Chomp: Chapters 7–10

Derek slipped up to his neck into the water, careful not to muss his hair.

Soon the sun will be setting over the Everglades, and I find myself in a perilous predicament.

Soon the sun will be setting over the Everglades, and I find myself in a perilous predicament.

Wahoo glanced over at Mickey, who didn’t look enthralled.

Wahoo and his father sidled closer to the video monitor and peeked over the cameraman’s shoulder.

Sure enough, Derek Badger made it safely across the pond and slogged up into the shallows.

Derek trudged around the bank of the pond and rejoined the crew. “I want to do another take,” he said sullenly.

A swelling appeared in the glassy pool—Alice, rising to take a breath. This time the full breadth of her back broke the surface, the black scales glistening like barnacles. She was as wide as a railroad track.

Ten minutes passed, then fifteen more. Derek continued to flounder around the fake Everglades lagoon while Alice remained out of sight.

During their 150 million years of existence, alligators have survived global upheavals that wiped out thousands of other species—volcanic eruptions, raging floods, sizzling droughts, melting glaciers and crashing meteorites.

Contrary to media hype, wild alligators are born with the instinct to avoid people and will usually stay away if given a choice.

But compared with all the epic disasters that her ancestors had endured, a flabby fake Australian probably wouldn’t have been viewed as a serious threat. On the other hand, she had never before encountered a human so foolhardy.

Whether Alice failed to see Derek Badger because he was in the lily pads, or whether he purposely positioned himself to intercept her, the result was the same. Somehow he wound up straddling her back, like a tipsy cowboy on a bronco.

Derek happened to reenter the pond at the biting end of Alice, and through pure misfortune his khaki shorts became snagged on two of her eighty teeth. This connection caused him to begin rotating in unison with the spinning reptile, creating a frothy turmoil on the water.

Wahoo’s heart was pounding in his eardrums. He was so riveted on the chaos in the pool that he didn’t see Raven approach him from the side and lunge for the gun.

Over the years there had been other mishaps while staging wildlife encounters, yet nothing as harrowing as his encounter with the swamp beast called Alice.

Derek glowered. “Are you threatening to blackmail me?”

Raven said, “But he saved your life, Derek.”
“And he shall be compensated handsomely.”

Mickey eyed him warily. “Where’d you get that money?”

They were loading the provisions into the back of the pickup truck when Wahoo heard someone call, “Wait up!”

Derek loved using helicopters to shoot high aerial scenes of himself traipsing through the bush, making it appear as if he were all alone.

Derek beckoned them both to his bedside. “This is pure gold,” he said, touching the Replay button again and setting the alligator scene in motion. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime, near-death experience.”

Raven glanced apprehensively at the director, who said to Derek, “Why not have a few ringers handy, just for backup? They’ve got a gimpy bobcat that I’m sure we could use in a scene or two—”

Derek basked on the bed like a walrus, jowly and content.

Derek basked on the bed like a walrus, jowly and content.

“But what if we don’t come across any wild animals?” the director asked. “Then we’ve basically got fifty minutes of you schlepping through the muck.”

Raven went outside to think. The director caught up with her by the primate pen, a safe distance from the motor coach. There was no way Derek could hear them over the shrill din of monkey chatter.

“I’m not loving this scenario,” the director confided.
“Me neither,” Raven said grimly.

The first part of the scientific name identified the genus, and the last part was the species.

Leading the convoy to the Everglades were two equipment trucks hauling all the lights, scaffolds, wiring, batteries, sound boards and video cameras.

Leading the convoy to the Everglades were two equipment trucks hauling all the lights, scaffolds, wiring, batteries, sound boards and video cameras.

Ahead of them, Derek Badger’s enormous black motor coach jounced and swayed on the road to the Everglades.

There Sickler peddled counterfeit Seminole artifacts and charged tourists twenty dollars a head for a one-hour airboat tour—five bucks more when they asked for a box lunch.

That’s because Sickler had purchased an eight-footer from a taxidermist in Homestead and nailed it to a cypress log half a mile from the dock. He named the stuffed gator “Old Sleepy,” and the tourists never caught on.

Derek Badger sauntered up and introduced himself. “Would you like me to autograph the wall of your shop?”

Derek remained focused on the portly Sickler. “What can we expect to encounter out there?” he asked, jerking his marshmallow chin toward the shimmering wetlands.

Sickler, who ventured into the wilderness as seldom as possible, sensed that Mr. Badger and his TV crew were seeking an element of danger.

“Poison snakes,” he replied ominously. “And gators, for sure.”

Mickey gave Sickler such a cold, cutting stare that the crooked proprietor sheepishly excused himself and waddled off to the stockroom.

Mickey gave Sickler such a cold, cutting stare that the crooked proprietor sheepishly excused himself and waddled off to the stockroom.