F. Paul Wilson - Gateways

“That sounds like they meant to hit your car.”

“They did.” Tom repressed a shudder. He glanced at Anya who was watching him impassively, her expression neutral. “It didn’t click then, but now I’m sure they did.”

“Sure?” Jack said. “What makes—?”

“By what came next. They unbuckled my seat belt and pulled me out and laid me on the road. I thought they were being awful rough with a man who might have a spine injury. As I was lying there I saw the big truck pulled over down along the side of South Road.”

“Wait,” Jack said. “The truck pulled over? But the police said it was a hit and run.”

“In a very real way, it was. It’s just that the run part was delayed a bit. Let me finish, will you?”

“Okay,” Jack said. “Just trying to keep all this straight in my head.”

“Forget about the truck for now. I know I did as soon as I saw that big alligator start to waddle toward me. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought the men who’d pulled me from the car were waving it forward. Like they wanted it to maul me…kill me…eat me.” This time he couldn’t repress the shudder. “It was within ten feet of me when I heard a siren. I couldn’t see any flashing lights but I could hear the two men start cursing about a cop car and what was he doing out here. That sort of thing.”

“Officer Hernandez,” Jack said.

“You know him?”

“Met him. Remember I told you that a call about your accident came in twenty minutes before it happened?” He glanced at Anya but she didn’t react. “He’s the one who went out to investigate. Sounds like that call saved your life.”

But that didn’t make sense, Tom thought. How could anyone have known about the accident before it happened? Yetsomething with a siren had been coming down the road.

“I don’t know who or what was heading my way. All I know is that it scared off the two men who’d pulled me from the car, because they started calling to the alligator as if it was human, as if it could understand. I heard one yell, ‘There’s a cop on the way! Get out of sight. We’ll meet you back at the lagoon!’ And then they started running back toward the truck.”

“Did you notice anything about them?” Jack said. “Like did one have a funny-shaped head?”

“Funny-shaped head? Why—?”

“Anythingdistinguishing,” Jack added quickly.

“No. Not that I could tell. I didn’t take my eyes off that alligator until it slithered off the road and into the grass, and by then they were almost to the truck.”

“Do you remember anything at all about the truck? Like what kind? Was it a semi or a big van or what?”

“A semi, maybe, but it didn’t have the usual big rectangular trailer. This had an odd shape, like those trucks that carry gravel or something.”

“What about a name or a sign?”

“None that I could see. I had only moonlight and starlight to go by and…” Something flashed in his memory.

Jack leaned closer. “What?”

“On its rear panel…I think I saw something that looked like a flower, but all black. At least it looked black in the moonlight. After that, I remember flashing lights and then I didn’t see anything until I woke up this morning.”

A sudden realization hit him like…like an onrushing truck. He looked at Jack and then at Anya.

“Someone tried to kill me.”

“Not necessarily,” Jack said. “From what you heard them say…‘thank your lucky stars he’s still alive…that sounds like theydidn’t want to kill you.”

He sensed that Jack didn’t believe a word of it, that he was just trying to make him feel better. But it wasn’t working.

“Theywanted to hit my car. And I have a feeling they were going to feed me to that alligator.”

“Maybe you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

No…that didn’t wash. No question in Tom’s mind: Someone wanted him dead.

The thought sickened him. When he’d been in Korea, the NKs and the Chinese Reds had wanted him dead, but that was war, that was to be expected. This was Florida. He’d been here just a little over a year. He’d made a number of new friends but couldn’t imagine how he could have made an enemy.

Yet someone had tried to kill him.

Suddenly Tom felt exposed out here on Anya’s lawn. He wanted walls around him. He rose unsteadily from the chair.

“I think I’ll head home.”

“You okay?” Jack said.

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll just go inside and lie down. Excuse me, Anya.”

“Go, Tom,” she said. She was still in her recliner, the wet dog curled up on her lap. “You should rest.”

“I’ll come with you,” Jack said.

“That’s okay. I can find my own way.”

“That’s not the point,” his son said, rising and gripping his arm. “Come on. I’ll walk you back. I know how you feel.”

No, you don’t, Tom thought. And I hope you never do.

A good kid, Jack. No, not a kid. A man, and a pretty gutsy one at that, placing himself between a ferocious gator and the old folks with only a lightweight resin chair as a weapon. But Jack couldn’t know what it was like to fear for his life, to have someone wanting him dead. That took a war. It had been Tom’s great hope for his sons that neither would have to go to war as he did and know that kind of fear. And it had worked out. Both boys had been too young for Vietnam, and a volunteer army had been in place by the time the Gulf Wars rolled around.

“Wait,” he said, turning. “We should call the cops or the wildlife control or something, shouldn’t we?”

“Why?” Anya said.

“To let them know there’s a monster gator in our pond.”

“Not to worry,” Anya said with a wave of her hand. “He’s gone. And after such a reception as he got here today, I doubt he’ll be back.”

“Where’d he go?” Jack said.

“There’s an underground tunnel that leads from the pond back into the Everglades.”

“Really?” Tom said. “I didn’t know that.”

Jack stared at her. “How do you know, Anya?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been around here a long time. I shouldn’t know things?”

He saw Jack stare at her again for a moment, then point a finger her way. “We need to talk.”

She raised her wineglass. “I’ll be here.”

Tom wondered at that exchange. As soon as they were in the house he turned to Jack. “Why did you say that to Anya?”

“What?”

“‘We need to talk.’ About what? What does that mean?”

“I’ve got some questions for her.”

“About what?”

“Things. Tell you about it later.”

Why didn’t Tom believe that? What was going on between those two? He was about to press him when Jack grabbed the pen and notepad from the counter by the phone.

“Just thought of something. Give me the names again of those three people who were killed.”

“Why?” And then he knew. “Oh, no. You don’t think—”

“I don’t know what to think, Dad. When Carl told me about the others he said you didn’t fit the pattern because the others were killed by birds and spiders and snakes. You were different because you were hurt in a car accident. But if what you remember is correct, you weren’t going to be the victim of a hit-and-run accident, you were going to be a meal for that alligator. And thatdoes fit the pattern.”

Tom shook his head. “A few hours ago you were implicating Gateways in a scheme to get properties reverted. Now you think it’s…what? How, just how, do you get birds and snakes to attack someone?”

Jack stared at him. “How do you get an alligator to attack someone? Twice. Because, Dad, that gator was coming for you. He was aimed at you like an arrow shot from a bow.”

Tom wanted to deny it—tried to deny it—but couldn’t. Jack was right. Those open jaws had been coming straight at him.