Summer by Summer (27 page)

“Come in,” I said.

“Got your sense of humor back, I see. That’s what that was, right? Humor?”

I slid an arm around her and chucked her shoulders. Coffee tilted dangerously close to the top of the shell, but she salvaged it. “Watch it, bud. I lost
my
sense of humor days ago.”

I pulled a breath. “Okay. Serious then. We have to be able to get water.”

She shuddered. “We have the cave.”

I tilted her chin so she had to look at me. “We can’t depend on that. There’s no way we can get the cooler up and down that mountainside. Which means we’d have to climb almost every day. You know it’s too dangerous. Speaking of that, what were you thinking?”

She blinked. “I was thinking that my future husband was severely dehydrated and dying. I won’t apologize for going. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Her gaze became steely.

“That’s what I’m afraid of. We have to kill the croc.”

“What?” Her green eyes melted from the ice chips they’d been and grew wide. “We — we can’t.”

“We have to, Summer. We need fresh water and not just a plastic container of it every day or two. We can’t survive without the lake.”

She buried her head in my shoulder. “Are you sure that’s the only way?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Note to self
:
Don’t take your future wife hunting.

“Okay.” But the word dragged out and I knew her heart wasn’t in it. She popped off my shoulder. “How do you kill a ten-foot crocodile?”

“That’s what we have to figure out.”

Together, we worked out a plan. I’d been on a couple of alligator hunts during hunting season in Florida with my dad, so I hoped
crocs had the same soft spot just behind their heads. Getting close enough to drive the spear into his brain was another matter.

We’d sharpened several pieces of hardwood, and Summer was good at chiseling them to a wicked point. Her upper arms had toned with the rigorous work, but it just made her more beautiful. She caught me watching her and lowered the kitchen knife. We’d already dulled half of them. “Maybe we don’t have to kill him. We could coax him back into the cage. You know, with fish or something.”

I’d been spearing fish for the last two days. Rather than eat them, we were storing them in the fishing net and hoisting them high into the air each night so rats or other opportunistic animals couldn’t easily get to them. They’d be bait, but just to get it where I could kill it. “And what, Summer? In the cage, it would just die slowly. We can’t feed it.” I pointed to the pitiful number of fish I’d collected.

She brushed the sweat from her brow where little strands of hair stuck. “You’re right.”

“If the cage wasn’t so tightly woven, we could coax it in and spear it there.”

Her expression turned troubled at the thought.

I dragged a hand through my hair. Nothing about this would be easy on Summer. “You want to go over the plan again?”

“No. We’ve been over it a thousand times.”

“We have, but I thought it might make it simpler when the time comes.”

She stopped what she was doing. “You can count on me, Bray. I’m strong.”

I chuckled. She was certainly strong. “I’m not worried about my wildcat.”

Summer scrunched her face. “What?”

“Wildcat. It’s a little nickname I have for you.”

She cocked her head and her jaw, and then shrugged. “Okay.”

“I’m glad you don’t mind it.”

The knife tip made little swirls in the sand around her. “Who’s gonna hear?”

“Good point. You ready?” I brought the last fish onto the shore and dropped it on top of the others.

“Now?”

“I thought it would be good if one of the fish was still alive. This one’s pretty big. I think the croc will go for it quickly.”

If crocs were anything like Florida gators, they fed at night. But even a good old Florida gator wouldn’t turn down an easy meal. This would be an easy meal. And with any luck, its last.

We didn’t see it when we first entered the lake clearing. I hated that. With its natural camouflage, it could hide almost anywhere in the thick foliage. For safety, we didn’t drift too close to the water. I’d cut the rope into the sections we needed and lashed the machete to my waist, my dive knife to my leg. The machete wasn’t worth much, dull as a rock and half rusted through. Still, I took it along. The net was all but worthless, with giant rotting sections, but it wasn’t really meant to hold the croc, just slow it down and hopefully create enough of a diversion so I could run the spear — or several — through it from above.

I positioned myself in the crook of a low tree after Summer climbed higher. She’d hand me a spear once we’d drawn him close.

