The Tank

by Rick Chesler

  As Kane had hoped, the net confused the cat. It jumped, writhed, and thrashed, its teeth and claws snagging on the thick gauge nylon strands like a Tasmanian Devil gone berserk. Kane knew not to go within reach of it while it spazzed about. He picked up the snare pole, realizing he would absolutely need to control the cat more than the net alone was doing if this was to work.

  He hefted the pole, tightening the snare a bit, making the loop smaller, which was still set for the croc’s head size. Should have done that already, he chided himself. When he had it adjusted, he moved in. Getting the loop over the cat’s head while it was covered with netting made the job harder, but at the same time, it also made it possible. The thing about alligators and crocs, Kane could see now, was that they were pretty slow. In fact, much of the time, they simply laid there, not moving at all. When they did move, they could be surprisingly fast, but those were quick bursts of activity, not sustained motion. This panther, even under the net, was fast. Kane had little doubt that he would never be able to walk up and snare it were it not for the fact that its movement was hampered by the net.

  Even with the net, it wasn’t going to be easy, that was for sure. Kane circled around the thrashing cat, pole extended out in front of him. Each time he thought he had a clear shot at noosing the animal, it would roll to one side or jump high enough to put it out of reach. He was just going to have to get even closer, even if it meant exposing himself to a strike by tooth or claw.

  The panther crouched low and attempted to shrug off the net by scooting backwards, and Kane saw his chance. He jabbed forward with the pole, aiming to slip the noose over the cat’s neck. But it dodged at the last second, and the pole itself hit the panther’s nose, eliciting a roar. Kane backed up and tried again. He had to get control of it like this or pretty soon it would shake off the net and either attack him or run away. Or both. Already, he could see the trailing edge of the net getting close to the cat’s front paws. He didn’t have long.

  He moved in again, this time keeping the snare up higher before it reached as far as the head. Again, the panther ducked and rolled when it saw the pole nearing its head, but this time Kane was ready. He thrust with the pole, waiting for the cat to shrink back this time before dropping the noose. As soon as it passed over the head, Kane cinched down tight on the snare, high on the neck. He would have preferred to have it lower down, but he would rather have it like this than not at all, and the panther only needed one second to move out from under it.

  The beast twisted and writhed and hissed, attempting to wriggle out of the noose. But Kane held fast, circling his prey with the pole. For the next five minutes, this dance ensued. Just as Kane began to wonder how long he would be able to keep this up before the snare broke, the panther lay down on its belly, front legs stretched before it, like a house cat resting on the floor.

  “That’s a good kitty,” Kane spoke in a soothing voice. “Let me pull you this way.” He wished now that he’d brought the cage a little closer; even a few feet would make a big difference. As it was, he had to somehow drag this animal a dozen feet to the cage. He had no idea how that was going to go, but he didn’t want to see what happened after it rested and got back up for round two, invigorated. He decided he needed to take control, to assert dominance over this animal, and yanked hard on the pole while yelling at the cat. “Up, come on!”

  Startled, the panther did rise to its feet. Kane wasted no time, jerking the cat by the snare pole again, leading it forward. With the net still draped over it, the panther stumbled forward, almost falling over as it tripped over the netting at its feet. After it moved forward a couple of feet, it paused to growl and glare at Kane, its ears flat back. Kane dragged it one more time and then found he could reach back and pull the cage the rest of the way to him.

  The motion spooked the big cat, though, and the Florida panther leapt at Kane, netting, pole and all. The cage itself stopped Kane from falling over backwards. He hadn’t been prepared for the power and speed of the cat’s motion, but when it leapt forward, it created slack for itself by jarring the pole from Kane’s hand, dropping it to the ground. Kane whirled low and scooped it up as the panther snarled into him, still bundled in the net. The impact sent Kane to the ground, toppling him onto his back, but this time, he made sure to grip the pole firmly, and he still had it when he landed.

