by Ally Kennen
I shouldn’t have fed him so much. I should have done more reading on the Internet. He’s grown way too fast. He expects too much food. I should have left him to die in my dad’s lock-up. He’s been my biggest worry for years. All the shit, all the foster homes, all the trouble I’ve been in, it’s nothing compared to this, is it? I think of Selby. Maybe it’s not the worst thing.
I’m leaning against the tree. My legs have gone dead. It seems like hours later. Nothing is happening at the cage. I am beginning to think we should give up and go home. My dad got up and had a piss about half an hour ago. He came back and went right off to sleep again. I look down at him. He is used to sleeping outdoors. This is just home from home for him. I got tired of holding the rope hours ago, so I’ve tied it to a low branch. I’ve got my knife handy so when he goes in the cage, I can slash the rope and bang! The lid will fall down. Easy-peasy. Easy-peasy. God, I’m knackered. I’m still waiting. I’ve been waiting for hours. It is still very, very dark. And it’s so cold I am tempted to sit next to my dad to get some of his warmth, but I never would, you know that. It’s spring, for God’s sake. It’s supposed to be warming up. This is like the North Pole or something. I’ll probably die of exposure.
I am dozing off when I think I hear a crackle behind me. I tell myself it’s a squirrel or something and allow my eyes to close. There are more noises. Like something is being dragged through the grass. I make myself open my eyes. I know it’s nothing to worry about, maybe a badger. All the same, I’m not just going to sit here.
Then I am completely awake. Dad’s not here. Where’s he gone?
Something is coming towards me, very slowly. I can’t move. I’m too cold. I just keep still and listen. There is the sound of air coming out through a small space.
I know it is the crocodile. It has to be. But I can’t move. Some part of me is fooling myself that if I stay very still, he won’t find me.
“Dad?” I say quietly and a twig snaps behind me.
I don’t know where to run. I don’t want to go near the water, that would mean certain death, but I can’t go back either, because that’s where he is. I wonder if I can climb up the tree. I start to move my foot when something comes out into the clearing.
“Fuck,” I gasp.
“Quiet, for God’s sake,” whispers a terrified voice. “It’s just over there. It’s watching us.”
“What?”
“Stay still, he’s stalking us.”
It’s Carol.
N i n e t e e n
She’s wearing a hood and her face is in deep shadow. She puts her hand on mine. It’s shaking. To say I am shocked would be an understatement.
“See?” She nods at a clump of brambles to my right. I look harder. All I can see is a long moon shadow. Then I recognize the shape. It’s an open jaw and my shadow is sitting right inside it. Then I see the real thing.
He is lying close to the ground, deadly still. I see his head and massive jaw. The rest of his body is hidden in brambles. He is staring right at me and is only about twelve feet away. I stare, unable to move or decide what to do next. I’m going to die.
“I don’t think he knows we can see him,” whispers Carol. “We’ve got a chance.”
I can’t drag my eyes away. He just gazes calmly at me, like he is hypnotizing me. The mouth closes as slow as dust falling.
He could lunge any second. I’ve seen how fast he can move. Much faster than me. If I want to have any chance of survival I have to run. Now. But I can’t. I want to move. It feels like every cell in my body is tingling. But I can’t move my legs. Could I climb the tree? Would I make it? How long has he been there? Why is he just watching me? If I stay still, maybe he won’t go for me.
I have to move. I’ll do it in just a minute. I’ll move very, very slowly behind the tree. I’ll move so slowly he won’t notice. Who am I fooling? He has night vision for God’s sake. He can see everything.
Something’s happening. That’s it. I am moving my foot, so, so slowly. It has nearly gone dead from sitting still for so long. It has to hold me up. Slowly I pull my feet up under me. Oh God, it twitched its head. That head. It really is a dinosaur. It knows I’m moving.
Oh God. He’s coming for me. I’m on my feet and moving back, he’s moving incredibly fast. He’s lunging for me. He’s propelling at me. I’m behind a tree. Oh God he really does want to kill me. He’s coming again. His back is massive, he’s flattening everything. I can’t climb this tree. He’s coming round for me.
“Stephen,” Carol screams.
The Beast is still. He’s watching me. He’s going to come any se—
Oh!
I can see a tree I can climb. I sprint towards it and yank Carol after me. I don’t think he expected me to go this way but he’s moving again and he’s fast. I nearly trip but I save myself. We’re at the tree. The Beast has grabbed something on the ground. He thinks it’s me. I’m lifting Carol up to the lowest branch, she’s scrabbling and kicking my back and shoulders. Damn, he’s dropped it. What is it? My rucksack. I’m climbing up behind Carol, she’s pulling me up by my collar. She climbs the tree like a bloody monkey. He’s beneath me. He’s going to rear up and rip my legs off. I’m pulling myself up with the bones of my fingers. I’m tearing my fingernails, digging them into the bark. Carol is making a noise. She’s giving me her hand. I have to take it. There’s a strong branch just above me. I have to get my leg over it.
