Ch 31 - A Tragedy Comes Sooner

The attack we had carried out was the last and

most impactful, but it could still be reversed. Whoever

had installed the pumping mechanism could do it again,

although I doubt they would come out of the shallows

alive. Our next move had to incapacitate the criminal

and, in Keene's words, "make him pay for it," or

whatever other bitter, vindictive thing he said.

Going around the remote area now seemed like

an act of farewell. One more species had been preserved,

and we would return to civilization just to make sure it

stayed that way. When we reached the opposite bank and

found ourselves at the foot of the hill, a fine rain began

to fall on us and I felt an uncontrollable desire to admire

that triumphant scene one last time. I ran to the top, to

the tree where we had stayed overnight, and got a

glimpse of the whole region. For miles ahead, the lagoon

filled the landscape and the Steppesaurus, its burliest

inhabitants, splashed in the shallow water. Away from

them, the Diplocaulus rose to the surface to experience

the same pleasure I did — tiny droplets of water falling

on me and running down my skin. Beside me, Lucy and

Keene appeared, putting their hands on my shoulders

and observing the entire landscape. When they turned to

leave again, I was the only one who hesitated, but Lucy

pulled my arm, reminding me that the project was over.

Before I was dragged into my canoe, I could look up into

the canopy of our old cypress tree and see, hidden

among the branches, the overhanging boughs that had

sheltered us.

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I then got into my little boat feeling the nostalgia

that place caused me before we even left it. I didn't want

to bother the animals for much longer and maybe even

harm their behavior with our presence, but I also didn't

want to go back. It seems to me that this internal conflict

was already a constant that would accompany me during

the trips ahead, bringing pain and sadness each time a

change occurred. We live in an ever-changing world,

which does not fit with this exaggerated nostalgia.

Thinking about it brought me a dark expectation about

my future.

When I finally abandoned these thoughts, we had

been paddling for some time and the other shore was

visible in the distance. Standing at the edge of the marsh,

Frederick Frost was gesturing eagerly, ordering us to row

faster to reach the ranch.

— I wonder what happened? — Keene thought

aloud. — I bet he broke the armchair.

⬫⬫⬫

— It's a disaster! Simply a calamity! — The

Dean's voice sounded dramatic and exaggerated, as was

to be expected. We sat at the table in the ranch kitchen,

with Frost pacing back and forth before us, repeating the

same litany, using every synonym for "calamity" he

could think of.

— A terrible curse!

— Okay, we get the picture! — Keene

interrupted him. — What so tragic has happened?

— It's Alma... she got sick!

Looking around, I noticed that there was no

chatter in the background and remembered that I hadn't

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seen the airboat when we arrived at the entrance to the

ranch.

— Now, that's to be expected at her age, isn't it?

— Don't you understand, Jacob? She's been taken

ill and is seriously sick!

— Well, that's not to be expected...

— How did it happen, Mr. Frost? — Lucy asked,

assuming a very professional air, the same one she had

assumed when she suspected Keene in Hluleka.

— The three of us were in the room, — Frost

began to narrate. — She was telling us about the first

time she had left the state, and when she focused her

mind on the details of the trip, she felt dizzy and had to

vomit. Soon the symptoms of weakness worsened and I

told Alexander to take her to the nearest hospital in the

airboat we had rented.

— And what do you think is the cause of this

discomfort?

— How would I know, Lucy? — he said in a

defeated tone. — It must be this horrible diet she's been

on. No one could stand to live a lifetime on alligator

meat, no matter how hard she tried to be creative with

the recipes. Oh, what will be of this lonely preciousness?

Such a charitable soul doesn't deserve this humiliating

end!

Lucy let out an impatient sigh, but without Frost

noticing. Perhaps it was due to the memory of the

coldness with which he had treated Lane's death,

contrasted with the fervor he had shown in the face of

anyone else's simple illness. Controlling her mood, Lucy

went on with her questioning:

— Lonely, you say?

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— Yes, I don't think Boseman will be able to stay

overnight with her in the hospital; he has to come back

to the ranch to feed the animals.