“Showtime,” I hollered up at her and dropped the bait line practically to the ground. The freshest fish had died on the trip over, but he swung there on the end of the line, so I jolted the rope up and down to get the croc’s attention. I was stretched out prone on the tree with both feet planted firmly. The branch was a good four feet off the ground, and I hoped the croc didn’t possess some unknown leaping skill, or I’d be dinner.

When I heard movement above me, I glanced up. Summer was on the other side of the tree but still in reaching distance. Staying out of the line of fire.

The croc slid out of the water silently and headed for the bait. My heart picked up. When it reached up to snag the fish, I dropped the net on its head. As soon as it left my hands, I grabbed the first spear. With all my might, I drove it into the croc’s neck, but it had already started twisting and turning in the net. Summer handed me another spear, and I sank this one by the first. The croc stopped for a moment. Summer reached to quickly hand me another, but the branch she leaned on broke. She jolted forward and tumbled out of the tree. She landed on her back behind the croc. Fear stole my focus. “Summer! Get back into the tree.”

She started to, but turned and grabbed a spear, then another. They’d landed splattered around the croc. Only a few feet of grass and shrubs separated her and the beast. She tried frantically to climb. The croc growled and whirled in her direction. I grabbed her hand and jerked her up just as it snapped its jaws.

She stood on my branch, and when I heard the crack, I knew we were in trouble. Summer must have sensed it too, because she dropped the spears and grabbed a branch above her head. Using her whole body, she hoisted herself up, out of danger for the moment, but how long could either branch last? The croc was bleeding, but hadn’t slowed down. It continued to thrash. I looked around for a weapon and saw one of the spears lodged in tree vines. I grabbed it, stretched out as far as I dared, and sent it down into the croc’s neck. It tried to stumble away, but had gotten caught in the net tied to the tree. At the time it had seemed a good idea, but now we were trapped in a tree with an angry croc lashed to the trunk.

Eventually, it would break through. This was our last chance. I stood on the low branch and jumped out away from the trunk, aiming for the spears. “Bray, be careful!”

I landed, snagged one, and pivoted to get behind the croc. It sensed me closing in and stopped moving. The blend of hiss and growl crawled over my flesh.

I reared back and sank the spear with everything I had. It broke in two as the croc twisted into a death roll.

“Here!” Summer was behind me. She held out another spear and I took it.

“Back into the tree.”

She nodded, but I knew she wasn’t leaving me.

I sank that spear and knew the croc was slowing. Its stagger gave me confidence. I reached out for another spear and, just as I suspected, Summer slid one into my hands. Maybe I’d gotten too confident. I thought I was out of reach, but it spun hard, rope snapping, tree shaking. Something brick-hard hit my ankles. I saw a blur, then trees above me as I landed flat on my back. I tried to inhale air, but all I could do was gasp. The croc was practically on top of me, and its mouth filled my vision. Rotting, jagged teeth snapped once and opened wide. Summer screamed.

“No!” She struck out, lightning fast, and the broken spear lodged lengthwise in the croc’s mouth. She jerked on my arm, helping me scramble to my feet.

In the blur of adrenaline, I don’t recall seeing Summer grab another spear, but one was in her hand, and she sank it deep, using all her strength to drive it, and then twisted.

The croc shuddered to a halt.

Summer and I groped for each other, stumbled a good fifty yards away from the monster, and collapsed on the ground.

It was at least ten minutes before we moved. I led Summer to the water’s edge, where we drank our fill without fear. Then we stripped to our suits and entered the water, both still a little shell-shocked.

“We did it,” she finally said.

“You did it.”

Her eyes welled. “I killed it.”

I nodded. The protective part of me wanted to take this off her
shoulders. But I wouldn’t. This was important. It was her kill and she’d have to make peace with that. Her gaze drifted to the dead beast. It was no longer a monster but an animal, and she’d taken its life.

“I’m proud of you. You want to go talk to it?”

Sorrow-filled eyes found me. “What do I say?”

“Thank it for dying so we could live.”

Her tears flowed freely, and she jerked a nod. We approached from the croc’s tail. She held her hand far above it, thanking it, but soon, she was on her knees, stroking the creature and dripping plump tears on its flesh.

Over and over she repeated, “Thank you. Thank you for dying for us.” Then she patted it, wiped her eyes, and stood.

I searched her face. “Okay?”

