In the faint light from the far-off launch complex, she could barely make out the three figures along the edge of the water. But they were there, just half a football field away, one of whom was swinging around a flashlight.
They were armed.
And they were loud.
“Shit, my ribs hurt like hell,” one of the men — the one she had hit — said loudly. Parkowski heard the words clearly as they traveled well through the crisp late autumn air. He was the one with the flashlight. “Where did they go?”
“I don’t know,” the other bearded man said. He spat, his saliva striking the water with a hiss. “Fuck, man, I can’t believe they got away.”
Parkowski and DePresti remained perfectly still. She didn’t dare breathe. One false move could give away their position to the killers on the bank.
“They got away because you got cocky,” Everson said, his gravelly voice carrying across the water as the man with the light shone it in a random, haphazard pattern. If he hoped to get lucky and find them that way, it probably wasn’t going to work. “Why didn’t you tie them up?”
“Because you didn’t tell us to, boss,” one of the men said. He kicked a rock into the water.
Parkowski saw a movement in the water, a slight ripple that she was just barely able to make out in the dim light.
“Fuck this,” the man said. He raised his weapon — an MP-5, the same submachine gun used by the shooters at the Manhattan Beach pier — and fired a short, jerky burst into the water.
The other goon did the same, running through his whole magazine. The water rippled with waves from the bullets.
“What the fuck?” Everson said.
The first man who had fired shrugged. “Just want to kill them and get this over with.”
“You aren’t going to hit shit,” his boss replied.
Parkowski felt movement in the water. Their captors had poked the proverbial bear. Something bad was about to happen.
“Stop, I hear something,” Everson said carefully.
“I do too,” one of the other men said, “fuck, is it them?”
The two in the water remained still, breathing slowly.
A creature, either a bat or an owl, flew overhead.
Something brushed against Parkowski. Despite her fear, she ignored it. She wasn’t the threat. The people on the bank were. Her heart pulsed as she waited for the next shoe to drop.
“It’s a gator!” one of the men yelled and opened up with his pistol in the direction of the river, using the flashlight to guide his fire. The attacking reptile — the juvenile they had seen — came on fast, much faster than Parkowski had expected.
The other man and Everson opened fire as well, Everson’s pistol giving an unearthly
The three of them fired until there were no more bullets in their magazines. Parkowski couldn’t see the alligator, but there was no way it could have survived that. It was probably ripped to shreds.
“Got the fucker,” one of the operator types that had guarded Parkowski in the van said. He turned the flashlight off.
There was a new disturbance in the water, more of a wave than a ripple.
Their captors had disturbed the larger alligators’ sleep.
Parkowski watched in part horror, part satisfaction as the giant alligators that she had seen resting peacefully on the bottom rose to the water’s surface and started swimming slowly but deliberately toward the three men.
They initially didn’t notice. “We smoked him,” one of the goons said, more quiet than his boastful brags before, as he knelt beside the dead animal. The other goon and Everson reloaded their weapons. “That’s what lead will do to you.”
The larger alligators had reached the bank and were almost on the shore.
Parkowski squinted, but could barely make out what was happening. The lead gigantic reptile struck first. It grabbed the kneeling man by his arm and started dragging him down the bank into the dark water.
“Fuck!” Everson yelled. He aimed carefully and fired off a shot with his giant handgun while retreating.
The third man took off and ran back towards the van.
Everson took a few steps back and squeezed off another shot. The loud, large-caliber pistol hit something solid.
It looked to Parkowski like he had hit the lead alligator that had grabbed his subordinate. The alligator dropped the man, either from fear or from pain.
The other alligators kept coming towards them.
Everson pulled the fallen man, who screamed in an inhumane fashion, away from oncoming reptiles, as he fired a pair of shots.
“Fuck, let the gators have them,” the third man yelled as he ran away. “I’m getting out of here.”
Parkowski didn’t hear a response from Everson.
She and her boyfriend waited until they heard the van turn on and speed off towards the north side of Kennedy Space Center.
“Fuck,” Parkowski said softly.
DePresti didn’t respond. He grabbed her hand and led her toward the far side of the bank. He helped her up and out of the water.
Parkowski shivered. It was cold and her wet, dirty clothes didn’t help. “Did you know what was going to happen?” she asked her boyfriend.
He nodded.