  The panther got its front paws up on Kane’s chest, until he wrenched his arm out to the left, dragging the cat’s head by the snare pole. The feline landed on its side, and Kane used the opportunity to get to his feet and wield the pole again, this time dragging his opponent to the front of the cage. The panther went spastic at the sight of it, making Kane wonder if it had ever been captured before, perhaps for relocation by wildlife officials. He hadn’t noticed any tags on it before when it was in the tree, but he would take a closer look when he could.

  “In you go, buddy. C’mon…” Kane grunted with exertion as he pulled the panther toward the opening of the cage. It dug its claws into the dirt. Right now was when Kane really wished he had help, but there was no help, so he would have to go it alone. He continued to pull toward the cage with the pole, but the cat stubbornly held its ground. Then Kane decided he needed to be a little more forceful and gave a gentle kick to the panther’s hindquarters—nothing that would hurt it, but hopefully enough so that the mere contact would startle it into forward motion.

  It worked. The panther bolted forward, halfway into the cage. Kane pushed toward the end of the cage with the snare pole. The cat moved forward again, and that’s when its hind legs came free of the net. Kane ducked, and the move saved him from serious head trauma, but he wasn’t fast enough to come away unscathed. The big cat’s left rear claws raked across Kane’s left shoulder, shredding his T-shirt (Gator Boyz—You call, We Haul!) and gouging his skin deeply.

  With a curse, Kane leaned into the panther’s backside, shoving into it like a football linebacker on the line of scrimmage. The cat rocketed further into the cage, with a screeching growl amplified by the enclosed space. Kane slammed the door on the cage shut just as the cat whirled around so that it was facing out—the cage was just wide enough to allow it to do that. But the door wouldn’t close all the way because the netting, still covering the cat’s head, trailed out along with the snare pole.

  Kane kept the snare tight around the panther’s neck while he opened the door and pulled the netting off the head and body. It hung up once but then slid smoothly at the door. Only then did Kane loosen the snare and lift it from the panther’s neck. The captured predator lunged at him as he slammed the cage door shut and engaged the latch.

  SEVENTEEN

  “Boyd, where can we set the octagon up?” Kane pulled up to a red light on the edge of town in Homestead, where his client Enrique’s rural road joined up with the city. Enrique had talked to him briefly on the way out, long enough to give him a decent cash payment on the spot and take his card, promising to call in the future for all of his nuisance animal needs.

  “Why? What’s going on? This Friday would be good. Plenty of parties going on…”

  Kane thought about the prospect of holding onto this panther for two more days—he had no idea where he would keep it. “Listen, set something up for tonight. I’ve got something special.”

  “What is it?”

  “Don’t want to say over the phone. But believe me when I say—”

  A loud and attention-getting roar emanated from the back of Kane’s truck. In the lane next to him, two people in an open Jeep Wrangler turned to look at Kane’s truck.

  “What was that?” Boyd asked.

  “Let me ask you this,” Kane said into the phone. “Can the tank hold land animals? Does it still work without any water in it?”

  “Yeah, it’d be more like a regular Ultimate Fighting octagon that way, sure. What do you have?”

  “Can you meet me at my place in thirty?”

  “I suppose…”

  “Bring the octagon. I need somewhere to put this thing
. And start setting up a match.”

  Kane tossed his cell onto the empty passenger seat and winced with the simple motion. The seatbelt rubbed across his shoulder, chafing the open wound. The amount of blood surprised him. It was still bleeding. He needed to get home and clean this up before too many people saw it and started asking questions. Not to mention that driving around town with an endangered big cat in the back of his truck would attract law enforcement like flies to honey.

  The horn honking behind him startled him from his thoughts. Cop? He got goosebumps immediately just thinking about it, because he wasn’t really worried about getting busted for playing around with wild animals, even rare ones, even without a permit or license or whatever you needed. That was only the thing that would attract their attention in the first place, and then they’d forget all about that as soon as they did some digging into his background. He flashed on the walls inside Chino and looked up to face his reality in the rearview mirror.

