Chapter 6 #2
I heard the alligator crash through the bathroom door as I rounded the corner from the hallway and into the kitchen.
The sound of his claws on the hardwood floors was way to close for comfort, and when I glanced back, I saw the beast dashing out of the hallway, his legs extended, and moving faster than I thought that much length should be able to manage.
I didn’t even bother pausing to open the screen door.
I just ran right through it, leaped off the porch, and landed in the backyard, sprinting for the nearest tree that would hold my weight for the next hour to fifty years—however long it took for the rescue squad to get here.
I could hear the alligator running behind me, his body creating a swishing sound on the grass.
My legs protested briefly at the sprint with no warm-up, but fear overrode muscular issues and I increased pace, then jumped for the lowest branch on the tree.
Because of my speed when I grabbed the tree, my entire body swung up, and I pulled an Olympic gymnast move, swinging up, tucking in, and banging my waist over the branch.
Okay, so maybe the banging part wasn’t exactly Olympic quality, but since Olympians were rarely performing for their lives, I was giving it a pass.
Without even pausing, I pushed myself up from the branch and scrambled to the next one up, wanting to put at least ten feet of distance between me and the charging animal.
When I was firmly planted on the limb, I looked down and saw the alligator standing at the bottom of the tree, hissing, my cell phone lying beside him.
It must have fallen out when I pulled my gymnastic move into the tree.
I felt my waistband and groaned when I remembered I’d left my pistol in my Jeep.
If anything was a sure sign I was done with the CIA, this was it.
I used to wear that pistol like underwear.
I did have a DoubleTap in my sock, but that was only two nine- millimeter rounds.
I didn’t know much about alligators, but I’d seen something on television that said you killed them by shooting a small spot on the back of their heads.
Two bullets and my sketchy television recall didn’t seem like much of an offense against the monster below, but what other options did I have?
I reached down for the pistol, then hesitated.
The alligator had been in Gertie’s bathtub, literally taking a soak.
No way he’d walked in from the swamp, strolled through her front door, and run a bath.
Which meant Gertie was up to something, and I had a sneaking suspicion that the alligator was the source of the emergency text.
Of course, now it had morphed into a whole different emergency than the one Gertie had called about.
“What the hell are you doing up there?” Ida Belle’s voice rang out from the porch. “And what happened to the screen door?”
I looked over at the perplexed Ida Belle and realized that the alligator was positioned behind a stack of mulch, making him not visible from Ida Belle’s position on the porch.
“Move ten feet to your right and look under the tree,” I yelled.
The alligator hissed again, and I gave him the finger.
Ida Belle shook her head and walked to the far end of the porch. When she caught sight of the alligator, her eyes widened. “Good Lord, what the hell has that woman gotten up to now?”
“She’s gotten me up a tree, for starters. And she’s going to need a new screen door and I’m not paying for it. Beyond that, I’ve got nothing.”
“You’ve got a gun, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then shoot the dang thing. Unless you want to hang out in a tree all day. I’m pretty sure he can wait you out.”
“I thought about it, but I was afraid this was the emergency.”
“Looks like an emergency from where I’m standing.”
“I mean the emergency Gertie called us over here for. This thing was in her bathtub. I opened the door thinking Gertie had fallen and needed help, and now we’re here.”
Ida Belle frowned. “Where is Gertie, anyway?”
A wave of panic rushed through me. “You don’t think the gator ate her, do you?”
Ida Belle studied the alligator for a bit longer than I found comfortable, then shook her head. “He’s too small. Besides, he’d want her dead for a couple days before he started chewing on her. They like their meat aged a bit.”
“The only meat in Sinful older than Gertie is Sheriff Lee.”
Ida Belle nodded appreciatively. “That’s a good one, and I give you additional points for making the joke under stress. Plus, it’s hard to get a funny one in about decomposition.”
“This conversation is really grossing me out. Find Gertie or I’m shooting this thing and grilling it up for dinner.”
Ida Belle walked back into the house and I could hear her calling for Gertie.
I believed Ida Belle was correct when she said the gator was too small to eat someone, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t injured her enough to kill her, then left her to rot in one of the upstairs rooms. I’d seen a video on YouTube of an alligator climbing a hurricane fence.
If they could manage fences, then stairs wouldn’t be a problem.
He certainly hadn’t had a problem going down the porch steps.
I broke off a dead branch from the limb next to me and threw it at the alligator, hoping I could scare him into moving back.
If I could get a decent head start, I could get away.
The only caveat was that I had no idea where to go.
The house was out of the question. That bathroom door hadn’t even put a dent in the gator’s stride.
And it was a long sprint through the house to my Jeep.
Not to mention having to open the front door.
I could hardly go running through that one like I had the screen.
I was just about to decide that Ida Belle was never coming back when she stepped out onto the porch and shrugged. “She’s not in there. Her purse is on the counter. Car is in the garage, but no sign of her.”
“Did you try calling?”
“Of course I tried calling. Her phone is in her purse.”
“Well, I’ve got a leg cramp and haven’t had a cup of coffee. I’m shooting it.”
Ida Belle waved one hand at the gator. “No arguments here.”
I pulled the pistol out of my sock and leaned over the branch to get a direct shot at the spot I needed to pierce. I was just about to squeeze the trigger when Gertie bolted out the back door yelling.
“Don’t shoot!”