Carl refused to put on the air conditioner because he said it sapped the power of the engine, so all day we suffocated. We could only crack the truck windows because of the rain. By late afternoon my back was soaked with sweat and I could smell my armpits. And, get this — he was smoking cigarettes. Like I said, I was plain stupid coming up with the idea — or maybe blinded by the fact that he had a nice piece of well-working equipment that seemed worth saving.
At that point, I started to wonder if I could make us swerve into a canal and end the suffering. I was studying the landscape, looking ahead for deep water, when I spotted a couple vehicles pulled off the road.
“Carl, look. I bet you they see gators.”
“Fuckin’ A,” he bellowed.
He was driving twenty over the limit, as always — in a hurry to get to hell — but he nailed the brakes and managed to turn onto a gravel road that ran a few hundred yards off the side of a small lake. One car pulled out past us, but a couple and a little girl were still standing near the edge of the water.
It was only drizzling by then, and Carl pulled next to their pickup and shut off the ignition. My side of the truck was over a puddle about four inches deep. I opened the door and plodded through in my sandals, while Carl stood grimacing at the horizon, rubbing his dark unshaved chin.
We walked toward the people. The woman was brown-haired, wearing a loose print dress — the kind my grandma would’ve called a housedress — and I felt how sweet and old-fashioned she was next to me in short-shorts and halter top, with my white-blond hair and black roots haystack style. The man was a wiry, muscular type in tight jeans and a white T-shirt — tattoos on both biceps, like Carl, but arms half the size. He was bending down by some rocks a little farther along. The little girl, maybe four years old, and her mother were holding hands by the edge.
“That guy reminds me of my asshole brother-in-law,” Carl said in a low tone, as we got closer. I nodded, thinking how true it was — the guy reminded me of Carl too, all the same kind of assholes. Carl boomed out, “Hey, there!” in his usual megaphone, overly friendly voice. The mother and child glanced up with a kind of mousy suspiciousness I sometimes felt in my own face. It was almost like they had him pegged instantly.
We stopped near them. The guy came walking over. He had his hands cupped together in front of him and motioned with his arms toward the water. I looked into the short water weeds and sticks and saw two small eyes and nose holes rising above the ripples a few yards out. It was a baby gator, maybe four feet long, judging by the closeness of his parts.
“There he is!” Carl yelled.
“Just you watch this,” the guy said. He tossed something into the water in front of the nose and I caught the scrambling of tiny legs just before the gator lurched and snapped it up. “They just love them lizards,” the man said.
Carl started laughing, “Ho, ho, ho,” like it was the funniest thing he ever seen, and the guy joined in because he’d made such a big hit.
Us women looked at each other and kind of smiled with our lips tight. The mother had her arm around the little girl’s shoulder holding her against her hip. The girl squirmed away. “Daddy, can I help you catch another one?”
“Sure, darlin’, come right over here.” He led her toward the rocks and I saw the mother cast him a look as he went by. He laughed and took his daughter’s hand.
The whole thing was plenty creepy, but Carl was still chuckling. It seemed like maybe he was having a good time for a change.
“Reptiles eating reptiles,” he said. “Yup.” He did that eh-eh-eh laugh in the back of his throat. It made me wince. He took my hand and leered toward my face. “It’s a scrawny one, Virginia — not like a Texas gator — but I guess I have to say you weren’t lyin. Florida has one.” He put his arm across my shoulder and leaned on me, still laughing at his own sense of humor. I widened my legs, to keep from falling over, and chuckled so he wouldn’t demand to know what was the matter, then insist I spoiled the day by telling him.
We stood there watching the gator float in place hoping for another snack, and in a few minutes, the squeals of the little girl told us that it wouldn’t be long. They came shuffling over slowly, the father bent, cupping his hands over the girl’s.
“This is the last one now, okay, sweetheart?” the mother said as they stopped beside her. She was talking to the little girl. “We need to get home in time to make supper.” From her voice it sounded like they’d been sacrificing lizards for a while.
The two flung the prey into the water. It fell short, but there was no place for the lizard to go. It floundered in the direction it was pointed, the only high ground, the gator’s waiting snout. He snapped it up. This time he’d pushed farther out of the water and I saw that he was missing one of his limbs.
“Look, Carl, the gator only has one arm. I wonder what got him?”
“Probably a Texas gator,” he said. “It figures, the one gator you find me is a cripple.” Carl had an answer for everything.
“No,” I said. “Why would one gator tear off another one’s arm?”
“Leg. One big chomp without thinkin. Probably got his leg in between his mother and some tasty tidbit — a small dog or kid. Life is cruel, babycakes — survival of the fittest.” He stopped talking to light a cigarette. He waved it near my face to make his point. “You gotta protect yourself — be cruel first. That’s why you got me — to do it for you.” He gave me one of his grins with all the teeth showing.
“Oh, is that why?” I laughed, like it was a joke. Yeah, Carl would take care of his own all right — it was like having a mad dog at my side, never knowing when he might turn. He wouldn’t hesitate to rip anybody’s arm off, mine included, if it got in his way.
The mother called to her husband, “Can we get going, honey? I have fish to clean.”
The guy didn’t look up. “Good job,” he said to his daughter. He reached down and gave her a pat on the butt. “Let’s get another one.”
It started to rain a little harder, thank God, and Carl motioned with his head toward the car and started walking. I looked at the woman still standing there. “Bye,” I called.
She nodded at me, her face empty of life. “Goodbye, honey.” It was then she turned enough for me to see that the sleeve on the far side of the dress was empty, pinned up — her arm was gone. Jesus. I felt my eyes bulge. She couldn’t have missed what I said. I burned through ten shades of red in a split second. I turned and sprinted to catch up with Carl.
He glanced at me. “What’s your hurry, sugar? You ain’t gonna melt. Think I’d leave without ya?”
“Nope,” I said. I swallowed and tried to lighten up. I didn’t want to share with him what I saw.
He looked at me odd and I knew he wasn’t fooled. “What’s with you?”
“Hungry,” I said.
“I told you you should’ve had a ham sandwich before we left. You never listen to me. I won’t be ready to eat for a couple more hours.”