Gator Boy Page 9

  “How y’all holding up, Momma?” asked Judy.

  “We doing all right, Sheri. We crying fo’ the dead, but more worried about the living. It’s yo’ brother and Nette we’re worried about now. Dey’ve been gone for a couple a days trying to hunt down dat devil gator and kill it.”

  “Nette, who’s dat?” asked Judy.

  “Daddy and her was dating. She’s dat gal from the swamps dat I tole you about a while back, remember?” answered Lena.

  “Oh yeah. Well, why is she out on a gator hunt?”

  “Well, baby, it turns out dat Miss Nonette comes from a long line of gator hunters. Her and Jed teamed up to stop dat gator. All we know is dey went down bayou two days ago chasing dat gator, and we been worried sick ever since. But if anybody from around dese parts is gonna stop dat killa, it’s dose two.

  “Well, enough about dat for now. Come on. Let’s get ready to go to the funeral service. We’ll talk more about dis later.”

  The funeral was held down at one of the parish churches in Lafayette. There were six deaths counting Louis, and there were to be six coffins. There was to be a group wake and eulogy, then six separate burials for each family.

  The turn out was so large that the entire street was blocked off. There were over a hundred people there just from the bayou community alone and at least twice that many other relatives and friends from all over the state of Louisiana. The turnout stood as a grand testimony to the victims of the killer gator.

  After the funeral affair was over the procession to the graveyard was on foot lead by a jazz funereal orchestra. The families all agreed that they wanted the funeral procession conducted in true Cajun Creole fashion.

  For the first few blocks the band played a tearful and slow funeral march in a whaling and mourning sound that gradually built as the procession neared the cemetery. By the time they were approaching the cemetery entrance the band had broken into a full Dixieland upbeat jazz sound. Following the band was a full chorus of singer dancers whose jibes set the mood. Once at the respective grave sights the band disbursed and the preachers took over. These preachers were not your typical “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,” type of preachers. These were upbeat good time preachers singing praise the Lord, hallelujah.

  “Our good Brother Louis was a good man-a. Give me an A-men-a!”

  “A-men!”

  “And our good Brother Louis still is a good man-a. Give me a hallelujah!”

  “Hallelujah!”

  “Our good Brother Louis loved to have a good time-a. Can ya say praise the Lord-a?!”

  “Praise the Lord!”

  “And our good Brother Louis is riding in glory still having that good time-a. Give me an a-men hallelujah!”

  “A-men hallelujah!”

  “Our good Brother Louis don’t want to see no tears-a. Our good Brother Louis wants to see ya having happy times-a. Let me hear ya say happy times a coming-a!”

  “Happy times a coming!”

  “Let me hear ya say a-men Brother Louis hallelujah!”

  “A-men Brother Louis hallelujah!”

  The preacher did himself proud preaching for Brother Louis that day. Everybody walked away from the burial service feeling very upbeat and happy for Brother Louis, now gone on to glory.

  The whole philosophy behind that type of burial is to give the survivors a boost. After all, funerals are for the living.

  In the car on the way back home, Lena remarked, “It really was a beautiful service for Daddy, wasn’t it, Momma?”

  “Yes, Sheri, it really was. I know yo’ daddy woulda loved it. An’ dat’s just the kinda send off he’d a wanted, too,” said Momma as the car pulled up to the boat ramp where Lena’s boat was waiting.

  They climbed on to Lena’s boat and headed for home.

  “Momma,” said Judy, “I decided dat I’m gonna take a leave of absence from my job in New Orleans an’ stay out here wit you an’ Lena till Jed an’ Nette get back. I got a few hundred dollars in tip money I saved up, and I know you can use the help. Is dat OK wit you, Momma?”

  “The door’s always open, my Sheri. Dis is yo’ home. Dat’s something you don’t even need to ax,” answered Momma.

  Judy hugged Momma’s neck and said, “Oh, thank ya, Momma. Besides, I need to get over to the hospital an’ see Ronny.”

  Momma glanced over at Lena out of the corner of her eye, and then back down at the floor.

