Keegan Scott: Alligator Hunter

by Darin Harris

  One of my shoes had come off, and it slid slowly down the muddy bank toward my head. Must go. Must go now! Grabbing the muddy shoe, I ran as quietly and quickly as I could – one shoe on, one in my hand. It’s impossible to be quiet when you’re running in the middle of the creek, but that was the quickest way to our bikes.

  We’d come in that way so we wouldn’t be seen from anyone up at the campground, but we'd been able to take our time and walk without splashing so much. I splashed like crazy as I ran out, and I thought I heard a splash in the creek behind me, but I was too scared to look back. Finally, I saw Brandon and Joey on the other side of the chain-link fence. Thank you, God. I looked up ahead to the gap underneath the fence, where the ground dipped.

  “Hurry, Keegan!” Joey screamed as he saw me heading toward them, covered in mud, with no pants.

  Brandon’s short pudgy arm waved me toward the fence. His eyes were wide. “Come on.”

  I dove into the muddy creek under the fence. Joey grabbed my arm, Brandon grabbed on to my shirt, and then they pulled me under the fence toward the bikes. I stopped long enough to put my shoe back on. Where’s my sock? I looked back up the creek. I didn’t remember losing a sock.

  “Hurry, Keegan; if that dog follows you, this fence isn’t going to stop him,” Joey rushed me.

  Luckily, the dogator hadn’t followed me, so I scraped some more mud off my face and breathed a little easier. Well, that was until I realized I have to ride my bike home without any pants!

  THE END

  [back to the beginning]

  About the author:

  *~* I was pretty sure I wanted to be a writer in the fifth grade. (or a cowboy...or a soldier...or...)

  *~* In the twelfth grade I wrote a 5-page paper entitled, "When I grow up I want to be a _____." (I found out not many people want to be a line when they grow up.)

  *~* I got a 100 on the paper, and decided I wanted to be a writer more than a line, but I waited 25 years before I started working on it. ("Better late than never," they always say - whoever they are.) 

  *~* Oreos dunked in milk may be what the Bible calls manna from heaven. (I could be wrong on that.)

  *~* My wife is super-cool and I've decided to keep her around. My two boys are super-cool too, but one joined the Army and one went to college, so I guess I won't keep them around.

  Keegan Scott: Bike Wrecks & Bad Days

  Keegan Scott: Bearded Dragon Bandit

  Right Arm

  Runners

  Connect with Me Online:

  Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/darinsharris

  My blog: https://www.darinsharris.net

  E-mail: darin@darinsharris.net

  ~~~~~

  K1

  We headed toward the campground on our bikes. One reason we went to the back of the campground was because it was less likely we would get caught; we could hide our bikes in the trees along the creek. The banks of the creek were about five feet high, even though the water in the creek was only about eight inches deep. Because the banks were steep, the fence surrounding the campground just went across the creek up in the air, with almost three feet open underneath it.

  As we started crawling through the gap, a sharp piece of metal on the fence snagged Brandon's shirt. It tore a small hole in the back of his shirt. “Oh, man, my mom’s gonna kill me.”

  Joey looked at the hole and rolled his eyes. “It’s just a little hole. It’s no big deal.” Joey could cut up his brand new shirt for paint rags and his mom wouldn’t say anything. Grandma would have my hide if I did that, but she was pretty cool when it came to little holes. “Clothes are meant to be lived in,” she always said.

  "Guys, this is a bad sign," Brandon said. "Maybe we should check out Old Man Gentry's backyard instead." I was pretty sure by then that Mr. Gentry didn't have anything to do with the alligator, but I wasn't sure whether or not to tell them that.

  Should Keegan tell them what he knows about Mr. Gentry? L1

  Should Keegan keep silent and head to the campground? J1

  ~~~~~

  L1

  “It’s not Mr. Gentry.” I told them. Since Joey was planning an assault on Mr. Gentry’s house, I had to say something. Brandon and Joey stared at me, waiting for the explanation.

  “Look, I know Mr. Gentry doesn’t have any alligators.” I paused, not wanting to go on. “And he doesn’t keep his dead wife in the attic. Don’t tell anyone this, but I’ve been in his house.” Joey and Brandon looked at me like I’d sprouted antennas and a third eye.

  “No way!” Joey finally said. Brandon shook his head.

  “Yeah, lots of times, with my Grandpa.”

  “Is it scary?” Brandon whispered.

  “It was the first couple of times, but not anymore.”

  “Why do you go there?”

  I shrugged. “Grandpa and Mr. Gentry’s son, Jerry, were best friends. A few years ago, Jerry got cancer, and just before he died he made my grandpa promise to take care of Mr. Gentry. Grandpa’s done it ever since, and sometimes he takes me with him.”

  “So he hasn’t murdered anyone, and there are no alligators?” Joey looked disappointed.

  “No. He’s really a nice old man, but I think he’s pretty lonely.”

  “Great, now I’ll never be a hero.” Joey looked even more depressed than when he found out professional wrestling was fake. "Okay, well, we're here at the campground. Might as well keep going."

  "No, let's go home and come back tomorrow," Brandon said.

