“Slide the safety off and get ready. Do you remember the spot to aim at?”

Danny nodded. “I shoot right behind the hard plate of the skull, or straight behind the eyes.”

Mouton smiled. “Excellent answer, you were paying attention.” Mouton cut the power to his motor and allowed the boat to drift up near the line. He grabbed the 1/4 inch rope he used as line. He looked over at his son. Danny had the rifle up to his shoulder. He peered through the sights.

“Here we go. Let’s see what we got,” Mouton said. He slowly pulled up on the line, hand over hand. The weight on the other end felt enormous. “I think we got us a big gator, Danny.”

The beast’s snout came into view, but before it broke the surface giving his son a chance to shoot, the alligator went berserk, rolling and thrashing and spraying them with water. Danny jerked back.

“This one has some fight in him. But he’ll tire out.” Mouton felt the alligator dive back down. Their boat turned directions.

“He’s pulling us around, Dad!” Danny cried.

“They do that sometimes. But we’re not going anywhere and neither is the gator.” Mouton reeled in the line once more. He wore gloves to keep the line from cutting his palms and to aid his grip.

The gator thrashed against the boat, rolling so violently that it was all Mouton could do to hang on and not fall out. The gator dove back down into the depths to gather its waning energy. Mouton let out a deep breath and readied himself for the next assault.

“Here he comes again, Danny. Get ready. We’re going to get him this time. I can tell he’s wearing out.”

The alligator surged above the surface. Its snout thumped against the hull. Mouton watched Danny place the gun into position right above the sweet spot. The rifle cracked. And the alligator went limp.

“Great shot, son,” Mouton praised.

“Is he dead?”

Mouton nodded. “He’s not coming back either.”

“How are we going to get it up into the boat, Dad? It’s huge.”

“We roll it into the boat.” Mouton hauled the alligator’s snout up as high as he could and then grabbed a front leg. Grab his other front leg, Danny.”

“Okay, I got it, Dad.”

“Now, just start rolling and lifting at the same time.”

It took three concerted attempts before the dead alligator flopped entirely into the boat. The boat dipped into the water with all the added weight. “Man, this guy wore me out, Danny,” Mouton panted.

“How big is it, do you think?”

“I’d say he’s close to thirteen feet long. And I bet he’ll weigh around 800 pounds, maybe 900.”

“What’s wrong with his skin?”

Mouton studied the beast’s hide. There were several nicks in various places on the alligator. “It looks like he’s been fighting. Males are solitary and will often defend their territory against other males.” Mouton noticed Danny’s face pucker into a frown. And then the boy’s nose crinkled up. “What’s the matter, Danny?”

“Something stinks around here. Do you smell it?”

“The swamp always has a fishy smell about it.”

“No, Dad, it smells like something is dead and rotting.”

Mouton sniffed the air. “Yeah, I smell it now.”

Danny pointed a finger. “It’s coming from over there.”

Curious, Mouton put his trolling motor down into the water. He guided the boat over to a bank covered in tall grass and buzzing with flies. And then he saw it right away. A corpse lay half-hidden in the grass. The body had no legs and very little skin. What skin remained flapped on the skull. Birds had plucked the eyes from the corpse. Both skeletal hands were raised above the body’s head. Each bony palm clutched a gold coin.

Mouton heard his son swear. Normally he would’ve reprimanded his son. But Mouton nearly swore himself. Something did a number on this person, he thought. And maybe it was this gator we just caught.

“Dad, those coins are really old looking. And they look like…gold.”

Mouton leaned over as far as he could without falling out and, using his gloved hands, pried the coins from the corpse’s hands. He looked them over. Sweat beaded on his brow. His stomach clenched. “They’re Spanish doubloons. And they’re definitely gold.”

“This person found treasure, Dad.”

Mouton pivoted in the boat and tossed the doubloons as far as he could into the water. He turned to his son, whose mouth had dropped open. “Sometimes what you think is treasure isn’t really treasure at all. There’s a curse on that gold. And this person found both the gold and the curse.”

“I don’t understand, Dad.”

Mouton pointed toward the corpse. “That could’ve been me, Danny. Before you were born I was a treasure hunter. I looked for Jean Lafitte’s treasure every chance I got. I was obsessed about finding it. Your mom almost left me over it. But then you were born and God took away the obsession.”

Danny stared at the corpse for a long time, then turned and looked at him. “Dad, is there something about gold that makes some people go crazy?”

Mouton nodded. “Gold is a unique precious metal. You can pound it, twist it, roll it and melt it, but it can’t be destroyed. It’s almost like gold is eternal, like it’s a piece of heaven. Mortal people have a hard time understanding eternal things.”

“Dad, I’m glad you’re not obsessed with gold anymore.”

“I am too, Danny. But you know what? I’m still a treasure hunter in a way. I’ve acquired quite a bit of treasure over the years, and I’ve hidden it in a safe spot.” Mouton watched his son’s eyes grow big.

“What kind of treasure do you have? And where have you hidden it? Does Mom know?”

Mouton placed a finger on his son’s chest. He drew an invisible square on Danny’s shirt, right above his heart. “This is your treasure box, Danny. Every human has one. Whatever is most important to us is what we put into our treasure box.”

“What is in your treasure box, Dad?”

Mouton smiled. “You are in my treasure box, and so is your mom. My parents and my grandparents, my siblings, my aunts and uncles and cousins are in there as well. I’ve also put friends from work and church into my treasure box. God treasures people more than anything He’s created. So we should do the same. And sometimes we need to put strangers into our treasure box. Not all strangers are bad, Danny. But above all else you should save room for Jesus in your treasure box. Jesus is the greatest treasure.”

Mouton pulled a GPS unit from his carpenter jeans. He saved their coordinates to give to law enforcement, and then lifted his trolling motor out from the water. Mouton started the bigger outboard motor. “We need to go, Danny.” He patted the gator in the boat. “We need to get this big boy to the market. And we need to call Sheriff Tubbs and tell him what we’ve found. That corpse is someone’s loved one, and every person deserves a proper burial.”

Mouton grabbed the tiller and they sped off through the swamp, away from Arcadias and the treasure that cost him everything, including his life.

The End

Thank you for reading this book. I hope you enjoyed it. I have another series—the Battle Series—that you may also enjoy. Battle Scream and Battle Storm are fantasy novels set in the end times. I’ve included the first few chapters of Battle Scream with this book for you to sample. You’ll find them on the next page.

Battle Scream

By Mark Romang

Copyright © Mark Romang 2013

Kindle Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.