  “What’s wit dat look, Momma?” Judy asked seeing the mood suddenly change.

  “Well baby, I didn’t want to upset ya too bad, so I didn’t get into Ronny’s injuries wit ya over the phone.” Judy’s expression went blank as Momma continued, “You see, baby, the doctors said dat Ronny may have suffered brain damage. But they won’t know fo’ sho’ or how bad till he wakes up. He’s been in a coma since the accident happened. Even if he does come out of it an’ wake up soon, they not sure he’s gonna be the same.” Judy’s eyes filled up with tears. Hoping to lessen the blow, Momma said, “But you should go see him an’ even if he is in a coma talk to him. The doctors said he may hear the voices an’ wake up. And besides, it may not be as bad as they may tink anyway.”

  “Dat’s right, Momma,” said Judy, being strong. “What do dose saw bones know anyway. Why, Ronny could come out a dat coma and be just fine.”

  Momma shook her head in agreement with Judy as she could see her young heart breaking. Judy turned out toward the water, holding back the tears, knowing in her heart that Momma had agreed trying to save her feelings. Momma once again glanced over toward Lena. Lena, driving the boat, stared straight ahead and bit her lip, her eyes, too, filling with tears. The rest of the trip took place in silence as the three mulled through their own painful thoughts, trying just to find some reasoning for all the recent horror that had come to them.

  The boat slowly coasted up to the dock. Judy jumped off and tied the line off to one of the dock cleats. A few of the ladies from around the area were there to greet them as they stepped onto the dock. They had come with prepared dishes of food and pies.

  “A laba, Ivy. We thought y’all’d never get here. We been sitting on the porch for a while wit lots a goodies fo’ y’all.”

  “Aw Velma, y’all shouldn’a done alla dat,” answered Momma.

  “Well we didn’t tink y’all woulda had time to cook an’ all. So we fixed up some stuff fo’ y’all,” Velma replied.

  As the ladies visited and drank coffee the purpose of their visit was served. They were there to help keep their minds positive and upbeat so they would not dwell on the horrible reality of recent events; such is the bayou way.

  Back on Lake Fausse Pointe, the hunt was on as Gator Boy skimmed over the calm water heading for the channel leading to Bayou Lafourche. Nonette was sure that the gator had gone that way and was now on the run. She also knew that they had to stay in close pursuit. The gator would only run for so long. When it tired of the chase he would turn for a final stand. When that moment came, Nonette hoped to be there to close in for the kill.

  “Stay on dis course, Sher. Afta a few twists and turns, dis channel’s mouth opens up right into Bayou Lafourche. Just follow the current all the way.”

  “How much further till dese channels and bayous get too shallow or narrow to get dis boat up, Miss Nonette?” asked Jed, already feeling Gator Boy skim the shallow bottom once.

  “Oh, don’t worry, Sher. Dat’s only sandy loam you feel down dare. Yo’ boat an’ motor’ll slide right through it like mush. I got up bayou dis same way in my inboard outboard an’ she’s got a lot deeper draft den dis boat.”

  Jed just stared straight ahead, worried about hitting bottom or breaking a prop. He always carried an old spare prop and sheer pin, but he did not relish the idea of going into the water with that monster down there.

  The day was fair and the rays of the sun filtered down through the trees and danced on the ripples in the channel. It was hard to believe that anything as menacing as that gator could be in that w
ater.

  Just as Nonette had said, the mouth of the channel opened up. Jed felt a sense of relief, once again breathing a little easier as the bayou widened and deepened.

  “Feel better now, Sher?” Nonette asked as she grinned over at Jed.

  Jed turned to her with a look of relief on his face and nodded with a smile.

  “Say, where you keep all a dat fishing gear you said you carry? Hell I might as well drop a line in the water long as we flowing merrily down the stream,” remarked Nonette.

  “Lift up the lid on dat bench yo’ sitting on and you’ll find all a the rods an’ reels an’ tackle you gonna need.”

