Alligator Park (14 page)

Fargo gets up, motions Will
to follow him to the back of the house. I glance at the clock and see it’s
almost ten o’clock. I hear some whispering and wonder what they are up to. A
few minutes later they return.

“We put clean sheets on the bed
in the spare room,” Fargo says. “Will’s okay with sleeping in here tonight.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“You’ll have to excuse me. I
have a big day tomorrow. A scout troop from Atlanta is coming down for a nature
tour and I need to prepare.

“I was hoping we’d have some
time to talk,” I say.

“I’ll be done at noon. We
should have a couple of hours before you leave.”

‘Before you leave’, those
dreaded words. I was hoping he would have a change of heart and let me stay a
couple more days. But it was not to be. Even three glasses of wine was not
enough to soften his resolve.

Fargo closes the latch on the
front door securely locking it, then retreats to his bedroom. I sit there
staring at Will hoping he has something reassuring to say, but he makes no
comment. In desperation, I pick up the bottle of Muscadine and see there’s a
small amount left.

“It’ll go bad if we don’t
finish it,” I say.

Will nods in agreement so I divide
it equally between our glasses and then we finish off the remaining wine.

Cleaning up is the last thing
I want to do right now, but I don’t want Fargo to think I left a mess so I start
carrying the dirty dishes back to the kitchen.

“I guess you want me to help,”
Will says.

“If you like.”

Will cheerfully washes the
dishes then stacks them by the sink while I put the remaining food in the
refrigerator.

“Nice meal,” he says, trying
to make conversation.

“Do you think Fargo liked it?”

Will stops for a minute,
contemplates.

“Yes, I think he did.”

After that neither one of us
says a word. We’re both exhausted so we just go about our tasks in silence.

My mind wanders to my meeting
with Dr. Parker. It’s only two days away, and I’m getting nervous. My future
depends on this meeting and I have to get it right. I think about my blue hair.
Should I dye it back to my natural color, black? Maybe I should cut it. It’s a couple
of inches past my shoulders, but I want to grow it longer. The problem is: it’s
been almost two months since I last dyed it and the dark roots are becoming
noticeable. I’m worried this could be a put-off to Dr. Parker. But I still have
another whole day, no reason to concern myself now. I’ll just sleep on it, and then,
decide tomorrow.

Will finishes the dishes and then
begins drying them, placing them into neat stacks on the counter. One by one, I
pick up the stacks and place them back into the cabinet, exactly where they
came from. Finally, I get to the last stack, place it into the cabinet, and
close the door. Thank goodness; we’re done!

I bid Will a good night and
retreat to the bedroom. I plop on the bed without even changing into my night
clothes. I’m too tired to care, and my head is spinning from the wine. I pull
up the covers and fade off into a deep sleep.

I awaken to the sound of an annoyingly
loud engine, like a truck with a bad muffler. Peeking out the window, I see the
source of the noise, a yellow school bus entering the parking lot. The driver
pulls the bus close to the dock and stops. The doors fly open and about thirty
scouts file onto the parking lot.

Fargo strolls over and greets
them. The scoutmaster orders the boys to line up and begins counting them.
Fargo sprints back to his cabin.

I hastily comb my hair, wipe
the sleep out of my eyes, then race to the kitchen pretending to be working on
breakfast. Fargo walks in, glances at Will sound asleep on the floor. He turns
towards me.

“I guess the trip wore him out,”
he says.

“Can I fix you breakfast?” I
say.

“We’ll be eating on the
trail, but thanks anyway.”

He reaches into a closet and
removes a backpack then swings it over his shoulder. “Is there anything you
need while I’m away?” he asks.

“Would you mind if I used
your phone?”

“Isn’t your cell working?”

“I turned it off. There’s no
service out here.”

“Try it again.”

I retrieve the phone from my
purse and turn it on. It springs to life showing four bars.

“Amazing. It was stone dead
just a few miles from here.”

“It’s the booster,” he says.

“Booster?”

“I had to get a booster for
those out-of-state tourists that can’t live without a phone. But it only works
near the cabin. A hundred feet in any direction and you will lose service.”

“I’ll remember that,” I say,
as Fargo reaches for the door knob.

“Have to run. See you at five.”

He opens the door, and then,
exits.

I peek out the window and
watch him join the scouts. He says something to them and they all line up
behind him. He leads them down a trail and into the woods. I watch until they
are completely out of sight.

Will is sound asleep so I use
the opportunity to get a shower. After the shower, I dry my hair, put on some
makeup, and then slip into a pair of shorts and a tee shirt.

