Diablo
Tired, we’d been sailing all day, so we didn’t enter the nearly hidden inlet until 1700 hours and decided to “drop the hook” for the night.
We anchored and began fixing dinner.
The frogs and cicadas were beginning their nightly serenade as the sun sank behind the tree line. White gingers sent their marvelously sweet fragrance wafting across the still water. The inhabitants of the four mansions surrounding our concealed anchorage were now beginning to congregate on their verandas, watching us. Florida can be rather warm and muggy in summer, so shucking off my shoes and shirt, I dove into the cool, clear water. A swim before dinner does wonders for one’s appetite.
“Hurry and dry off“, said Elizabeth as she emerged from the galley with a platter of fried chicken.
“I’m ready and I’m ravenous, so bring it on,”
The residents of the inlet continued to scrutinize us as they conversed animatedly with their neighbors.
“Guess they haven’t seen that many catamarans”, I observed casually. We slowly ate our dinner and watched them as they watched us.
“Something’s going on”, said the wife. They’re waiting for something.”
“They’re just curious.”
A black girl carried a large white bucket to the shoreline.
“Not now Essie. Just put it down. Dump it later.”
She put the bucket down, turned, and stared hesitantly at us.
“Elizabeth, finish your dinner and I’ll feed the fishes the leftovers.”
Climbing down to the swim platform, I dumped the remnants of dinner at the starboard rudder. I was immediately rewarded by a boiling swirl of saltwater catfish.
“Hey, these guys are really hungry.”
I turned to my wife and said, “they’re absolutely ravenous,” and I dropped a chicken bone in the water. There was a swirl and splash as a huge wave broke the surface. Suddenly, I was face to face with an enormous gaping alligator maw. He engulfed the floating leftovers in one final, crushing, “whomp.” Terrified, I dropped the rest of the leftovers and scrambled into the cockpit.
“Good Lord, he almost got me,” I croaked.
That alligator must have been ten feet long. He sank beneath the surface and disappeared, only to reappear, just a few feet off the stern. He floated watching us, his two glowing eyes, unblinking. His ominously swaying tail held his position at the stern. It seemed as if he were waiting.
He wouldn’t leave. He just continued to drift just off our stern.,
From the shore there was a shout. “His name is Diablo. Don’t hurt him. He’s a pet.”
“Hurt him?” Were they insane?
“Reills, you were just swimming with him thirty minutes ago,” said a white-faced Elizabeth.
These people had been feeding this monster, probably for years. These fools were feeding their garbage to this dangerous behemoth.
Neither of us slept very well that night. Bad dreams.
We docked at the City Dock around noon. The dock master asked us if we had seen Diablo. “Hope you didn’t hurt him. He’s their pet you know.”
Posted in Essays, Short Stories
Reilly Maginn's debut novel, BIO, a medical action thriller is a truly frightening tale of Jihadist bioterrorism. A story of weapons of mass destruction that could happen here in the US. Set in the south Pacific, a volunteer American physician/surgeon faces off against not only a deadly virus, but also the radical muslim terrorists who developed it. There is a fittingly appropriate conclusion. The novel is a real page turner and soon will appear on the big screen.
palagi November 19th, 2008 at 11:29 am
Great story. I had a similar experience and can sympathize with the author.