As your attacker grabs you, he may move. Move with him and show no resistance until you can do a self-defense move such as a jab to the stomach or foot stomp.
I recognize the voice.
Uncle Bob is back.
Before I can run into the swamps for cover, the liger guards my path. His tail flicks back and forth to a steady rhythm.
Even though I’ve seen the huge hybrid lion/tiger before, his enormous features, his undeniable beauty, and his very large fangs—all make me choke on my breath. This thing makes a panther look like a house mouse.
Mo – on the other hand – stares, eyes huge and round. This is his first encounter with Hercules, so the shock lingers.
He remembers to breathe and mumbles, “Blimey.”
Mo and I slowly turn around and face Uncle Bob. He’s leaning on a shotgun like he’s got all day. Neither of us says a word.
“Fancy finding you here.” Uncle Bob leans on the butt of his gun and smiles at me. Then he eyes Mo. “You’re a bonus. But I wouldn’t run if I were you. Hercules loves to play chase.”
When we don’t respond, he addresses me again. “I must say, Grace, I underestimated you. You’ve gotten further than anyone I’ve brought out here. I’m impressed.”
“Am I supposed to say thanks?” My words are sharp, but they bounce right off Uncle Bob because he laughs.
I keep my wits in tune. Act tough. Don’t cry. This is the only way to handle psycho guys like this. Show. No. Fear. They feed off control so if you don’t give it to them, they start to unravel. I learned this information the hard way. If I pretend not to be scared, I may not live but at least I have a slim chance. It’s like in the wild. If prey runs, it is hunted down and killed.
But, if the prey stays and fights, sometimes, and with a little help from Mother Nature herself, the predator will give up and go away.
Should I be so lucky?
I shove my hands in my pocket, making Bob flinch. I smile at gaining the small ounce of control. “You may have caught me. But my friends, Dylan and Sadie, are way ahead of me.”
Uncle Bob laughs and takes off his hat to wipe his forehead. “Pretty sure that’s a lie. We killed that boy two days ago.”
His words force me to take a step back. “What?” I don’t know whether I want to scream or cry.
Mo shakes his head and touches my shoulder. “Don’t believe him. That’s a lie.”
Uncle Bob acts as though Mo said nothing. Instead he rattles my resolve with more information. “The girl got away. But don’t worry, one of my boys is hot on her tail, Oh, I mean trail.” He sneers at the stupid slip and spits tobacco on the ground. If this dude was five inches taller, a couple inches wider, and a few years younger, he could pass for Al.
“So who’s your boyfriend?” He walks up to Mo and inspects him. When Mo moves. Uncle Bob picks up his gun and puts it to Mo’s forehead. “Someone you picked up in the woods?”
Mo pretends the gun isn’t against his brain. He steps in front of me. “Actually, I’m part of the Fish and Wildlife Service. And I’m fairly positive this is all very illegal.”
Uncle Bob keeps his gun on Mo. “Don’t buy it son. You’re too young to be any kind of officer. He frowns. “And you probably should know you picked the wrong company to keep. See, this girl is on my Most Wanted list. Unfortunately for her, she and her tree hugger friend stuck their noses up in my business. Trespassed on my property. B&E into my pens. And stole my animal. This girl can’t be trusted. She has to pay.”
“Not as long as I’m here,” Mo says.
“I’ll have to change that then.” Uncle Bob cocks his gun.
Mo lunges at him and knocks him to the ground.
Uncle Bob yells, “Hercules, attack.”
The liger lunges for me.
I duck, expecting a blow, but a rope that is tied around his neck catches on the tree, pulling him back. It takes my heart and me a second to absorb the scene.
I take a few steps back to make sure I’m out of reach. My body relaxes. “Oh I’m sorry, Uncle Bob. Hercules is a little tied up right now. Maybe you guys should let your animals roam free.” The observation is a good one. If Hercules is such a great pet, why is he leashed all the time? Unless Bob is scared of his liger too.
Uncle Bob snarls like a cat and jumps to his feet. He throws a punch at Mo who’s in a fighting stance, moving in a small circle.
Mo slides out of the way and then slams his double-fist down on Uncle Bob’s back.
Uncle Bob grunts but only goes down on one knee. He pulls a knife out of his back pocket and pops out the switchblade. “Let’s party, boy.”
They both circle each other in a standoff. Only I’ve seen Mo fight. And he’s only gotten better. I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side.
When Uncle Bob moves closer to me, he reaches out and grabs my arm, putting the knife to my neck.
Mo stands upright and freezes. “Let her go.”
“I’d rather not. Step back or I’ll kill her.” Uncle Bob’s breath is hot on my ear and smells like beer and smoke mixed. The scent makes my stomach ripple.
Mo takes a step forward. “Don’t hurt her.”
“Oh! You care about this chick. So it’s not just some Tarzan & Jane bootie call. Good to know.” Uncle Bob presses the sharp blade against my skin. The steel feels as if it’s burning my flesh.
The liger thrashes by the tree, clawing at his throat, desperate to escape his man-made leash.
The familiar scene brings me back to the first time I ran into Al and Billy in the woods. No telling what those two men would have done to me if Mo hadn’t shown up in time. The fact that he had to save me then and thinks he needs to save me now bugs me. I need to depend on myself to get out of sticky situations that I put myself in.
It’s what Dad taught me.
I’ve been through so much in the last year. Yet I’ve come through it and managed to survive. If I can outsmart Al, this short Everglades squatter isn’t taking me down.
Without warning, I jam my elbow into Uncle Bob’s gut. He goes a bit limp and coughs, long enough for me to turn around and knee him in the groin. The old timer drops like a bag of sand.
