Cross Hatch Estates

 

 

          We had purchased the house having seen it only the one time and we knew absolutely nothing about the neighborhood.  Everyone seemed to keep their lawns maintained, they all wheeled their trash cans to the curb on trash day and with the exception of the warning signs here and there to not feed the gators, everything looked pleasant and normal.

 

          I should interrupt this to let you know that, although I have made up the names in this story, everything else is true and happened exactly the way I describe it.  You should also be aware that this story is not for the squeamish.  Turn back now if you are someone prone to nightmares or panic attacks.   Really!  Stop reading if this warning applies to you.

 

          Everything sort of began when our realtor paid us a visit.  That was maybe six months ago.  There wasn’t anything we’d forgotten to sign or anything like that.  It was actually a very strange visit.  Her name is Carole, and I learned through weeks of emailing back and forth that she spells it with an e on the end.  Carol, and then an e.  I only bring it up because a little later I’ll be talking about another Carol, one who doesn’t hang an e on the end.  That Carol works in the front office of animal control.  We have become – not so much friends, as familiar acquaintances.  When I call – she knows there is a real and immediate problem.

 

          We had just finished dinner.  I was going to wash the dishes after Fraser was over.  That show always made us laugh.  I had piled the plates up next to the sink when a commercial came on and was headed back to the television when the front doorbell rang. 

It was Carole.  She looked horrified, like she had just seen something terrible.  My wife saw who I was talking with and put the television on pause.  The three of us sat around the dining table and I retrieved a bottle of water for our guest while Nora asked her what was wrong.

 

          “I know”, Carole said, “I look terrible.”

 

          I sat back down and we both gave her a minute to collect her thoughts. 

 

          “I told you about the animals that live around here, I remember telling you when we were going over the paperwork for your house.”

 

          “Yes, we remember.  There are bobcats, alligators, wild boars, coyotes, raccoons and skunks, to name a few.”

 

          “What I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t know until just today, is that a small group of alligators have banded together.  They have learned to open doors and slide unlocked windows open.  The Ellis family, over on Gilmore street, filmed with his smart phone as an alligator stood on its hind feet, balanced with his tail, and worked the front doorknob on his neighbor’s house until it opened.  The others in the pack seemed to be standing watch.

 

          I hope you’re hearing me.  None of us are safe.  These animals are organized, they’re methodical and clever.”

 

          Carole took another drink of her water and then looked at me. 

 

          “I better get back.  Would you mind walking me to my car?  If you have a gun, I suggest you bring it.”

 

          After she left, Nora and I talked about the possibility of Carole being drunk.  Her story was fantastic.  I don’t think either of us believed it.  That is, until the following morning.  The computer program called Next Door was filled with all kinds of wild reports.  We even remember hearing gun shots during the night.  We just looked at each other.  “How is this possible?” Nora asked.  I did not have a reply.  I just kept reading the various reports flying around the neighborhood.

 

          That morning, as we were having our coffee, we talked about buying a gun.  We knew nothing about guns or shooting them, only what we’d heard on the evening news; Gang members shooting each other – they were getting guns from somewhere.  We were thinking maybe we should find a gang member somewhere and see if they had one to sell.

 

          That afternoon we got into the car and headed downtown in search of a gang. 

 

          “How will we know a gang member when we see one?” Nora asked.

 

          “I think they will have tattoos and not a 3-piece suit.  See if you recognize anyone from the news.  If we’re not sure, we’ll just pull over and ask them.  Neither of us look like gang members, so they won’t shoot us.”

 

          “Good thinking” Nora replied, but I could tell she was nervous.   Then she added, “Maybe instead of a gun we should just put dead bolts on our doors and get one of those spy cameras that can see our front porch.  That sounds safer to me.”

 

          “You’re probably right.  I don’t like the idea of having a gun in the house.  Whose to say the gators wouldn’t grab it and use it against us?”

 

          We turned the car around and headed back to the neighborhood.  By the time we were pulling into our driveway, it was dark out.  Our porch light didn’t offer much security.  Anything could be lurking in the shadows.  Neither of us wanted to get out of the car to open the garage door, so we ended up keeping the car doors locked and just slept in the car until morning, when we could see what was around.

 

          The morning Sun was bright and as we squinted out to look around, we noticed two people on top of one vehicle three houses from us.  We tried to understand why they would be huddled on the top of that car when we suddenly noticed five very large alligators laying on their front lawn.  The poor people were trapped.  They couldn’t climb down if they wanted to.

 

          Nora couldn’t stop staring at them and then she looked back at me and said, “Look inside their car.”

 

          I couldn’t believe it.  There was a sixth alligator, and he was behind the steering wheel of the car, apparently trying to start it.  Where did he expect to go, I wondered.   Where indeed?

 

          As we were thinking about quietly getting out of our car and into the house. We heard people yelling.  More than a little startled, Nora said, “Oh my, they are yelling at us.”  The people trapped on the top of their car had spotted us and were now yelling for us to help them.

 

          I told Nora to keep her door locked.  I started our car and drove over and stopped in front of theirs.  I wasn’t going to just let that alligator drive away with those people on top, so I blocked their car in their driveway.

          As one of the front lawn alligators started to climb up on our car, Nora looked at me and asked, “Have you thought this completely through?”

 

          Then I got an idea.  “I wonder if sound would frighten them away?”

Nora, in an almost whisper said, “Those people yelling didn’t.”

 

          It was then I began honking the horn.  It was loud and it did startle the alligators.  They all quickly began to move towards the lake, even the one behind the wheel of the other car opened the door, climbed out and followed the others to the lake.

 

          Our neighbors quickly climbed down from the top of their car and scurried into their house, waving thanks as they ran.

 

          We drove back home, and both headed for the bathroom.  It had been a long night.

 

 

 

                                      Not really The End