by Darin Harris
“Nah.”
“Keegan doesn’t have a mom either.” They both looked at me, and I felt my face flush while I blinked quickly so I wouldn’t cry.
“Bummer. Hey, do you live by yourself? That would be so cool – no one to make you clean your room.” Joey looked excited at the thought. We looked at one another and laughed.
Anyway, four years later, we were all still best friends. Grandpa called us the Three Musketeers, unless we made a mess or something. Then he called us the Three Stooges. He called us that when we spilled the lemonade at Grandma’s Sunday School party last week, and he made us clean up the mess. Mrs. Taylor, one of the ladies who was there, said, “Are you three boys brothers?”
It seemed like a crazy question, since Joey, Brandon, and I don’t look anything alike. Joey has dark brown, curly hair that he always wears long, and his skin is kinda dark – Grandma called it olive skin – but he doesn’t look green to me, so I didn’t get it. Brandon is short and pudgy. He has red hair and green eyes, and LOTS of freckles. And then there’s me, I have blond hair and blue eyes like my mom had, so we don’t look anything like brothers.
We do kind of act like brothers, and that’s why I called Joey a “dufus” when he said Mr. Gentry had alligators. Wanting to be like the next Alligator Hunter, I was excited about seeing an alligator, but the thought of Mr. Gentry having alligators was just crazy. “Why would Mr. Gentry have alligators?” I shook my head at the thought of it. We were quiet for a few minutes. I wasn’t thinking about Mr. Gentry. I was thinking about alligators…crocodiles.
Snap! The ferocious jaws of the crocodile closed, just missing the chicken – and my right hand that was holding it. Fountains of water arched as the croc’s tail lashed about, but I, Keegan Scott, the next Alligator Hunter, was not afraid. I swung the chicken in front of the beast again, looking into the mouth of the giant lizard. It seemed more like a deep, dark cave out of which there was no return. I dropped the bird into the cavernous maw as the jaws snapped shut again.
“Keegan!” Joey brought me out of my daydream. There was no huge crocodile or spelunking chicken. Actually, in front of me sat something much scarier – school cafeteria lunch.
“I think we should go check out Mr. Gentry’s place tonight.” Joey nodded.
I knew a good reason not to go to Mr. Gentry's place, something that would probably put a damper on this whole adventure if I said it out loud. Only, I wasn't sure I wanted to say it. "What about the old Methodist campground? Maybe they have alligators."
"The Methodist campground! Are you crazy?" Brandon freaked.
Should the boys consider going to the Methodist campground? A2
Should Keegan tell them what he knows about Mr. Gentry? L1
~~~~~
D1
“The campground is our best bet.” Joey nodded, answering his own question, and, then downed his carton of milk.
“Joey and I went to camp there in the fifth grade, so we do know what it’s like.” I was trying to reassure Brandon, whose eyes were wide.
“Were there alligators there when you all camped there?” he whispered. Joey and I looked at him like he was an alien or something.
“Yeah, but it made swim time fun.” Joey said. Then, putting on his saddest expression, he added, “Except that one time, when that little fourth grader didn’t make it all the way across. Those alligators really make a splash when they’re doing that death roll.”
“No, doofus, there were no alligators when we camped there.” I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “After school then?”
Joey nodded quickly, and both of us looked to Brandon waiting…and waiting…
“Come on, Brandon, don’t be a chicken.” Joey started squashing pale green, wrinkled peas with his spoon.
Finally, Brandon nodded. “All right, but I think we need to have a plan before we go.”
Should the boys go to the campground but plan first? E1
Should the boys go to the campground without planning? H1
~~~~~
E1
We were in Joey’s bedroom with the door locked so Madeline, his little sister, couldn’t get in. I sat at a small wooden desk. It was a mess. There were school papers and candy wrappers, some old earphones, three magazines, four empty glasses, two almost-empty glasses, and two paper plates, one with half of a dried-up frozen burrito on it. Disgusting.
All of a sudden, Brandon shouted, “Wait! I know what we need to scope out the campground.”
I looked over at Joey, who was looking at Brandon. Brandon was looking off into space.
“What?” Joey and I yelled at him.
“Oh, I know what we have to do.”
My foot was bouncing up and down. Planning was boring. I wanted to go catch an alligator. “Come on, Brandon, what?”
Brandon nodded and stared off into space again. He spoke, but he seemed to be talking to himself. “Yeah, that’s what we need.” Brandon grabbed a spiral notebook and handed it to Joey. “Sketch a map of the campground.”
Joey had a big smile on his face and nodded. “Brandon, I’m impressed.” He gave Brandon a soft punch on the arm. “I figured you’d be too scared to go.”
Brandon looked up from the paper he was making a list on. He looked a little embarrassed – he also looked a little scared. He and Joey started planning. I wasn’t sure what to do while they worked, so I started thinking about Stacy Swanson. She’s really pretty, and nice, too. I mean, it’s not like I like her or anything, but….
“Keegan, are you ready to go and be the hero?” Brandon smiled at me.
I looked at him and shrugged. “I guess I’m ready. Ready for what?”