She nodded, rolled her eyes sheepishly.

“It’s the same with hunting. Especially a first kill. Would it make you feel better if we use what we can?”

“How?” A frown darkened the green in her eyes.

“I think we can salvage some of the meat. At least the tail. It won’t last long in the heat, but maybe we could rig up a way to smoke some of it.”

She chewed her bottom lip before answering. “Yes.”

And right then and there, the future Mrs. Garrison experienced her first hunt. Complete with field dressing a crocodile.

By the end of the next day, we had several long thin strips of croc meat, and I’d made a teepee for smoking. We’d use the tarp to cover the smoker.

Several feet away from the hut, we inspected my handiwork. “You don’t think it will catch the tarp on fire?” Summer asked.

“Don’t know. That’s why I made the base so large. I’ve only seen one of these on TV, so we’ll see. The first night, I’ll stick pretty close, keep an eye on the flame.”

She peeked inside the teepee. “What do you mean?”

“We can only smoke through the night. So the men on the boat won’t see.”

“What if they come back for the croc?”

I shuddered. “They ditched it here. Hopefully, they won’t.”

Her eyes narrowed. “But you don’t believe that, do you? They obviously tracked and caught it once, which means they could do it again.”

I took her by the hands. “We have to be extremely careful. Are you okay here for a while? I’m going to head over to the lake and gather some wood.”

Her nose crinkled. “Why the lake?”

“Green wood will give us more smoke. Those small trees around the water will be great, and I think I can work them out of the ground fairly easily.”

“I can go with you. You might need my help.”

“If you stay here and finish stripping the branches to make the rest of the shelves, we can start smoking tonight.” Our bottom shelf of the smoker was made out of our fire grate. It sat a couple feet above the sand where I’d make the fire. The rest of the shelves would have to be crisscrossed branches tied with vines. So far, it looked pretty good. Sturdy even.

“We need two more shelves, each getting smaller as they go higher in the teepee,” I explained.

She nodded. “Okay.”

I didn’t want Summer back at the lake. I’d already dug a hole and buried what was left of the croc, but being there was difficult for her, so I felt she should sit this one out.

“Be careful.” She leaned up and kissed my cheek.

I gathered my various knives and tools for taking down the trees and headed out.

Summer ran to catch me just as I passed the tree line. “Here. In
case you forget your way home.” She pressed the brochure into my hand and stayed planted there, beaming up at me.

A slow smile formed on my lips. “I think maybe that was just an excuse to get a good-bye kiss.”

She cast her eyes heavenward. “Maybe.”

I dropped everything I was carrying and took her face in my hands. She was soft as velvet, and I let the sensation of touching her, knowing she was mine, wash over me. My fingertips grazed her hairline. Looking intoxicated by my touch, her eyes drifted shut.

She tilted her head back.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“I’m capturing it.” She pulled a deep breath, and I knew her mind was taking a snapshot of this moment. Life was comprised of moments. The really brilliant ones you remembered and stored deep inside the gallery of your heart.

A chill passed over me, some strange sensation I couldn’t name. “We have a lifetime of these moments ahead of us, Summer.”

Her eyes opened and she smiled.

But deep inside me something twisted, like maybe we didn’t have a lifetime. Like maybe our time was running out. I stepped in closer, my thighs spreading apart, and pulled her into me. She came willingly. There was no fight, just agreement. Her hands rested on my chest and when I bent to kiss her, her fingers slid up around my neck. She tasted like coconut and salt and was the most gratifying thing I’d ever had on my mouth.

Drowsy eyes opened slowly. “You better go, Tiger. Or I might keep you right here.”

I kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back soon, Wildcat. Try to stay out of trouble.” But before I could let her go, I wrapped my arms tight, dropped my cheek onto her head, and captured what it felt like to have her in my arms. Then I gathered my stuff, complete with the brochure in my pocket, and headed to the lake.

Downing the first two trees was easy. They were barely as big around as my wrist and planted in the loose, moist earth surrounding the lake. After dragging them to the edge of woods, I decided to take a break. The water beckoned, so I stepped in. I almost dove under when I remembered the brochure in my pocket. I dropped the contents of my shorts onto the shore, and just as I turned to dive back in, I stuttered to a halt.