by Rose, Willow
“Thanks,” she said and smiled at me. She got up.
“I am Chris by the way,” I said.
“I am Anna.”
My heart was beating fast. “Let me help you to your car,” I said, and took one of the bags out of her hand. I walked towards her car and realized that she must have been wondering how I knew which one was hers. But it was too late. I was already standing behind it looking at it. I smiled. “This one?” I asked.
She nodded and opened the trunk. As she did one of the overly filled bags cracked open and more groceries spilled onto the ground. She exhaled, annoyed.
“No worries, I got it,” I said and bent down. I picked it all up and lastly I grabbed a pack of spaghetti from the ground and gave it to her. “For tonight?” I asked. Somehow I had the idea that she had been about to make spaghetti in that big pot of boiling water that would end up over her daughter and burning her.
She looked at me with great confusion. She probably thought I was hitting on her or something. That’s a picture for you. A twenty-two year old boy hitting on a forty-something woman in front of a grocery store. “The pasta, I meant.”
“No,” she said while stuffing it all back in the trunk and closing it. She looked at me while dangling the car-keys in her hand. “Have I seen you before?" she asked.
"I don't think so," I answered, avoiding her eyes.
"Listen," she said. "Thank you for your help. It was really nice and all. But I have to get going.”
“Oh, of course. Me, too,” I said. I realized I had been staring at her and tried to find something else to look at in order to not make her feel uncomfortable. “I am just … getting back to my car,” I said and pointed at the white Corvette. I wanted so badly to say something to her. I wanted to tell her everything I knew, but how could I? She would think I was some kind of lunatic.
I got back in my car and started it not knowing what to do next. I couldn’t let go of her now that I’d finally found her. I simply couldn’t. It would kill me. So I did the only thing I could do. I followed her. I kept my distance since my car was pretty flashy.
The rest of that afternoon I followed her in her red Ford as she drove back with her groceries to her house and afterwards ran all of her errands across town. At first she went to the dry cleaners and picked up a suit, and then she met up with a friend and had a cup of coffee with him. I sat in the car studying them while waiting for her to come back. It took an hour or so and then I saw him follow her to her car and get in with her. From the distance I couldn’t tell for sure, but I was pretty certain they kissed—a passionate and heartfelt kiss. And he wasn’t her husband. I knew that much. The husband’s face was one I would never forget, either. After a few minutes, they drove off together.
Slightly uncomfortable by the situation, I followed them to a house near the beach where they went inside. I guessed it had to be his house since. I heard laughter from an open window and realized that I was now in way over my head. This had suddenly become more complicated than I had expected. This was none of my business.
I backed out of the neighborhood and waited at the end of the road for her to come out. It took an hour or so before I saw her in her car again. Alone. I followed her to the school where she picked up the daughter. Again my heart started racing when I saw the girl’s face. The daughter was pale and looked like she hadn’t slept much lately. She had black circles under her eyes. She was the real victim in all of this, and she would be the one who was about to pay the highest price.
I followed them from a safe distance as they drove home. They lived in house number twenty-nine on Eighth Street. My heart was racing inside of my chest when I realized it. There it was again. Eight-two-nine. This was no coincidence, that was sure. Some greater power than me was telling me to do something. All I could do was play along.
They stopped the car in the driveway and went inside. I parked the car in front of another house farther down the road, and then I waited. For what I had no idea, but I felt like I couldn’t leave them. If this was the night it was going to happen, if this was the night my vision was to come true, I wanted to be there to prevent it. Somehow. Someway. There just had to be a way. An opportunity that would present itself. But I had no idea if this was even the night. It could be any night for that matter.
I waited for another hour and a half when I saw a car come down the road, driving towards the house. It was a police car. At first I worried that someone had called the cops on me because I had to look pretty suspicious sitting there in my car for hours in a quiet family neighborhood, and I started the engine intending to drive away. But the police car didn’t stop; it kept going and stopped at the driveway of house number twenty-nine. A man in uniform got out. I gasped. That face was very familiar to me. It was the husband. He had that same mean expression on his face as he did in my vision. He slammed the door to the car behind him and walked with heavy steps towards the gray house where he went inside.
