Johnny Gator

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  Prickles danced up and down Nola’s spine, cold and hurtful. “I don’t suppose you would. Johnny, tell me what this has to do with all the strange things I don’t understand. I believe you so far.”

  “I’m gettin’ to that. Now see, I didn’t see her no more after that for a long time. But I ran short on cash and so I did a little gator hunting. They pay good money for alligators, for the meat, the hide, the whole animal. I was small scale, just killed a couple but it gave me the money I needed. She found out.”

  “I don’t understand what that had to do with her.”

  He laughed but without mirth. “The gators are like her pets, like kittens and puppies to a normal woman. She feeds them, she loves them, and she lets them in the house sometimes.”

  “Ooh. That’s just weird.”

  “It is, but she’s got no family—nobody—so she’s made them like her kin. Delphina heard about how I was makin’ some money and she sent for me. Damn fool I am, I went.”

  “Why?”

  He leveled his head and met her gaze without blinking. “The old man who brought her message said she was real sick, maybe dying, asking for my help. How could I deny a crazy, lonely old woman that? So I went.”

  Whatever he says now, it will be the part he thought I wouldn’t believe. It’s going to be insane, - fucked-up, and weird. Nola steeled herself to hear the truth. Her nerves turned into barbed wire and wrapped around her lungs, her stomach, and her throat. She couldn’t breathe and it was difficult to force out the words, but she did. “Tell me what happened.”

  Johnny reached out and took her hands in his, warm and strong. “It was night,” he said. “The moon was big and full. It shone silver over the cypress trees and the black waters of the lake. A wind moved the Spanish moss until it looked like ghosts or demons out of hell. Everything went silent and although I’m never scared, I was terrified that night. I got to her place and the windows were dark. I’d thought I’d find her in bed but she stood on the shore surrounded by a half-dozen alligators. Her hair was down and loose, flowing all over as she chanted in some weird mix of French, Latin, and what I think might have been Spanish. She had a cup held between her hands and after I pulled the boat up she beckoned to me.

  “She had a small fire burning and I think she put something on it that would burn and drug me, mandragora maybe, you know—mandrake, nightshade, it has a lot of names. My head whirled and everything went a little fuzzy. When I got close, I asked her if she was all right, that I’d heard she was sick. She laughed, and I knew then I’d made one helluva mistake but it was too late.

  “When she spoke again, two of the gators started writhing around and I thought she’d poisoned them, figured that’s what she planned to do to me…but it wasn’t. Those alligators, they turned into two men—big, strong ones—and naked as a newborn child. They strong armed me and held me in place so she could make me drink from the cup she held. It tasted terrible and I knew it was some kind of blood mixed with wine, seasoned with herbs and who knows what. I tried to spit it out but it was like I was paralyzed and I couldn’t. She held it to my lips until I drank it all.

  “Then she chanted some more, waved her hands around, and sprinkled something in the fire. It smelled like sage. And then it happened.”

  Nola tried to pull her hands back but he held on tight. Her mind froze as she tried to understand what he had just told her. Alligators becoming men? Potions and spells in the night?

  “I think she must have drugged you,” she said. If she could break his grip she would run for her car, leave this place, and never come back. As much as she hated the idea of going back to Dallas, she would. This man she loved, he had to be crazy, and fear snaked through her veins.

  “Oui,” Johnny said. His voice was calm and very quiet. “You already think I’m crazy. I see it in your eyes. But I ain’t done yet so hear the rest of it, then judge me.”

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  “I started twitching like crazy and couldn’t control my body anymore. It hurt, whoo-ee, it hurt terrible, and I thought she’d poisoned me for sure. I figure the stomach cramps would hit me next and then I’d drop dead. I thought she lured me out to be gator bait, to feed them, but no, it was worse than that, worse than anything I could’ve dreamed up. My head whirled and spun, my senses were messed up, but everything was intense and then, bam, I was one of them.”

  “One what?”