He’s coming.
Whoa!
My foot, I feel something on my foot.
He’s gone down again.
I’m all right.
We’re safe. He can’t reach us unless he really does know how to climb trees.
He waits.
I open my eyes. I don’t know how long I have had them shut but it seems that I have been listening to the snorting, the growls, the crack of branches below, for hours and hours. I sit in the fork between two broad branches. My feet are tightly drawn up. I think I’m safe here. He pounces, propelling his body high into the air. I hear his teeth knock together as his jaws shut. I feel the draught.
But he has not got me. Not yet.
I hear Carol breathing. She is higher than me. Her feet are close to my head. She says nothing.
I force myself to look down. He’s prowling around the foot of the tree, he’s lying still, he’s getting up again. He’s guarding the tree. There’s no way we can get down safely. I wish I had a gun.
“Oh God.”
I force myself to look away from the crocodile and up at Carol. One of her feet is dangling in the air.
“You all right?” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It’s as thick and rasping as my dad’s.
“No,” says Carol and starts coughing which turns into sobbing. She shifts and the whole tree wobbles. I cling to the trunk. My hearing is going and my head feels fuzzy, like I’m pissed. I’m going to fall. My fingers are going to lose their grip. I’m going to be ripped into pieces by those horrible teeth. This is the end of me. This is what it’s like.
“Selby,” I whisper.
I try to get a better grip on the tree. It’s like being on a fairground ride when you think you are going to fall out of the safety harness. I look up at Carol. Behind her dark outline the sky is getting lighter.
“I’ve got some chocolate,” she says in a small voice.
But in order to take it I’ll have to move one of my hands and they’re both holding me on the tree.
“Do you think we’re safe?” Carol hands me down a square of chocolate. I drop it. For a dizzy moment I think I’m going to topple after it.
“I’m going to start shouting for help as soon as it gets to five o’clock,” she says. “There might be a farmer up or someone who can help us.”
“No,” I whisper. “They’ll get killed.”
We fall silent as the crocodile paces over the ground, its
tail dragging behind. I think I can smell it; a sour, dark smell, like rotten oil or blood. I hear it breathing, like air escaping from a car tyre.
Carol passes me more chocolate. This time I don’t drop it and the creamy sweet taste spreads over my tongue. I wriggle my fingers to see if they work and let out my breath. My head is clearing. I’m not going to fall.
I was only minutes from sleep then, down at the foot of the tree. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for Carol.
“I’m cold,” she says. “Is there enough room for me down there?”
I can’t move. I will fall. But she has already begun to lower herself from her branch. Her foot fumbles for a hold so I take her ankle and guide it to a branch. She lets herself down slowly and wedges in next to me.
“That’s better,” she says. She is so close her hair is tickling my nose. It smells of perfume. I feel the warmth coming from her body.
We sit in silence, watching the crocodile watching us. He’s lying on his belly, not moving and being very quiet. Maybe he thinks he is going to fool us, make us believe he’s gone away. I preferred it when he was moving about. Now he is still I have no idea what he is going to do next.
“They hunt at night,” I say. “Maybe he’ll go in the morning.”
Carol has gone quiet. This might sound mad to you but it is only now, when the dawn is coming and Carol is snuggled up against me, that I wonder what she’s doing here.
I draw a breath to ask her when she begins to speak.
“I’ve known you’ve been up to something for ages,” she says. Her voice is almost back to normal but there is something strained in it. “After that pig. I didn’t believe it was for your dad.”
I swallow. Dad. There was no screaming. He might have got away. He might have abandoned me hours ago. I’m not going to think about him right now.
“I’ve followed you a couple of times,” she says. “I knew you were keeping something here. I knew it was big and it was in that cage. I heard you talking to your dad on the phone and I followed you out here last week. I saw it escape.”
She must have come on her bloody moped.
I am speechless. Everything is lost now. But deep down I’m not really surprised. Carol is the sneakiest person I know.
“I think it’s incredible,” she says. “But now I wish I’d told someone.”
“Is that what the alligator question was about?” I ask.
She grins. “Did I freak you out?”
I should have been more careful. It is light enough now that I can make out the chicken in the cage, now lying still in the mud. I wonder if it is still alive. I wish it would wake up and start flapping around to distract him.
Carol shuffles to make herself comfortable and digs her elbow into my side.
“I thought as long as you kept quiet about the village hall, I’d not say anything about you,” she says. “You seemed to have things under control.”
“Yeah, right,” I say. I can’t believe we’re up here having this conversation.
I notice a line of pink light on the horizon.
“Stephen,” asks Carol. “Who’s Selby?”
A pause.
“My brother,” I say. “He’s dead.”
“Oh,” she says.
We are both quiet for a long time after that.
I don’t think I doze off. I’m too scared of falling out of the tree but somehow it is daylight and I’m dying for a piss. Carol’s arms are wrapped around the tree trunk and she isn’t making a sound.
