd pulled me from the car were waving it forward. Like they wanted it to maul me...kill me...eat me." This time he couldn't repress the shudder. "It was within ten feet of me when I heard a siren. I couldn't see any flashing lights but I could hear the two men start cursing about a cop car and what was he doing out here. That sort of thing."

"Officer Hernandez," Jack said.

"You know him?"

"Met him. Remember I told you that a call about your accident came in twenty minutes before it happened?" He glanced at Anya but she didn't react. "He's the one who went out to investigate. Sounds like that call saved your life."

But that didn't make sense, Tom thought. How could anyone have known about the accident before it happened? Yet something something with a siren had been coming down the road. with a siren had been coming down the road.

"I don't know who or what was heading my way. All I know is that it scared off the two men who'd pulled me from the car, because they started calling to the alligator as if it was human, as if it could understand. I heard one yell, 'There's a cop on the way! Get out of sight. We'll meet you back at the lagoon!' And then they started running back toward the truck."

"Did you notice anything about them?" Jack said. "Like did one have a funny-shaped head?"

"Funny-shaped head? Why-?"

"Anything distinguishing," Jack added quickly. distinguishing," Jack added quickly.

"No. Not that I could tell. I didn't take my eyes off that alligator until it slithered off the road and into the gra.s.s, and by then they were almost to the truck."

"Do you remember anything at all about the truck? Like what kind? Was it a semi or a big van or what?"

"A semi, maybe, but it didn't have the usual big rectangular trailer. This had an odd shape, like those trucks that carry gravel or something."

"What about a name or a sign?"

"None that I could see. I had only moonlight and starlight to go by and..." Something flashed in his memory.

Jack leaned closer. "What?"

"On its rear panel...I think I saw something that looked like a flower, but all black. At least it looked black in the moonlight. After that, I remember flashing lights and then I didn't see anything until I woke up this morning."

A sudden realization hit him like...like an onrushing truck. He looked at Jack and then at Anya.

"Someone tried to kill me."

"Not necessarily," Jack said. "From what you heard them say...'thank your lucky stars he's still alive...that sounds like they didn't didn't want to kill you." want to kill you."

He sensed that Jack didn't believe a word of it, that he was just trying to make him feel better. But it wasn't working.

"They wanted wanted to hit my car. And I have a feeling they were going to feed me to that alligator." to hit my car. And I have a feeling they were going to feed me to that alligator."

"Maybe you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

No...that didn't wash. No question in Tom's mind: Someone wanted him dead.

The thought sickened him. When he'd been in Korea, the NKs and the Chinese Reds had wanted him dead, but that was war, that was to be expected. This was Florida. He'd been here just a little over a year. He'd made a number of new friends but couldn't imagine how he could have made an enemy.

Yet someone had tried to kill him.

Suddenly Tom felt exposed out here on Anya's lawn. He wanted walls around him. He rose unsteadily from the chair.

"I think I'll head home."

"You okay?" Jack said.

"Yeah. Sure. I'll just go inside and lie down. Excuse me, Anya."

"Go, Tom," she said. She was still in her recliner, the wet dog curled up on her lap. "You should rest."

"I'll come with you," Jack said.

"That's okay. I can find my own way."

"That's not the point," his son said, rising and gripping his arm. "Come on. I'll walk you back. I know how you feel."

No, you don't, Tom thought. And I hope you never do.

A good kid, Jack. No, not a kid. A man, and a pretty gutsy one at that, placing himself between a ferocious gator and the old folks with only a lightweight resin chair as a weapon. But Jack couldn't know what it was like to fear for his life, to have someone wanting him dead. That took a war. It had been Tom's great hope for his sons that neither would have to go to war as he did and know that kind of fear. And it had worked out. Both boys had been too young for Vietnam, and a volunteer army had been in place by the time the Gulf Wars rolled around.

"Wait," he said, turning. "We should call the cops or the wildlife control or something, shouldn't we?"

"Why?" Anya said.

"To let them know there's a monster gator in our pond."

"Not to worry," Anya said with a wave of her hand. "He's gone. And after such a reception as he got here today, I doubt he'll be back."

"Where'd he go?" Jack said.

"There's an underground tunnel that leads from the pond back into the Everglades."

"Really?" Tom said. "I didn't know that."

Jack stared at her. "How do you know, Anya?"

She shrugged. "I've been around here a long time. I shouldn't know things?"

He saw Jack stare at her again for a moment, then point a finger her way. "We need to talk."

She raised her winegla.s.s. "I'll be here."

Tom wondered at that exchange. As soon as they were in the house he turned to Jack. "Why did you say that to Anya?"

"What?"

"'We need to talk.' About what? What does that mean?"

"I've got some questions for her."

"About what?"

"Things. Tell you about it later."

Why didn't Tom believe that? What was going on between those two? He was about to press him when Jack grabbed the pen and notepad from the counter by the phone.

"Just thought of something. Give me the names again of those three people who were killed."