  “I’d become a gator, like the others,” he said. “I felt so strange, bulky, and clumsy. My belly dragged the ground and walking on four legs, not two, it was hard. I could see, though, and hear. That old bitch, she laughed and cackled. Hell, I think she even danced. I went wild and into the water. I swam with alligators, I rolled in the mud, all of it. It’s like a dream now, a nightmare, but it really happened. I don’t remember all of it, just bits and pieces. When I woke up, I was naked and dirty, lying on the shore in front of Delphina’s house. She came out, told me she’d witched me into a half-man, half-gator, and that I’d shape-shift for the rest of my life. ‘Punishment for killing gators,’ she said, and payback for spurning her affections.”

  Nola stared at him, speechless. He stroked the back of her hand with gentle fingers. “Do you believe me, cher? I’m tellin’ you true.”

  She parted her lips to say no but shut her mouth, uncertain. “I don’t know.”

  “Think about it.”

  If Nola did, she’d lose her mind. “I can’t.”

  “Do you have questions? I’ll answer anything you want to ask me.”

  Where would she begin? Her mind became paralyzed as she struggled to understand, to consider the possibility, to wonder and reject the impossible. If her brain would work, then she could move her feet, and if she could she’d make tracks. Nola stared at him. Her mouth felt as dry as August, her throat choked with invisible rocks. It took a lot of effort to make words come and when they did, they surprised her as much as Johnny.

  “Pour me another cup of coffee and let me try to sort all this out,” she said in a hoarse croak. “I’m not saying I believe but I’m trying because I love you.”

  Johnny released her hands and refilled her mug. With a sad look in his eyes and slow steps, he left the cabin. The twang of the screen door as it slammed shut confirmed his exit, and Nola sat still, thinking.

  Talking about the gator started all this. A series of flashbacks rolled across her mind, each one vivid and sharp with detail. Nola thought of the gator that had hung around, so tame, and how she felt so drawn to it. She recalled its eyes and gasped, realizing they were the same color as Johnny Loutrel’s. I never saw the creature when he was here, either, not once.

  Nola remembered the rough feel of the skin on his back and how he’d twitched, his face contorted in pain. His features had seemed to transform and his body to change. He looked like he was going to drop down on all fours, I remember that. His description of the first time he shape-shifted matched what she had seen. Memories came to mind of their good times together, the meals shared, and their many conversations. His presence eased and healed her, and their kiss made her long to believe what had to be impossible.

  As she pondered, she sipped the coffee and let her thoughts run free. Nola allowed her instinct to guide her, and after a good half hour or so, she knew what she would do. If he was what he claimed, he’d have to show her. She walked to the door and peeked out to find him sitting on the porch, rocking in an easy rhythm.

  “Johnny?”

  “Oui, cher?”

  “Can you control it?”

  “If you mean becomin’ a gator, I can sometimes,” he said. “I couldn’t at first. It would just happen, so I became some kind of hermit. It’s been about five years now, though, and mostly I can control it. I can hang on if I feel it comin’ on me, until I’m alone. If I get upset or mad I’m more likely to change, and it happens more when the moon’s full than any other time.”

  “So when you left that day and I asked if you were all right, your body was trying t
o shift?”

  “That’s right. I held it back until I got out of sight.”

  “And it happened because I upset you by talking about the gator? And it was you?”

  “Oui.”

  Nola drew in a deep breath, then exhaled hard and fast. “Okay, if you want me to believe this, then you’ll have to show me.”

  His brown face changed, mouth open wide and eyes huge. “You want me to become a gator while you watch me? I never done that before. Nobody but old Delphina ever saw it happen.”

  “It’s the only way I’ll believe it’s true. Will you?”

  Johnny gazed at her and nodded. “I will, for you, cher, because I love you, woman. I don’t know how soon I can change back, though. That’s harder.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “All right,” he said. He stripped off his jeans, his shirt, shoes, and socks as she watched. “Here goes nothin’.”