  Should the boys go home and come back tomorrow? L2

  Should the boys goon to the campground? J1

  ~~~~~

  L2

  Brandon looked like maybe he was going to cry, so I said, "Maybe we should wait until tomorrow."

  "Oh, man, we're here," Joey pouted.

  "Yeah, but we didn't plan for anything."

  "Like what?"

  "What if they have a guard dog or something? He's gonna be faster than us."

  Joey smiled. "I don't have to be faster than the dog, 'cause I'm faster than you."

  Brandon punched him, and they wrestled around for a few minutes, but in the end, we got on our bikes and headed home. It was kind of sad, but I knew I'd find those alligators one day.

  THE END

  [back to the beginning]

  About the author:

  *~* I was pretty sure I wanted to be a writer in the fifth grade. (or a cowboy...or a soldier...or...)

  *~* In the twelfth grade I wrote a 5-page paper entitled, "When I grow up I want to be a _____." (I found out not many people want to be a line when they grow up.)

  *~* I got a 100 on the paper, and decided I wanted to be a writer more than a line, but I waited 25 years before I started working on it. ("Better late than never," they always say - whoever they are.) 

  *~* Oreos dunked in milk may be what the Bible calls manna from heaven. (I could be wrong on that.)

  *~* My wife is super-cool and I've decided to keep her around. My two boys are super-cool too, but one joined the Army and one went to college, so I guess I won't keep them around.

  Discover other titles by Darin Harris at Smashwords.com:

  Keegan Scott: Bike Wrecks & Bad Days

  Keegan Scott: Bearded Dragon Bandit

  Right Arm

  Runners

  Connect with Me Online:

  Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/darinsharris

  My blog: https://www.darinsharris.net

  E-mail: darin@darinsharris.net

  ~~~~~

  M1

  Joey ran up from somewhere near the campground entrance. “Come this way.” He waived us all toward the entrance.

  “But our bikes are this way.” I wasn’t sure how six of us were going to get away on three bikes, but that seemed better than walking.

  Joey smiled. “The Cavalry.” Just then I heard the sirens.

  We headed toward the entrance. “How did the
police know to come?” Brandon had been in the creek bed watching Buster the whole time.

  “After I lost her,” Joey nodded to the tattooed woman who was just inside the door bending over Hank, “I snuck into the campground office and called 911.”

  “That was a cool move; not in my master plan, but definitely a good move.” Brandon clapped him on the back.

  “Keegan, I also called your grandpa and my mom. I didn’t think I should call your mom.” He looked at Brandon, hoping he’d done the right thing. Brandon nodded, agreeing that it was probably best.

  By the time we reached the front gate, the police were pulling up, as well as Grandpa and Joey’s mom. It got pretty crazy after that. We were trying to explain what happened, and the girls were trying to explain why they had been handcuffed to the beds. Most of that was in Spanish, so I didn’t really figure that out until later.

  An ambulance came and took Hank to the hospital. I saw that he was handcuffed to the stretcher. That’s what Mrs. Davis, our English teacher, would have called "irony." The tattooed woman was put in a police car. She was in handcuffs too.

  Grandpa and Grandma fussed over me, and Grandma fussed over Brandon too until his mom showed up. Grandpa decided it would be best to call her, and when she got there, she didn’t even seem mad at Brandon.

  Somehow, a newspaper reporter found out about the whole thing. Her name was Julie Roberts, and she said we could call her Julie. That didn’t seem right. Grandma always said I’m supposed to call adults by Mr. or Mrs. or Ms.

  Julie Roberts was a Ms. She had frizzy red hair – even brighter red than Brandon’s - and a big gap between her two front teeth. She smelled like French fries, which smells really good, when all you’ve eaten is a bowl of cereal and a few bites of some gruesome glop they served at lunch.

  “So you boys are the ones who found out the girls were being held here?” Julie (Ms. Roberts) asked.

  “It was the Alligator Hunter.” Brandon pointed towards me.

  I felt my face flush, but I didn’t think she could tell since it was almost dark. “We were looking for alligators,” I told her, and then Brandon, Joey and I told her the whole story. She took our picture and said we could read all about it the next day in the newspaper.

  It was completely dark when the questions had all be answered and we were allowed to leave. I hadn’t seen the three girls hardly at all after the police came. I heard the Sherriff say something about human trafficking, which I only sort of understood.

  When Grandpa told me it was time to go, I looked for them. They were huddled in the backseat of a police car. The door was open, and I waved and smiled as I walked by. I hoped they would be safe now.

  “Keegan.” I’d never heard my name with that accent before. I turned around, and the girl with the pretty smile was out of the car. I had found out her name was Maria.

  I smiled at her. “Maria.” And then she surprised me. She ran up, threw her arms around my neck, and kissed me right on the lips.

  It wasn’t like a Grandma kiss, or even like my mom used to kiss me. It was soft and warm and wonderful. It was my first real kiss, and it wasn’t with Stacy Swanson, like I’d always hoped. Maria let go of me and ran back to the police car.

  I was probably a brighter color of red than I can ever remember being, but I was walking on the clouds, as Grandma always said. Smiling a goofy smile, I waved again, and then got into Grandpa’s old truck. Maybe we didn’t find any alligators, but right then, I didn't complain.

