CHAPTER 12
THE SUN’S REFLECTION OFF THE WATER practically burned holes into Angelica’s retinas. At least it felt that way. Angelica shielded her eyes with both hands and kept staring out into the Everglades. Looking for any sign of his return. She should have gone with Parker. What was taking him so long?
“Do you think he’s okay? Why wouldn’t he pick up his phone?”
“He’s fine—and probably trying really hard to ignore you,” Wilson said. “I, for one, can’t blame him. I’d pay twenty bucks for a little peace and quiet right now.”
Was he really that sure? Did Wilson have some Miccosukee sense that Parker was fine? Angelica wanted to believe that. Needed to. But there was no such thing. She tore her eyes from the trail to look Wilson’s way, hoping some of his confidence might rub off on her. But Wilson didn’t look nearly as convinced as she’d expected. He scooped his knife out of its sheath. Bounced it in the palm of his hand.
Obviously even Mr. Invincible sensed something was wrong. As far from shore as Parker was, the water was deep enough for a gator to grab his leg without him seeing it coming. What if it pulled him under faster than he could signal for help?
“How long has it been?” She tried to sound casual. Like she hadn’t already asked him twice in the last ten minutes.
“I think I’d pay forty bucks for that peace and quiet.” Wilson paced along the shoreline but kept staring toward the bend in the trail where they’d last seen him. “Sixty-three minutes, give or take.” He gripped the knife. Switched hands. Regripped.
There was no way Wilson believed everything was fine. “Maybe,” Angelica said, “we should go in.”
He didn’t answer.
“How long did the trip take you this morning—when you tied your hat to that tree?” If it took him less than an hour they had to go in.
“Apples and oranges,” Wilson said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Wilson hesitated. “Comparing the times won’t do a bit of good. So let’s forget it, okay?”
She did not like the sound of that. “Wilson—are you saying you’re that much faster, or is there something you’re not telling me?”
He gave a loud sigh. “My dad took me early this morning. Before he went to work. I used a kayak.”
Angelica whirled around and glared at him. “You paddled out there? You sent Parker out into the Glades on foot—but you didn’t even get your socks wet? I thought you’d walked the trail yourself to make sure it was safe.”
“There wasn’t time.” Wilson shrugged. “But I kinda wish I did, now. I really have no idea how long it would take him to get there and back—on foot—in the water. It depends on how deep it gets.”
“Do you even know how deep the water is out there?”
Wilson shook his head. “I’ve never seen it more than waist deep. Chest deep at the most.”
“If I had that gator stick,” Angelica said, “I’d whack you over the head with it and give you a little ‘noggin therapy’ right now.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going in. Stay if you want, but I can’t stand this any longer.” There was no way she’d venture out there alone, but Wilson didn’t need to know that. Maybe if she actually stepped off the shoreline, Wilson would join her. But they had to do something. “I think he’s in trouble.”
CHAPTER 13
“DEAR GOD . . . I promise you . . . if you get me out of this one I’ll . . .”
He’d what? Never go in the Everglades again? Hadn’t he just broken that promise to himself? Besides, he wasn’t so sure he was in any position to bargain with God.
“Jesus, I know your Word says you’ll never leave me, but I’m feeling really alone right now.” That day on the airboat, he’d known the right thing to do. But he’d compromised and taken the photos. And today, he’d known he shouldn’t get in Kingman’s truck. But he compromised, and now look where he was at. If he was so serious about being a person of integrity—or doing the right thing—why did he keep compromising? It had to stop. And he would.
“God, I don’t deserve to be bailed out again by you . . . but I’d really appreciate it.” Was there a guardian angel assigned to Parker? If so, he was going to be busy in the next few minutes.
Parker stood sideways in the path, gauging the distance between him and the alligators. The one in front of him barricaded his way of escape—at least if he stuck to the path marked by the yellow paint. And would there be any point to swing wide around it? It would take him longer to get to shore—and give the alligators more time to do their deed. And if he did try a roundabout route, how many more gators would he encounter? How would he fight them off? And if he didn’t stick to the trail, how would Wilson even find him?
