A Croc Called Capone (15 page)

They flinched yet again. Dad, in particular, appeared to take each word like a bullet in the chest. Ted put his head in his hands. If I got out of this alive, there was a good chance he'd personally throttle me. Probably with no worries at all.

There was a pause. Eventually, he replied. But only, I suspect, because he thought I was such a publicity-hungry dill that if he didn't I'd keep on shouting.

‘No idea. I guess so. Now,
SHUT UP
!'

I did.

My plan was far from perfect but it was the best I could manage. I explained to Dyl and then, through Blacky, told Al what I wanted him to do and the reasoning behind it. He wasn't very impressed, but no one could think of anything better.

We settled down to wait, which was not Dyl's strong suit.

He fidgeted. He picked his nose and carefully examined what he'd mined. He whistled. Tunelessly. After a while he suddenly blurted, ‘I spy with my little eye something beginning with “c”.'

‘Er, let me think, Dylan. Could it be “crocodile”?'

‘Yeah! Your turn.'

‘That's okay. You go again.'

‘All right. I spy with my little eye something beginning with “a”.'

‘Annihilation?'

‘No.'

‘Amputation?'

‘No.'

‘I give up.'

‘Another crocodile!'

It was just at that moment, when I was seriously considering killing Dyl all by myself, that I heard the whump, whump, whump of approaching helicopter blades. The cavalry had arrived. Time for action.

There were three helicopters. Two had guys in uniforms hanging out the sides. Even though I had to squint against the sun I could see they were armed to the teeth.

The third helicopter kept back from the other two. It had a logo of some kind splashed over the side, and I thought I spied a television camera poking from the open doorway. I got to my feet. Now the time had come I didn't relish this, but those guys would probably open fire soon. The longer I waited, the greater the chance someone would get hurt.

‘Now you know what you're doing, Dyl?' I said. ‘As soon as I start, you leg it towards Dad, okay? You'll be safe as soon as you get some distance away. Al has promised you'll come to no harm.'

‘Sure, Marc,' said Dylan.

‘And Blacky? You just slip off. Disguise yourself as a palm tree, or something. Catch up with me later.'

‘Fine, tosh.'

‘Are you certain Al will keep his end of the bargain?'

Blacky scratched leisurely behind one ear.

‘Well, as certain as I can be. Given that he's a killing machine with a mind that doesn't work in ways we could possibly understand.'

‘You couldn't have just lied, could you, Blacky? You know, “Absolutely guaranteed, Marc. No chance of anything going wrong.”'

‘Hey, tosh. I'm not human. Lying doesn't come as easily to me as it does to you.'

‘Well, here goes. Wish me luck.'

‘You're going to need it, mush,' said Blacky.

And, on that cheery note, I threw myself onto Al's back.

I am probably one of the few people in the world who can talk about this from first-hand experience, but a croc's back is sharp and lumpy. All those ridges down its spine. At least it gave me something to hang on to as Al slipped under the water. As you may understand, I wasn't in a position to see what went on around me. Only later did Blacky tell me that the other crocs disappeared into the murky water within seconds. Blacky himself melted into the landscape. In the blink of an eye, before the marksmen could react, the muddy mound, previously packed with life, was deserted.

Of course, according to my plan, Dyl would have been hightailing it back to safety as me and Al sank under the water. But if there is one thing that's predictable about Dyl it's his unpredictability. I hadn't even got a firm grip on Al's scaly back when Dyl threw himself on both of us.

‘Dyl, ya idiot! What are you doing?'

Actually, I didn't say that. My mouth was under half a metre of muddy water, remember. But I thought it. Very loudly.

Al rolled and thrashed in the water. I remembered then something Brendan had told us on the croc cruise. How a saltwater crocodile, when it had live food in its mouth, would go into a death roll to drown its prey before eating at its leisure. It wasn't a thought I welcomed just then. I expected at any moment to feel Al's jaws crush the life from me.

But it didn't happen. I felt my hand slip from Al's back. I caught the briefest glimpse of him powering through the water. It was difficult to believe that something so clumsy on land could be so delicate and graceful. But I didn't think this long. Dyl and I spluttered to the surface. We stood up to our shoulders in muddy water. I flung my wet hair from my face with a shake of my head. I looked around, but no movement disturbed our surroundings. We were alone.

And then I saw Dad splashing towards me. I wanted to tell him to go back, that the deal with Al had involved me, not him, and that death could rear up before him at any moment.

But it wouldn't have done any good. Dad was coming and he'd have fought through a battalion of crocs to get to me. Luckily, he didn't have to.

Maybe Al really
did
believe in respect for the family.

The next six days were a blur. Even now, I have trouble sorting out what happened and when.