  Just a regular car, a black woman with Jheri curls gesturing irately at him, because the light was green and had been so for perhaps five seconds. Kane stepped on the accelerator and moved through the intersection. He told himself to stay focused. He wasn’t an ordinary driver who could afford to space out and get a ticket for some silly infraction. His ID was fake, and good enough to get him through most casual encounters in everyday life, but he didn’t want to put it to a real test. He doubted it would pass muster, that was the truth of it.

  So he drove on, driving the speed limit, always using the turn signal, always stopping on time at lights, always checking the vehicle lights to make sure none was out, since that was a common way to get pulled over. He asked himself if he was getting complacent. It had been a couple of years now; he was getting used to things. And now with the animal matches always on his mind, transporting wild animals all over the place, it was distracting…

  He took a few deep breaths and forced himself to stop thinking about so much and just drive. The cat still gave an occasional growl but for the most part quieted down. He reached his place without any major incidents and pulled into the driveway. Boyd’s screen van wasn’t here yet.

  Kane went inside, leaving the panther in the cage on the truck bed, and checked the fridge. He eyed the steak he’d bought, a rare treat for him, and shook his head while taking it and going back outside. He ripped the plastic wrap from the Styrofoam backing and held up the slab of meat as he approached the cage.

  “Here you go, boy…”

  The cat, which had been resting on its haunches, stood on all fours and emitted a low, rumbling growl. Kane stepped up to the cage, noting the panther did not shrink back but hissed menacingly. He reached a hand out with the steak and the big cat quieted. Then he tossed the raw steak through the bars on the front of the cage. The panther’s head bent down to sniff the offering, but it never took its eyes off the human.

  Kane backed away to show the panther he was no threat. Then the animal put its teeth to the meat and started to eat. It was gobbling down the last bite when Kane looked up at the sound of a vehicle engine and tires crunching over the crushed coral. The white van with the screen repair logo pulled into the driveway, and Kane gave Boyd a big thumbs up sign. Boyd parked the van, fiddled with his cell phone for a full minute while still sitting in the van with windows up and air conditioning on, annoying Kane to no end. Finally, he got out and walked over to Kane’s truck.

  “What’s up, man?”

  Kane pointed to the cage, and Boyd walked up to have a look. Kane was standing only about a foot away from the cage’s door after feeding the panther, and when Boyd reached him, he faced right to look at the truck.

  “Oh…shit!” He jumped back in surprise, not expecting to see the face of a big cat mere feet from him. Then he stood in stunned silence, processing the spectacle.

  “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Kane grinned.

  “Dude…is that a Florida freakin’ panther?”

  Kane gave a slow, exaggerated nod. “Sure as hell is.”

  “How’d you get it?”

  “Wasn’t easy.” He turned and showed Boyd his wounded left shoulder. He could see from his reaction that it didn’t look good.

  “Dude, wow. Did it…is that from his teeth?”

  Kane shook his head. “Nope, claws. Don’t even want to think about what this would look like if he had gotten his teeth in there…”

  “Looks, bad. You should clean that up. Put some Neosporin on it or something.” Then he turned his attention back to the panther. “Wait a minute…you caught this thing by yourself?”

  Kane nodded while running a finger over one of the deeper scratches.

  “Why do you have it?”

  Kane recounted how he removed it from a client’s property.

  “And so what are you going to do with it now? You can’t just let this thing loose in the neighborhood. Take it to the Wildlife Center? That thing would eat a lot of Friskies if you try to keep it as a pet. You wouldn’t have any rats or anything around here, that’s for sure.”

  Kane looked at the panther while he answered. “I’ll probably go for a drive across Alligator Alley and pull over on one of the more remote parts there and let it go off the side of the road.”

  Boyd nodded his agreement. “Yeah, they have Panther Crossing signs there, so, makes sense.”

  Kane turned to make eye contact with Boyd, since he still didn’t seem to be getting it. “But first, I was thinking we could have a little fun with it… You have the octagon?” He eyed the van.

