Page 92 of Iron Hearts

“Come on, there’s another concession stand thing over on this way, I’ll get you a cinnamon sugar pretzel.”

“That sounds really good,” I confessed. “What did you want to show me?” I asked. “Or was that just a ruse to get me out of there?”

He chuckled, “I actuallydidwant to show you something. The accidental rookery.”

“Accidental rookery?” I asked.

“Yeah, you see all the nesting birds up over the gator pits,” he said pointing up into the trees over the ponds and enclosures.

“I wondered about that,” I said. “I thought it was a feature – you know? Like they brought the birds here.”

“Some of ‘em that are in enclosures, sure – but look up, past the trees, there’s no net keeping these birds in here. They build their nests over the alligators to keep ‘em safe from things like predatory raccoons.”

“Oh, shit!” I did a double-take, “That’s wild!”

“It gets really cool the other end of the park over this way,” he pointed in the direction we were going. “The birds are so used to the people, they got their nests at eye level and a little below.

“We can see eggs and baby birds?” I asked.

“Yup,” he grinned at me.

“Aw, yay!”

I wrapped both my arms around his one and laced my fingers through his and he chuckled.

“I thought you might like that,” he said, and the further I walked with him from my family, the more centered I felt. The more I felt like I couldbreathe.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE

Striker…

Giving my girl the breather from her grandma had been the right call. The further into the park we wandered, the higher we climbed the varying levels of steps and onto platforms and boardwalks into the aviary, the more she seemed to relax.

We stole some kisses in the shade, and I held her hand in mine for as long as possible, kissing her knuckles every chance I got.

Eventually, we ran back into her family as, of course, Grandma had insisted on coming around this way with the boys to see what was over here.

She was a conniver, that one – thrived on drama. I knew the type. My mother was just like her. Like my mother, I’d bet even money that Rarity’s memaw had been one of the mean girls in high school back in the ’60s or whenever she’d gone.

The thing about mean girls is they pretty much top out at their peak in high school, and then spend the rest of their natural lives in the same damn mindset. They weren’t smart or talented enough to do anything else.

I kept Rarity under my wing and we went and enjoyed the show, Skull and Bones putting gators through their paces and demonstrating their formidable and awesome power. Bones coming on through the audience with a baby cayman on its back, little snout taped shut, to let people stroke its belly and watch it fall pretty much instantly asleep.

The boys were rapt, and Mom looked like she was enjoying herself as thoroughly as her kids, meanwhile, Grandma tried and failed to pry while myself and her granddad stone walled her the best we could.

Finally, it was a trip through the giftshop where I sprang for four stuffed alligators. Three green ones and a white one for my girl. It was supposed to be a match for the white gator they had here – but it wasn’t an albino. It was something else entirely as it didn’t have the red eyes of an albino but rather blue. Something about a pigmentation mutation in its genes or some shit.

It was what’d gotten Skull and Bones on board with this place. They’d caught the thing in the wild, practically just coming out of the nest. Had brought it here and the rest was pretty much history.

They were born trappers and hunters, and they made regular trips on down into the Glades to help thin the over population of invasive species reptiles and shit that’d gotten loose in the aftermath of Hurricane Andrew and had proceeded to breed wild and decimate the local eco-system.

A whole wing of the Gator Farm was shit that they’d caught and brought in up here to display and educate about the ecosystems and shit of the swamp. They’d really been the ones to turn this place around from a rundown roadside attraction with just a few alligators and snakes, into the wild attraction that it was now featuring species from all over the fuckin’ world and then some.

It was impressive shit.

“Well, it was very nice meeting you Striker,” Grandma declared in this tone that made me straight up believe that butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

“Likewise, ma’am,” I said. “You wanna grab your bag?” I asked Rarity and she nodded, going for the back of the van and where she’d stashed her backpack.

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