Wetland
by Roland Johnston
I sat across from my brother on a well-used sofa in the finished basement with a yellowed carpet. He was on his phone, I was watching TV. There was an abrupt banging down the stairs to the left of my brother and me. It was my father walking down the stairs to remind us that it is our annual wetland trip. Four years ago we rented an airboat and went on our first trip. It was fantastic, and we enjoyed it so much we opted to buy it instead of renting it.
My brother and I, still silent and alert, shot up off the sofa to go get the essentials out of the closet. We made sure to get a camera, sunglasses, sunscreen, bug repellent, and water. My brother and I then walked upstairs. The stairs squeaked due to the senior house condition. Grabbing two of the life jackets on the table, my brother and I headed outside to the car.
“Do you guys have everything?” my father asked.
“Yup,” I said. My mother pushed the trunk button on the car keys. My brother and I walked to the trunk to set down everything piling up in our hands. We hopped in the car, and my mother handed my father the car keys. He started up the car, and we sought out the wetlands.
On the way to the wetlands we saw a few alligators in the water. We could only see the bridge of their nose and a few of their teeth sticking out. Even though they camouflaged into the muddy water, they were still visible. “Hey, look at the crocodiles in the water!” said my brother.
“They are actually alligators” I said.
“Oh, what's the difference” my brother asked.
“Alligators have U-shaped faces that are wide and short, while crocodiles have narrow, more V-shaped muzzles.” I finished.
We then pulled up to the muddy forest wasteland, coated with water. My brother and I got out of the car and walked out to stretch our legs. My mother and father followed. We headed to our airboat and got on. My father started the engine when everyone arrived and were safely on their seats. A rough engine called from under the boat. The windmill-like fan started extremely fast. My mother’s hair blew all around due to the wind.
About 30 minutes in on the trip our engine failed, leaving us to paddle. I was half-awake on the seat, my arm hanging over the edge of the boat. Before I knew it, “SNAP!” My arm up to my elbow was completely bit off by an alligator.
I screamed in pain. My whole family, horrified and stunned, screamed with me. I fell asleep, drifting through a sea of my consciousness, for what seemed like only a few seconds.
I awoke in the hospital, never the same again, with my arm medically treated. I then thought of what will come next in my life with only one arm. I knew what had to be done.
Three years later, I bought my first gun. It was a .357 Smith and Wesson Magnum. I took a long walk outside of the gun shop to the exact spot of where my arm was seized. I remembered the exact skin coating of the alligator, a green and black pattern that almost looked like a flower.
I progressed on foot to a spot on the shore where I last saw that evil gator. I glanced around looking for anything significant to where the gator might be. I heard a big splash behind me. I turned, and to my surprise there it was approaching me with murderous intent. It raced to me through the water and started to walk up on the shore. The gator hit land a foot away from me, and snapped its jaws at me. I ran backwards up on the shore. I pulled out my .357, and right before it could claim my leg, I shot that gator dead.