As I enter the kitchen, Will
stirs in his makeshift bed. The eye patch had moved during the night and I can
see the deep wound where his left eye would have been. It’s obvious why he
wears the patch; it’s not the kind of thing you would want to display in
public. It would skeeve people, drive them away.

Will sits up, still half
asleep. He notices me staring at him and quickly realigns the eye patch.

“What time is it?” he asks.

I glance at the clock.

“Eight o’clock.”

“Wow, slept nine hours. Really
needed it.”

Will stands up and shuffles
to the bathroom. As he closes the door I hear a text message sound from my
cellphone. I pick up the phone and see that it’s from Dr. Jessica Parker. She’s
probably confirming our meeting for tomorrow, I think.

And then I read it; “Wednesday
meeting cancelled. Something came up. Regards, Jessica.”

That’s it? I travel a
thousand miles to meet with her, at her invitation, and that’s all I get, a
brief text message and no explanation? It must be a mistake. My whole future
depends on this meeting. My hand shakes. Will walks in and sees me staring at
the screen.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

“She cancelled.”

“Who cancelled?”

“Dr. Parker.”

“Why?” he asks.

“Don’t know. She just said
the meeting was cancelled.”

Will stands there, doesn’t
move a muscle. He knows how much this meeting means to me; it’s the only reason
I’m here. It’s the only reason I gave up my apartment, drove a thousand miles,
and risked everything. It was all for this meeting.

“Well, you better call her,”
he says.

“Should I?”

“Of course. It probably has
something to do with the holidays. Ask her if you can reschedule.”

Will was right. I was
probably reading more into this than there actually was. People get stressed
around the holidays, do unexpected things, and Christmas was only three days
away.

I walk out onto the porch to
get some fresh air. The lake is much larger than I imagined and there are small
grassy islands sprinkled all around. Some are large enough to have tall palm
trees growing out of them.

A dense mist pervades the
space directly above the water to a height of about twenty feet. It’s a
phenomenon only seen this time of year I’m told. The water, heated by warm sand
at the bottom of the lake, attempts to evaporate. But the cool northern air,
which has descended upon us during the night, restrains it, and thus, prevents
its normal ascent to the clouds. It gives the illusion of a thick blanket of vapor
spread out endlessly in every direction. It’s something I have never seen
before producing a unique and eerie effect.

At the water’s
edge, several hundred yards away, I can clearly see the dock we were on last
night. Tied to it are two airboats and on the other side, some rowboats. It’s
obvious the dock has passed its better days and is in need of repair. The
pylons are no longer vertical and parts of the boardwalk are rotted away. It’s
not like it’s going to collapse anytime soon, but it appears that a couple of
days of work could easily bring it back to its former glory. I wonder, is it
because Fargo is just too busy, or doesn’t he care about it anymore?

I make myself comfortable in
the wooden lounge chair and dial Dr. Parker’s number. It rings and rings and
rings and I’m just about to hang up when a female voice answers. It’s her.

“Hello.”

“Oh, hello,” I blurt out.
“This is Indigo Wells.”

She patiently waits for me to
say something else, but I’m so nervous my brain shuts down.

“Did you get the message?”
she asks.

“Yes, I did, and I was
wondering if we could reschedule.”

“Look, I’m as disappointed as
you are.”

There’s a long pause and then
she adds: “I have to be honest; there’s a problem with your application.”

“Oh, what’s wrong?”

“Well, there’s nothing specifically
wrong. I was just told by the front office, in no uncertain terms, not to hire
you. I don’t know quite what to make of it.”

“Why would they say that?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I’ve never
seen this before.”

The phone goes quiet for a
moment and then she adds: “What in the world did you do?”

It all made sense now. The front
office had called Dean Haas to check my application, as is the usual practice,
and she told them everything. They’re keeping it confidential, but keeping Dr.
Parker in the dark is not helping me. I decide I need to come clean and tell
her everything.

“I was giving my dissertation
and implicated a major corporation,” I say, and go on to tell her the whole convoluted
story. How I had uncovered evidence that Farm-eXia had permeated freshwater
basins causing behavioral changes in wildlife. And how Global World Industries
had threatened to pull funding, a half-billion dollars, if the university
didn’t shut me up.

“I never intended to cause
them trouble. I just wanted to illuminate the issue, perhaps even embarrass them
a little. Maybe I was naive, stupid even, but I thought they would empower
their scientists to find a solution and I could assist them in doing it. I was
hoping they would give me a job.”

The phone goes silent for a
long time and then Dr. Parker says something I never expected.

