We were making our way around the huge
structure that housed the lake when we noticed that
someone was coming down the clay wall opposite the
one we had climbed. Paddling ahead, Lucy signaled for
me to duck, and she did the same, leaving us at the
height of the mounds of vegetation that sprang up from
the bottom of the marsh.
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— That's Alexander Boseman, — she declared,
still with a tone of curiosity. — What would he be doing
in the Steppesaurus area?
— Maybe he went hunting one of them?
— Let's follow him; he's taking the alternative
road back to the ranch. Be discreet and row without
causing too much commotion.
Obeying her order, I slowed down the paddling,
which also slowed us down and allowed Boseman to
disappear around the bend in the road, without us being
able to catch up with him in time. By this point, we were
moving at the same speed as the alligators around us,
perhaps even slower, as they kept crashing into the
canoes and knocking us off course. With Boseman out of
sight, though, Lucy paddled vigorously again, and so did
I, propelling us harder across the bayou. We could now
reach the bend and would soon see the old man again.
— Didn't he look a little pale to you? — asked
Lucy.
— And strangely enough, he didn't have Sicarius
with him, — I answered. — Alma said that he doesn't
go hunting without bringing his dear dog.
— It seems that Mr. Boseman's experience on the
dry bed was not really positive.
Paddling parallelly, we were now heading toward
the ranch, wondering what horrors Boseman had been
subjected to.
⬫⬫⬫
— How am I going to explain this to Alma? —
Alexander Boseman thought. Of course, Sicarius was
his, but she would want to know details, especially what
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he was doing in that remote area and why he had taken a
hound to the place, where the animals he swore he didn't
want to hurt lived. Well, maybe this was a good time to
include her in the plan, or take her out of the equation
once and for all — as soon as he got to the ranch.
⬫⬫⬫
— Bloody rats! — cried Keene, sitting in his tiny
boat. — How dare they abandon me? — He knew that
bringing that blasted dean along would only thwart his
plans. Now he wanted to finance the details of the
expedition, which had always been his role! But as soon
as he reached the ranch, they would pay for that.
⬫⬫⬫
Frederick Frost was now leaning back in the
comfortable armchair that Boseman had reserved as his
favorite. In Boseman's own presence, there would be no
chance for him to enjoy the piece of furniture, but with
the old man away hunting, he could relax quietly. Next
to him, stirring a huge pot over the wood stove, Alma
Boseman was once again telling him about her trip to the
South Pacific:
— So I said: you'd better put on some sunscreen,
Alexander; your white legs will cook like shrimp in
jambalaya, but he wouldn't listen to me! He never wants
to listen to me...
Frost was not bothered by the hostess's repetitive
narrative; on the contrary, he even encouraged her to
keep going, by occasionally expressing surprise and
shaking his head, indicating shock. It actually had not
387
been bad at all to spend these days in the south — here
he ate well and slept comfortably, now that Keene was
no longer around. His own departure was strangely
random. Frost still remembered that they were talking,
he and Alma Boseman, when Jacob, from his silent state,
got up and left, without ever saying where he was going.
But at last, supreme peace now reigned, and so it would
continue.
BLAM
With a huge slam, the ranch door opened, waking
Frost from his semi-conscious state. Getting up, not so
much with the fright, but mainly so that Alexander
wouldn't see him sitting in his armchair, he stretched out
his jacket, eliminating the creases left by the long sitting
time. As Alexander reached the kitchen, he rolled his
eyes from one to the other and whimpered:
— Oh, dear, you don't know what's happened!
— What is it, Alexander? — Alma's voice
sounded charitable and laden with pity.
— Those beasts attacked us, — Boseman
continued, already shedding tears. — We were hunting
and one of those monsters got Sicarius and devoured
him! — Bringing her hands to her mouth, Alma
exclaimed:
— No!
— Yes, my dear, it's true.
Alma then threw herself around her husband's
neck, hugging him and crying.
— I'm sorry, Mr. Boseman, — Frost interjected,
— were you hunting in the remote area?
— No, of course not! — he cried in a whining
tone. — We were outside the area; deep in the bush.