  THE END

  [back to the beginning]

  About the author:

  *~* I was pretty sure I wanted to be a writer in the fifth grade. (or a cowboy...or a soldier...or...)

  *~* In the twelfth grade I wrote a 5-page paper entitled, "When I grow up I want to be a _____." (I found out not many people want to be a line when they grow up.)

  *~* I got a 100 on the paper, and decided I wanted to be a writer more than a line, but I waited 25 years before I started working on it. ("Better late than never," they always say - whoever they are.) 

  *~* Oreos dunked in milk may be what the Bible calls manna from heaven. (I could be wrong on that.)

  *~* My wife is super-cool and I've decided to keep her around. My two boys are super-cool too, but one joined the Army and one went to college, so I guess I won't keep them around.

  Discover other titles by Darin Harris at Smashwords.com:

  Keegan Scott: Bike Wrecks & Bad Days

  Keegan Scott: Bearded Dragon Bandit

  Right Arm

  Runners

  Connect with Me Online:

  Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/darinsharris

  My blog: https://www.darinsharris.net

  E-mail: darin@darinsharris.net

  ~~~~~

  N1

  I raced back over the edge of the creek bank to where Brandon was still hiding. “Do you see Joey?”

  “Nope. She chased him that way.” Brandon pointed toward the front of the campground.

  “Man, this is bad. We’re going to get so grounded.”

  “You’ve got that right. My mom’s not going to let me out of the house until I’m eighteen. Maybe twenty. This wasn’t quite the way it played out in my master plan.”

  I nodded and looked over at the big sleeping dog. “Yeah, but your plan for any guard dogs sure worked.” The big dog had crawled closer to the creek, and I could see that what I thought were scales was actually dried mud. No scales = no alligators.

  “Yeah. I think he’s a nice dog, really.”

  “He looks nice, now that he’s asleep,” I agreed. “So, what should we do now? Wait here for Joey or wait at the bikes?”

  Should Keegan and Brandon wait for Joey in the creek? P1

  Should Keegan and Brandon wait for Joey by the bikes? Q1

  ~~~~~

  P1

  We were waiting for Joey, not sure what to do. “Maybe I should go and look for alligators while we wait,” I said to Brandon.

  “I don’t think so. What if he comes running up, and they are chasing him and you’re out there, somewhere?” Brandon’s eyes were wide, and he bounced up and down like Joey normally did.

  “I’ll stay close by. The pool’s just on the other side of the dorm.” I started climbing up out of the creek bed, watching the dog to make sure he was still asleep. I wasn’t even up on the grass yet when we heard Joey yelling.

  “Run!” He was headed toward us, his shirt ripped almost off, pointing towards the bikes.

  We ran. Splashing right down the middle of the creek, we raced toward the opening under the fence, where our bikes were located. I was ahead of the others and rushed under the fence.

  Turning back, I noticed that Joey had passed Brandon. Brandon was just not very fast. Not only was Joey’s shirt torn apart, but he was missing a shoe. I grabbed his hand and pulled him under the fence, and together we grabbed Brandon and drug him under.

  There didn’t appear to be anyone following us. “What happened to you?” I turned and looked at Joey.

  He was panting. “She almost caught me when I tripped, but I got away. Then the next thing I knew, some guy came racing around the boys’ dorm, and he grabbed my shirt.” He pulled the pieces of his shirt together, like maybe it could be fixed.

  “What’s the big deal?” Brandon smirked. “It’s just a little hole.”

  Joey and I smiled, and then Joey continued. “I didn’t stop, even when he grabbed me and my shirt ripped, and I got away.”

  “Awesome, dude.” I gave him a high five.

  “Maybe we should get out of here, just in case. Who knows? If we’re lucky, we’ll only get grounded for a couple of years.”

  We nodded, jumped on our bikes and headed home. We’ll find those alligators someday.

  THE END

  [back to the beginning]

  About the author:

  *~* I was pretty sure I wanted to be a writer in the fifth grade. (or a cowboy...or a
soldier...or...)

  *~* In the twelfth grade I wrote a 5-page paper entitled, "When I grow up I want to be a _____." (I found out not many people want to be a line when they grow up.)

  *~* I got a 100 on the paper, and decided I wanted to be a writer more than a line, but I waited 25 years before I started working on it. ("Better late than never," they always say - whoever they are.) 

  *~* Oreos dunked in milk may be what the Bible calls manna from heaven. (I could be wrong on that.)

  *~* My wife is super-cool and I've decided to keep her around. My two boys are super-cool too, but one joined the Army and one went to college, so I guess I won't keep them around.

  Discover other titles by Darin Harris at Smashwords.com:

  Keegan Scott: Bike Wrecks & Bad Days

  Keegan Scott: Bearded Dragon Bandit

  Right Arm

  Runners

  Connect with Me Online:

  Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/darinsharris

  My blog: https://www.darinsharris.net

  E-mail: darin@darinsharris.net

  ~~~~~

  Q1

  Brandon and I rushed back to the bikes and waited … and waited … and waited….

  “So, what should we do?”