The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

"No, Dougie!" Lynnette screamed herself awake.
Breathing so heavy that she had to sit up on her mattress and catch her breath, the woman clutched her heaving chest and
waited. The image of the little boy in her nightmare still remained, so much so that her own stomach began gurgling. Lynnette
looked all over the tiny, dark space in which she was resting to find only herself. The instant she reclaimed her bearings she
immediately dropped her body back down onto the sweaty mattress and laid there.
From her face all the way down to her naked toes she was layered in her own sweat. Lynnette couldn't stop breathing so rapidly.
The dream was so intense and realistic that she had to shut her eyes repeatedly just to make sure she was still awake.
She rolled over onto her left side and reached for a wristwatch that was lying on the floor next to her bible. Lynnette held the
watch up to the moonlight that was shining into her room to see the time that read 2:42 a.m.
From there she dropped the watch and laid back down again. With her eyes penetrating the ceiling above her she struggled with
the thought of getting up, but her body had other reservations. It desired only to lie motionless on the clammy mattress and sulk.
However, the longer Lynnette rested the more intense her ramblings seized her to the point where she had to actually force her
own body to move from its quiet comfort zone.
She leaned over and reached for her bible that was lying next to her on the floor. There was a bookmark within the pages. With
her flashlight she turned directly to Joshua 1:9 and read carefully before placing the book back onto the floor.
With as much energy and bravery that she could muster, the young woman got up, put on a white tank-top shirt, a pair of torn
blue jean shorts and a pair of sandals. She walked over to the foot of the mattress and picked up a heavy duffle bag from off the
floor before sneaking her way out of both her room and the shack altogether.
Making sure to shut the door behind her as quietly and securely as she could Lynnette turned and ventured down the steps only
to inadvertently bump into a little boy who was already seated on the stairs.
Gasping for air, Lynnette looked down. "Leo, what are you doing out here, boy?" She sat down next to the child.
Leo couldn't have been any more than nine or ten years old. Even in the darkness Lynnette could see his shady image that
appeared more troubled and bored than anything else.
"Are you going out again?" Leo asked with his head resting on his right arm.
"Yeah...I gotta make a run. What's the matter? Why are you out here at this time of night?"

Leo didn't answer right away, he just sighed before looking up at Lynnette. "My mama is in dere."
Lynnette looked over at a dimly lit shack to her immediate right. Upon a usual night there were countless sounds. From that of
Reggae music strumming from someone's nearby home, to a few vehicles tooling down the road. The reeking smell of Ganga
was more belligerent after midnight than any other time of the day. But there was something keeping the little boy out of his own
house that early morning, and Lynnette realized right away that it had nothing to do with a nightmare; she could hear it very
clearly from the steps she was seated on.
Lynnette just sighed before patting Leo on the back and saying, "Don't worry, honey, your mother will be done in there sooner
than later."
"I hate it when he comes by." Leo hopelessly dropped his head.
Lynnette stared at the boy in the most sorrowful manner, as if she were in his shoes. "You know that your mother still and always
will love you. Right now...she's just going through some things. Be patient with her."
Leo just looked up at Lynnette. He began to sniff. The very last thing she wanted was to see him cry.
"Listen, if you want you can go up to Cusha's and take a nap until it's time to go to school, okay?"
Leo shook his head before Lynnette rubbed his back and got up.
"I should be back before dawn." She somberly muttered.
"Do you promise?"
Lynnette stood perfectly still on the steps for a brief moment before she turned her head and began down to the ground where
she turned a corner to see a bike leaning up against a wall. She then lanced her duffle bag on the bike's handle and got on. In
the dark of night Lynnette rolled on down the lonesome highway for at least ten minutes or so before she eventually met up with
the beach.
She rode along before finally coming to a grinding halt right in the middle. The moon was half full that evening, but the moon's
phases wasn't anything that interested her. All she did was stand and watch as the shimmering waves rolled in and out just a
couple of yards from her. It was such a warm night; the humidity had all but diminished, as did the rain that had fallen upon the
city for the latter half of the previous day.

