Chapter Two
A trash truck rumbles down the alley outside, pulling Vincent out of his daydream. He walks into the bathroom adjacent to the room and peers at himself in a mirror speckled with spots. The dark circles under his eyes look like angry bruises. His cleft chin is ragged with stubble, and his hair is greasy. He bends over the white porcelain tub and spins the corroded knob. A stream of brown filth belches from the pipes.
Vincent lets the water continue to run and eventually it clears, but it is cold. Admittedly not as cold as the showers during February in southern Illinois, but it was still chilly. The cold water did the trick in clearing his mind and washing the grit and grime of the past few weeks down the drain. It was time for a new beginning and in a few hours, John would be by to pick him up and whisk him away to the secluded islands in the Everglades, where every manner of beast live.
Vincent steps out of the shower and uses his clothes to dry off. He hangs his wet clothes on the windowsill to dry. As he stands naked in the middle of the hot, humid room, Vincent unconsciously massages his left shoulder and traces his finger over the jagged scar. He flashes back to the trenches in France where he served in the infantry during World War 1. He and his battalion were ordered to cross dead man’s land and out flank the Germans. He heard the command and after that, there was deafening silence. The sound he could hear was his heart pounding in his ears. Flashes of light erupt on either side of him as the German bombardment cuts down the advancing soldiers.
Vincent feels a sting in his left shoulder, but the sensation quickly subsides. He sees his friends littering the ground, his commander writhing in pain near a wooden crossbeam that anchors the massive rolls of barbed wire. Vincent crawls toward him avoiding the bullets whizzing over his head, pulls his army knife from his breast pocket, and snips the wires holding Lieutenant Montgomery in place. Vincent throws the Lieutenant over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and retreats to the safety of their own side. Vincent jumps into the trench and pulls the wounded man to safety. The Lieutenant would survive his wounds and Vincent would be awarded the Medal of Honor. His kid brother, Philip, was so damned proud of him when he returned home a war hero. Now he was gone. Vincent didn’t want to think about him right now; it hurt too badly.
Vincent grabs the clothes from the windowsill and begins dressing. He escaped Chicago with nothing but the clothes on his back. He wore expensive tweed trousers and Italian leather boots. His shirt had been white silk but was now more of a dingy gray. His vest matches his slacks and in his left breast pocket is the gold pocket watch his father gave him the day he returned from the war. Vincent closes the window and checks the room for anything he may have missed. He flicks off the light switch and slams the door behind him. He descends the stairs and sees John waiting for him in the shabby lobby.
“Goddamn son but if you don’t look like something the cat drug in.”
Vincent cracks a strained smile, revealing straight, white teeth and remembers a time when his brother had said something identical to that when he was still alive. Vincent looks over at John and says, “I’m ready, let’s get going.”
Outside the sun is brutal. The light breeze blows in from the ocean providing some relief, but July in Florida is hotter than Africa, Vincent muses to himself. John walks over to an old Ford pickup truck and points to the flat bed.
“Hop in.”
Vincent grabs the wooden rail running along the side of the truck bed and hoists himself into the back. He sits on a small wooden bench running the length of the truck.
The ride takes them across Alligator Alley. John approaches the beginning of the narrow dirt rutted trail that will lead them across the alligator infested mangroves of the Everglades and tells Vincent to get down from the truck.
Vincent stands apprehensively and from his perch can see thousands of eyes glowing in the darkness. John snaps, “Come on down from there boy!”
Vincent hops off the back of the truck and approaches the man.
John grabs his shoulder with one arm and hugs him tight as he points into the darkness with his other hand, “You see all those eyes out there?”
Vincent shakes his head up and down and mutters apprehensively, “Yes.”
“Them eyes belong to some of the most vicious critters you have ever met. So, your first job is gonna be to drag any gators I have to shoot off the road.”
Vincent’s eyes grow wide, “What in the hell are you talkin’ about? Just shoot ‘em and run over ‘em.”
John snorts, “You don’t think we tried that? Some of them gators are 14 feet long with hides tough as nails. Last time we ran over one we got a flat and a busted axle to boot, and a disabled vehicle out here ain’t an option. So, you’re the only hand we got right now and it’s your job to clear the road.”
Vincent stares down the dark expanse of road and wonders what he has gotten himself into, as John instructs him to climb back in the truck and keep an eye out. The truck slowly begins to make its way down the rutted path. Vincent says a quick prayer that they don’t have to shoot any gators, so he can remain safely in the truck. His hopes are dashed as a thunderous boom echoes in the inky darkness. John shines a spotlight in the middle of the road and calls for Vincent.
“Hurry up and drag that some-bitch out of the road and hurry up about it before more gators show up.”
Vincent pushes past the fear and runs toward the dead animal blocking their path. He reacts with reflexes and agility John hasn’t seen in a long time. Vincent grabs the tail of the overgrown lizard and yanks the 7-foot monster with all his might. His muscles strain against his shirt as he yanks and tugs, never imagining how damned heavy the thing would weigh. Vincent’s feet finally find solid purchase and drags the gator off the road. He tosses the tail and runs back to the truck before other gators can make their way toward him. Thankfully, the rest of the journey was uneventful, allowing Vincent to get a few hours of sleep before embarking upon the next leg of their journey into the heart of the Everglades.