by Shelley Katz
Slowly, Lee got up and started to back away. Suddenly the alligator twitched. Holding his knife tightly, Lee moved forward cautiously.
Again the alligator went limp, and Lee knew it had only been a reflex. The killer that had taken on the entire swamps now lay quiet, his life spilling into the water around him.
Lee stood still, unable to grasp what had happened or why he was holding a knife which was caked and encrusted with blood. He bent down and washed his face and hands. There was blood on them, too. He cupped his hands and brought water to his lips; it tasted strongly of salt.
Great evening shadows stretched out from the hummock and cooled him. Clouds stained blood-red from the setting sun raced across the surface of the water, tinting everything a rosy pink. It was evening.
A few feet away from Lee, the black, lifeless body of the alligator floated free, rippling with the water. At first he felt a stab of sadness and regret, but relief as warm as the water quickly followed.
Far in the distance, Lee noticed some strange gray shapes. At first they looked like clumps of trees, but as he continued to gaze at them, he thought he saw smoke rising from them. He realized that they weren't trees but the smokestacks of a factory. The salty taste of the water was from the ocean spilling back into the swamps. That meant that the ocean couldn't be more than ten miles away, and where there was the ocean, there was a good chance a city was nearby.
He turned back to the alligator, floating in the water next to him. Suddenly everything that had happened came back to him. It hit him with a force that almost knocked him off his feet, a force that grew and grew until he almost reeled with its power and beauty.
A strange, convulsive laughter built in him, making him smile, then even laugh, as he turned and walked away. He moved faster and faster, until he broke out in a run and cried out in joy, "I'm alive! I'm alive! I'm alive!"
