Escape from the Everglades

by Tim Shoemaker

  “How about that space?” Maria must have sensed Angelica’s frustration.

  He drove right by it. “Just want to find something closer for our little Angelica here.”

  Our Angelica? Clayton possessed absolutely no part of her. Never would.

  Clayton fingered Maria’s hair, his hand brushing Angelica’s shoulder as he did. Accident? Right. Angelica pressed herself against the passenger door.

  He drove—no, make that crawled down the aisle. If her legs were long enough she’d stretch over and step on the gas herself.

  Maria squeezed Angelica’s knee like she understood. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  Why did people always say things like that when bad things happened? Did they really think those six little words would bring comfort? The truth was they had no idea what was going to happen. “Think he’ll lose his arm?” She regretted asking Maria the moment the words came out.

  Clayton snickered. “That’d be rich. The whole thing is ironic, don’t you think? The park ranger’s kid becomes gator-bait.”

  “Clayton.” Maria said it like he was just a mischievous little boy.

  But he wasn’t a little boy. He was four years older than Maria. And he wasn’t just mischievous. It ran way deeper than that. There was something twisted about him. He was a gravy-sucking pig.

  What did Maria see in that guy anyway? For an instant, she pictured Clayton in the Everglades, an alligator ripping his arm off. Preferably the one around his sister’s shoulder. Angelica smiled.

  Clayton eased the truck into a handicapped parking slot.

  “You need to have a physical disability to park here,” Angelica said. “Emotional ones don’t count.”

  “Ooohh,” Clayton said. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” Clayton reached across Maria and stroked the back of Angelica’s head.

  Angelica jerked forward and glared at him. Clayton was the one who didn’t know when to stop. That smirk on Clayton’s pretty face was one of the things Maria said she loved about him. Which proved just how different two sisters could be.

  “Can’t we get a ticket for parking here?” Maria said.

  “Who uses handicapped spots at hospitals?” He cut the engine. “All the gimps are inside.”

  Angelica shouldered open the door. “Meet you in there, Maria.” She took off running for the front entrance and didn’t look back.

  There were already several people waiting for the elevators. She took the stairs two at a time to the third floor instead.

  She didn’t break her stride until just outside Parker’s room. She stopped abruptly, wishing for a moment that she’d waited for Maria. The door to room 324 was open. From this angle, she could just barely see Parker’s dad, still in his park ranger uniform, leaning on his elbows in the chair next to the bed. Vaughn Buckman was the most decent man she’d ever known, and she probably loved him every bit as much as her own dad. Parker’s dad was a man of action. Integrity. A solid follower of God, unlike her own dad. He wasn’t a blood relative, but she’d known him as Uncle Vaughn her whole life. He rocked slowly. Eyes closed, hands clasped, and thumbs massaging his eye sockets like he was lost in prayer.

  Knowing Parker’s dad, he probably was. Angelica couldn’t explain it, but that was part of the strength of the man.

  Angelica took a couple of deep breaths and tucked some stray hairs behind her ears. Uncle Vaughn’s eyes opened, almost like he’d sensed she was there. He smiled and motioned her in.

  She tried to smile back, but it probably looked just as fake as it felt. Angelica stepped into the room, but stopped the moment she saw Parker’s face. It was like seeing him lying on the dock all over again. Deathly pale. Eyes closed. And she’d done this to him.

  She’d expected him to look better somehow. More alive. His arm was wrapped in enough gauze to outfit a mummy. At least he still had an arm to bandage.

  Uncle Vaughn stood. “Angelica.” He stepped around the bed and wrapped his arms around her.

  She melted into him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about. It wasn’t your fault. The way I hear it, you helped save his life.”

  First, she put him in the danger that nearly cost his life. Then she helped save his life. The tears came and wouldn’t stop. “How is he?”

  Uncle Vaughn took a deep breath and blew it out. “He’s strong. He’ll be okay.”

  More tears. Uncle Vaughn patted her back.

  “His arm?”

  “Messed up good. Crushed ulna. Torn veins. Arteries. Extensive nerve damage. Hundreds of stiches.”