Uncertain of what to do, I stayed in the car until all the lights went out in the house. Then I drove off. I was too upset to go home yet, so instead I decided to go see an old friend.
Jim’s car was parked in the parking lot at the entrance at the Twelve Mile Swamps. Jim, along with his friends, was unpacking his hunting gear as I arrived. Unfortunately, he saw me and waved. I waved back and parked the car next to his.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked.
“I was just out driving and wanted to hear if there was any news about the jaguar?” I said with a forced smile.
“We’ll get the beast tonight,” he said. “It can’t keep hiding forever. I can smell it is still in there. It is waiting for me.”
“So, you’re not about to give up, huh?”
“Never. I will never give up. I know you want me to, but I am determined to get it. It is not about what happened to you that night anymore. It attacked me, remember? I want to shoot and kill that creature. That’s my right after what it did to me.”
I nodded as if I understood his desire to kill my friend. It was going to be hard to get him to stop hunting for it. The only way I could prevent him from killing it was to make it somehow illegal for him to shoot it, to make the authorities stop allowing them to hunt for it. Yes, that was my plan. I know it was farfetched but I wanted people to feel sorry for the animal. I wanted them to like it. My series of articles were supposed to do that—turn the opinion of the public. But that isn't as easy as you'd think.
“So how is med school treating you?” I asked, keen on changing the subject.
“Great. I hear you’re finally joining us next week?”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Dr. Kirk asked me to tutor you.”
I swallowed hard. It was like a nightmare. I mean, Jim had turned out to be nice and all, but he and I had absolutely nothing in common. And he had no respect for me after that night when I had been unable to pull the trigger. I knew that.
“Did he now?”
“Yes. I promised to stop by tomorrow actually. Just with a few books and stuff for you to start with. It’ll be fun,” he said and gave me a push with his elbow.
I smiled and nodded. And so it begins, I thought.
“So, are you going in with me?” he asked. He took out his rifle. Seeing him with it made me suddenly remember the vision I had had about him killing my jaguar. Had that been a premonition too? Was he really going to kill it? My heart was racing. Why hadn’t I thought about that before? Of course that was some sort of warning, too.
“No. You know this stuff isn’t for me. You know me. I couldn’t kill it when I was face to face with it, so …I’ll just be off.”
Jim let out a blunt laugh. “Don’t be sad about it. Some people just don’t have it in them. You need to be a killer. You need to be fearless.” Then he laughed again while pushing me with the end of the rifle. He put his bag over his shoulder and picked up all of his stuff. “Nice article in the paper today, by the way,” he said before disappearing into the dark
ness of the swamps.
Chapter 22
I ran as fast as I had ever done through the waters of the river. I fell and got up and fell again. I just had to get to the jaguar before Jim did. I was sweating, hyperventilating. What if I was too late? I had seen him shoot it in my vision. Was that about to come true? It had rained that afternoon, a big thunderstorm that had only lasted about an hour but had filled the river and made it even harder on me to walk in. I wasn’t as careful as I should have been given my earlier experience in that river. I don’t think I thought about the possibility of having another encounter with alligators. I had only one thing in mind and that was getting to see my jaguar even if it was for the last time. I had brought my camera and had put it in my backpack that I was holding over my head while fighting my way through the deep water. As I came closer to the clearing, I threw my backpack on the trail and crawled on shore again. I had come to love the warm Florida nights, so hot that I had no problem keeping warm even in my wet clothes.
I started running towards the clearing, and as I got there I realized I was alone. There were no hunters, no Jim in sight. Maybe our secret spot was still just that. A secret.
I put my backpack on the ground and found the camera. I didn’t bring any meat for the jaguar to eat but hoped that it would come to me anyway. All I had was a pack of crackers and a half-eaten sandwich with ham and cheese. I put it out on the ground just to have something, maybe it would think that it was meat and come close anyway.