  Nonette did want to catch supper, but as she prepared the rod and reel she was thinking of much bigger game, about two tons of it. If that gator was staying with the boat she wanted to know it. She put the biggest lure Jed had in the tackle box on that line, knowing that it just might catch that gator’s attention if he was down there. But as Jed made his way up bayou there was no sign of the monster. Some time had passed and Nonette, now reasonably sure that the gator had moved on, pulled in that big lure and replaced it with a regular fishing lure, now really focusing on catching some dinner. After fishing for a couple of hours Nonette had pulled in a few big mouth bass and was cleaning them at the back of the boat.

  Jed cut it hard as the bayou curved around sharply. Coming out of the curve they came upon a squalor community. There were shacks built off the bayou’s edge and hand made boats tied up to a poor makeshift log dock. A few barefooted children dressed in rags were playing with a dog that started barking at the approaching boat. They stopped their playing and stared as the dog ran to the waters edge, barking fiercely. A man harnessed to an undernourished mule, who appeared to be trying to plow the rocky soil, stopped dead in his tracks and glared when he caught sight of the boat. The whole surreal scene depicted a painting of bayou poverty personified. The man’s eyes were wild looking and the children looked inbred. They looked like people who never saw strangers and didn’t want to.

  “Bess not stop here, Sher, unless invited; don’t look too hospitable. In fact, don’t you even look too hard. Dese kinds a folks don’t appreciate surprise visitors, and seldom see a boat like dis in dese parts. Dey could be real good people who might treat you like kin, or dey could be real bad who’d kill ya an’ steal all ya got. Dat’s why bess not look too hard, Sher,” said Nonette in a low voice.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” answered Jed.

  So without slowing, Jed took the boat quickly past the gawking onlookers. Making their way down bayou the scattered shacks and lean to’s were becoming less and less primitive, until they found themselves in the midst of a thriving community; backwoods, but nonetheless civilized.

  “I believe we can stop here, Sher. Let’s break out your grill an I’ll cook up dese fish,” said Nonette.

  “Hey, what’s dat?” asked Jed, pointing to some excitement that was occurring a little further up the bank.

  “I don’t know. Let’s go find out,” replied Nonette. “Come on, Melissa, let’s go see what’s causing all a dat commotion,” continued Nonette.

  Mrs. Ford followed, still carrying David’s gun.

  As they approached the crowd the horrible reality of what had just occurred set in. There was an old pickup truck driven off the bank into the bayou. The front end was down in the water and the rear wheels were still at the edge of the bank. There was the beheaded body of a man still hanging out of the driver’s side window. The blood was flowing down the door of the old truck and spilling off of the running board into the bayou. The closer they got, they began to hear a woman talking.

  “Well, I had just come out on the back porch to see what all the ruckus was going on over dare wit John Joe’s pigs. Dey was a screaming someting awful,” she said, pointing over to a demolished pig pin. There were several mutilated pig carcasses and a lot of blood splattered all over the area.

  “Dat’s when I caught sight a the biggest damn gator I ever saw. Dat sucka musta weighed two tons. I froze, not knowing what to do. Just den John Joe drove up. I guess he was just getting in afta work. He always gets home from the paper mill where he works about dis time every day. I tink ole John Joe musta seen dat sucka tearing up his pigs about the same time I did. Dat’s when John Joe drove dat truck straight at dat gator. He musta been trying to scare it back in the water. Well, I guess he couldn’t stop cause dat’s when he drove into the bayou. I hollered… John Joe, you alright? I reckon he couldn’t get his door handle to work cause I saw him struggling wit it. So he reached out the window trying to get to the outside handle. Dat’s what dat gator was waiting fo’. All of a sudden, like a demon outa hell, dat monster jumped up outa dat water an’ bit John Joe’s head right off clean. John Joe tried to scream when he saw it coming but when dose jaws closed around his head it sounded like somebody put dare hand over his mouth. Lordy mercy I never saw a gator like dat. Dat sucka looked like some kinda freak. I ain’t going nowhere near dat water till I hear somebody got dat sucka.”

  Jed and Nonette looked at each other and Nonette said, “Let’s get dese fish cooked up an’ get back on his ass. Dis just happened an’ dat bastard can’t be far. We closing in on his ass now.” Jed and Melissa agreed.