— Well... it looks like we'll have to stay here a

little longer, — said Lucy.

The reason for not leaving was morbid and

feeling even a little joy in staying made my conscience

ache, but I simply couldn't help myself. Spending more

time in the Everglades and perhaps even studying more

deeply the animals we had encountered would cease the

pain I felt, even if only momentarily. I believe I smiled

shyly, even though the subject was the probable death of

a human being.

— Do you remember...what she ate while you

were at the table? — Lucy asked the dean.

— Of course, some kind of broth prepared by

cooking alligator meat. The same damned meat she has

been eating for years!

— Anything else?

— No, nothing more than that. Alma barely has

an appetite.

— I see... — The tone in which Lucy ended the

conversation was not one of closure, as was to be

expected. Staring at the table for a few moments, she

mentally turned away from all of us, following the

pattern of cracks that started at the edge and spread to

the middle, forming something like the design of a tree.

Her pupils were the only thing moving as she thought,

moving from what would be the root to the trunk and

then to the branches stretching out to reach the center of

the piece of furniture and tear it apart. When her large

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brown eyes reached the last branches, a gleam lit them,

with the sparkle of resolution.

— Excuse me, — she asked, rising from the

table. — Dr. Keene, would you come with me? I need

you to clarify one detail of your theory for me.

— Why, certainly, — he replied, his ego

massaged. Leaving the room, they headed outside the

ranch, closing the door on the way.

— What the...? — was all Frost managed to utter,

still dumbfounded. — What a frivolous concern! To

think about science at a critical moment like this! Boy,

things are piling up on my lap; first Nathan disappears

and now, a host falls ill during our visit.

— Does this also fall on you?

— Why, yes! What will the New Haven

community think when they hear about this? They might

assume we have done them some harm.

I wasn't sure how to respond to Frost's odd

reasoning, or maybe I just didn't want to respond to

something I condemned. Thinking for a moment, I

decided it was recommendable to change the subject

slightly.

— Did you contact the university?

— No, I didn't have to. I just tracked the

purchases he has been making with the card provided by

the university. The most recent one was a ticket to Fort

Myers, which means he was coming here. It is a rather

strange thing that he didn't let me know he was coming,

but anyway...I made sure to contact the airline and ask if

the flight had arrived and, it seems, it had. I am

desperate, Kevin...Now I understand why Lane used to

whine so much.

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— No, you don't, — I thought. Getting up, I also

left the table and, along with it, the dean who now had

his face buried in his hands, about to collapse. I could

advise him to simply give in, as I was told to, and then

fight, but I know he didn't have enough courage for the

second half of the process. I made my way to the door,

past the cold stare of the alligator heads, and when I

touched the knob, it turned by itself. Lucy then entered

the room, alone this time.

— Where is Keene? — I asked.

— He went to town; he said he needed a new suit

or he would succumb to the mold. And he also went

to...fulfill an assignment I gave him, — she finished with

a wink.

— You have developed a good friendship, I see.

Lucy didn't answer, but merely raised her eyes at

me and changed her features to a more serious mode. I

could tell the difference between a bear's roar of hunger

or of pain, but it was impossible for me to understand

what that facial expression meant.

— Do you remember what you heard last night?

— she changed the subject.

— Before falling asleep on the veranda and being

eaten alive by mosquitoes? Not much.

— Before that.

— I remember hearing...a silly discussion about

the needs of wild and domestic animals.

— Right, that's what Jacob and Mr Frost were

talking about at the table.

— And something about the chocolates running

out.

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— Mrs. Boseman, she's the one who said that.

Any other details?

— No, then I came to the veranda and fell asleep.

When I woke up the next day and went to take a shower,

I remember hearing Alexander's voice, coming in and

calling his wife.

— But you heard something else the night

before, didn't you?

— What do you mean?

— Before I went to the bathroom, I remember

that Jacob and Frost were already arguing in the living

room and that the Bosemans had gone to the kitchen, to

talk about something that seemed pertinent to the news

we were bringing Alexander. In that scenario, you were

left alone and went to the bedroom. I know this because

you came from there later. Between the living room and

the bedroom, you must have passed in front of the

connection to the kitchen. You heard what was said in

there, didn't you?