I waited for almost an hour, and by then I was ready to give up. The jaguar had probably realized that I had stopped coming and was busy hunting in the swamps. I exhaled deeply as I stood up looking around in the clearing, searching through the trees and bushes, hoping to see those yellow glowing eyes again. But there was nothing. I put my food back in the backpack and started walking when I heard a sound coming from the river. I went down to the bank. There it was. I couldn’t stop smiling. That was definitely my jaguar with its tawny fur with black rosettes on the back. It was standing on a trunk that had fallen and was halfway in the river. It was looking in the water, standing completely still and motionless, not making a sound. I took my camera and threw the backpack on the ground. While hiding behind the thin trees and bushes I started taking pictures. In the moonlight I could see what it had spotted in the water. It was an alligator, about eight feet long. My heart skipped a beat. It had to have been in the water when I was walking there to get to the clearing. I swallowed hard thinking of the last time when I had been dragged underwater. I had to be more careful. I zoomed in on the jaguar’s face trying to capture its concentration and focus. This could easily be a whole series of photos of the hunting jaguar, I thought.
The jaguar crouched on the trunk putting its face closer to the water. The alligator wasn’t intimidated by the jaguar’s move. It seemed like they were looking at each other, waiting to see who would make the first move. Did the one who made the first move have the advantage or was that a weakness that might expose it and make it easier for the other to go for the kill? My palms were sweating and I dried them off on my clothes. My hair was soaked. Then the jaguar climbed closer to the water and put its paw to the surface. I was so lucky that it was once again full moon so I could capture this amazing spectacle of nature. I was amazed at how bright the moon shone in these parts. It was almost like daylight and cast a shadow of my body on the ground. The jaguar walked a little back and forward again, putting its paw into the water like it was reaching out for the alligator or maybe trying to intimidate it. It worked. The alligator slowly backed up in the water. The water was shallow in these parts so I could see most of its face and tail as it moved through the water. I kept taking pictures and moved even a little closer to get better close-ups. Then something happened that took me completely by surprise. The jaguar crouched again and then it leaped through the air and into the water. I pressed the button on my camera and took a whole series of pictures as it landed in the water and started running towards the alligator. In one quick move it attacked it and bit through its skull. The alligator fought for its life for a few seconds and moved violently in the water, causing it to splash water into the air while the jaguar calmly and superiorly held it between its sharp teeth until it became motionless. I jumped out of my hiding spot and onto the trunk and took all the pictures I could get of the fierce animal holding the alligator in its mouth. It was a sublime sight, a beautiful display of the rawness of nature.
Through the lens I realized that the jaguar, still holding the alligator in its mouth, was now staring directly at me. I took five or six extra pictures of the predator and its prey, then I lowered the camera and stared back at it. Its glowing yellow eyes felt piercing. Everything around us went quiet, it seemed. I could only hear my breath and heart rhythm. It was pounding in my chest.
Then the jaguar continued its undertaking. It fought a long time to drag the alligator on shore. Then it started eating, sinking its teeth into the meat of what was once a predator itself. I stayed in a distance knowing that the jaguar might see me as a threat to its feast. I knew that a predator will always protect its prey as a part of its survival skills. The sound of the teeth going through the bones and thick skin was frightening at first but then compelling and thrilling--mesmerizing. As a city boy I was beginning to enjoy and appreciate nature in a whole new way that I had never thought possible.
