He’d heard awful stories of pythons and the like crawling out of their cages and strangling children, but those sad exceptions were always attributed to human idiocy. Could such a thing happen to a child in the wild? Sure—it could, he supposed. Dan could try and make it happen on the written page. But how believable would it be to have a child wandering around the Everglades on foot to allow such gruesomeness to happen? And it would be gruesome. Too gruesome. Dan likened children being killed in books to politics and religion being discussed in a bar. Just don’t.
There had been accounts of snakes attacking adults and carrying on with full intention of a meal—apparently if a snake was hungry enough, it would go after anything—but more often than not, the snake would choke to death on its own sizeable catch. Dan had seen a good number of images of dead pythons with antelope horns, deer hooves, or gator tails ripped through and jutting from their bloated bodies. Indigestion at its finest.
“I’m not too sure,” Russ said. “That’s something you can ask and jot tomorrow morning.”
Dan smiled. Ask and jot he would. But hell, even if the tour guide confirmed his own research, Dan wasn’t about to let the truth get in the way of a good story. He wanted a python to gobble somebody up in his new book. In fact, speaking of good stories…
“First, let me just say thank you so much,” he said. “Really, this is such a kind gesture. It’s going to help immensely.” He thought about leaning forward and touching them both on the arm. Too much? Ah screw it, he’d already touched Vicky’s boob. “Thank you,” he said again, leaning forward and touching them both lightly on the shoulder. It came off natural, the couple smiled, and when Dan sat back, he saw that Elizabeth was smiling too.
“Second,” he began, “let me tell you this snake story.”
“Oooh!” Elizabeth broke in, “tell them the one your mom told us. About the snake in the woman’s bed.”
“I was just about to, Spoiler Alert.”
Elizabeth slapped a hand over her mouth.
Russ laughed.
Dan smiled and squeezed Elizabeth’s knee.
“What’s the story?” Vicky asked.
“My mother was telling me about this woman she works with who, for whatever reason, had this huge pet python. Classic compensation for her boyfriend coming up short perhaps.”
Another risky joke, but both Russ and Vicky laughed.
“Anyway, she had this huge python, and one day it stopped eating. Normally she would feed it a big rat every two to three weeks, but it simply wouldn’t eat. Concerned, she takes it to the vet, and the vet says not to worry; pythons can go a long time without eating, and if this continues for a couple more weeks, bring it on back.
“So it continues, and she brings it back to the vet a couple of weeks later. The vet asks if the snake has exhibited any odd behavior, and the girl says as a matter of fact it has. She woke one morning to find the snake in bed with her. It had slithered out of its cage and gotten into her bed.”
“Oh my God,” Vicky said.
“I know,” Elizabeth said. “Can you imagine?”
Dan went on. “Believe it or not, the girl didn’t freak. She just picked the snake up and put it back in its tank. When the vet asked her if the snake had been coiled up next to her, perhaps seeking warmth, the woman said no; oddly enough, the snake had been lying straight, up and down the bed like a thick length of hose. The vet’s immediate reply? The snake needs to be put down. Upset, the girl asks why, what’s wrong with it? To which the vet replies that the snake had been intentionally starving itself in preparation for a meal far greater than a measly rat. By lying next to the woman, it was literally measuring to see if it would be able to swallow her.”
“Oh my God,” Vicky said again.
Dan smiled as if he’d just told a good joke. “How messed up is that?”
“Why on Earth would anyone have a pet like that?” Russ said.
“Preaching to the choir, Russ,” Dan said. “I read an article about some idiots who put their baby in the same room as their pet python. Need I tell you what happened?”
“No,” Vicky said adamantly.
“I don’t get people sometimes,” Russ said.
“At least the snake was just being a snake,” Dan said. “What’s the excuse for people like that?”
“No creature more frightening than man, stupidity not excluded,” Russ said.
“Uh…I’d rather face a man than a giant snake, Dad,” Elizabeth said.
“Yeah, but what Dan said is true. The snake was just being a snake. Humans are the only living things that cause pain by choice.”