Wilson. Maybe he could come from shore and scare away the one blocking the path to safety. There was no time to make a phone call, and he sure-as-shootin’ wasn’t going to let go of Amos Moses to dig his phone out of his pocket anyway.
He couldn’t just stand here and wait for Wilson—or for the gators to get to him, though.
Handle the worst first. His dad’s voice in his head. That worked for homework or jobs that needed to get done. He was pretty sure Dad never tried that approach on alligators.
He whirled toward the bigger gator . . . the one blocking his escape to shore. He’d whistle—and hope Wilson would come running. But Parker couldn’t wait for him. When he got close enough, he’d charge the alligator. What other choice did he have?
Every step toward the gator would be a step closer to shore. “God, help me.” He wiped his hands on his cargo pants and regripped Amos Moses. He whistled. Shrill. Sharp. And totally desperate.
CHAPTER 14
FOR AN INSTANT, Angelica and Wilson looked at each other, as if wanting to make sure they really heard Parker’s whistle.
Immediately Wilson was in the water, sprinting toward the bend in the trail.
Angelica lit out after him.
“Stay back,” Wilson shouted. “Phone for help if I’m not back in ten minutes.”
She splashed through the shallow water. “You’re not leaving me behind.”
But he was widening the gap between them—fast. In almost any other situation she’d ask Wilson to slow up for her, but the thought of Parker out there alone kept her from asking. She pictured him—the way the alligator had thrashed him around that awful day in June. Now the Everglades were collecting on an old debt. Exacting their toll. The curse was real. “Run, Wilson—run!”
Angelica lost sight of Wilson for a moment when he whipped around the sawgrass and brush where the trail angled off. The water was over her knees when she got to the same spot.
The instant she cleared the bend she saw Parker—maybe half a football field out—and running their way. She heard him too. Shouting—no, roaring with some kind of primal war cry. He held Amos Moses out in front of him like he intended to shish kebob someone—or something. An alligator glided toward him . . . apparently undaunted.
No!
The thing was big. Ten feet?
Holding the gator stick with both hands, Parker lowered the blade to water level like he intended to harpoon the beast. He looked like a madman and the bravest person she’d ever known, all at the same time.
Arms pumping, his own blade flashing, Wilson bounded toward him. “Stick him, Parker! Run him through!”
Amos Moses carved a neat line across the surface. With a fresh roar Parker cocked both arms back and thrust at the gator.
He torpedoed it with enough force to make the gator writhe—even though the blade appeared to glance off without piercing the reptile’s armor. It seemed Parker lost his grip—and his balance. He fell headlong onto the thrashing gator.
“Parker!” Angelica stumbled forward but regained her balance instantly. “Parker!” That’s when she saw the second gator coming up behind Parker. The thing dove, its wicked tail snapping before it disappeared below the surface. “Behind you!”
Parker was on his feet again—but wit
hout the gator stick. Somehow he’d pulled his survival knife from the sheath on his calf. Angelica was pretty sure the ten-foot alligator hadn’t expected its prey to attack like he did. Feet wide, crouching like an animal ready to spring, Parker squared off with the confused beast. “Come on. Come on! You want me? Come on!”
Mouth wide and teeth gleaming, the alligator swung wide of Parker and disappeared under the dark waters.
Wilson sloshed to Parker’s side, his own knife drawn to guard his flank. Seconds later Angelica joined them.
Parker whirled left. Then right. “Where is he? Where is he?”
Wilson shook his head. “You hit him good, man.”
Parker looked Angelica’s way—and apparently saw her for the first time. “Jelly—it’s too dangerous out here!”
She threw her arms around Parker. “I thought you were going to die.”
He pulled her close with his good arm. He still had the knife in his other hand. She pressed up against him and felt his heart hammering in his chest with a savage fierceness.