  He walked out into the yard, closer to the lake, and shut his eyes. In the first moments, Nola feared nothing would happen and that it would mean he was nuts after all. But after a full minute passed, his body began to twitch, arms and legs first, then the rest. Johnny bowed over as if he suffered a pain in his gut, then dropped down to all fours. He rocked back and forth, groaning and grunting. His mouth twisted into a hard line and as she settled into the rocker to watch, his features began to elongate, to shift from face to snout.

  With a clear line of sight, Nola saw him lift his ass higher into the air as it grew and lengthened into a tail. A patch of rough, hard hide appeared in the center of Johnny’s back and she observed how it spread across his skin. The hide soon covered his entire body, and by that time the transformation was almost complete. The creature shuddered, then opened its wide mouth to display a double row of teeth. Something about the grin, though, retained something of Johnny’s spirit, she thought. Then it bellowed before waddling to the lake and entering the water. The last she saw, it swam out into Caddo and vanished.

  She sat on the porch and wept, shaken to her core with what she had witnessed, and uncertain just how in the hell they would—or could—proceed from here.

  Chapter Five

  Nola cried until her nose clogged and her throat ached. She didn’t need to look into a mirror to see that her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. So it was true—the man she loved could turn into an alligator. And, he had transformed as she watched. Any lingering denial died as she sorrowed for all Jean Batiste had lost. He wasn’t a natural man anymore but what was he? She wondered. Shape-shifter? Monster? Spellbound? Whatever she might decide to call it, he’d never live an ordinary life. Nola longed to share it with him but she wasn’t sure if she could handle the reality of it.

  She had promised to wait and she would. By noon, the steady heat from the overhead sun drove her into the house. Hands shaking, nerves shattered, Nola scrubbed the tearstains from her face and poured a glass of iced tea from the fridge. Then she settled onto the rump-sprung old couch near the window and stared toward the lake, watching for him. Later, when it became cooler, she’d return to the porch.

  Near dusk when the evening breezes rippled across the water and stirred the Spanish moss, Nola saw the big gator moving toward shore. Although she found it hard to see in the dim light, she never doubted it would be Johnny, so she exited the rocker and walked down to the edge of the lake. The massive creature came onto land and then began to thrash about, shoulders twitching until it appeared to be suffering a massive seizure. Nola approached with caution, afraid the tail might smack her with enough force to hurt.

  “Jean Batiste, if you can hear me, I’m here,” she said.

  Noises sounding like moans and groans came from the gator’s open mouth. It dug its claws hard into the muddy bank as it convulsed until she thought it could die. She squatted down a few feet away and wished she could touch it. Maybe it would soothe some of the apparent agony—or maybe not.

  The claws on the rear feet began to resemble toes, the first sign Johnny was shifting back to human. As his body bowed into a fetal position, his head changed and his ass shrank back to normal proportions. Nola figured the entire process took almost an hour, much longer than becoming an alligator, and the last thing had been the changes from thick gator hide back to skin. Heedless of the mud, she sat down beside him and stroked his filthy hair. “Johnny, darlin’, it’s me. You’re back.”

  He muttered something in Cajun French, too fast and low for her to catch, then added,

  “Gotta sleep.”

  Nola strained her muscles shifting him upright until he leaned against her. “Let me get you to the house, then you can sleep. You can’t sleep out here, not again. Can you stand up?”

  “Non, I don’t think so.” His voice trembled, soft and faint.

  “I’ll help you.”

  “Tres bon,” he whispered.

  It proved to be a lot harder than she expected. Johnny’s larger frame turned out to be hard to shift when he couldn’t help, dead weight she struggled to maneuver into place. Nola almost gave up but when she started talking to him, he made an effort.

  “Come on, Jean Batiste,” she said. “I can’t carry you. You have to help me by standing up. I know it’s hard and I’m sure it hurts but you have to do it.”

  With difficulty and clumsy motions, he pulled himself to his feet. Nola wrapped an arm around his waist and he leaned on her so hard she almost toppled. The distance to the cabin seemed incredibly long but they managed it, one faltering step at a time. He had roused enough when they reached the porch steps to help, and once through the door he staggered with her assistance toward the bathroom.