  Boyd’s eyes widened. “You….that—” He started and stopped a couple of times before grasping his thoughts. “You’re thinking we could put that in the tank? I thought you meant you had a really big gator or something…” He trailed off as the new realization hit him.

  “Yeah, that’s why I asked if the tank will still work without water.” He looked back to the panther.

  Boyd put a hand on top of his head. “Oh, wow. Not messing around!” He beamed at Kane. “Genius, man! Pure genius.”

  Kane shrugged and pointed to his shredded arm. “It’s no joke. We might not even get any takers. Would you go ten minutes in the octagon with this guy?” He jerked a thumb at the panther, which for now lay quietly panting while looking out at the two men.

  At length, Boyd answered. “The pot will be high. People will want to see somebody do it, and somebody will. Not me, though,” he added quickly. “But somebody. Maybe Parker.”

  “So you think it’s worth setting up, then, is what I’m asking. Because we don’t want to go through the trouble of setting up a match that nobody wants a part of.”

  “They will, don’t worry. It’s not all that big.”

  Kane showed him his arm again.

  “Your hand’s messed up, too.” He pointed to a scabbed-over cut that extended across most of the back of his right hand.

  “That’s from the crocodile.”

  Boyd shook his head. “We should probably keep you out of the matches. Catching these things is risky enough. Look at you, man! You keep this up, people are going to start asking why you’re all cut up all the time.”

  Kane looked himself over and shrugged. “Girlfriend’s into some kinky stuff?”

  Boyd laughed but said, “Yeah, maybe if you had one, that’d fly. Word is, women are interested, too, but you’re not…”

  Kane leveled a stare at him, not liking the turn the conversation was taking. It was a little strange, after all, that he was single after being here for a couple of years. But he couldn’t explain the real reason, not yet, anyway. “I wrangle gators for a living. Doesn’t that make sense?”

  “Yeah, I know, but still. Lots of guys do that and they’re not all cut up. And those shoulder cuts aren’t gator wounds.”

  Kane exhaled sharply, losing some patience. “Look, man, you want to do this or not? I doubt Kitty here likes being stuck in there while we work things out. If we’re not going to do a match, I’ll let him go.”

&nbs
p; Boyd took a step back. “Okay, chill out. You want something tonight, right?”

  “Yeah, I figure I can keep it for one night, but after that…this thing’s way too big to keep around for much longer. Huge bust, too.”

  “Yeah, they’re super-endangered. Okay, so let me get on the horn…”

  EIGHTEEN

  This time, the venue wasn’t even a yard. Boyd set the octagon up on the edge of an agricultural field in Homestead, ironically not far from where the panther was caught. A circle of vehicles parked around the tank—still called the tank, even though it was now empty of water—with headlights and off-road fog lights providing illumination. Then he’d worked the contacts list on his phone, and now, as Kane rolled up with Cody in his truck, there was a crowd of thirty or so people milling about, drinking beer and listening to car stereo music.

  Whatever, Kane thought, exiting the truck and walking around to the bed. Whatever let them hold the match. The location felt exposed, like anyone could drive up and find them, but on the other hand, there were no neighbors to complain about noise or high traffic. Kane lowered the tailgate, and he and Cody lifted the panther’s cage from the truck. Boyd walked up to them and gave them both fist bumps. Kane nodded to the octagon.

  “So how do we get this bad boy in there?”

  “I’ll get a couple more guys to help us get the cage up the stairs to the staging platform.” Boyd pointed to the apparatus on the side of the tank. Kane nodded, following along while Boyd continued. “Then…I don’t know. Your call at that point.”

  Kane considered the small metal platform. “How high up is that, anyway?”

  “Ten feet.”

  Cody looked at the cat. “You don’t think it can just jump out, from the bottom?” He and Boyd looked to Kane, who shrugged.

  “Only one way to find out. Even if it can, hopefully it stays in long enough to face off against at least one guy.”