The Apex

Water dripped gently from my paddle as the blade rose lazily from the water, my stroke easy and unhurried. As the opposite blade dipped delicately below the surface, the kayak moved forward, gliding effortlessly along the calm, smooth surface of the river.

The air cooled subtly as I moved into the shadow of a large tree – a cypress – that overhung the water on this side of the river, then warmed again as I floated back out, the light of the sun first dimming, then fading. The current here had picked up a little, and I rested my paddle across the sides of the kayak, content to drift for the time being as I allowed myself to be captivated by my surroundings.

I had been following the river for the better part of the day, and was now miles from civilization; this part of the river was completely and utterly wild, untamed by man. Not so much as a single car engine carried through the dense woods around me, and I couldn’t recall the last time I’d seen a plane fly overhead. The seclusion was part of what drew me to this place time and again; the seclusion, and the solitude.

My eyes roamed the quiet landscape that surrounded me: the trees that grew along the shoreline, sparse close to the water, but growing thicker as they turned to real forest; the moss that festooned their branches; the birds that circled overhead; the crickets that chirped from the grass.

Along the banks, a handful of turtles and quite a few snakes basked in the warmth of the day, sunning themselves on rocks and logs, silent sentinels to my passage. I envied them their quiet serenity and their lives of apparent leisure, though I knew sunbathing was only a small portion of their daily routines. The rest of their time would be occupied by the constant fight for survival: a perpetual search for food and shelter from predators. 

For now, though, they could relax and enjoy the beautiful, cloudless day. Much as I was currently doing.

As I watched, a water snake slid from a log into the river, skimming along the surface in search of fish. A shrill cry pierced the quiet air, and an osprey suddenly dropped out of the sky, its wings folded tightly to its body, its talons outstretched. It hit the water like a cannonball, and there was a large splash that sent ripples and waves skittering across the otherwise still surface of the river. After a moment of confused churning, the osprey regained the sky, beating its wings fiercely as it hauled away its prize; the snake dangled, writhing, from its claws.

The corners of my mouth lifted in a small smile as my eyes traced the bird’s journey across the sky. There was beauty in death; in the fragility of life; in the continuance of survival in the face of adversity. The osprey and the snake it would soon feed upon were both survivors in their own rights, but this time, their paths had crossed, and success for the one meant failure for the other. And though the osprey was the victor today, one day soon, it likely would not be – it could fall victim to hunger if it was unable to find food, or to another predator that was stronger and faster.

The circle of life is more like a wheel, I mused, as I watched the osprey fly towards its nest; some creatures are lifted to the apex one day, just to be crushed underneath it the next.

After the osprey had faded from my sight, I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, inhaling deeply as I enjoyed the rays of sunlight that fell across my face. Warmth bloomed in my chest and my smile grew as a sense of calmness filled me. I always felt at peace when I was communing with nature; even more so when I was on the water.

Opening my eyes brought the wrapped parcel stowed in the rear cargo area into my peripheral vision. It was large, overhanging the sides of the kayak, held in place with rope and covered with a tarp for protection from the elements…and prying eyes. One edge of the tarp had come untucked and was dragging in the water. 

My brow furrowed slightly, the corners of my mouth flicking downward, as I remembered the real reason for this expedition. I wasn’t here to enjoy nature. There was work to do.

Sighing, I picked up my paddle, and began propelling myself along again, my strokes growing more forceful with my renewed sense of purpose. The kayak was heavier than I was used to, with the added weight of my cargo, but it was not too difficult to manage. And, I thought, it would only be a burden for the first part of the trip. The trip back would be much easier, even paddling against the current.

The blades rose and fell in a steady alternating pattern as I made my way downriver. Lily pads dotted the surface of the river, intermingled with reeds and tall grasses, but the kayak cut through them with ease. Up ahead, I knew, the river would grow even more narrow before it widened again, and the water plants would make passage difficult; for now, though, they were a pleasant addition to the scenery.

Sweat beaded on my forehead and chest, and I could feel it rolling down my back between my shoulders, which were already starting to ache with my effort. I paused for a moment, resting the paddle across my lap, and leaned over the side of the kayak, cupping my hands to collect the cool, clear river water. I splashed a double-handful to my face, gasping as the cold droplets touched my heated skin, then ran my wet hands across the back of my neck. The frigid river water mixed with the hot sweat, sending shivers across my body as it trailed down my back.

After pulling a bottle of spring water from the cooler stashed near my feet, I rummaged in the kayak’s drywell until I found my small watertight box of supplies. A bottle inside held an assortment of pills; for now, I only wanted the ibuprofen to stave off the muscle soreness that threatened.

I dried my hands on my shorts, then popped the bottle top and shook the pills into my hand; after selecting three of the small brown ibuprofen, I tossed them into my mouth and chased them with a swallow of water. The rest of the pills were dumped back into the bottle, which was then stowed away again.

A light breeze had picked up, further cooling me as I sipped the rest of my water. Looking around, I assessed my surroundings. It had been some time since I had been here last, but I still recognized the curve of the river. Around the next bend was where it began to narrow, twisting and turning for approximately half a mile; beyond that, it returned to its regular width and ran straight for another quarter-mile or so, then emptied out to an expanse wide enough to be a lake. My final destination was not much farther than that.