  Angelica looked at the neat bandaging hiding the devastation underneath. Only the tips of his fingers were visible—but even they looked awful. Swollen stumps, stained nearly orange from the antiseptic. “But he’ll get full use of it again, right?”

  Uncle Vaughn hesitated . . . way too long. “Jury’s still out on that one.”

  She looked at Parker. Tubes. Monitors. Two—no, three IV bags dripping life-giving solutions into him. “But they can fix that—I mean, eventually?”

  Uncle Vaughn didn’t exactly look hopeful. “Three surgeons worked on him half the night. They’re doing what they can. Right now, they’re just trying to save it.”

  She groaned. “What do you mean?”

  “Infection.”

  Of course. Every one of the alligator’s teeth ripping through his arm left a deadly trail of bacteria. Gator venom. “Oh, Uncle Vaughn.” She reached for him again. Held him tight.

  He gave her a squeeze. “You’ll pray for him, won’t you?”

  “I haven’t stopped.” But she wasn’t exactly a prayer warrior. That was Uncle Vaughn’s department.

  Uncle Vaughn nodded. “Good girl.”

  Parker stirred. Eyes fluttered.

  Angelica stepped closer. “Parker? Hey, Parker, it’s me.”

  A faint smile creased his face. “Jelly.” His voice sounded thick. Hoarse—and as weak as he looked.

  She took his cap off her head and set it on the tray next to his bed. “I came to return your Wooten’s hat.”

  His eyes drifted closed for an instant. “About time.”

  Tell him, Angelica. Tell him you’re sorry—and that you’ll never pressure him to go into the Glades again.

  Maria breezed through the open door at that moment, eyes full of concern. “Parker Buckman. You scared us half to death.”

  Parker licked dry lips. “Scared myself pretty good too.”

  Clayton shuffled in. “Hey, Gator-bait. Sleeping in?” The smirk still there.

  What Angelica wouldn’t give to see her sister deck him—or dump him.

  “Gator-bait,” Parker slurred. “Hoping that one doesn’t stick.”

  Uncle Vaughn didn’t look any happier about the nickname than Parker did.

  Clayton stepped up to the foot of the bed. Hands tucked in his back pockets like this was all routine. “I’ve lived here my whole life, and no gator has ever tried to get a chunk of me.”

  “Which is hard to imagine,” Angelica said, “knowing how much alligators like rotten meat.”

  Clayton smiled, but there was something in the look he shot her that triggered an icy chill down her back.

  “You haven’t lived here four months, and you get mauled?” Clayton shook his head. “Somebody needs to school you on living in the Everglades.”

  Was he making a dig at Parker’s dad? And what did Clayton know about school? He was taking a “break” from school right now. Who drops out of community college?

  “Only an idiot would hold his arm out over the water when alligators are around,” he said.

  Parker closed his eyes. Maybe he just couldn’t stand seeing Clayton. If only it were that easy to make him disappear. Just close your eyes and poof—he’s gone. “Helpful advice, Clayton. I’ll remember that.”

  Uncle Vaughn reached into his pocket and pulled out some singles. “Do me a favor, would you, Clayton?” He handed off the money. “Find a vending mac
hine and pick me up a couple candy bars. I really need some chocolate. Get one for yourself, too, for the trouble.”

  Clayton stared at Parker’s dad a moment like he was trying to figure him out. He shifted his eyes to Maria. “Coming?”

  She shook her head. “I think I’ll stay.”

  He shrugged. “Whatever. Be back soon.”

  Uncle Vaughn waved him off. “Take your time.”

  Angelica smiled at Uncle Vaughn. Genius move.

  The moment Clayton sauntered out of the room Parker’s eyes opened. He looked up at Angelica. “Thanks for coming, Jelly.”

  Maria stepped closer. “Clayton drove us. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She smiled. “A real hero, that guy.”

  She was always doing that. Trying to make Clayton look good to everybody—especially her dad. It was nauseating. “Your hero made us chip in for gas.”

  Maria laughed. “Give him a break. He was almost on empty. And he left so quick to drive us that he forgot his wallet at home.”

