Savage (Daughters of the Jaguar) (9 page)

"Hm. Maybe you're just exhausted. Your brain needs rest after a traumatic event like this. Maybe you didn't respond well to the anesthetics after all. It could be some sort of aftereffect. It could also have been caused by the traumatic shock from being pulled under water. Maybe being dead for several minutes caused some sort of damage to your nervous system. Do you have any headaches or anxiety attacks?"

"No."

"Okay. Let's keep an eye on it. Let me know if it gets any worse and we'll have you see someone about it. Or maybe give you some other medication."

"You mean like antipsychotics?" I asked knowing that those were the medications they used for people who had Schizophrenia.

"Yes or maybe a mood stabilizer will do. Something like that might be able to help you. Or maybe we should consider hospitalization if nothing else works."

That scared me. I had heard numerous stories from my father of people in long-term hospitalization for mental illnesses like Schizophrenia and being treated with lots of drugs and electro-shock and never leaving the hospital again.

So I decided the doctor couldn't help me with this. I called him up the next day and told him that I was doing fine, that taking me off the medication had already helped and the voices were all gone. There was no need to worry. After I put down the phone I decided never to talk to anyone about it again.

On the night Jim arrived to the house I heard Jim and Heather's voices from downstairs in the hallway. Curiosity got the better of me so I went down the stairs and found them talking quietly by the entrance door. I hadn’t quite figured out what was going on between Heather and me any longer, if there was still anything between us or not. We were friends, I guess, and she was being very protective of me always asking if I was in pain, if I wanted anything or if she could do anything for me—which I found really nice. I didn’t know if she looked upon us as a couple, though. We hadn’t kissed since that night in the water and her father had told me to keep my hands off of her, so I did. Furthermore I didn’t feel like being romantic or involved with anyone right now. I had told her that. I was in a state of deep depression, and frankly, I didn’t trust myself or my own judgment anymore. So it wasn’t out of jealousy or because I thought something was going on between the two of them that I walked down there.

Jim was in his green hunting outfit with a ridiculous matching hat. It was probably extremely expensive what he was wearing but for a city boy like me he looked ludicrous.

As I came closer, they turned and looked at me. “Chris we were just talking about you,” Heather said.

“About me?” I was surprised.

“Yes,” Jim said. “I have come to take you out of here for awhile. We think it’ll do you some good to get out a little.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, no. Is this some sort of an attempt to rescue me from myself? I don’t need that."

“I think you do,” Heather exclaimed. “You stay in that room all day and do nothing. It is not healthy.”

“I read,” I said. “I read books and papers.”

“About what Chris? About people dying and coming back to life, about jaguars. All are things that have to do with what happened to you. You’re obsessed. Can’t you see that? You need to move on. It’ll drive you crazy if you don’t. You don’t even play your guitar anymore. Something has to be done. You have to snap out of this somehow.”

I exhaled. Maybe she had a point. I had been isolating myself completely. And not playing my guitar was a sure sign that I wasn’t being myself. “So what’s your plan? Where are you taking me?” I asked Jim.

He passed me a big brown rifle. I took it in my hands. I had just gotten rid of the bandages earlier that same day so I still had trouble moving my fingers and felt a slight pain as I did. The rifle was a lot heavier than it looked. “Why do I need this?” I asked.

“Because we are going back to the swamps to kill your beast. You need to get this out of your system. You need some sort of closure.”

“My beast? My jaguar?”

“Yes,” Jim said with a grin. “Heather and I figured that if you got to shoot the bastard then you might be able to move on somehow. If not, then at least we got you out of the house. Come on. The others are already on their way up there.”

Walking through the swamps with a weapon between my hands made me feel alive again. Jim and Heather had been right. I needed to get out of the house to get away from those books and all my thoughts and obsessions. It wasn’t good for me. It was about to drive me crazy, I realized.