“We have to”—Parker gulped in air—“get out of here. Another one was trailing me.” He released his grip on her and looked back at the trail leading off into the Everglades.
“Holy buckets, Parker,” Wilson said. “That. Was. Amazing. Totally killer.”
Jelly glared at him. “I’m about ready to kill you.”
Wilson grinned.
Constantly scanning the surface of the water, Parker reached for the floating end of the gator stick. “Seriously. We gotta go.” Knife in one hand, Amos Moses in the other, he nodded toward shore and led the way.
Jelly snatched his red Wooten’s hat, slapped it on her head, and fell in behind him. He didn’t even try to take it back—which was smart of him. She wasn’t going to give it up just yet. Wilson took shotgun and walked backward, knife at the ready—just in case.
She watched the surface, left and right, looking for any sign of the rogue gator. She stayed as close to Parker as she dared without tripping him up.
By the time they rounded the bend Wilson had fallen slightly behind. Just a few feet, but enough to fuel Jelly’s uneasiness. “Keep up, Wilson. Please.”
He hopped in place for a moment, then hustled to catch up. “I am totally juiced.”
Obviously true. Any more adrenaline and it would be seeping out his pores. He actually looked disappointed the gator hadn’t attacked again.
Parker looked jumpy, and he didn’t sheathe his knife until the water dropped to mid-shins. “Okay, Jimbo. Amos Moses will take it from here.” He kept a white-knuckled grip on the gator stick.
“Did you get to the cypress with the strangler vine?”
Parker gave him the evil eye. “Ask me again and you’ll feel a strangler vine around your throat.”
Wilson laughed. “You didn’t make it to my hat, either?”
Parker pulled the cap out from his belt and slapped it on his head. “It’s mine now.”
“Fair enough.” Wilson smiled. “You earned it.”
“Oh.” Parker reached for the gator-tooth necklace around his neck. “You can have this back.”
“You keep it, Bucky. You earned that, too.”
The three of them stepped on shore seconds later. If it wasn’t so muddy, Angelica might have knelt down and kissed the ground.
Wilson took the lead on the single-file path and chattered on. And on. And on about his noggin therapy and how well it had worked and how Parker had conquered his fears and how much fun they could have on the airboat again.
Parker didn’t say anything, not until they were nearly back to the gravel road. “If I never go back in the Glades again, it’ll be just fine with me.”
Which was a relief to hear, but somehow he looked different. Angelica studied his face. The fear she’d seen so clearly on the drive was gone. And he was smiling.
Maybe Wilson’s crazy therapy worked. Maybe Parker had conquered his fear of the Glades. But Wilson’s little plan backfired somehow, too. Whatever fear of the Everglades that had haunted Parker seemed to have transferred to her—and no amount of noggin therapy was going to change that. Not fear for herself. It was for Parker. It wasn’t one bit logical, but in her heart of hearts, she feared the curse was real—and Parker had escaped death one more time.
The truth was, she wanted Parker to be afraid of the Glades, didn’t she? It was selfish of her, but Parker’s fear had kept him safe ever since the attack. If his iron resolve to avoid the Everglades really was gone, he’d actually be in more danger. He’d take chances again.
Even in this heat she felt goose bumps rising on her arms. She furiously rubbed them down—as if that would change anything. A raw dread welled up inside her. That same feeling she had on June 13 after the ambulance took Parker away. When she waited for word if he was going to make it. She was in a different kind of waiting room this time, but still wondering if he would survive. Somehow he was still marked by the Everglades. Singled out. Yes, he’d escaped today. But she knew just as certainly that his survival streak couldn’t hold.
Wouldn’t.
Angelica dropped back a good ten feet or so while the guys led the way through the jungle-like brush. Wilson jabbered on about how he should patent his noggin therapy.
Parker was flying high. She definitely hadn’t seen him this confident since before the accident. He slugged Wilson in the arm—and Wilson tagged him back. Both of them laughed like it was the greatest thing.