  She actually looked like she believed that bunk.

  Parker studied her for a moment. “You really like that moron?”

  Maria blushed. “I do.”

  Angelica’s stomach did a 360.

  “Be careful,” Parker said. “He’s more messed up than my arm.”

  Maria shook her head. “He’s a little rough around the edges, but most people just don’t understand him like I do. Underneath that tough facade he’s a real sweetie.”

  Parker looked up at her and squinted, like he’d looked directly into the sun. “What if the sweetie part is the facade?”

  Maria laughed again. Tapped one of the IV bags. “What kind of drugs are they giving you, Parker?”

  “Sodium Pentothal,” Uncle Vaughn said.

  “Isn’t that . . . ?” Angelica looked at Parker’s dad and smiled. Truth serum.

  Maria leaned over and kissed Parker on the forehead. “Just get well.”

  Parker’s cheeks showed the first bit of color since before the accident. Angelica felt hers burning too. For an instant, she willed him to brush the kiss off with his good arm.

  “What was that?” Clayton stood in the doorway, holding a couple of Snickers bars. He had that bug-eyed thing going again.

  “A little get-well kiss,” Maria said—like she didn’t even notice the expression on Clayton’s face.

  Actually, it looked like Clayton was glaring at Parker. But Parker’s eyes were closed again.

  Clayton slapped the candy bars down on the food tray. He turned and marched toward the door.

  Maria looked confused. “Where are you going?”

  “Need some fresh air.”

  He totally looked like he was playing the martyr card. Like she’d wounded him or something. Maybe he expected her to kiss him to make everything better. Disgusting.

  He stopped in the doorway and turned back toward Maria. “Coming?”

  Part of Angelica actually hoped Maria would join him—and she felt just a tinge of guilt about that. But how would she ever talk to Parker alone otherwise? And the things she had to tell him were best said without an audience.

  “I think I’ll stay a little longer,” Maria said. “You mind?”

  Clayton shook his head. “Not at all.”

  But that’s not what his eyes said.

  CHAPTER 8

  WILSON HATED THE SMELL OF HOSPITALS. Every fifty feet there was one of those stupid hand-sanitizer stations—and one in each room, as far as he could tell. He was pretty sure hospitals only put them there so visitors could feel like they were doing something useful to protect the sick and dying. Like they were actively helping somehow. It probably didn’t matter much one way or the other, but he slathered it on anyway—and kept his eyes locked on the doorway at the end of the hall. Room 324.

  He tried to imagine what Parker’s dad would say. Maybe he’d reach out to shake Wilson’s hand—and crush it in a viselike grip. Maybe he should go into the room with his hands still dripping with the slimy disinfectant goop. It would be harder for Mr. Buckman to get a decent grip on him.

  Should he have brought something? A plant? Balloons? Which was absolutely ridiculous. But still, he wished he had something in his hands. Something to hold. Or maybe some kind of a peace offering . . . a way of saying he was sorry.

  For everything.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Wilson. Not really.” He actually said it aloud like he truly believed it.

  Or wanted to.

  “Just get it done.” He headed for the doorway and didn’t slow up. He reached for the alligator-tooth necklace around his neck, pulled it over his head, and balled it up in his fist. It was the perfect gift. All he had to do was slip it to Parker.

  He squared his shoulders and strode into the room like he wasn’t blaming himself for putting Parker there. He stopped three steps inside, right next to the hand-sanitizing station. Seeing Jelly and Maria was like a total gift. At least he didn’t have to be alone with Mr. Buckman—who probably hated him right now.

  “Wilson.” Maria put her hands on her hips. She had that what-were-you-thinking tone.

  What was he supposed to say?

  Jelly rushed over and gave him a hug. Always the one to make someone feel like they weren’t a total screw-up.

  Mr. Buckman walked around the foot of the bed toward him. Wilson stiff-armed the sanitizer paddle, releasing a foamy dab of the slippery stuff just in case.

  Parker’s dad reached out and grabbed Wilson by the shoulders. Looked him right in the eyes.

  Wilson couldn’t bear to hold his gaze. He stared at the floor instead. “Sorry, Mr. Buckman. I messed up. Almost got Parker killed.”