Chapter 7
Dusk.
Ron Daigle and his two boys hadn’t moved from their front porch. Fear kept them alert. Only Adelyn Daigle exhibited signs of fatigue due to her seated position behind them.
“Perhaps they won’t show?” Adelyn said.
Ron glanced back at his wife. “You believe that, Adelyn?”
“Maybe Travis explained it was an accident?”
Now Ron turned and faced his wife completely, shotgun at his side. “Boy lied about his fight with Noah. Now his mama’s lying dead on our living room floor—her and her unborn child. All on account of his lie. If you think he’s gonna start telling the truth now…”
Adelyn broke eye contact with her husband, fear coming back like a jolt of adrenaline. Ron nodded and turned back to the river. He squinted into the distance. Dusk was gaining strength.
“Go and hit the floodlights, Noah—” Ron said, looking east and then west into the dense wetlands lining both sides of the river. “Roys are crazy enough to try and come through on foot.”
Noah went inside. A moment later, powerful bursts of light shot from the roof of the Daigle home, shining down and reflecting off the dark river. The sound of aquatic life, irritated by the new light, could be heard lightly splashing as it dove for cover. No heavy splashing that was cause for alarm.
The floodlights were strong, but not so strong that they penetrated the surrounding forest adequately. Maybe a few feet inward until the increasing dark reclaimed its hold. Ron leaned forward onto the rail of his porch, squinting and looking east and west again, desperate to spot something in what light penetrated the wetlands. He saw nothing. “Where are you sons of bitches,” he murmured.
Noah reappeared, screen door banging behind him. “How’s that, Daddy?”
Ron nodded but kept his gaze on the river and beyond. “That’s good, son.”
Ethan’s fear was accompanied by his increasing agitation. “We planning to be out here all night, Daddy?” There was contempt in his voice.
“Better we go inside and let them surprise us?” Ron asked his son.
“No, but I’m not fixin’ to sleep out here. I seen gators chance our bridge before. Black bear too.”
“We’ll sleep in shifts if we have to,” Ron said.
Ethan turned his attention back to the river, muttered: “Bullshit.”
“I heard that, Ethan Daigle,” Adelyn said. “The mouth on this one, Ron.”
“Mind your mother,” Ron said absently, his voice sounding far away.
Noah was the first to catch the bobbing light on the river.
“Daddy!”
A row boat was approaching, a powerful flashlight its guide at the bow. As the bobbing circle of light grew, Ron could begin to make out the boat’s occupants. Ida Roy was at the bow, flashlight in hand, pointing the powerful beam at the Daigle home with such hatred in her face it seemed as if she entertained the flashlight a ray of fire. Tucker Roy was rowing. There was no hatred on his face. It was granite. The face of a man who would not allow death to stop him.
Travis Roy was not in the boat. Neither was his uncle Harlon. While Ron saw no cause for alarm at Travis’ absence, he took significant note of Harlon’s. That man would have been first in line for a helping of vengeance.
The boat was a good ten feet from the Daigle’s bridge when Ron fired the shotgun into the air. The blas
t echoed throughout their remote surroundings like an errant firework. Ron then pumped the shotgun—hard and demonstratively—and pointed it at the Roys. “That’s far enough, Tucker.”
Ida Roy spit over the side of the boat. “Not nearly far enough, Ron Daigle.” Her voice, deep and rough like an old man’s, made Ron flash on Noah’s earlier reference to a witch. It was more fitting now than it’d ever been, and it clicked Ron’s fear up a peg.
“I reckon Travis told you what happened,” Ron said. “I only hope he spoke the truth this time; told you what happened was an accident.” Calling Travis on his lying would only incite the Roys, but he had to project some measure of confidence, even if he felt little.
“We come for the body,” Tucker Roy said. His face was as stone as ever, no affect at all. “You let us take Jolene home and give her a proper send off. You’re a smart man, Ron. Don’t make things worse than they already are.”
Ron had expected this, but he wasn’t about to let a Roy into his home. Even—hell, especially—Ida. “My boys will bring her out to you, Tucker. We’ll lay her at the end of the dock. When we’re back up here and safe, you can come forward and collect her.”