I look down. I can’t see him. Has he gone? I look hopefully at the cage but it is empty apart from the chicken, which, in addition to coming back to life, has managed to get the string off its feet and is pecking around in the water. But where is my Beast?
There’s also no sign of my dad. A heavy mass heaves in my stomach. One thing at a time, I tell myself. Put him out of your mind.
“Carol, wake up.” I nudge her and have to grab her to stop her falling.
“What?” She opens her eyes and looks really puzzled.
I look at the water, at the bushes, at the stretch of shingle, and through the trees behind.
He’s gone.
If I stay up here any longer I’ll piss myself. I have to get down or I’ll have to do it in front of Carol. I climb down. I’m stiff and aching all over. My back is killing me right at the bottom of the spine.
The ground feels soft and wet. I look up at Carol who waits to see if I get eaten before she lowers herself down.
“What’s that?”
There’s rustling in the brambles by my feet. A rabbit legs it out over the grass. When I can breathe again I start wondering what to do next. I don’t know what to say to Carol. It’s funny that, after spending hours and hours wedged together, neither of us can look at each other.
“So,” says Carol, “what’s the plan?”
I can’t believe it. Is she giving me a choice? I thought she’d be running to the police as soon as she could.
“I don’t know.”
“I assume,” she says carefully looking round her, “that you wanted to catch this thing and take it somewhere. Birmingham? Am I right?”
She really has been listening to my telephone calls.
I nod.
“And you don’t want anyone to know you’ve been keeping him here?”
“That’s right,” I say, aware that I am completely at her mercy.
“Then we need to hide the cage until tonight,” she says.
I am stunned.
“Carol,” I say. “There is a twelve-foot maneating crocodile on the loose. It wants to kill us. It will kill anything.”
“I know,” she says. Though she looks tired, her eyes are shining.
Why aren’t you scared? She almost looks like she’s enjoying herself.
“I’ll help you,” she says. “We’ll work something out.”
“You’re mad,” I say.
I’ve had enough. I’ve decided that as soon as we reach a phone box I am going to call the police. Then I’m going to take the truck back to Eric. Then I will let the world do what it wants with me. I can’t take any of this any more.
But Carol makes me go with her to the cage. Together we heave it out of the water. As soon as it is on the shore I go inside and chase out the chicken. It flaps off towards the trees, stopping to scratch at something. I don’t bother to go after it.
In a few hours, this place will be full of police helicopters and men with guns or poison darts and TV crews and RSPCA inspectors, but Carol insists we keep going so I find the bag with the spanner and take off the side panels of the trap to make it easier to drag. We pull it behind some trees. It is not really hidden, but it is the best we can do.
Where’s my dad?
Carol tells me it is only half past six and that I might be able to get Eric’s truck back to him without him even realizing it has gone.
“Then we can use it tonight,” she says.
“But even if we catch him, what will we do with him?” I ask.
“He’s not going to Birmingham,” says Carol. “No way.”
“But Carol. . .”
She interrupts me.
“He’s a saltwater crocodile isn’t he?”
“Yes, but they don’t need salt water to. . .”
“Well then, we’ll take him to the sea.”
T w e n t y
Eric is sitting on the wall outside his house waiting for me. I’m tempted to drive on but I’m stuck behind a milk float. I really don’t need a beating right now. I’m surprised he’s up as it’s still very early. I had hoped I’d get away with it and that I’d be able to “borrow” the truck again. No chance. I am too tired to think what to do, how to explain myself, how to save myself, so I just pull over on to the kerb and switch off the engine.
Eric sits with hi
s arms folded looking at the ground.
“Out,” he says.
I run my tongue over my teeth and climb out. I hand him the keys.
“Where’s Dog?” he asks.
Dog. I’d forgotten all about him.
“He’s fine,” I say. “He’s at the workshop.”
“He’d better be,” says Eric.
I square myself for the punch. I wonder if he’ll go for the stomach or the head. I hope he’s not going to fight dirty.
“I found your car,” says Eric. “So I knew it was you.”
He seems to be waiting for me to say something.
“Right,” I say. I wish he’d hurry up. Once you’ve been beaten you can get over it. But the waiting is horrible. I hope he doesn’t break my nose. I’ve never actually had a bone broken before either. I stand up on my toes to see if he’s got a weapon hidden behind the wall.
But Eric seems unsure what to do. I think he is expecting an explanation and I realize he’s shocked.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“Get lost,” says Eric. He pushes me out of the way and gets in the truck. I watch him fire off down the street. I’m confused why he didn’t hit me. I deserved it. I hope he hasn’t got something worse planned for me. Maybe he has torched my car or something. I walk to the next road but the car is unharmed. OK. If he’s not going to hit me, why doesn’t he call the pigs? I look around expecting an ambush, but the street is quiet.
Verity gives me the dirtiest look ever when I come in. She’s making a fry-up and the smell makes my mouth water.
“Where’ve you been?” she demands. “And why are you so filthy?”
“I’ve been out and about,” I say. “Can I have some of that?”
She ignores me.
