Mack

The two beings stared at each other from across the small gulf. One an ancient killing machine, leering with stoic intensity. The other an outcome of evolution, glaring at the beast with fury and disdain.

Toby recognized the gator instantly. The pale, fleshy scar on the top of the thing’s skull was a dead giveaway. It sat on the gator’s head defined like a sore against the rest of the animal’s dark grey body, sticking out indefinitely. The confirmation balled Toby’s fists. He was seething.

“Fuck you,” he said emotionlessly, deciding to contain his wrath for now.

To say that Toby and the creature had history would be an understatement. Twenty-three years had passed and Toby still thought about the traumatic events that unfolded that day. It haunted him and brought bile to the back of his throat and forced tears to well up. He had those same emotions now in the face of the predator.

Toby spat into the gulf, thinking that it was somehow a small win by soiling its habitat. The water rippled and Toby glanced away from the gator to see his own wobbling reflection in the water.

He was a small man, but the reflection made him seem drastically smaller. The wind frizzled his thin, blonde hair, making it dance in the cool breeze of the end of Summer. His features were shady in the water’s mirroring, but his face was the same scrunched up mess that it had been his entire life. The same face that once screamed into the gator’s all those years ago.

Twenty-three years. It was hard for Toby to believe it had really been that long. So much time had passed and Toby had so little to show for it. He was thirty-three now. He had no family of his own, lived in a shitty one bedroom apartment in the city, and had a job he hated. His ten year old self would have been so ashamed, maybe even more so that his current self was. That day should have been one of self-discovery and promise. He should have vowed to come back for the beast when he was bigger, stronger, and more intelligent. Instead, he let the event ruin him. Fear took a stranglehold over his life that day.

But here he was trying to take it back.

He looked up from his reflection to see that the animal had moved closer. Just a few feet. But this was good. This was what he wanted.

It wasn’t just the two of them that day. There was also Mack, Toby’s one year old puppy. Mack was a Shiranian, a small breed resulting from the crossbreeding of a Shih Tzu and a Pomeranian. Toby’s father had found Mack, the runt of a litter, in the bushes near their house. The rest of the pack had been torn apart by something, but Mack was small enough to hide and avoid the slaughter. Toby’s dad had described the scene as “something awful” and Toby was always grateful that he never got to see it. His dad took on the burden of disposing of the corpses of the pups. Mack’s parents were never identified, the vet was the one who figured out what he was.

Mack was a damn good dog and went everywhere with Toby. He may have looked fancy and poofy, but Mack was tough. He traversed the wild terrain like it was his destiny and was never afraid to go after snakes or squirrels.

Toby’s parents were weary of Mack from the beginning. They always reminded Toby that Mack was a small dog. Whatever got his brothers and sisters could get him. Venomous snakes like cottonmouths and copperheads could bite him and that would be that. But for ten year old Toby, Mack was a vicious beast, fearless. He would never die.

The small gulf was a frequent spot of Toby’s. It had a nice view and the spot was secluded and peaceful. And to the best of Toby’s knowledge at that time, the gulf was saltwater and shallow. He assumed too much and that resulted in a great error. It was in fact freshwater and fairly deep. Its seclusion and elements made it a perfect home for a gator.

That day was the first that Toby had seen the gator. It lurked at the far end of the gulf. At first, he thought it was a log. The thing made no movements, it just drifted. But something about it beckoned Toby’s attention. So he stared at the thing until everything became clear. That was a gator. The realization dawned on him and he immediately began to gather his things. He scooped up his fishing rod and packed lunch. Once he had his things, he glanced back in the general direction he’d noticed the gator to see that it was no longer there.

Mack growled. The small snarl commanded Toby’s attention. He looked over to see Mack by the water’s edge, just a few feet away from the repositioned alligator.

Toby’s mind raced with scenarios in a flash. He had to get Mack away. Maybe Mack was quick enough to get away from the thing. Maybe he could throw something to scare the gator away.

Toby’s young mind hung on the hope that his best furry friend would have the reflexes to shift out of reach of the apex predator. He was naive.

The gator reared up, its brawny neck jutted out of the water. The thing let out a hiss that caused Mack to whimper. Then it lunged forward.

