Chomp

EIGHT

The crew carried Derek Badger to his motor coach, dried him off, bundled him in a fuzzy Expedition Survival! bathrobe and put him in bed.

Raven Stark stayed to fuss over him. “I thought we’d lost you this time,” she said.

“Where’s my green tea?” he asked irritably.

The director popped in. He said the trucks were being loaded to go.

Derek displayed the raw scrapes on his knees and a scabby lip. “This is all your fault.”

The director thought: I’m not the clown who climbed on the alligator’s back.

Raven said, “The most important thing is that nobody got seriously hurt.”

“No, the most important thing is my show,” Derek snapped.

He was trying to sound tough, but it was just an act. The tussle with the reptile had frightened him. He’d truly thought he was going to drown, or be devoured. Over the years there had been other mishaps while staging wildlife encounters, yet nothing as harrowing as his encounter with the swamp beast called Alice.

“By the way,” Derek said to the director, “consider yourself fired.”

“I brought something to show you.”

“A letter of resignation, perhaps?”

The director held up a disk. “The pond scene,” he said.

“Destroy it immediately!”

“Not so fast,” the director said.

Derek glowered. “Are you threatening to blackmail me?” He looked over at Raven and snapped, “You’re my witness. Obviously he wants a payoff.”

“Just chill out,” the director said. He inserted the disk into a DVD player that was mounted under a high-def TV.

Derek motioned for Raven to fluff his pillows. He said, “Let him have his fun and be on his way.”

Raven sat on the edge of the bed to watch the scene. She was prepared to be depressed. Her boss, the executive producer of Expedition Survival! would be furious to learn that the Everglades episode was being scrapped. It cost big money whenever something like this happened, because the director and crew still had to be paid.

On one memorable occasion, Derek had leaped from a baobab tree in Madagascar and sprained both ankles. The script hadn’t called for him to jump; a baby gecko had scurried up his shorts and frightened him.

On another set, in Mexico, Derek had clumsily tripped over a tortoise and sprawled into a yucca plant. His face had swollen up like a puffer fish. For two weeks afterward, he had worn a veil and refused to go out in public.

While shooting a program in Australia-a very expensive trip-Derek had ignored the local wrangler’s warnings and tried to tackle a wallaby, which he’d hoped to fry up as one of his televised campfire dinners. The result: five broken ribs, a torn Achilles tendon, sixteen stitches in his scalp and five days in the hospital.

In each instance, filming had to be canceled and the expenses settled. Raven knew that if Expedition Survival! hadn’t been such a smash hit, Derek would have been booted off the show a long time ago.

“Let’s get this over with,” she said to the director.

He pressed the Play button on the DVD console. Thirty-three seconds later, he turned it off.

Raven took a heavy breath. Derek sat bolt upright and goggle-eyed.

“Well?” the director said.

“That… was… bloody… brilliant!” Derek punched the air jubilantly with both fists. “I almost died, didn’t I? That vicious monster almost killed me!”

Witnessing the scene all over again, even on a video disk, had left Raven a bit shaken.

The director said, “Do you still want me to destroy it?”

Derek roared. “Destroy it? Are you crazy, mate? This stuff is killer. This is genius. Am I right, Raven? Is this not the bomb?”

“The bomb it is,” said Raven quietly.

“That crazy redneck-did you see what he did?”

“A total madman,” the director agreed.

Derek lowered his voice. “Can you edit him out of the scene?”

“No problem. Snip, snip.”

“Excellent!”

Raven said, “But he saved your life, Derek.”

“And he shall be compensated handsomely.”

With a hopeful smile, the director asked, “Does this mean I’m not fired?”

“Fired? Ha!” Derek bounded from the bed and threw an arm around the man’s neck. “You, my friend, just got yourself a big fat raise.”

As Wahoo and his father had predicted, Susan Cray knew exactly how much the family owed the bank for overdue mortgage payments: “Seven thousand nine hundred and twelve dollars and four cents.”

“Don’t forget, I just sent ’em eight hundred bucks,” Mickey said.

“Yes, honey, I already subtracted that.”

“Oh.”

“We’re also two months behind on your truck,” she said.

“You sure about that?”

“May I speak to Wahoo?”

“He’s right here.” Mickey handed the phone to his son.

“Sorry we woke you, Mom.”

“How’s the job going?”

“Not so great.”

“What happened?”

“Long story,” Wahoo said. Too long for an expensive overseas phone call. “How’s China?”

“I’m homesick, big guy. Is your dad feeling okay? Tell the truth.”

“Some days are better than others.”

Susan Cray sighed. “He’s as stubborn as a darn mule. You keep an eye on him.”

“I’m trying,” Wahoo said.

Somebody knocked on the door and Mickey went to open it.

“Let me talk to him again,” said Wahoo’s mother.

“He’ll call you back, Mom-when it’s daytime over there, I promise.”

Derek Badger and Raven Stark were standing in the living room. Wahoo said goodbye to his mother and set down the phone. Then he told his father to put away the fire extinguisher.

“I’m serious, Pop.”