Ida Roy spit again. “Listen to you talkin’ like you’re in the right.”
“What happened was an accident, Ida. Your Jolene came here fixin’ to ruin our Noah for life. We were only trying to stop it.”
“You know what’s coming, boy,” Ida said. “You don’t get it now, you’ll get it soon enough.”
Ron gripped the shotgun tight to his chest. “And we’ll be waiting, Ida. You won’t be hurting my family over an accident.”
“An accident that woulda never been if it weren’t for them little shits you call sons,” Ida said.
Ethan burst forward. “I was never involved! Noah and Travis had a fair fight! This is all your doing!”
“Ethan!” Adelyn said from behind.
The hatred in Ida Roy’s face leapt to a incredulous rage. “The cheek of that one! I reckon you tell him to shut his mouth before I do his tongue!”
Ron, eyes never leaving the boat, said: “You hush, Ethan, you hear me?”
Ethan said nothing.
“Fine group of boys you got there, Ron Daigle,” Ida said. “A liar, and a disrespectful little shit. I reckon both will do just fine when it comes to feeding Harlon’s flock.”
Ron’s fear scorched his throat, increasing his need to swallow nothing but his body’s irony for that need. He fought the urge so they would not see him cough, blocking out any remaining windows into his fear. He steadied the gun and cleared his throat as quietly as he could. “You can go and knock that kinda talk off right now, Ida. You want to collect Jolene or don’t you?”
Ida and Tucker exchanged looks.
“Tell your boys to bring my wife down then,” Tucker said.
Tucker’s demeanor bothered Ron. Tucker Roy was a hard man; Ron expected no tears or sadness. But he did not expect the measure of calm he was exhibiting. The hate was there, that was evident. But the control he was displaying in the face of such hate—Ron found it more worrisome than any of Ida Roy’s threats.
“Alright then,” Ron said. “You keep that boat right where it is for now.” He turned left and then right, between his two boys. “Noah. Ethan. You boys go inside and see to Jolene.” Then loud enough for the Roys to hear: “My boys will be bringing her down, Tucker. I’ll be following right behind—” He brandished the shotgun. “If you’ve got any weapons hiding in that boat, I suggest you reconsider.”
Ida Roy sneered. “Talkin’ like you’re in the right again…”
Ron ignored her. “Once we set Jolene down, and we’re a safe distance back here, then you can come forward and collect her.”
Ida Roy stood suddenly, rocking the boat. She pointed a finger at Ron. “You don’t tell us what’s what!” Her wretched voice cracked and she began a violent cough. When it passed, she said, “I swear to Christ on His throne, Ron Daigle, a suffering you never imagined is coming your way.”
“Mama,” Tucker said calmly. “Mama, please sit down.” Ida reluctantly sat, venom leaking from her pores. Tucker looked up at the porch. “Bring her on down then, Ron. And you tell your boys to mind my wife.”
Ron gave one emphatic nod. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Tucker.” He turned left and right between Noah and Ethan again. “Go on, boys.”
Ron felt no measure of relief from the understanding he and Tucker had just come to. The lion was in the room. It had promised to go away without bother once it had gotten what it came for. But Ron had lived in the wilderness long enough to know that anything wild could never be trusted.
***
Noah and Ethan had brought Jolene Roy’s body to the edge of the Daigle’s bridge, just as Ron had promised. And the boys were gentle and respectful as they laid her body, still covered in the green table cloth, to the wooden floor of the bridge, just as Ron had promised. And Ron had kept his shotgun aimed on the boat holding Ida and Tucker Roy the entire time, just as he’d promised.
His family back on their front porch without incident, Ron now called to the boat. “Alright, Tucker.”
Tucker rowed towards the edge of the bridge, docking by the ramp. He whispered something to his mother, and then proceeded up the bridge towards his dead wife. His flat affect never changed, even when he squatted next to Jolene’s body and pulled back the green table cloth to look at her lifeless face, and then pulling the table cloth down further, to her full belly, to his child that would never be.