  CHAPTER 10

  The gator had made his way about a mile down bayou when he came upon some boys swinging from a rope swing and swimming in the bayou. From his vantage point he watched time after time as another boy plunged into the water from the rope swing.

  “Go on, chicken,” hollered one of the boys as his little brother stepped up to the rope.

  “I ain’t no chicken,” answered the younger boy as he swung out and dove in headfirst, sinking out of sight into the green water of the bayou.

  After some time and the boy had not resurfaced, his older brother said, “Shit, something’s wrong. Pat, hang on, I’m coming,” as he dove in, followed by the other boys.

  Time and time again they came up for air and dove deeper looking for Pat. Finally one of the boys surfaced and hollered, “Y’all, help me quick, I got him by the hand I can barely hold him!”

  As they pulled Pat out of the water they found out that as he had made his dive, his head jammed into a milk can that someone had thrown in the water and it was still stuck on his head. As they pulled him to the bank, his arms were still waving frantically. All efforts failed to get the can off of his head until his arms suddenly went limp. Pat had drowned in the water remaining in the can right there on the bank, and there was nothing anyone could do. They turned to look for Kevin, Pat’s brother, and he was nowhere to be found.

  “Kevin is still down there,” hollered one of the boys.

  Two of the bigger boys dove back into the water. They resurfaced once or twice for air and then they were gone, first one, then the other. The smaller boy on the bank saw what was going on and froze in panic.

  Suddenly the monster’s head appeared, rising up out of the water, staring at the one remaining boy. This boy wasn’t waiting around for that thing to get him, too. Grabbing the rope he started to climb, not realizing that the rope would swing him out right over the gator. But he climbed very quickly and as he swung out over the water, although the beast tried to make a jump for him, the boy was well out of reach. As the beast realized that the boy had made it to safety, it let out a loud hissing roar. Almost in seeming indifference the beast crawled out of the water and ripped the body of the drowned boy apart, leaving his insides spread out all over the bank. Then looking up at the boy in the tree with blood dripping from its jaws, it roared in anger and slithered back into the bayou, disappearing below the surface of the water. The young terrorized boy wrapped his arms and legs around the limb of that tree hanging on in shock.

  A short time later Gator Boy came motoring by still heading down bayou in pursuit of the creature. The boy in the tree heard the boat approaching and began hollering, “Help! Stop! Please help me!”

  Hearing the cries for help but not yet seeing the
boy, Jed quieted the engine and listened. Once again there came the cries, “Help me, please!”

  This time, zeroing in on the voice, Nonette caught sight of the boy in the tree. “Dare he is!”

  “Where?” asked Jed.

  “He’s up dare in dat tree.”

  “OK son, climb on down the rope we’ll catch you,” hollered Nonette.

  It took several minutes of hard talking to convince the boy that everything was alright and that he was safe. He just kept mumbling to himself, “He ate um all. Dat giant gator ate alla my podnas.”

  But finally with enough reassurance they got him to slide down the rope onto the deck of the boat.

  “What’s yo’ name, boy?” asked Jed.

  “Jimmy, Jimmy Lachney. We was out here swimming, me an’ alla my friends. Dat’s when Kevin, Pat’s big brother, called Pat a chicken cause he was scared to swing out. Poor Pat. I wish he’d a stayed a chicken. He didn’t want to go down there. But Kevin made him; look at Pat now,” he said, pointing over to the mutilated body on the bank.

  “Sweet Jesus!” said Nonette.

  “Where y’all from, Jimmy?” asked Nonette.

  “The next town right up bayou,” he answered, pointing back the way they had just come.

  “Yeah, dat same gator hit dare too not long ago. Jed, turn her around. We need to get dis boy back to town,” said Nonette.

  Jed, agreeing, started up the boat and wheeled her around headed back for the town they had just left.

  “Dis is Sheriff Leroy Odum. I need to speak to Alderman Lonny Lecroy.”

  “Dis is Lecroy, who’s dis?”

  “Lonny, dis is Leroy, what you say, boy?”