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— But...how could it be? — Frost insisted. These
animals are of such a shy nature, despite their predatory
habits; they have never left the area they inhabit.
— Well, then I guess they have left it now! —
Boseman's tone now possessed a bit of acidity.
— There is still some peace, — Frost thought,
looking ruefully at the armchair. — Although he had
returned, there was still no sign of...
BLAM
The door was heard banging once more against
the inner wall of the ranch, and some strangely
determined footsteps entered the house. When they
reached the kitchen, it was Jacob Keene who had now
joined them.
— Great, — Frost thought, already raising his
hand to his forehead.
— All right, where are those pests? — he
shouted.
— So there's another one besides you? — Frost
asked ironically.
— Quit your cheekiness, fatso, where are your
protegés?
— Who are you referring to? — Boseman asked,
still having Alma's face lying on his chest.
— Lucy and Kevin Lane! Those bastards
dumped me in the outlying area and didn't even leave the
boar meat behind. — Hearing the mention of the meat,
Alexander Boseman cast a suspicious glance at his wife,
who returned him a coy smile.
— Well, I have no idea where they might be, —
replied the farm owner, — But if they are smart, they
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will be studying those animals, just like I told them to do
when I called them.
BLAM
— Oh, for God's sake, — Frost cried, already
feeling a headache. The approaching footsteps were
now as steady and fast as the previous ones. As we
crossed the trophy room that Boseman kept, we reached
the kitchen, where we found all the rest of the team, plus
the owners of the alligator farm.
— Ah, there you are! — cried Jacob.
— Sorry, Doctor, we don't have time for that
right now, — Lucy interrupted.
— Well, get some, then! — he insisted. — How
dare you abandon me to the risk of being attacked by
those wild animals!
Lucy had her gaze focused on Boseman, but kept
turning to Keene, trying to solve this minor problem
first:
— You went there alone, not knowing if you
would find us! I don't think anyone needs a babysitter at
your age!
Pride wounded, Keene glared at her, imagining
that it would be great to have a leather glove at the
moment. He wouldn't challenge Lucy to a duel, but he
might make the offer to me. Crossing his arms, he
plopped himself down in Alexander's armchair, keeping
a steady gaze on Lucy.
— Mr. Boseman, — she said, changing her tone
to a much softer one. — Would you be aware of who
installed a pond pump in the outlying area?
— A pond pump? — he repeated, finally
releasing his wife from his arms. — Why, no, but
390
frankly, anyone could have done it! There are more
people living in this area, you know.
— True, — I had the presence of mind to say, —
but the pump is relatively new, which coincides with the
expansion of your farm.
— But what is this? Are you scientists or
detectives? That's not what I called you for!
— Now, you don't pay a cent for the operation...
— Keene hissed from his comfortable armchair.
— Let us calm down, please, — Frost ordered.
— We'd better, — said Boseman. — Maybe it's
no big deal to some city slickers, but we lost our Sicarius
to those monsters!
— You're right, — Keene spoke up again. — We
don't mind the death of domestic animals.
— Jacob! — scolded Frost.
— Now, what did I say? Are you afraid we'll be
kicked off the ranch and you won't have a comfortable
bed anymore? Welcome to the jungle! — said the man
who was still complaining of having slept on a tree.
— No, don't worry about it, — Boseman
announced in a controlled tone. — I'm very forgiving,
and I intend to let go of all the nonsense I heard today.
You can continue to use my home as your base of
operations. — As he spoke, he walked between us.
When he got close to me, he growled: — But it better
not happen again! — His threat haunted me, more than
any wild animal's roar could, and I felt a horrendous
chill; the cold one feels when meeting human
wickedness. Leaving the room, he finally walked out,
leaving us alone again.
391
— Excuse me, children, — Alma said as she
addressed us both, already distributing her coconut
candy. We knew that this would be followed by a
specially prepared speech to explain her husband's
actions and justify them on some weak basis. As
predicted, she introduced the subject:
— You know, that animal has been here for over
ten years now...
— Yes, but why don't you leave him? — Keene
asked. Frost brought his hand to his forehead, again, but
Alma kept going with her explanation, unperturbed.
