“Hey, I know you,” said the shaggy haired gent. “Joe, right? Joe Kettleman.”

Kettleman’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t recognize the speaker, nor the other. And something was off. The way they were dressed, the way they’d crunched in on his space—now less than twenty feet away, almost on top of Kettleman’s line.

“Yep, guilty as charged,” Kettleman admitted, setting down is rod. “Sorry, can’t say I know you.”

“That’s alright, you can a have a beer anyway,” said shaggy, turning and leaning away, then back with something in his hand. “Catch.”

“We ain’t close enough, Jim!” shot the skinny one.

Before Kettleman could agree, shaggy leaned forward and tossed the object underhand. It landed on the carpeted deck, rolled toward Kettleman, and dropped into the captain’s seat.

Not a beer.

A grenade.

GRENADE!

Kettleman froze for a split second, mind not believing what the eyes were seeing. The eyes might’ve lost the dispute, were it not for the action on the other boat. Both men had taken cover.

Kettleman leaped up, took two quick steps, and then fell overboard, tripping before he could dive.

Good thing, too. The water was shallow, maybe four feet. Kettleman lost a shoe in the thick mud trying to put distance between himself and the boat.

Nothing happened. No explosion.

Kettleman stopped. Was this some kind of joke?

“Are you kidding me?” howled somebody. “It’s a dud. A g’damn dud! You stupid son of—”

“How’s I s’posed to know! I paid damn near two grand cuz they said…”

Nope. Not a joke.

Kettleman stopped listening, started swimming. Right for the reeds where the gators were. Contrary to popular belief, alligators are less dangerous than people. People with grenades, anyhow.

The would be killers were cursing at each other, struggling with a stubborn engine that refused to turn. About the time it started, Kettleman hit the patch of reeds. The alligator was already gone, gliding away. The water became very shallow, so Kettleman pushed up and tried to run. But his feet sank in, deep.

CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK.

Bullets whizzed by. Kettleman dove into the muck.

Shaggy was screaming for his cohort to stop shooting. “S’posed to be an accident, an explosion!”