“When I first got my PhD, I
was just like you. I wanted to change the world, make it a better place. But then
that letter arrived from their legal department. They wanted an apology from me
and all copies of my research expunged from the library. I caved just like all
the others. I had a career, and a house, and a new BMW, and I didn’t want to
lose any of it. So I did what they wanted. A year’s worth of work and all the
data and samples that went with it, destroyed. I wasn’t as brave as you Indigo,
and I’m ashamed of it.”

I couldn’t believe what I was
hearing; she was opening up to me. And I didn’t know what to say.

“Why don’t we do lunch
tomorrow,” she says. “I need to make up for all those years I was in denial.”

“Why yes, that would be nice.
Shall I meet you at your office?”

“No, that would be too risky.
I’ve already agreed not to have any contact with you. Let’s meet at a
restaurant, at ten o’clock, before the lunch crowd gets there. Almost everyone
has already left for the holidays, but I can’t risk running into a stray dean
or someone in the department that is still hanging around. Does that work for
you?” she asks.

“Yes, ten is fine,” I say.

“Okay, here’s the address...”

I copy it down and she proceeds
to tell me how to get there. I hang up the phone without the prospect of a job,
but at least I have a contact, and someone to confide in. Will joins me on the porch,
sees me put the phone away.

“All set then, for tomorrow?”
he asks.

“Well yes, and no.”

“Is that a joke?”

“Yes, I’m going tomorrow, but
no she can’t give me a job.”

“Then what’s the point of
going?”

“I don’t know. I just feel
like I need to meet her.”

“Maybe she’ll have a change
of heart.”

“It’s not up to her. The
university at Gainesville blacklisted me. There’s nothing she can do.”

“Why would they do that?” he
asks.

“Because Dean Haas told them
to. She knows I’m here now, and she’s already making things difficult.”

“How can one person have influence
down here, a thousand miles away?” he asks.

“Because they all feed from
the same trough.”

“What do you mean?”

“They all get funds from the
same source.”

“Oh, I see. And that source
is GWI?”

I nod in agreement.

Will leans against the
railing and gazes at the lake for a couple of minutes. Then he turns to face me.

“Race you to the dock,” he
says.

“What?”

“I’ll race you to the dock.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Just figured you might want
to look around a bit.”

“Sure. Say when.”

“Three, two, one, go!”

We scramble down the stairs,
down the path, and onto the dock. I beat him by an arm’s length.

“Whew! Not bad. Did you race
in college?” he asks.

“I got lucky this time,” I
say.

“You know, I used to be the
fastest one in the squadron. I guess age is catching up to me.”

“You’re still number one in
my book.”

Will strolls down the dock
pointing out the rotting boards for me to avoid. We make our way towards the
airboats, stopping to look at the first one. He steps inside, and then, offers
a hand to assist me. I take his hand and jump into the airboat.

The inside is much larger
than I imagined. It has six rows of seats and a single seat on a platform in
front of the fan for the pilot. The engine is massive and looks like it came
from a light plane. I turn to Will.

“Why does Fargo have two?” I
ask.

“Sometimes he gets a pretty
large crowd. Like from company picnics, church outings, and nature groups.”

“Who drives the other one?” I
say.

“Some local guy,” he says.

I climb into the captain’s
chair to get a sense of what it would be like to pilot one of these monster
machines. Will notices me staring at the controls so he points each one out, explains
what it’s used for.

“That’s the choke, for
starting the engine. That lever by the seat is the throttle. You use that for
setting your speed. And the other lever is for steering.”

I imagine myself skimming across
the water at sixty miles per hour, flying past the multitude of islands, some
with sandy beaches, and others with tangled mangrove bushes right down to the
waterline.

“Let’s go for a ride,” I say.

“Can’t. These are Fargo’s
babies. He’d never forgive me if I took them out. But I’ll ask him to take us when
he gets back. He likes to show off.”

The sun is now well above the
horizon. The mist that made the lake seem so ominous early this morning has
largely dissipated, burned off by the sun’s powerful rays. The warmth on my
bare legs feels wonderful against the chill of the morning air. My mind
wanders; I think about my meeting with Dr. Parker tomorrow, then realize I don’t
have a place to stay tonight.

“Would Fargo let me stay
another night?” I ask.

“Let me handle it,” he says. “If
he balks, I’ll remind him about the diapers.” He’s referring to the times he would
help his mother change his brother’s diapers after his father left and Fargo
was born. It was obvious that Fargo respected his brother and was well aware
how much Will had done for both him and his mother over the years.