  “I can’t stand anymore, cher,” he told her. “Put me on the bed.”

  “Bath first, then bed,” Nola replied.

  Somehow, she got him folded into the bathtub. Instead of running the tub full, she used the shower wand to hose him down. First, she rinsed away as much of the caked-on mud and dirt as she could, then she lathered his skin with body wash. Nola scrubbed from his thick hair down to his toes while he lay, inert, eyes closed. She thought he might have fallen asleep until he spoke.

  “Merci beaucoup, cher,”

  Tears burned in her eyes and choked her throat. “You’re welcome. Let’s get you dried off and in bed, then you can rest.”

  Once she had him tucked beneath the sheets, pillows piled under his head, Nola sat down in the bamboo peacock chair beside him. Even in sleep, the harsher lines around his mouth remained deep. She stroked hair back from his face and bent down to kiss his slack mouth.

  “Sleep well, darlin’,” she whispered. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  Nola lost track of time as the dark hours of the night passed. When the first bright rays of sun crept above the trees, she yawned and stretched while Johnny still slept. Hunger drove her to the kitchen where she made a sandwich and she returned with a glass of iced tea in her hand. He stirred a few times but didn’t awaken, and fatigue wrapped Nola like a blanket. She slept, too, and when she woke again, sunlight streamed through the bedroom window and she had no idea what time it might be.

  “You’re still here.” Johnny’s voice broke the silence and Nola gazed at him. His green eyes met hers, open and full of tears.

  “I told you I would be,” she said and began to cry.

  “Don’t, cher,” he told her. “Don’t cry. It’s not a sad day.”

  She sniffed. “You are.”

  He grinned. “Mine are tears of joy, because you’re here. I thought you’d leave after you saw me change.”

  “But I didn’t.”

  “Oui, I know. And you cleaned me up, took care of me. Ain’t no one ever done that before, Nola.”

  Her fingers curled around his, tight as kudzu. “How do you feel?”

  “Good,” he said. “I’m hungry. How ‘bout some gumbo?”

  Laughter erupted. “I could try to make some but I doubt it would be as good as my grandmother’s was and it’ll take awhile.”

  “Johnny shook hi
s head. “There’s some in the freezer, already made, all you got to do is heat it up.”

  Over the rich Cajun stew, she couldn’t stop looking at him or touching him.

  “I don’t even know what time it is,” she told him.

  “Ah, I don’t have any idea what day this is,” he answered.

  “The gumbo is good, though, better than anything I could make.”

  He swallowed a spoonful and cocked one eyebrow upward. “Do you cook Cajun at all, cher?”

  His question threw her but she answered with honesty. “Not much, no. Mamere taught me a little but I just never learned much beyond that. Besides, I grew up in Texas so I’m great with frying things and chicken fried steak. I guess I could learn, if you want me to, Jean Batiste.”

  “Why?” he asked. “I cook Cajun and I cook good, so why bother? If you want to learn, I’ll teach you, yes, but you don’t have to do it, boo. I’ll cook the traditional dishes for us.”

  Nola’s heart trembled. “You sound sure that we’ll be together.”

  His smile would reduce any woman to a boneless, emotional heap. “I am, cher, aren’t you?”

  Talk about being on the hot seat. She summoned up enough bravado to give him the truth. “I’m hopeful and I do want that for us. I’m just trying to figure out how it could work.”

  “You have to take me like I am, boo,” Johnny said. He sounded more than a little hurt. “This is how I am and I ain’t likely to change.”

  She put down her spoon. “What if you could, though, what then?”

  Johnny’s eyes widened and his grin vanished. “Sacre bleu! Woman, you’re crazy. Don’t think I haven’t thought about this for five long years? It’s impossible, there’s no way.”

  “I don’t give up so easily,” Nola said. “What would it hurt to try to find one?”

  He shook his head back and forth. “Hope when there’s none, cher, is a bad thing because when you realize what you want can’t happen, it’ll bring you down big time. You’ll end up disappointed and then you might resent me for being this way.”