Uncle Bob forces himself to his feet and tries to cut Hercules lose. “I’ll let Hercules deal with you so I can take on your pathetic boyfriend.”
I let my hands hang, nice and relaxed, preparing for any attack. From any side. “Why are you doing this? You know it’s not going to end well. It can’t.”
“Simple. I’m bored.” Uncle Bob continues releasing the liger. “I’ve been hunting my whole life. You name it, I’ve killed it. Moose, bears, lions. Even elephants. The wildest in the world. There’s nothing else to hunt.”
I make a face at the thought of him preying on animals as well as people. “So what? Now you kidnap runaways?”
I can feel Mo’s presence behind me, but he doesn’t move. He’s waiting for something. I can feel it. The moment will come.
“Kidnap? No, they come willingly. I offer them everything they don’t have. Money, food, shelter. Most of them don’t want to end up on the streets. That girl you saw didn’t ask one question. The boy was a bit more trouble, but he cooperated in the end. To be fair, he almost lasted as long as you.”
“You’re sick.”
He shifts his knife into the other hand. “You have no idea. Go get her Hercules.” The rope snaps, freeing the beast. Only instead of charging me, Hercules jumps on Uncle Bob’s back.
Uncle Bob screams the liger’s name and tosses out commands. “Hercules, heel!” He reaches for his belt but the whip isn’t there.
The liger doesn’t listen or obey. Instead, he lets go for a split second and regrips Uncle Bob by his throat, pinning him down.
Mo pulls me behind him. “Don’t move.”
I grip his waist and bury my head in his shirt. I can’t watch.
A scream from Uncle Bob is followed by some gurgling sounds and crunching noises.
I cover both ears.
See no evil, hear no evil.
Blocking out the world, I admit that deep down part of me wants to help this man. Save him from a grisly death. But I can’t take on a crazed semi-truck-of-an-animal for some lowlife who killed an innocent girl, who tried to kill me, and who probably murdered my friends too.
The large cat doesn’t move until Uncle Bob finally stops thrashing.
It feels like it takes forever. The seconds stretch into minutes, which feel like hours.
Until it’s finally over.
Uncle Bob is dead.
Hercules lies down next to his kill and licks Uncle Bob’s bloody face.
Mo and I have slowly backed into a bush but are still in the animal’s view if he turns.
“I can’t believe he killed his owner,” I whisper.
“He doesn’t know,” Mo says quietly. “He’s wild. It’s ingrained in him to hunt. They always go for the easiest and closest kill.”
Hercules’ ear locates us behind the bush, but he does nothing. His ears lie back against his head, eavesdropping on our conversation. He licks his massive paw, which is at least the size of my whole head.
Mo’s right.
Wild animals are meant to be wild. No matter what. You can’t tame them. Mother Nature sees to that. She gives them what they need. No human can take that away.
Mo raises his gun and aims at Hercules.
When he’s about to pull the trigger, I push his hand out of the way. “Don’t.”
“That thing will eat us if he gets the chance.” Mo keeps his hand on the trigger but lowers his arm.
“He’s not attacking us now.” I say quietly. “We can’t just kill to kill.”
Mo stays alert and kisses my head. “That’s why I love you. You actually believe in something and try to do something about it. Not many people do that. Especially if their life is threatened.”
I smile and squeeze him from behind.
Hercules stands, putting Mo on Defcon four. If the liger walks this way, he’s dead. Instead of attacking, the liger picks up his owner by the shoulder and drags him into the thickest part of the woods. Not a moment of remorse or thought.
Nothing wasted.
Animals kill to eat. Not for fun.
“See? He didn’t want us. He got his meat and now he’s gone.”
Mo puts the gun away. “At some point, you may have to kill an animal if it’s attacking you. What are you going to do then?”
“I’ll know when the time comes.”
Mo leans against a rock and watches the spot where Hercules disappeared. “It’s not bad, you know.”
“What isn’t?”
He grabs my belt loop and pulls me close. “It’s not bad to kill an animal in defense. Or if you’re hunting for food. It’s the way people abuse and slaughter animals—for fun—that’s what is so bad.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I shrug and try to wiggle out of his iron embrace. Mo always does this tough hug when he wants me to listen. Because he can say what he wants and I can’t get away.
“I want to make sure you aren’t forgetting the difference. Or it could cost you.”
I frown and turn my head when he goes to kiss me. “I don’t need a lecture on animal conservation.”
“I’m not lecturing, Grace. I’m keeping you safe.” He smirks and tightens his hold like a boa constrictor on a rabbit. No squirming. No getting away. “You may need to make a decision in a split second out in the wild and if you ever hesitate...you could die.”
“I won’t. But thank you for the PSA.” I rub his face with the back of my hand. His stubbles scratch my flesh, but I don’t care.
Mo and I kiss for a second.
“I need you to stay safe.”
“I’m safer when you’re around. Besides, I’m strong. All on my own.”
“I hope so. Not sure I could live with myself if anything happened to you.” He tips his head back and studies the sky. We’re both still damp from the light shower but somewhere in the last ten minutes, it stopped.
To leave, we have to walk past the place where Uncle Bob was attacked by his own pet.
Blood smears mark the ground in the direction Hercules dragged the body.
I stop and stare, feeling numb. Something changes in me in that moment. I don’t feel sick. Don’t feel scared. In fact, I don’t feel anything. A year ago, this bloody scene would have bothered me. Now, it doesn’t penetrate my wall. Now, it doesn’t matter to me.
“You okay?” Mo asks.
I nod, but sadness simmers in my gut, causing my throat to clench.
I’m not sad because Uncle Bob died.
I’m sad because this is the first time I don’t care.
Death doesn’t bother me as much as it used to.
And I’m not sure that’s a good thing.