And still, even after scooping his wife into his arms and then making his way down the bridge to lay her gently into the boat, Tucker Roy held no discernible expression of grief.
This was not the case for Ida Roy. A face that seldom expressed anything but contempt for the world now held the rare sight of sorrow as she ran a hand over her daughter-in-law’s head. When the sorrow faded, and it had not stayed long, her gaze shifted back up towards the Daigles. Contempt had not returned. In its stead was a face of pure malevolence; and for the umpteenth time that day, Ron Daigle felt ice in his blood.
“Alright then, Tucker?” Ron called. But it was not alright. He knew that. He knew it would never be. His words were wishful projection, nothing more.
Tucker did not reply. He grabbed the oars and began rowing away. The lion was leaving the room. For now.
Ron called again: “Alright then, Tucker?”
Again, Tucker said nothing, just continued rowing. Odd as it may seem, Ron wanted them to stay, the anticipation of retribution far more crippling than the act itself. Whatever was to come, he wanted it now.
“Better we sort this now, Tucker?” He called to the departing boat, an almost pleading in his voice replacing all traces of bravado that may have been.
Ida Roy was the last to speak. “This is not alright, Ron Daigle. You know that. Once we see to Jolene, you’ve got a reckoning coming your way. Better you start teaching your family to sleep with both eyes open.”
Ron opened his mouth to object—to beg—but the boat was moving steadily down the river now, and besides, even if Ron had the words, he knew it would only fuel their hate. To—and the sudden thought pumped a fresh supply of ice deeper into his veins—add to their delight when they sought fit to exact their revenge. Ron dropped his head in defeat and said nothing.
“Daddy?” Noah said. “Is it over now?”
Head still down, eyes closed, Ron said, “No, son.” He eventually looked up and turned to Ethan. “Looks like we’ll be sleeping in shifts after all.” Then over his shoulder to his wife: “Better we go inside and get some supper. It’s going to be a long night.”
Adelyn nodded and stood.
“You boys go and help your mama with supper.”
Ethan and Noah followed their mother inside.
Ron squinted out onto the river for a few minutes. He could no longer see the boat in the distance. They were gone. “But they’ll be back,” he whispered to himself. “Please, God Almighty, he
lp us…they’ll be back.”
Ron sighed and went inside. There he found Harlon Roy standing behind Adelyn, a pistol pressed to her head. Noah and Ethan stood helpless nearby, hands in the air, their rifles discarded on the opposite side of the room.
“Evening, Ron,” Harlon said. He took the gun off Adelyn’s head and shot Ron in both legs, sending him to the ground in a writhing mess. Adelyn screamed. Both Noah and Ethan looked on in shock.
Gun back on Adelyn, Harlon fished a cell phone out of his back pocket and dialed with one hand. “It’s all under control,” he said into the phone. “Give Travis his mama and then head on back with everything.” He snapped the phone shut, stuffed it back into his pocket, then shoved Adelyn into the corner with Ethan and Noah.
Harlon approached Ron’s moaning, fetal body; gun pointed at Adelyn and her boys as he went. With his free hand, Harlon unzipped his fly and started urinating on Ron’s head. “You were right, Ron…gonna be one hell of a long night.”
Chapter 8
Bonita Springs
Southwest Florida
In the same clothes he’d worn on the ride from the airport, Dan Rolston had fallen dead asleep in one of several recliners by the pool. A gorgeous and considerable lanai the size of a small one-story home housed his slumber. It was only dusk, and by napping he was being a rude guest, but the simple fact was that he’d been over-stimulated. Never had he seen such a beautiful home of both extravagant décor and endless luxury. As far as Dan was concerned, he’d have been just fine playing out the remainder of his visits right here under the lanai and all the heavenliness therein: the trickling sounds of its many little waterfalls throughout a massage for the ears; the sunset, the exquisite greenery here and beyond, stone sculptures chosen with an aesthetic hand, the periodic scuttling of pleasant little anole lizards across the mesh walls of the lanai a massage for the eyes.
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