“But they’re supposed to be gone!”

Raven said, “We need to chat, Mr. Cray. Please?”

“I don’t ‘chat.’ ” He pulled the trigger on the fire extinguisher, blasting a cloud of white vapor toward the ceiling. “Now get out!”

“Knock it off,” said Wahoo.

Derek puffed his chest. “Mate, there’s no need to be cranky. We come in peace.”

It was hard to take the man seriously because he was dressed in a purple bathrobe and matching slippers. Mickey placed the fire extinguisher on the kitchen counter. Wahoo suggested that everybody sit down, which they did.

Raven said, “Derek’s got something he wants to say.”

“Imagine that.” Mickey was rubbing his temples.

Derek leaned forward. “That wrestling scene with the alligator-”

“Alice is her name.”

“Yes, Alice. The scene turned out fabulously, Mr. Cray. Perhaps the most extraordinary thirty-three seconds of footage in the history of Expedition Survival! ”

“But you almost got drowned.”

“Exactly! And the best part is it was real.”

“You’re seriously gonna use that in your show?” Mickey asked, and right away Wahoo knew what his father was thinking.

“Of course we intend to use it,” Raven said.

“It’ll be all over YouTube the same night,” Derek added. “Trust me-we’re talking worldwide viral. Millions of hits!”

Mickey’s eyes narrowed. “That means you’re gonna pay us the rest of the money, right?”

Derek chuckled. “Not only are we going to pay you all of it, we’re hiring you to lead us into the Everglades to put the finishing touches on this masterpiece. What do you think of that?”

Wahoo felt slightly queasy.

“What do you need me for?” his father said to Derek. “You’re gonna fake the rest of it, same as you always do.”

Derek didn’t seem even slightly insulted. He twirled the sash on his robe and said, “You’re the most fearless man I’ve ever met, Mr. Cray. With you guiding us on location, we won’t need to ‘fake’ anything.”

“In our line of work,” Raven cut in, “it’s known as ‘re-creating’ events for the camera.”

Wahoo spoke up. “He can’t go. He’s got another job lined up that starts tomorrow.”

Mickey threw him a puzzled look. “What job?”

“You know, Pop. That scorpion scene for the Rain Forest Channel.” Wahoo was hoping his dad would get the hint and play along. A swamp trip with Derek Badger promised nothing but trouble.

Mickey scratched his head. “I don’t remember booking a scorpion gig.”

“And even if you did,” Derek said with a wink, “will it pay you two thousand dollars a day for four days?”

Wahoo was stunned. With that kind of money, they could cover what they owed on the house and the truck. His mother wouldn’t have to give a nickel of her China paycheck to the bank.

“Hold on-what about the boy?” Wahoo’s father said to Derek. “He’s my right hand.”

“Then make it twenty-five hundred-plus we’ll give him screen credit as ‘First Assistant Wrangler.’ ”

Mickey stroked his chin. “Let me think on this.”

Derek looked aggravated. “Are you serious? This is the opportunity of a lifetime.”

Wahoo didn’t know whether he should be flattered or suspicious that Derek had agreed to put him on the payroll. Five hundred dollars a day was more money than he’d ever made on any job. He was also secretly excited at the idea of seeing his own name among the crew credits that would roll on the screen at the end of the broadcast.

Yet while part of him wanted his dad to accept Derek’s offer, another part of him feared something bad would happen. The real Everglades was a very different place from the homemade marsh in the Crays’ backyard.

Feeling torn, he excused himself from the meeting and jogged down to see about Alice. She was still pouting; only her black nostrils showed on the surface of the pool. Wahoo sat down on a plastic milk crate and watched a baby leopard frog hop across the lily pads.

Soon a piece of pale, ragged cloth floated to the top of the water. Wahoo used the bamboo pole to retrieve it: Derek’s torn khaki shorts. Two large, hollow alligator incisors remained stuck in the fabric.

“You’ll grow new ones,” Wahoo said to Alice. The average gator went through three thousand teeth in a lifetime of chomping.

“Yeah, she’ll be pretty as ever.” It was his father, who’d come up behind him. “And she knows it, too.”

“What did you tell ’em, Pop?”

“You mean the Dorkster?” Mickey Cray smiled. “He showed me the video. They put it on a disk.”

“Come on. Did you take the job or not?”

“They’re gonna cut me out of the gator scene. Make it look like an ‘escape’ instead of a rescue. One minute that knucklehead will be spinning like a propeller underwater, and next minute he’ll be lyin’ on the shore-as if he got free from Alice all by himself!” Mickey seemed more amused than upset. “You said it yourself: showbiz!”

“You told them yes, didn’t you?”

“Son, we seriously need the dough.”

Wahoo couldn’t argue with that. He said, “After what happened today, maybe Derek learned his lesson.”

“Sure. And maybe the raccoons will start their own lacrosse team.” Wahoo’s dad kicked the TV star’s shredded shorts into the cattails. “Now go fetch a chicken from the freezer. Let’s walk sweet old Alice back to her pen.”

“Two chickens, Pop. She earned it.”