  He gripped Wilson’s shoulders tighter. “But you got him back . . . and for that I’ll be forever grateful.”

  Wilson still couldn’t look him in the eyes. Was he for real?

  Maria marched over and poked Wilson in the chest. “I’m not so quick to forgive . . . or forget. You go out feeding alligators again and I’ll feed you to one personally.”

  They all burst out laughing. Mr. Buckman. Maria. Parker. Even Jelly couldn’t seem to help herself. Which totally melted the tension of the moment.

  Wilson walked over to Parker’s bed. “You look like a total mess.”

  Parker grinned. “Pretty much how I feel too.”

  “Your mom is gonna kill me, right?”

  Parker gave a weak smile. “Maybe you better not be here when she gets in.”

  “Flying in from Boston even as we speak,” Mr. Buckman said.

  And she’d just gotten up there. “What about that news story she was doing?”

  “She fixed it up with her editor. He got another freelancer to cover it.”

  Just one more thing that Wilson had messed up. He couldn’t remember what the story was about, but getting the assignment was some kind of a big deal. Parker called it a career game-changer.

  Wilson examined Parker’s arm, but didn’t touch it. After how bad the thing was mangled, he was kind of surprised it was still attached. “She’ll never let me take you back out in the Glades.” He tried to make it sound light. Maybe get another laugh.

  “I won’t either,” Jelly said. She looked at Parker like she was expecting him to promise he’d never go back.

  Parker didn’t say a word, which was good in Wilson’s book. Actually the best thing Parker could do for himself would be to get back in the Everglades. Soon. Parker glanced at his dad like there was something he wanted to say, but he was looking for the green light.

  Jelly stepped closer to Parker’s bed. “I think we should make Parker swear never to go in the Everglades again.” She turned to his dad—a dead-serious look on her face. “What do you think?”

  Okay, she was going way overboard on this. There was no way Parker should make any kind of lame-o promise like that. And Wilson definitely didn’t want her putting any ideas in Mr. Buckman’s head. Parker would go back into the Everglades. Wilson would make sure of it. He op
ened his hand to give Bucky the gator-tooth necklace.

  “I don’t think,” Parker’s dad said, “we’ll have to worry about Parker in the Glades anymore.”

  The way he said it made Wilson think he was missing something. Like there was more that Parker’s dad wasn’t saying. Maria and Jelly seemed to pick up on it too.

  “What do you mean?” Jelly said.

  Parker looked away.

  “I put in for a transfer early this morning,” Mr. Buckman said.

  Wilson got that sinking feeling in his gut. He closed his fist around the necklace and drove it into his pocket. Maria squeezed her eyes shut.

  “We’ll be leaving Everglades National Park.”

  Jelly’s lips parted slightly—like she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “No . . .”

  Clayton Kingman walked into the room. “You’re moving?” He had this permanent smirk on his face. “Dude. Kind of a knee-jerk reaction, right?”

  Mr. Buckman shot Clayton a look—like he wanted to jerk his knee right into Kingman’s face. That was definitely something Wilson would pay money to see.

  Kingman raised both hands and stood behind Maria.

  The ticked-off look on Mr. Buckman’s face disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. How did he do that?

  “Where?” Maria’s voice sounded flat.

  Mr. Buckman shook his head. “I didn’t give any preferences.”

  So he wasn’t being picky with where they were willing to move—meaning the transfer would likely come quicker. Actually, Wilson kind of agreed with Kingman on that little point. This was a knee-jerk reaction.

  Jelly slumped into the empty chair, like she knew exactly what all this meant—or maybe she saw it as her fault.

  “You’ll be missed.” Kingman’s tone wasn’t hiding what he really must be feeling. The ranger who’d arrested him twice for hunting in the off-season was going to leave for good. Kingman would probably do backflips down the hallway.

  Maria had this zombie look going on. “And my dad?”

  Mr. Buckman hesitated. “That’s not for me to say.”

  Suddenly Maria looked like she wanted to tear someone’s head off. “He’ll put in for a transfer too—I know it.”