No. No, no, no, no, no. He’s not hurting the Kid.
I scramble across the road, pushing through the pain in my ankle and hands and knees.
The alligator lunges. I’m not going to make it.
But I have to.
So I do the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life. This coming from someone who stepped in a bear trap once.
I wrap my right arm around the Kid, pulling him to my side. But I put my left hand out, trying to push the alligator—the thing with a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth—away. Instead of pushing it, I get nothing but air.
And the alligator chomps down.
The pain is like... well, it’s teeth. It’s fucking teeth. I feel something in my hand snap and the alligator gives a quick head jerk. My shoulder pops, and every muscle burns with agony as I scream. The Kid is behind me now.
Safe.
But the alligator pulls again, dragging me across the asphalt, like it’s trying to rip my arm out of its socket. And if it pulls one more time, it just might—the alligator rolled and ripped that guy’s leg right off.
Oh, Christ, it’s going to do that to me.
It opens its mouth and I try to pull away, but it snaps its jaws shutagain and a fresh burst of horrific pain overwhelms every sense I have. Jamie is screaming something, but I don’t know what it is. I see him run at the alligator with the rifle in his hand and even though I know it’s not loaded—and Hickey had taken it—my brain doesn’t even see the image as odd.
Jamie must remember the rifle’s not loaded, too, because he’s beating the ever-loving shit out of the alligator. The thing jerks again, pulling another burst of agony from my chest down to my arm, and I scream and scream and scream.
Only someone else is screaming now.
“Fuck you!” Movement catches my eye, but I barely have a second to register it before Taylor is jumping onto the alligator. Hitting it over and over and over.
No. Not hitting it. She has Daphne’s knife. It’s the size of Taylor’s forearm, but she’s holding it as though it’s weightless. Driving it down into the alligator’s skull over and over and over. The thing is probably dead—maybe it was after Taylor delivered the first blow—but she just keeps stabbing. It’s like a horror movie. Blood flying, speckling her face, mixing with her tears.
Jamie uses the moment to pry open the thing’s jaws and take my arm out. I cradle it in my other arm, crying out in more pain. It feels like it’s been pulled from its socket, and I have no control over its movement.
Blood flows quickly from the ripped-up flesh of my hand and arm. My thumb is gone. My index and middle finger hang from broken, bloody sinew. I try to move them but my pinkie barely twitches. And all I feel is the pain.
Jamie wraps my arm in a shirt he grabbed from one of our packs, and I scream against his chest as the pain overwhelms me again.
“I know,” he whispers. “I know, baby. But it has to be tight.” I nod but still scream as he pulls the shirt as tight as he can, then ties it off. Within seconds it’s darkened with blood. It throbs with pain, and I try to breathe, but each breath burns the muscles in my chest and back. Swollen and useless from my dislocated shoulder.
Taylor sounds like she’s gasping, too. She’s covered in blood, cursing under her breath with every stab into the dead alligator. Jamie cradles me in his lap, watching her. Probably wishing he could do the same.
I know Cara and the others are all watching, too. The fire takes up most of the other side of the road and the trucks and cars are right there, unguarded.
“This is our chance,” I say. But it’s so quiet no one hears me. My throat burns, raw from screaming.
And Taylor keeps stabbing. And stabbing.
Finally she drives the knife deep into what’s left of the alligator’s head. Then pushes herself off it, kicking away as though shocked by her own violence. She’s starting to hyperventilate. I sit up with a groan of pain and hold out my good arm. She leaps into it and lets me give her a side hug as she sobs.
“Thank you,” I say. “You saved my life.”
She doesn’t answer. Just continues to sob. I lie back, my shoulder still out of whack and my arm throbbing in pain.
“Are you okay?” Jamie asks.
I grab his shirt. “Now. We have to go now.” Daphne is there andshe locks eyes with me. My voice is hoarse. “You’re right. This is our chance. Forallof us.”
She nods and runs to Amy, Kelly, and Cara. In the distance, Hickey and the others are still fighting off gators. Jamie asks me something, but I don’t understand it. Maybe it’s the blood loss, or the lack of adrenaline now that the attack is over. I close my eyes, barely paying attention to the sounds of everyone speaking around me.
