Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 02 - Skeletons of the Atchafalaya by Kent Conwell Page B

the lights went off. We’ve got to refuel it.”
    For a moment, he stared blankly at me. Then he nodded
and opened the door.
    The four of us, George, Henry, Leroi, and I stepped outside and caught the impact of the violent wind. It rocked
us on our feet.
    George leaned close to me. “We’ll never make the generator shed in this wind and rain.”
    “We have to,” I yelled.
    Leroi shouted into the screaming wind, “Let’s go under
the house. Through the storage rooms. There’s a door on the
south side. It’s closer to the shed. Find some flashlights.”

    Water was ankle deep in the dark storage rooms beneath
the house. I remembered my alligator boots. For a moment,
I hesitated, trying to shove the price of the boots from my
mind. Either that, Tony, or go barefoot, I told myself. Some
choice.
    I clenched my teeth and stepped into the water. I kept
the beam of my light on the water ahead of me as we waded
toward the south door. I hoped my boots wouldn’t encourage a family reunion of their own.
    George’s voice trembled when he spoke. “You-you
think there’s some snakes down here in all this water?”
    I forced a laugh. “I doubt it. Probably all the alligators
ate them.”
    Leroi groaned. “Thanks a lot, Tony.”
    Henry snapped, “You boys, you hush up. Pay attention.”
    The shelves were jammed with odds and ends, those useless items that you can’t bear to throw away, but that you’ll
never again use. I paid them little attention. I was more
concerned watching the water at my feet for snakes and
hungry alligators.
    From the south door, we squinted through the horizontal
sheets of rain. The generator shed was barely visible.
    Uncle Henry laid his hand on my shoulder. “Take this,
Tony.” He handed me the end of a cotton rope. “I find a
spool of it on the shelf. You boys is stronger than me and
George. We’ll stay here and feed out the rope. You tie it
off at the shed. That way, you don’t get lost on the way
back.”
    Leroi and I looked at each other. He nodded. “You noticed Uncle Henry didn’t say we were smarter, only
stronger.”
    I shrugged. “We’re the ones going out there, aren’t we?
He must be right,” I replied, remembering a hurricane when
I was a teenager. The rain literally engulfed us. I couldn’t
see Grandpa’s old pickup six feet away in the driveway.
While this storm wasn’t that bad yet, it would get that way,
especially if the eye came through here.

    I stuck the flashlight in my pocket.
    Leroi wrapped the rope around his wrist several times
and then we plunged into the storm, me leading the way,
Leroi holding onto my belt.
    I’d heard the old folks talk about the peculiar sounds
generated by a great storm. They were right.
    The wind wailed like a great beast in its death throes,
piercing my ears with deafening shrieks. The howls came
from every direction, punctuated by the sharp cracks of
snapping limbs. It reminded me of the unearthly screams I
had always imagined Grendel’s mother made when Beowulf cut off her head with a sword forged by the gods.
    The rain battered us from every direction, sending us
stumbling and sliding to our knees, stinging our faces.
Clinging to each other, we managed one step at a time until
we reached the metal shed housing the generator.
    The door was partially open, and when I threw it back,
a five-foot alligator lunged at me.
    My heart lurched into the heart-attack range. With a
scream, I threw myself backward into Leroi, kicking out
with my boot at the same time. “Alligator, alligator,” I
yelled, hitting the ground and rolling over and over, at each
moment expecting to feel the gator’s jaws close about my
foot. I remember thinking that at least I wore my boots. I
prayed his teeth couldn’t penetrate the leather, even though
I knew better.
    I struggled to my feet and hastily looked about me. There
was no sign of the reptile.
    Now, a five-foot alligator isn’t all that fearsome, not with