As we entered the swamps again my thoughts seemed to clear up. It was like I woke up from a heavy dream. I decided to put all my research and obsession away. For the first time in a long while I felt like I took matters into my own hands. I was finally doing something and the very thought of possibly getting to see my jaguar again and maybe look into its eyes thrilled me. I didn’t know if I was capable of shooting it if I saw it, though. I had never killed anything in my life or even fired a shot with a gun, but I wanted to wait till that moment came until I decided whether to kill it or not. I wanted to look into its eyes and realize that it was nothing but an animal. That it hadn’t saved my life because it understood I was in danger, that it hadn’t spared my life but merely gotten scared away at the right time. That there was nothing behind those eyes but a simple savage beast. I needed to know that my survival wasn’t a supernatural thing, it was a mere coincidence. That would mean closure to me. Then I would be able to put this thing behind me and move on for good.

But what if it doesn’t bring you closure? A small voice inside of me said. What if what you saw in those eyes is still there? What do you do then? Do you shoot? Do you kill the animal that saved your life?

Jim grabbed my arm. “Stay here with me, Chris,” he whispered in the darkness. “Don’t let your thoughts drift off like that. You have to focus. You have to concentrate.”

I realized that I had been walking for a long time without noticing where we were. Jim was right I needed to stay focused. If I was to see anything between those bushes and in that black swamp water I had to be alert. I had to be on top of my game.

“I will,” I whispered back.

“What we are looking for are tracks on the ground or dead animals lying around. It comes here to eat, so there has to be leftovers,” Jim continued while we came closer to the area where we had been that night.

I swallowed hard as we neared the river’s shore and then I stopped. Flashes of pictures from the night ran before my eyes. My heart was racing as I fought hard to not relive it all again. I was sweating like an animal. The palm of my hands had become slippery and it was hard to hold onto the riffle. It was one of those really warm, humid Florida nights that I later came to love so dearly. Not a wind in the air. Everything in the swamps stood still except for the mosquitoes that made us slap ourselves constantly on our necks and on our bare arms. I heard wings flap and saw a big bird take off.

“Probably a blue heron,” Jim whispered. “You’ll see a lot of those around here.”

We kept walking on a small trail along the riverbank. It was Jim’s theory that the jaguar came to the river to hunt every night for fish and turtles and other animals like deer that it would attack as it came to drink of the water. It would ambush it like it had done to the alligators. But the river was long and went all the way through the swamps so the beast probably had multiple hunting spots along it. With diligence he would at some point get to find it. It was only a matter of time and patience.

 A deer jumped from a bush and ran with majestic speed and grace causing us both to jump. My heart wouldn’t stop beating afterwards.

“Reminds you of that night, huh?” Jim said. “I have been suffering from that, as well. Jumping from every little sudden sound. I think we all have. Especially Heather.”

I looked at him. I had been so caught up in my own little world that I hadn’t even thought about the others. Of course they had been scared to death. Of course they had to fight some of the same stuff as I had. They had also been there and had maybe even been more afraid than I. They saw it all happen and were paralyzed. They couldn’t do anything to help me. Jim had been the only one to run for help. He had actually saved my life.

“Thanks, man,” I said. “Thanks for running for help and saving my life.”

Jim nodded. “No problem. I’m just glad I reacted. I was certain that you would be dead when I came back. Surviving an encounter with two alligators. There was no way you could do that, I thought. But I ran as fast as I could anyway. I am sure glad that I did.”

“Me, too.”

“Who would have thought a jaguar would pull you out of the water. That is crazy, man.”

“I know.” I paused for a second as we crossed a tree with roots so big and out of the ground that it blocked the trail so we had to get in the water to get to the trail on the other side.

“It’s okay,” Jim said and lifted his rifle. “We are armed this time.”

I stepped carefully out in the water following closely in the footsteps of Jim. It felt nice to be cooled down a little but the feeling that something might be in the water waiting to grab my leg made me hurry up and climb back on the other side of the tree. Jim reached out and pulled me up by the hand.

