‘Harlan . . .’ Belle’s words caught in her throat. Her eyes were fixed on what was stirring right there behind him.
Shit, that thing’s massive . . .
He must have heard something. Maybe a twitch of ancient muscle in the instant before the biggest caiman moved. Harlan’s head whipped down, and back. He staggered forward a step, his foot slipping on algae-slimed rocks. A cry escaped him and then the caiman lunged, very fast, its jaws opening wide.
Harlan was knocked backward into the water and as fast as an express train the caiman was in there too, grabbing him with ferocious teeth, yanking him under. The waters of the big pool thrashed and boiled and Belle stood there frozen.
Suddenly, Harlan’s head broke the surface.
‘Christ, help me, Belle!’ His eyes were wild with fear.
The thing was rolling, dragging him back under. Over the din of the waterfall and the roaring of the water as man and beast fought, she thought she could hear something else. Then she realized what it was; it was Harlan’s bones, snapping like pistol shots as the caiman shook him in its jaws like a dog worrying a rat.
Shivering with horror, she got her legs to move. Treading warily, she rounded the pond with its inky black waters. He might be a monster but she bloody wasn’t. If she could save him, she would. For a long while the waters were still. No movement. Belle looked around but could see nothing. No movement at all.
And then Harlan’s head came to the surface, eyes open. There was a small smear of blood on his chin. His breath was wheezing in and out of his throat in tortured little gasps.
‘Shoot it . . .’ he said faintly.
The big caiman’s head broke the still surface of the pool right beside his, its reptilian eyes without expression, without feeling. Then its jaws opened, wider and wider.
Belle aimed the gun. Then into her brain trickled the memories. Her mum. Her dad. Baby Jake. Charlie and Nula. And all that Harlan had made her, personally, suffer with his cruelty. All the misery he must be causing day by day, to thousands of people.
Her hand moved, realigning the gun.
Now she wasn’t pointing it at the caiman.
She was aiming at Harlan.
He saw her movement and a weird grimace twisted his brick-red face as the caiman inched closer, ready to force the life out of him.
‘You . . . ain’t got the fucking balls . . . for that . . .’ Harlan groaned.
Belle stared him straight in the eye. Then she let the gun fall to her side.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘But not having balls at least means I don’t have to think with them.’
His eyes were still open, and horribly aware, as the caiman’s huge jaws clamped down, covering his head.
Slowly, the massive beast sank down, into the depths, dragging Harlan Stone with him. The water closed over the pair of them with barely a ripple.
Belle stood there for a little while and then, carefully, she walked back around the pond. Then she stepped through the heavy plastic door and out through the main door where the warning notices were posted, and into the sunshine and fresh air, where Jack was waiting for the fifteen minutes to be up. To her, it felt like she’d been in the zoo for hours.
‘You OK?’ he asked.
‘Yeah. Much better now,’ said Belle. She thought of the phone lines straight into the feed room at the zoo. No, that wouldn’t do at all.
‘Where is he?’ asked Jack. He took the gun she handed him, checked it; it hadn’t been fired.
‘In there. Something ate him but we don’t know a thing about that. Jack? You can take all the taps off his phone lines now. We don’t need them any more.’