An hour or so later, the feast was over and the jaguar deserted the remains of the alligator leaving it to other animals. It started walking away from the dead animal and I followed it. It must have known I was there since I wasn’t that good at hiding or not making any noise, but I think that given our history it somehow accepted my presence. It let me follow it like it had earlier let me touch it and feed it by hand. I was exhilarated about this newfound connection with nature and this animal, and for maybe another hour I followed in its steps as it walked the trails of the swamps. I kept looking over my shoulder fearing that we would run into the hunters, or they would somehow find us. Suddenly, the jaguar stopped, as if it had heard something. A noise or maybe even a smell. It stuck its nose in the air and turned to look at me. It had sensed something. I could see it in its eyes. Its glowing eyes stared at me, somehow inviting me to come closer. I walked slowly towards it, humbling myself to not seem frightening or in anyway threatening. As I came closer it seemed to be almost purring, like a housecat. It lowered its head and stretched out its neck. I kneeled in front of it and reached out my hand. It smelled it. I was shivering, but not out of fear, out of excitement. Ecstatic excitement. It smelled my hand and carefully I touched its nose and then the soft part over its eyes. I was holding my breath as I stroked the cat over its back, touching its thick fur and feeling its fine lines. So elegant, so slim, its legs that it put in front of each other like a model on the runway. It was stunning. Not big but surely strong. I could feel the muscles underneath the skin and see them on the back and on the hind legs.
A noise, like a rattle, caused it to freeze again. Its eyes were no longer fixated on me but on the bushes behind me. I withdrew my hand and looked in the direction where the sound had come from. When I turned my head again the jaguar was gone.
The rattling was there again and I got up on my legs. What kind of animal would cause my jaguar to run off like that? It couldn’t be a snake, ‘cause it knew how to deal with that. It could only be one thing.
Humans.
I hurried and put my backpack back on and started walking trying to make enough noise for them to know that I was there and I wasn’t an animal they should shoot.
“Is there anyone there?” I yelled.
One second later, Jim and his hunting buddies stepped out from the bushes. I was sweating heavily. How long had they been in there? Had they seen me with the jaguar?
“Chris?” Jim said and stepped closer. He was surprised to see me. That was a good sign. Then they couldn’t have been observing me with the jaguar.
“That’s me.” I forced a big smile. I needed to stall
them so the jaguar could get away.
“What are you doing here?” Jim asked.
“Just trying to see if I could track down the beast on my own,” I said.
“I thought you wanted us to stop hunting for it. How did you put it? ‘It is harmless’?” said Jim.
I sighed. “Well, I still think it is,” I said. “I still believe that it helped me that night. I know it saved my life. I don’t see any reason to kill it.”
Jim snorted. “Well it didn’t exactly help me out when I met it,” he said. “Besides. It is a very dangerous animal to have on the loose. It doesn’t matter that it didn’t hurt you even if it wanted to. It is still dangerous. I have also been close to it and I can tell you it wanted to kill me.”
“But it didn’t,” I mumbled.
“Not this time. But what about next time? What about when it gets really hungry and stumbles upon a kid playing by the picnic tables? Now step aside. I believe we are close to it now. I can almost smell it. It’s the stench of evil.”
Chapter 23
I went home trusting that the jaguar was able to escape the hunters now that it knew they were there, now that it had picked up their scent. I was still afraid for it, though, as I entered my room and picked up the typewriter Mrs. Kirk had given me. Still upset and angry with Jim and his friends, I started writing my next article for the newspaper. With the night’s events in mind, I wrote about how the jaguar was a useful predator since it helped kill dangerous alligators that constantly lurked in the waters of the Twelve Mile Swamps. With the pictures in mind, I wrote how the jaguar attacked, how it sneaked up upon the animal in the water and just sank its teeth into it. I wrote about my own experience with the alligators, that they were, in fact, the dangerous ones, since they were the ones that had pulled me under water, they were the ones that had bitten my leg and arm and left scars on me to always remember what they had done. I wrote how I believed that the jaguar had saved me purposely and dragged me to the shore to save me. Then I did something bold and wrote about my later encounters with the jaguar in the swamps. How I had searched for it and brought meat to win its trust and friendship, about how it had let me touch it and pet it and had even eaten out of my hand. I even wrote that it had slowly become my friend, that killing it would hurt me, since I was forever indebted to this creature. I owed it everything. This was a magnificent animal that we should be proud to have, and incarcerating it in the local zoo wouldn’t be a solution since it would be a fate worse than death for a proud animal like this.