Ever since Lynnette arrived in Jamaica the one and only thing that granted her the only measure of peace and solitude was the
sea. For that matter, before August, she had never been to a beach in her life. On most nights, all she would do was stare out at
the water ever so endlessly. She would often wonder just where the sea would take a person had they ventured out into its great
expanse. Or just what could have been lurking underneath.
Then there came the times when she would just stall. Those were the moments she hated the most. Shaking her head, Lynnette
reached into her duffle bag and pulled out both a piece of paper and her flashlight. She turned the light on and read the words
that were scribbled on the paper.
Lynnette then looked straight ahead at a forest that resided before her, just ten yards forward. As soon as she put the paper back
into her bag she rooted around until her hand connected with something warm and hard. She pulled out a sawed off shotgun.
With her own sweaty hands she checked the chamber before climbing off of her bike and skittishly proceeding towards the dark
bamboo forest.
Her determination was phony, it always had been. The young lady had yet to become accustomed to neither her surroundings
nor her duty, and as luck would have had it, as slowly as she was walking, the forest drew closer faster and faster.
She crept into the steamy forest with always trembling legs until her feet met with the wet fever grass. Lynnette kept glancing
back at the forest's opening like it was an unshakable bad habit. She couldn't believe that she was actually skulking about in the
dark with a shotgun while in a foreign land. Just the very thought of such an action was unfathomable to her.
The gun in her right hand and the flashlight in the left kept shaking incessantly as she crept onward. The sounds of crickets and
bats were as loud as vehicles during rush hour. Every so often she could feel small creatures crawl and scamper around her
feet, but looking down to see just what sort of animal it was never crossed her mind; she had to focus on no matter what.
Lynnette looked up at the moon that was partially hidden behind all the trees. She felt as long as she could at least see bits and
pieces of it then she knew that she hadn't gone too far out of bounds. Before long, Lynnette stopped right before a small pond.
She recalled what was written on the piece of paper and shined her light all around. The pond before her was murky and still,
while the forest itself seemed to become eerily silent to where even the crickets came to a hush, and much to her dismay,
Lynnette noticed it.
She continued to shine her light all around before hopelessly dropping her shoulders. Right as she was about to lower her gun,
however, the pond ahead of her began to bubble. Lynnette took her flashlight and pointed it at the commotion that was
increasing with the passing seconds.

The woman gradually began to back away before hearing what sounded like a very deep growl, or a large vehicle turning over.
That was more than enough inspiration for her as Lynnette spun around and raced away. She could hear something splash out
of the water and chase her down.
"Help me!" She squealed as loud as she could.
The woman sprinted across the grass as fast as she possibly could while the creature behind her growled even louder. Lynnette
wasn't thinking. She was too terrified to even entertain the notion of looking back; all she could see ahead of her was the foot of
the forest where her bike was resting.
Even though there was only perhaps a few feet separating her and the sand, Lynnette found it within herself to do something
completely out of character. She took a brief pause in between both running and breathing, turned back around and fired her
shotgun at the oncoming brute.
She fired as many rounds as her finger would allow before the gun's chamber went empty, leaving only a clicking sound in its
wake. The woman then collapsed to the ground and shined her flashlight to see a crocodile bleeding from its head down to its
stomach.
Lynnette couldn't even catch her breath. She turned and crawled on her hands and knees the rest of the way out of the forest
until her hands touched the sand. Lynnette rolled over onto her back and stared up at the moon that was illuminating her sweaty,
shivering body. Every so often she would shine her light back into the forest only to catch glimpses of the drying animal that was
still grunting its final breaths.
Lynnette had been terrified before, but gazing up at the moon and listening to the calm waves of the sea seemed to gradually
bring her back to a jolting ease. Her arms were aching due to the gun's ricochet effect. It caused her entire body to feel as if it
were a quivering bowl of Jell-O.
"I killed an alligator, mama." She muttered to herself while lying motionless on her back and sweating buckets into her eyes.