I re-capped the empty water bottle and tossed it down by my feet, then picked up my paddle to continue on my way. Now that my journey was almost at its end, the desire to finish the job quickly was overwhelming. Behind me, the tarp rattled with the breeze, as if in agreement.

As I came around the bend, I tightened my grip and began to paddle harder, wanting extra momentum to help propel me through the first of the water plants that choked the narrow waterway. It carried me through the first section, and partway through the second, before the greenery became too thick to pass over and I was dragged to a rough stop. My paddle became a prod as well as an oar as I attempted to move the thick bunches from my path. Cursing, I regretted my decision to leave my hatchet in my car, back at the head of the river.

The foliage held me captive for a minute longer before finally breaking up under my paddle. Pushing against it, I moved towards a clearer part of the river, where I could resume my normal paddling.

The vegetation began to thin, making my passage easier, and I knew I was coming to the wider part of the river; around the next turn, if memory served. My pace quickened.

As I went around the final bend, though, I found the passage mostly blocked by a fallen tree. It had likely been struck by lightning and cracked in half about a third of the way up its height; the top portion had fallen into the river. I quickly dropped a paddle blade into the water and held it steady, fighting to slow my forward movement before I ran into the tree. I cried out with effort, the added weight of my cargo making it even more difficult to stop; I was only a few feet away when I finally managed to do so.

Sprawled across the top of the fallen tree was a large alligator, its mouth open in a toothy grin.

My breath caught in my throat as I made eye contact with the scaly beast, and my body grew perfectly still. It turned its head towards me, hissing, and my heartbeat kicked up a notch. Slowly, slowly, I raised my paddle in front of me like a shield, anticipating an attack; though the paddle likely wouldn’t help much, it was still something with which I could defend myself, and my own survival instincts were strong.

As one hand held the paddle, the other creeped towards the folding knife in my hip pocket, my gaze never wavering from the gator. My fingers closed around the familiar cold metal, and I inched it slowly out of my pocket and released the blade. Tucking the handle against my palm, I grabbed onto the paddle again, gradually lowering it back to the water. One blade sank below the surface and I pushed against the water, sliding the kayak backwards.

The gator regarded me with its beady eyes, and I found myself unable to look away. I found myself thinking of the water snake from earlier with a touch more sympathy; there was a predator who likely thought itself at the top of its game, until the stronger, faster osprey came along. Here, I was in much the same situation. I could only hope my chances were better than the snake’s.

I continued to paddle slowly backwards, casting the occasional glance over my shoulder to find a place wide enough to turn around. The gator stayed on the log, staring at me the same way I imagined the osprey had stared at the snake before it decided to strike. My palms began to sweat on the shaft of the paddle.

Steering as best I could towards the nearest bank, I approached it backwards, the stern of the kayak grounding itself on the hummocks and gnarled roots that rose out of the water. Using this as a pivot point, I turned the kayak back upriver, casting quick, furtive glances over my shoulder to make sure the gator was staying put. I had almost finished turning myself around when I heard a low growl, followed by a scrabbling sound and a heavy splash.

Panic set in, and I began paddling frantically, shifting my body weight in an effort to get the kayak off the tangle of rocks and roots and back into moving water. The stern fell back into the water and I began to move, but it was too late – the gator was nearly upon me, propelled by its thick, muscular tail. Its mouth fell open and it hissed again, ready to strike as soon as it was in range.

Crying out, I turned quickly in my seat, using my knife to cut at the ropes holding the parcel in place at the rear of the kayak. Once they finally parted, I ripped the tarp free, revealing the body of my latest victim. 

The eyes of the corpse were still open, staring blindly at the sky. The arms and legs had been detached – quick work with my hatchet – and had been tied on top of the body, making it compact and easier to handle. Flies quickly began to swarm the stumps, feasting on the coagulated blood. 

I had learned many tricks during my time as a predator; how to dispose of my prey without being caught was one of them. I had planned to dump the body in the middle of the widest part of the river, where I had dumped so many others; now, it seemed, it would play a part in my own survival.

And I will survive, I thought. My place was at the apex of the brutal wheel of life; I would not be crushed underneath it.

Using my paddle, I shoved the dismembered body off the rear of the kayak, directly into the path of the gator, which immediately snapped at it. While its attention was diverted, I paddled quickly away, heading upriver. The kayak seemed light as a feather without the added weight of my passenger, and I made quick progress, even going against the current as I was.

Casting a final glance back over my shoulder, I saw the alligator tearing at the body, my presence completely forgotten. 

Smiling to myself, I faced forward and resumed my paddling, though slower now. The urgency faded as the gator passed from sight, and I felt my previous calm settling over me as I once again contemplated the beauty of the world around me.

Death…life...survival…they are all parts of the wheel. And my place at the apex was secure. 

For now.

Water dripped from my paddle as the blade rose from the water, and the kayak glided effortlessly across the calm, smooth surface of the river, bearing me towards home.