small wagon exactly where he'd left it over four months earlier when he'd crossed the bridge from the north. It was crusty with salt and grime, but still serviceable. Sam conducted a final check of the car, ejected his CD, rolled up all the windows, and left the keys in the ignition. He filled the large metal wagon with gear and put on his pack.
Before starting across the bridge he donned his wide brimmed hat. The sun was already shining brightly and although Sam was as tanned as leather, his bald pate was sensitive to the sun. He also threw on his expensive designer sunglasses for good measure and began pulling the wagon.
The Pack followed along with him like an entourage and he thought this would be as close as he'd ever come to feeling like some famous important person. He imagined the dogs as paparazzi or reporters or groupies eager for his attention, and he smiled at his own silliness. The dogs revolved around him, sometimes ahead, sometimes behind like planets around the sun. The exception was Raven who was far out in front on point. The large Doberman seemed to feel it was his duty to warn his master of any danger or exceptionally exciting stuff ahead.
They continue d steadily north out over the water. Sam wanted to cover the seven miles before noon which meant a steady pace and no long stops. It normally took less than three hours, but he wanted to make it in two and a half. Crossing the bridge was a necessary evil; he didn't like being out on a thin strip of concrete and metal in the middle of the ocean. Sam realized this was probably ironic given his love for the sea, but he knew he was an extremely complex man. He took a swig of water from the thermos and chewed on some dried fish as he trudged along pulling the wagon behind him.
Suddenly Sam saw a figure dart from between two cars to his front and then vanish in the maze of metal. He froze and stared. Sam began going forward again straining his eyes, but saw nothing. Raven was alert and unconcerned.
A phantom. His brain playing tricks on him. It was happening more and more often now. He supposed if he could find a psychiatrist to talk to they would tell him it was totally normal and his brain's way of dealing with the loneliness. Normal or not, it scared him a little and reminded him too much of countless horror movies. Sam strode on even harder.
He stopped twice to pour water out in a bowl for the dogs and to stretch a little. His body was lean and muscular, but tired easy. Probably from a lack of carbohydrates he reasoned. He could hunt, fish, and scavenge for just about everything except carbs. It was hard to find those and the first things the mice and rats seemed to go for in the groceries.
Before the sun was straight up in the sky they reached the other end of the bridge. The jeep was right where he'd left it before. He threw his gear into the back and heard the dogs start barking like mad.
Sam turned to see a ten-foot long alligator coming up out of the low ground towards them. It was still pretty far away, but seemed intent on pushing itself forward. He hollered for the dogs to come to him and stay back, but they didn't listen. The wild animals had no fear of man now. Sam chuckled, the animal kingdom had no fear of the man now. He could easily get away, but was afraid one of the dogs might get too close to the alligator and get hurt.
He walked over near the creature which opened its large maw at his approach. Sam drew the Colt .45 automatic from the holster at his hip and shot the gator three times in the head and then once more when it moved again. He started to leave, but then had an idea.
Grabbing his hatchet and a trash bag from the jeep, he went back and chopped off the gator's tail while the dogs sniffed the animal cautiously. Dinner tonight would be delicious. He cut the tail into smaller portions and put them in the trash bag, tying it at the top. After cleaning off the hatchet in the grass, Sam tossed it and the heavy trash bag into the
Before starting across the bridge he donned his wide brimmed hat. The sun was already shining brightly and although Sam was as tanned as leather, his bald pate was sensitive to the sun. He also threw on his expensive designer sunglasses for good measure and began pulling the wagon.
The Pack followed along with him like an entourage and he thought this would be as close as he'd ever come to feeling like some famous important person. He imagined the dogs as paparazzi or reporters or groupies eager for his attention, and he smiled at his own silliness. The dogs revolved around him, sometimes ahead, sometimes behind like planets around the sun. The exception was Raven who was far out in front on point. The large Doberman seemed to feel it was his duty to warn his master of any danger or exceptionally exciting stuff ahead.
They continue d steadily north out over the water. Sam wanted to cover the seven miles before noon which meant a steady pace and no long stops. It normally took less than three hours, but he wanted to make it in two and a half. Crossing the bridge was a necessary evil; he didn't like being out on a thin strip of concrete and metal in the middle of the ocean. Sam realized this was probably ironic given his love for the sea, but he knew he was an extremely complex man. He took a swig of water from the thermos and chewed on some dried fish as he trudged along pulling the wagon behind him.
Suddenly Sam saw a figure dart from between two cars to his front and then vanish in the maze of metal. He froze and stared. Sam began going forward again straining his eyes, but saw nothing. Raven was alert and unconcerned.
A phantom. His brain playing tricks on him. It was happening more and more often now. He supposed if he could find a psychiatrist to talk to they would tell him it was totally normal and his brain's way of dealing with the loneliness. Normal or not, it scared him a little and reminded him too much of countless horror movies. Sam strode on even harder.
He stopped twice to pour water out in a bowl for the dogs and to stretch a little. His body was lean and muscular, but tired easy. Probably from a lack of carbohydrates he reasoned. He could hunt, fish, and scavenge for just about everything except carbs. It was hard to find those and the first things the mice and rats seemed to go for in the groceries.
Before the sun was straight up in the sky they reached the other end of the bridge. The jeep was right where he'd left it before. He threw his gear into the back and heard the dogs start barking like mad.
Sam turned to see a ten-foot long alligator coming up out of the low ground towards them. It was still pretty far away, but seemed intent on pushing itself forward. He hollered for the dogs to come to him and stay back, but they didn't listen. The wild animals had no fear of man now. Sam chuckled, the animal kingdom had no fear of the man now. He could easily get away, but was afraid one of the dogs might get too close to the alligator and get hurt.
He walked over near the creature which opened its large maw at his approach. Sam drew the Colt .45 automatic from the holster at his hip and shot the gator three times in the head and then once more when it moved again. He started to leave, but then had an idea.
Grabbing his hatchet and a trash bag from the jeep, he went back and chopped off the gator's tail while the dogs sniffed the animal cautiously. Dinner tonight would be delicious. He cut the tail into smaller portions and put them in the trash bag, tying it at the top. After cleaning off the hatchet in the grass, Sam tossed it and the heavy trash bag into the
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