“We’ll be ready for anything.” Brandon looked at Joey. “You need to go and get your mom’s sleeping pills from her bedroom.”
“OK.” Joey headed for the door.
“Oh, and you need to get some meat; ground beef would be best,” Brandon said.
Joey nodded. “We should have some in the freezer. I’ll have to check.”
“Go check. Get them if you can.” Somehow Brandon, who was usually afraid of everything, was like a general giving out commands for the assault on the campground. Joey took off.
“Why do we need sleeping pills and ground beef?” I asked.
“Duh, there might be guard dogs.”
I thought about that for a minute. “Don’t the pills take a while to work?”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. If we put the pills in the first piece of meat we throw, then we can slowly throw the rest of the meat.” He scratched his head and scrunched his face. “Hopefully, by the time the dog’s eaten all the meat, he’ll start getting sleepy, or at least be friendly.” That’s a pretty big “or” if you ask me.
Joey raced back in with a frozen package of ground beef in one hand and a bottle of pills in the other. “Got ‘em.”
Brandon scooped up the pad of paper he’d been writing on and a couple of pencils. He placed them in an empty book bag. “Let’s go.” Joey and I looked at each other.
“Are you sure we really need to take all this junk?” I was thinking about having to bike over with all of it in book bags. “I mean, can’t we just go check out the campground?”
Should the boys take the supplies Brandon has chosen? F1
Should the boys leave the supplies and just go to the campground? K1
~~~~~
F1
We stopped by the microwave and defrosted the meat, grabbed a couple of things from the garage, and then we jumped on our bikes and took off. It was still light when we got to the spot where the Johnsonville road crosses over the creek, but the sun was a bright, big, ball sitting just over the horizon. It would be getting dark soon. We parked our bikes down in the creek, under the bridge. Under there, they were completely hidden from anyone up on the road, and we could use the creek to hide in all the way through the campground, right up to the buildings.
Because the banks were steep,
the fence surrounding the campground just went across the creek up in the air, with almost three feet open underneath it. As we started crawling through the gap, a sharp piece of metal on the fence snagged Brandon's shirt. It tore a small hole in the back of the cloth.
“Oh man, my mom’s gonna kill me.”
Joey looked at the hole and rolled his eyes. “It’s just a little hole. It’s no big deal.”
Joey could cut up his brand new shirt for paint rags and his mom wouldn’t say anything. Grandma would have my hide if I did that, but she was pretty cool when it came to little holes. “Clothes are meant to be lived in,” she always said. But Brandon’s mom – whew!
Brandon stopped us a little ways before we got to the old girl’s dorm. He opened up the backpack, and pulled out the meat, pills, a rope, an old t-shirt, paper, and pencil. “OK, here’s what’s going to happen. Keegan,” he looked up at me, “you’re in charge of alligator wrangling. You’re the one who wants to be the Alligator Hunter, so you get to be the hero.” He handed me the rope and t-shirt. Joey looked a little miffed, and I could tell he wanted to be the hero.
Brandon opened the pill bottle, shook out three pills, and put the bottle away. Then he ripped open the ground beef, took out a handful, and pushed the pills inside the clump of beef. He handed the ball of beef to Joey. “You are the initial strike force. If there is a guard dog, you have to hit it with this. In the face, if you can, so he can smell the meat, but not too hard. We don’t want to make him mad.”
Joey looked unsure. “What are you going to do?”
Brandon looked assured. “I’m going to toss the rest of the ground beef to the dog while you and Keegan hunt for alligators.”
Joey lifted the ball of beef. “No problem.”
Brandon quickly sketched a map on the paper. It was really good. “There’s one more thing for you. You’re the emergency distraction. If any people should come out, you take off running and lead them away from Keegan.” He drew an arrow on the map heading toward the main entrance of the campground. He drew a quick sketch of Joey’s face in the middle of the arrow. Brandon was a good artist. It looked just like Joey.
“Cool!” Joey pointed at his picture, and then realized what Brandon had said. “Wait, why me?”
“Keegan needs to be the one to get the gator, and you run a lot faster than me.” It seemed like Brandon had thought it out pretty well, and Joey and I looked at each other and nodded. We moved closer to the girl’s dorm.
We heard a woman’s voice. “Come here, Buster.”
Quickly and quietly, we scrambled up the creek bank, peering over the edge. She was in a black t-shirt that had a big white skull on the front. Her jean shorts were ragged, and her long brown hair looked as if it hadn’t been brushed in a while, but those were not the things that stood out most.
“Look at those tattoos.” Joey pointed at the lady. The woman’s tattoos were scary looking.
They looked like demons or something. The one on her thigh was a black face with red eyes and a long red tongue that was forked like a snake’s tongue. There was an angular green face on her forearm, with yellow eyes and sharp teeth.
“Oh man, they are devil worshipers.” Brandon quietly whined.
We looked at each other scared. The woman sat down a large pan she was carrying and fumbled with a set of keys. Buster started sniffing the pan. The dog’s face wasn’t furry like a normal dog. Greenish-brown scales covered its jaws, scales like Godzilla had, or… Or like an alligator’s. Its mouth was incredibly large. Huge mouth, sharp teeth, scaly jaws – and a big, fluffy tail wagging back and forth – what was it?