I felt immense shame at being caught practicing

my bad habit, but she spoke with confidence, knowing

that I had done it.

— Not on purpose, — I stammered.

— Why, of course not. You had to pass through

that corridor and the sound would come naturally to your

ears. But then tell me, Kevin, what did you hear? — Still

blushing a bit, but more relieved at her understanding, I

tried to remember as accurately as possible:

— A substantial increase in profits, retirement in

two months, and a voice saying that something was

immoral.

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— Perfect. And so we know what happened to

our hostess.

— We do?

— Yes, Kevin. We just need to wait for Jacob to

come back and I will explain to you exactly what

happened to Mrs. Boseman and who installed that pump.

⬫⬫⬫

In the curve of a wall, half a face became visible,

spying on what was happening, checking the safety of

the place. The corridor was covered with tiny blocks of

tile, all opaque white, to reflect what little light the bulbs

had to offer. They shimmered timidly, blinking

constantly, as if they would burn out in the next instant.

Cracks extended in several places on the wall where

moisture had seeped in, knocking down the tile that had

covered it before and feeding the white, fuzzy mold that

was taking its place. It had been a few minutes since

someone had last walked past him, not even suspecting

what he was doing there; but after all, there was no

reason to fear him, really. Leaning his back against the

damp wall, he felt his arms burn intensely. The trip to the

place had been exhausting and had demanded the most

from his boat so that he reached only the edge of the city.

The next part had been covered by a cab (the one who

had charged him the least amount, of course). At the

reception desk, all he had to do was to know the first and

last name of the person he was now looking for and no

one would question his good intentions. — What a

terrible unpreparedness, — he thought, remembering the

scene. He might as well have come here to do some

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mischief, and no one had followed him? Pathetic. That's

what the whole world had become — an undesirable

species at the top of the food chain, without any merit to

it. What merit is there in killing a lion with a gun? Or an

elephant, or a tiger? Use the weapons that nature has

given you, bloody hell! But of course, nature had not

given us any weapons. It had not given us hooves, claws,

tusks, horns or spines. We are completely defenseless

against natural forces and would die of hypothermia in a

single storm, were it not for our intelligence. — The

point, — he mentally recited, walking down the gloomy

corridor to an even worse lighted ward. — The point is

that intelligence needs to be well guided. Interfering with

the course that nature takes is the complete antithesis of

this concept. Meanwhile, he, a man who sought to

preserve the environment, was seen as extremist and

unreasonable! — No problem, — he said, ending his

private speech, — I will stop humanity personally. —

With that, he entered the bedroom. Around him, five

beds were arranged in two groups, one with three beds

and the other one with two, divided in half by the door

leading to the shared bathroom. — Very hygienic... —

he thought, a clear expression of disgust on his face. In

the group of three, two beds had their sheets untidy, one

of them empty and the other one still occupied.

Approaching the latter, he realized that he had planned

numerous details of the plan, except one — how to wake

someone up. Coughing in a low tone, he tried to make it

enough, but without success. Increasing the volume

progressively, he realized that there was no response or

movement. Had he arrived...too late? A little desperate,

he grabbed the arm that hung off the bed and placed it

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back on the mattress. By God, how was that not enough?

Finally, he noticed that a plastic wrapper glistened in the

opening of a pocket. Cautiously, he brought it to himself,

opening it and revealing the coconut candy.

— How are you, Dr. Keene?

— Mrs. Boseman! — he almost shouted, still

stunned.

— Why, there was still one in my pocket, huh?

Take that one, the doctor said I should avoid them for a

while. That's the price of longevity...we are forced to

keep living and lose along the way the few pleasures we

had before.

— I'm afraid I have to agree with you. Tell me,

was your husband here after bringing you?

— Oh yes, he kept me company until I fell

asleep. Then he said he was going to talk to the doctor,

but neither the doctor nor he has appeared since.

— Did he lie down next to you?

— You mean the bed next to me? No, no, it was

left that way after another lady left the hospital. We had

a nice chat this afternoon, you know? Before nightfall

her body was taken away, — she finished with a sigh.

