The Diablo and Burt’s rig had come to a stop. Burt jumped out of the cab as Rusty popped his head in and passed Cole his spare prosthetic leg, an extra pair of pants, and the Angry Barracuda, all three of which had been stowed away in the sports car’s trunk..
“Is she alright?” Cole asked.
“Don’t know,” Rusty answered. “I’ll check.”
Outside, Sharon brushed wet strands of hair out of her face and squinted through the rain to see the toilet gator on top of the overturned cab, scratching at the driver’s side door with his claws.
“Maude?” Sharon asked into her bluetooth headset as she cocked a pump-action shotgun.
The old lady’s response was feint and staticky in Sharon’s ear. “Ugh…bzzt…bsshhhk.”
Sharon fired a shot at the gator’s scaly hide. “You want some of this, you big green son of a bitch?”
Skippy turned his head at Sharon, hissed loudly in her general direction, then bashed his claw through Maude’s window.
“Hey!” Rusty shouted as he took a few shots at the gator with the SAW. “Gator! You don’t want that old gal! Got some young fresh meat, right here!”
Burt pulled a Beretta out of an ankle holster and fired at the beast as well.
Cole jumped out of the rig with his new leg and fresh pants on only to splash into a foot of water. The H20 was piling up in the street faster than the storm drains could get rid of it. A flood was imminent.
“Felix,” Cole said. “Have you been tracking us?”
“Errm,” Felix said.
“Can you get to this location?” Cole asked.
“Errm,” Felix said.
Cole joined Rusty and Sharon in shooting at the gator.
“This is unreal!” Sharon shouted.
“It’s like we’re tickling him!” Rusty added.
“Gator!” Cole yelled as he squeezed off a round at Skippy. “Come get me!”
Skippy looked at Cole and seethed with rage.
“Come you limp dicked, glorified iguana!” Cole said as he fired another shot. “You don’t stand a chance against me!”
Skippy took the bait. He leapt off the rig and made a big splash as he landed in the flooded street, making a big splash. He charged towards Cole, baring his big sharp teeth. Cole raised his firearm and squeezed the trigger. Click! He was out of bullets.
The great hunter closed his eyes and held his breathe. Cole figured this was it. This was the way he would die, as a delicious meal for a serial killing, sewer dwelling, oversized alligator.
Thump! An oxygen tank landed on Skippy’s head! Blam! The tank was pierced by a bullet, setting off a glorious explosion right on top of the monster’s noggin. Cole looked up to see Maude poking up out of the window of the overturned rig with a smoking revolver in her hand.
“You think you could kill me you fat scaly bastard?” Maude shouted. “I’ve had three kids and I’ve been through menopause!”