Mack yipped as the youthful gator snapped down on his shoulder. The lizard was half out of the water now and Toby saw its size. It wasn’t a full adult yet. Head to tail, it was probably only slightly bigger than him and they probably weighed about the same. Toby’s mind flashed with scenarios again as he found his body leaning toward the attack.

He decided almost instantly to try and save his best bud. He would fight the gator if he had to. Lose fingers or a limb if he had to. He wouldn’t let it take Mack.

But Toby wasn’t as fast as the gator. By the time he got to the assault, the gator already had the yelping dog in a foot of water. Toby no longer had homefield advantage, that now belonged to the gator.

He grabbed hold of Mack’s quivering hindlegs. The narrow snout of the young gator gripped the dog’s torso tightly. Mack cranked his neck, staring helplessly at his owner as the powerful beast latched to him. His eyes were fearful and neglected. They asked Toby why?

Why was this happening to him? Why was Toby letting this happen?

As the beast dragged Mack deeper into the water. A dreadful worry added itself to Toby’s list of current fears in his predicament. The death roll.

If the gator performed the instinctual maneuver, it would be trouble. Even at his young age, Toby knew about the gator’s main weapon. Toby had to get Mack away before then.

But it was obvious that it wasn’t going to just let go. Another fact about gators then popped into Toby’s head. Their only weakness. A soft spot on the top of their skull.

Toby looked back and his eyes found their way to a mound of baseball sized rocks. He reached back and couldn’t reach them. His grip loosened on Mack and he almost lost him, but the attempt rewarded Toby in the grand scheme of things. He now had a rock in his hands.

With a guttural yell, he swung the rock down right on top of the reptile’s skull. The thunk it made was sickening but brought about pride to Toby in the moment. The beast’s eyes shuttered and blood spouted from the gash. Toby watched as the crimson found its way into the gator’s yellow, dinosaur-like eyes. It gave the beast a crazed look. Not one of defeat, but one that told Toby that he’d just pissed it off.

It chomped down on Mack even tighter and waded deeper into the gulf. Mack’s bones popped and he made a sound that instantly brought about tears to Toby’s eyes.

“Please, stop!” Toby cried out, pleading with the killer.

Mack’s yelping stopped. He looked back at Toby. Defeat dominated him. His eyes drooped and he seemed to frown. His black, bottom lip puckered as if to plead with Toby to help him further. To try something else.

The beast then, suddenly, let go. Toby felt the lightweight of Mack in the water. But the dog seemed to cringe. A smile fumbled its way across Toby’s delusional face as the gator snapped its jaws down on Mack’s head. The dog made no sound.

It jerked Mack away from Toby’s grasp and into the deep water, submerging itself under the murky tide.

Toby stood there in the water for a while. In shock. He got to dry land and watched the water for an hour while sobbing painfully. The gator never emerged, never showed its ugly bleeding head.

For twenty-three years, Toby never returned to the little gulf.

Now he stood there and beckoned for the gator to come to him. And it did, inching closer and closer with every passing minute.

As it neared, Toby noticed the size of the thing. It had gotten bigger, much bigger. The four and a half foot lizard he had known in his youth had grown into a monster. The thing had to surpass twelve feet. Its head was like a bull, thick and stout. The gnarly scar seemed to show signs of an old infection, the skin around it had this permanent bubbling look.

The reptile sat just before Toby now. Day had become dusk as the sun was setting behind the shaggy willows that surrounded the body of water. A flock of ducks soared past quacking in their “V” formation. Thunder loomed behind sinister clouds.

Toby and the animal stared at each other, the outside world was meaningless. The beast was calm and Toby was angry. A hesitant step in the direction of the gator caused its eyes to narrow, as if it remembered him too. Then it blinked and settled down into the water, easing backwards.

Toby dropped to his knees and sobbed, much like he did as a child. He realized that after all those years, neither owed the other an answer. When he looked back up, the gator’s eyes were still on him, cautiously waiting, accepting whatever decision he would ultimately make. But Toby didn’t move, didn’t retreat, he stayed where he was and so did the gator. The water and soil between them held everything that mattered. The sky opened and rain pummeled the two creatures.

When Toby finally composed himself, he found that the gator had left him all alone. He watched the storm curse his old stomping grounds and thought of his old friend Mack.