And then I got it. Oh, man, it’s got scales, which probably means they do have alligators. The new owners of the old Methodist campground were doing genetic tests, and the creature with its slobbery jaws over the pan was a cross between an alligator and a dog. It was a dogator. I could see him drooling from my hiding place.
“No Buster, that’s for the girls.” The woman opened the door, picked up the pan, and walked inside.
“Did you hear that? She said 'girls.'” Brandon whispered it, but I saw Buster’s ears perk up.
Brandon and I ducked down, but not Joey. He held the ball of beef like a pitcher with a baseball. Buster barked and started running towards the creek. Joey wound up and threw the meat. Splat!
It was a direct hit, right on Buster’s nose. The dog almost tripped over himself as part of him continued towards us, but at the same time, his nose followed the scent of the meat.
He stopped and gobbled up the meat – and, hopefully, the pills too. Brandon got the rest of the meat out and tossed another small chunk to the dog. Buster sat down and waited for more meat to be thrown to him.
After a few minutes, I walked down the creek a ways until, hopefully, I would be out of Buster’s view. I crawled up the creek bank and sprinted toward the building. Unfortunately, I stepped into a hole and thudded into the building.
I heard a voice from inside, “What was that?”
I froze. Brandon and Joey froze too, but Buster wanted more meat. Brandon tossed some more. Buster's tail wagged.
I watched Joey slowly climb out of the creek bed. He was supposed to be with me, but he never left the creek. His eyes were wide. All of a sudden, he took off running toward the entrance of the campground.
I heard a shriek. “Buster, get him. Attack!”
Buster turned and started to run after Joey, and then he slowed down and looked back at Brandon.
“Buster, attack!” The woman shouted again.
Again, the big dog turned to chase Joey. He took a few steps and then turned around to head back to Brandon. He got about halfway back to Brandon when he began to wobble. He wobbled back to Brandon, and then unsteadily laid down in front of him, while Brandon tossed another piece of meat.
“Come here, you little brat.” The woman screamed at Joey. “What did you do to my dog?” She ran after Joey. “Hank! Hank, we’ve got an intruder.”
I took the chance to race around the dorm and looked through the open door. Then I looked over at Brandon.
Should Keegan go inside the dorm? G1
Should Keegan head back to Brandon N1
~~~~~
G1
I raced through the open door and saw three Hispanic girls. They seemed to be a little older than me, high school at least. One had a black eye and a swollen lip. Each one was handcuffed to a wooden bed.
Joey had run off with the tattooed woman following him, and now I was alone with the trapped girls. Seeing the girls handcuffed to the beds stopped me momentarily. Who would do that? Why?
I wasn’t sure what to do. Handcuffs weren’t in Brandon’s master plan. I didn’t know how to pick the lock on handcuffs. I looked at the wooden bed of one of the girls.
She smiled sweetly. “You came to help me.” I nodded and turned red.
There was a tool box across the room, and I found a small pry bar and a hammer in it. The wooden bed didn’t look very sturdy, so I put one end of the pry bar at a spot where two boards connected. I held it with my left hand and slammed the top of it with the hammer. The noise was deafening, but the wood cracked slightly.
I pushed the pry bar into the crack and hit it again. Again the crack grew, and I pushed the pry bar in. I used it as a lever, just like Mr. Riley had taught us in science class. The wood split even farther, and with one swing of the hammer, the boards separated completely.
The handcuff slipped off the loose piece of wood, and the girl with the pretty smile was free. “Gracias… Thank you.” She smiled again.
I turned and blushed again, but said, “You’re welcome… De nada.”
I went to the bed where the girl with the black eye was laying. I placed the pry bar as I had before. I looked over at the newly freed girl with the pretty smile. “Go watch the door.” She looked confused for a minute, but then nodded her head like she understood and crept to the door.
It only took one swin
g to break the second bed almost in two, and within a minute, the second girl was free. She tried to smile, but her swollen face didn’t quite allow it. I nodded towards the door. She nodded back and then pulled on the board I’d just broken until it was free of the bed. She held it like a club and went to the door.
I went to the third girl. She was shorter and plump, and where the other two had long brown hair, this girl’s hair was cut much shorter. She smiled timidly as I placed the pry bar on her bed. I swung the hammer, and it bounced off the pry bar, almost hitting her. The pry bar bounced off the wood too.
“Sorry, sorry.” My face burned as I placed the pry bar back on the wood. I looked at her and tried to smile before I swung the hammer again. The second time, the pry bar stayed put, but the wood barely cracked at all.
I swung the hammer again and again, but I couldn’t get it to crack enough to get the pry bar down in and use it as a lever. The girl with the pretty smile came up behind me and touched my shoulder. Her face looked panicked.
“He comes.”
“He comes? Who comes?” All of a sudden I remembered the woman yelling for someone named "Hank." My face fell and I swung again. The wood cracked a little more.