Dad hugged me so hard I thought he'd break my ribs. He couldn't speak. Then we trudged about half a kilometre to where Ted had parked the four-wheel drive and drove back to the resort. Mum immediately had a go at finishing off what Dad couldn't quite manage. It seemed they would succeed where a bunch of crocs had failed – crushing the life out of me and Dyl. Then, just when I managed to catch my breath, Rose and Cy Ob Han took their turn, Cy trembling throughout. I found out later that as soon as she was away from the crocs she had come out of her paralysis. Apparently, she'd screamed for an hour.

‘You're a hero, Marcus,' she said again and again, crushing my head into her boobs.

‘The Force, with me it was,' I managed to croak. Yuck. Being hugged by my sister and her friend was worse than getting up close and personal with a man-eating saltie. You'd think me and Dyl had suffered enough.

Murray just shook me by the hand. Our eyes met, he gave a small nod and ran a hand over his head. Then he walked away.

Everyone else in the resort wanted a piece of the action. They were forming queues just to hug us. Luckily, the authorities whisked us out of there quick smart. They took us in a helicopter to Darwin Hospital to get checked over. Apparently, crocs' teeth carry all sorts of stuff that can cause infections. I should have recommended flossing to Al when I had the chance. We didn't have a scratch on us, but no one wanted to take that risk. The rest of my family followed in another helicopter. I worried Dyl would get another severe bout of his flying phobia but he isn't that predictable. Instead, he wanted to hang out of the door the way the marksmen had done. The pilot wouldn't let him.

‘No fun,' Dyl moaned.

I started to get some idea of the publicity we'd caused when an ambulance took us the final couple of kilometres to the hospital. There were reporters and camera crews everywhere. Just getting out of the helicopter and into the ambulance was like being caught in a severe electrical storm – the flashes from cameras nearly blinded us and reporters were yelling stuff like, ‘How do you feel about being a hero, Marcus?' This struck me as the dumbest question you could possibly imagine. Was that the best they could do? Still, as me and Dyl were hustled through the crowds, I managed to shout, ‘We must protect the saltwater crocodile!'

I thought that would be enough to arouse the media's curiosity. Boy, I wasn't wrong.

The hospital gave us a good going-over, but they only found out what me and Dyl already knew. We were fine. Even so, we were in there a few hours. Finally, a couple of taxis took us to a hotel in the city. I have no idea who arranged this or paid for it. Reporters were yelling, flashbulbs going off as we were bustled inside. As soon as we got into the rooms – three with harbour views – the phones rang. Dad picked up.

‘No comment,' he said after a while. ‘Please respect our privacy.'

As soon as he put the phone down, it rang again. Eventually he had to instruct the hotel not to put any calls through. Even then, I didn't
really
understand what I had set in motion. It was only when we turned on the television that I began to fully appreciate the media frenzy.

Me and Dyl were headline news. They showed footage of us apparently wrestling a huge crocodile, disappearing beneath the surface of the water and then bobbing up like jack-in-the-boxes. They showed us getting out of the helicopter and I was particularly pleased when there was a big close-up of me yelling how we need to protect the saltie. Later on, of course, I understood this was the tip of the iceberg. That film was shown all over Australia. It was shown in England and America and France and South Africa. There were probably Inuits sitting around sets in igloos who caught the coverage.

For a time I was one of the most famous people on the planet.

And then there were the television interviews me and Dyl gave. And You-Tube and magazine articles. The offers of money to endorse products. Dylan became known as CrocoDyl. They couldn't think of something similar for me and I was grateful. And each time I was interviewed I pushed the same message.

‘
So, Marcus, how does it feel to be a hero around the world?
'

‘
That's not important. What is important is what we are
doing to the natural world, the damage we are inflicting. It
has to stop.
'

‘
It's great that you are an eco-warrior. Do you think this
will help you get girlfriends?'

‘
Listen. The saltwater crocodile is a magnificent creature.
Yet the government is seriously considering allowing wealthy
people to shoot them for trophies. Big-game hunters who
aren't killing for food, but for the fun of it. The fun of it! We
think we are the most highly developed animal on the planet,
but no other animal kills for pleasure. They kill to eat. They
kill to survive. How can we seriously believe we are civilised
if we allow this to go on?
'

‘
But, Marcus, the saltwater crocodile is not an endangered
animal. It's not as if we are hunting them to extinction.
'

‘
People are not endangered animals either. Maybe we should
allow wealthy big-game hunters to kill people as well. It
would be good sport and who'd miss a few people?
'

‘
That's a remarkable attitude for someone who was nearly
killed by a crocodile. I believe you insisted that the crocs
who attacked you should not be hunted down.
'