“There you go,” he said. “Now you’ve been in the water again without being attacked.”

That did make me feel nice and comforted. I realized now for the first time how important it was for me to not be afraid of the world. I had been just that. I had isolated myself because I had a fear of what would happen to me if I went outside. It wasn’t like a paralyzing fear and it hadn’t taken me over yet, but one thing I knew about fear was that if you fed it, it would grow stronger and eventually take over your life. I was glad Jim showed me this. I hadn’t realized how bad it had become.

“So why are you so interested in killing this jaguar?” I asked as we started walking again. “You’ve been out here trying to find it several times a week since it happened, haven’t you?”

Jim nodded. “I have. And I have found nothing yet. But I know I will. I am the best hunter this area has seen in many years. So was my father. ”

“But you don’t need the reward money, why are you so devoted to this?”

Jim stopped and turned. The moon was waning but would still cast a bright light at us when it momentarily was freed of the moving clouds.

“My father was crippled by a cougar when I was a child. He was on one of his hunting trips up north when they came too close to a female and her cubs. He came back in a wheelchair after months in a hospital where I wasn’t allowed to visit him. He didn’t want me to see him like that and the last many years he has been living in his office where he doesn’t want to see any of us. Only his nurses are allowed in. He tried at one point to divorce my mother but she wouldn’t have it. He used to be a powerful and strong man. He was influential and a big man to this community. Now, he can barely speak or eat and has to have help to go to the bathroom. The cougar bit him and dragged him eight hundred yards over rocks and cliffs before they finally shot it. Luckily my dad was still alive, but only barely. He broke his spinal cord. Since then I never let a wild cat go free. With my brothers on my side I hunt it until it is dead.”

A cicada sang in the darkness and was soon accompanied by several others. I was speechless as we started walking again. Part of me was starting to like Jim now that I knew more of his story. He hadn’t had an easy life as I had first assumed when I met him. I had met two of his brothers when we arrived outside the swamps. They were searching the northeastern parts of the area while we took the southern parts where Jim had been searching since the accident. At first I thought he just did it for the fun of killing the animal. But now I knew the real reason why he was so eager to hunt this beast down.

Jim stopped in front of me and put a finger to his mouth, signaling that I should keep quiet. Then he pointed at the ground where a visible set of paws were planted in the muddy soil—paws that could only belong to a big animal. Paws that looked very much like they were made by a huge cat.

Chapter 11

I saw Jim staring glaze-eyed at the paw prints in the moist soil by the river. I could sense how much he wanted this. I felt his desire to kill this animal. He wanted that creature, that huge hulking animal that was so similar to what had paralyzed his dad and left him in a life where he might as well be dead, where death might even have been a better solution for everybody. This was Jim’s way of getting his revenge on his father’s behalf, and somehow this hunt had suddenly become more about him than it was about me. I found that very satisfying. Maybe killing this beast could be a way for me to pay him back for saving my life. I enjoyed the thought.

We didn’t need to speak. We both knew the prints were fresh and whatever had made them couldn’t be far away.

“Keep the rifle ready to shoot at all times,” Jim whispered as we started to follow the tracks slowly while being careful not to make a sound.

The scent of a kill that was ahead of us was pulling us forward. The anxiety, the expectation, the adrenalin rushing through our veins drove us to move ahead. I had never understood what hunting was all about, what about it could be so fun it drove full-grown men into the forests in strange outfits just to hunt and kill some animal. To a lover of peace like me it had always seemed barbaric and only for upper-class cavemen with anger issues and power trips. But now I had to admit I did understand it. At least some of it. I would never learn to love playing war or killing anything, but now I understood the thrill part of it. I felt it in every cell of my body as I walked behind Jim. I would have been shivering with excitement if it wasn’t for my concentration and focus that kept it all steady. Even my hands were completely steady on this big unwieldy weapon Jim had given me. As we sensed how we drew nearer to the cat we walked slower, constantly watching over our shoulders, constantly expecting to find it around every bush.