— He can sometimes be explosive and even
dangerous, but he is a good-hearted man. — As she
spoke these words, she stirred the pot again, to keep it
from burning, and began to ramble on, still on the same
subject, but this time mulling over the facts with herself,
and no one else. Meanwhile, Frost turned to Keene once
more:
— And you, Jacob? What was that
"we-don't-care-about-pets" thing?
— Don't be silly! Pets don't need someone who
cares! At this point, it would be almost impossible for
any of them to become extinct...they are scattered all
over the earth, although they are weaker these days. We
domesticated chickens and now they don't fly anymore,
the same with cats and they barely know how to hunt a
mouse these days; with wolves and they've become a bag
accessory. Despite all this forced adaptation that we have
caused, they are the cause of extinction of native species,
not the other way around. For example, cats brought
over from Europe are driving Australian marsupials to
extinction. Fortunately, scientists in Australia know
392
which side deserves more support and have created a
clever system. A trigger camera recognizes the feline's
movement and shoots jelly mixed with poison. The
animal licks its fur, goes to sleep, and never wakes up.
Simple. Practical. No violence or shocked faces. All this
is...is...well, you're making me give a speech; I sound
like a Lane!
— But, Doctor, — I introduced, causing his
mood to regress, — you have a cat, don't you?
— That's right. But Nebula was neutered and
prevented from leaving the inside of my house. In my
own way, I have rid the world of an ecological hazard.
Looking back at Frost, I noticed that he kept his
shocked expression.
— How can you think something so cruel? —
said the dean. Shifting his eyes discreetly, he noticed that
Alma was still doing her monologue, unaware of her
surroundings.
— I'm glad she didn't hear any of that, — he
added.
— Well...we can't disagree with the argument, —
I reasoned.
— What? You agree with Jacob? Lucy, tell me
that you haven't become a psychopath, too.
— I haven't, but... I believe that to some extent he
is right — wild animals require much more of our
attention than domestic ones.
— Honestly...I never thought I would hear that
from you two. What would Anthony think of that?
— Excuse me, Mr. Frost, — Lucy's voice became
a bit more acidic, — but what do you know about my
father? Wasn't he just a bad investment with no return?
393
— Well, I never... well, maybe I have...
— Yes, you said that when we were in South
Africa. With all due respect, you have no right to say
what my father would think. — With that, she left and I
did the same. I didn't want to stay behind this time and
give the impression that I was supporting Frost. Slowly,
each of us was taking our own side on each issue. The
last thing I heard was Keene's voice addressing the dean:
— It hurts to be the monster sometimes, doesn't
it?
⬫⬫⬫
Dinner that night was a terrible social experience,
just as every social experience seems to be. We were all
gathered at the table, Lucy and I at one end, the
Bosemans at the other, Keene isolated on one side, and
Frost facing him. With the exception of Lucy, we were
all dining without much interest in the huge alligator tail
steak, and even less interest in conversing.
— Mr. Boseman, — Lucy introduced, — Now
that we have identified the species and learned
something about it, what do you intend to do about it?
I'm sure my team is eager to know; after all, that is the
purpose of the work we do. — With a calm tone,
frighteningly transformed, the old man answered:
— Well, since they are such reclusive beings, I
intend to keep our coexistence that way.
— What if they don't remain so reclusive
anymore? As I told you, the inner lake is dry, and soon
the puddles will dry up as well. Have you already
planned what to do in case they move into your farm?
394
— Should this happen, I wouldn't stop the
animals from drinking or even feeding; I have enough
alligators to cover myself and my ranch with their skin.
— And if they attack your ranch...?
— I'm afraid I would have to eliminate them.
Satisfied?
— Quite.
— Well, while you're conjecturing, — Keene
interjected, — I'll retire to my chair outside, since my
bed has been repossessed.
— Pardon? — Boseman asked with a wry smile.
— You've worked up the courage to sleep outside?
— Yeah, it shouldn't be that hard, now that the
one thing I was afraid of no longer poses any threat, —
Jacob replied, wiping the smile off Alexander's face.