What was it with guys?
The canopy over the trail thickened and blocked out the sky. That didn’t dim her thinking a bit, and before they got back out in the sunlight she made a promise to herself. She would do everything in her power to keep Parker out of the Everglades. Not that she hadn’t tried over these last three months, but now she’d double her efforts. The transfer would be coming. As much as she’d hate to see him leave, she felt like there was some kind of cosmic clock running. If Parker didn’t get out of this place before the time ran out, he never would.
She shook off the dark thoughts and followed Wilson and Parker through the last of the brush and into the open. Clayton was there, holding Maria’s forearms down at her side—and he was all in her face. “I’m not arguing with you,” Clayton said. “You’re the one arguing.”
The instant he noticed them coming, he let go of her and backed away.
Maria stood there rubbing down her arms, then wiping tears from her cheeks like she didn’t want Angelica to see them.
It seemed like they were constantly fighting lately—and Clayton always won, one way or another. It was always Maria who ended up doing the apologizing.
What did you bully her about this time? Angelica glared at him. Let her eyes say what she didn’t dare. He smiled back. She totally wanted to smack that smug grin off his face.
“Here comes Bo-Peep,” Clayton said. “Still have your shepherd’s staff, I see.”
Parker didn’t answer. Amos Moses in hand, he stopped at the passenger door of the truck. He angled his head slightly as if trying to piece together why Maria was crying. “You okay?”
“She’s fine.” Clayton couldn’t say two words without coming off arrogant. Condescending. “Right, sweets?”
Maria nodded and gave the fakest smile Angelica had ever seen.
“Looks like someone totally peed his pants.” Clayton pointed at Parker. “Don’t even think of getting in my truck unless you’re sitting on a towel.”
Parker stared at him for a moment . . . holding Amos Moses like he was thinking of using it to stick Clayton like that ten-foot gator.
If only it were that easy to chase Clayton away.
“I didn’t bring a towel,” Parker said. “I didn’t know we were heading to a wet trail.”
“I didn’t know we were heading to a wet trail,” Clayton mimicked. “I figured your mama made you wear a diaper anytime you got near the Glades. I had no idea you’d wet through like that.”
Angelica wanted to stuff a diaper in his big fat mouth
.
“There’s a couple tarps in the bed.” Clayton jerked his thumb toward the back of the pickup. “Pull one into the cab and sit on it.”
Parker looked at Maria once more, then walked to the bed without a word.
“And I’m going to need a little gas money from you kiddies,” Clayton said.
He was just looking for a fight, wasn’t he? Someday, somebody would give him one too. Angelica hoped she’d be there to see it—and to give a gigantic hug to whoever beat Clayton to a pulp.
Wilson brushed past Clayton and climbed into the truck, but Clayton didn’t say a thing about his pants being wet. Or about Angelica’s. For some reason, Parker was the only one in Clayton’s twisted sights today.
Angelica glanced at Clayton—still outside the truck and watching Parker pull the tarp from the bed. “So what did you two fight about this time?”
“It was my fault,” Maria said. “I had no right to talk to him like I did.”
What? “He had no right to pin your arms down like he did—or to get so angry at you.” She glanced over her shoulder. Parker stood behind the truck, shaking dirt off the tarp. Clayton pulled open the driver’s door.
“Drop it,” Maria whispered. “It’s over.”
“What’s over?” Clayton looked from Maria to Angelica and back.
They were over—as far as Angelica was concerned.
“Nothing,” Maria said. “We’re fine.”
Why did she cave like that?
Jelly looked at her sister’s smeared mascara. This relationship with Clayton had gone on long enough. Her stomach turned. She glared at Clayton. In that instant, she made herself another promise. She was going to do everything in her power to bust the two of them up. For Maria’s own good. She should have done that long before this, but Maria had always talked her out of it.
Escape from the Everglades Page 8