— I see. Have they informed you of the cause of

your discomfort?

— I'm afraid not, the doctor who was coming

was to bring the result of the blood test.

— Perhaps you have already thought about your

diet, but I would like to reinforce this concept. You see, a

balanced diet includes a much wider variety of fiber

and...

— And she has survived all these years, — a

nearby voice said snidely. Standing in the doorway to the

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ward, Alexander Boseman had the same expression that

Jacob had for the filthy toilet in the next room.

— Alexander, were you able to find the doctor?

— No, my dear, I'm afraid they are understaffed

for too many patients.

— That's odd, — Keene cut in. — I remember

seeing a doctor walking past me toward the laboratory.

— Is that so? And why don't you go and get him?

— And leave you alone with Alma? I don't think

so, mate.

— What do you mean, playboy? It was me who

brought her to the hospital in the first place, wasn't it?

— You dare raise your voice to me, you muddy

bumpkin, and I'll sue you until you have to sell that tar

pit!

— Gentlemen? — A fourth voice joined the

conversation, coming through the portal. Wearing a silk

uniform, clean as no surface in the place could ever be, a

man of reasonable size and height approached the

bedside, passing his eyes from Keene to Boseman and

back again to the biomedical doctor. With a dark

complexion and serious eyes, the man's attitude was a

silent reproach to the behavior of the other two.

— Hakeem Geffery, — the doctor introduced

himself, greeting Alma Boseman with a slow handshake

while looking into her deep, charitable eyes. — I was

notified of a delay in the delivery of your examination,

— the doctor continued. — Apparently, my colleague

had been assigned to do it, but the receptionist said she

hadn't seen him heading towards your room. Anyway,

here it is. — The sentence was accompanied by a calmly

executed gesture, in which he leafed through the pages

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of a folder of documents and took out precisely what he

wanted, knowing in advance the location of each

printout. Holding out a copy to the patient, he went on to

explain:

— The result revealed a spike in cadmium levels,

an insoluble and toxic metal that causes damage to the

kidneys.

— Do you have any idea of the source of this

metal, doctor? — Keene asked in alarm.

— From the meat, — Boseman replied before

Geffery could speak. — I heard that someone had found

cadmium in alligator meat. Couldn't that be it, Doctor?

— I'm not sure, Mr...Boseman, — he finally

finished after a quick look at the chart. — Intoxication

would require a somewhat more potent source. Anyway,

I'll let you rest now, Mrs. Boseman, and I suggest you

gentlemen do the same. — Turning toward the dark

corridor, Geffery left the two men looking at each other

with the same expression as before.

— You heard the doctor, Alexander, — Keene

teased.

— And you didn't?

— Let's just say that Lucy will be delighted to

know what happened here. — Boseman's upper lip

twitched at this. — Go ahead, Alexander. It's the only

way out of this place.

Still cursing the other between his teeth,

Boseman also made his way to the outer passage; Keene

walking at a slower pace to stay behind. With a farewell

from Alma, they both continued on through the

mausoleum that was the hospital.

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— You know, the animals will never be yours, —

Keene teased. — They may be slow in the morning, but

try to go there when the sun is high...and you will learn

to respect nature, — he finished, almost whispering.

Stalling, Boseman clenched his fists so hard that his

bones cracked, but he didn't turn around.

The tension continued until the exit door parted

them, Keene returning to the edge of town to catch the

boat and Boseman leaving for downtown.

⬫⬫⬫

— Cadmium? — the question sounded rhetorical,

as if the information didn't surprise her in the slightest.

The informant, a spy sent to the scene, maintained a look

of expectation, awaiting the resolution of the case.

Sitting parallelly, Frost and I were spectators of the

unfolding scene; in my mind, I described every detail of

what was happening there. At the head of the table, Lucy

still had a static gaze. On the table, the same fractal

pattern fascinated her and held her attention.

— Well? — asked the spy, impatiently.

— Well, — she repeated, — we are going to do

what we have become accustomed to doing these past

few months — set up a predator trap.