“So what? Call ’em.”
“I think we’re on some sort of blacklist.”
“You’re joking,” the director said. “Because of what happened at Yellowstone? Geez, that was three, four years ago.”
“Not my fault!” Derek protested from the folds of his robe. “I didn’t know it was a bloody eagle nest.”
That wasn’t true. Everyone on the set had warned him it was an eagle nest. Before climbing the old cottonwood, he’d strapped on his Helmet Cam, thereby making sure that the whole idiotic crime had been recorded. A park ranger who’d arrived during the fiasco retrieved the eagle egg as soon as Derek descended from the tree, depriving the survivalist of a tasty breakfast omelet and possibly a prison term.
For disturbing a federally protected species, Derek had been slapped with a ten-thousand-dollar fine that was hastily paid by the producers of Expedition Survival! Miraculously, the story had never leaked out to the media.
Everglades National Park was a long way from Yellowstone, so it seemed possible to Derek’s director that the authorities in Florida were unaware of the nest-robbing incident.
“Fine,” Raven said. “I’ll call the park superintendent and give it a shot.”
Her lack of enthusiasm annoyed Derek. “Be sure and tell them we’re the number one rated survival show on TV!”
“Right.”
“Broadcast twice weekly across all eight continents!”
“ Eight continents?” whispered the director.
Raven put a finger to her lips. “Let it go.”
Derek beckoned them both to his bedside. “This is pure gold,” he said, touching the Replay button again and setting the alligator scene in motion. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime, near-death experience.”
Neither Raven nor the director could disagree. If it weren’t for Mickey Cray, Derek probably wouldn’t have survived the struggle with Alice.
“The rest of the show,” he said dreamily, “must all build up to this incredible, heart-stopping moment. We’ll spare no expense!”
Raven waited for Derek to finish savoring the replay so that she would have his full attention. She said, “Mr. Cray would like to know which animals to bring along when we go on location.”
“Tell him not to bring any.”
“But-”
“No tame animals, darling. This time we’re going totally raw and wild.”
Raven glanced apprehensively at the director, who said to Derek, “Why not have a few ringers handy, just for backup? They’ve got a gimpy bobcat that I’m sure we could use in a scene or two-”
“No more faking it, mate. From now on, we’re putting the ‘real’ back in ‘reality.’ ”
Raven didn’t like the sound of that.
Derek basked on the bed like a walrus, jowly and content. “Surely our talented Mr. Cray can track down some beasties for me to tangle with in the deep, dark Everglades,” he said. “I’m totally psyched about this show, aren’t you?”
The director was the opposite of psyched. Surviving the alligator scare obviously had inflated Derek’s already-bloated ego and filled his head with foolish notions.
“But what if we don’t come across any wild animals?” the director asked. “Then we’ve basically got fifty minutes of you schlepping through the muck.”
From somewhere inside his robe Derek produced a sprinkle-covered donut and crammed it in his cheeks. “No worries. Cray and his lad will come through-God knows we’re paying ’em enough.”
Raven went outside to think. The director caught up with her by the primate pen, a safe distance from the motor coach. There was no way Derek could hear them over the shrill din of monkey chatter.
“I’m not loving this scenario,” the director confided.
“Me neither,” Raven said grimly. “That’s his third donut since lunch. Pretty soon he’ll be too fat to fit in his khakis.”
“No, it’s the show I’m worried about. We’ve never done one with strictly wild animals.”
Raven decided to be positive. “This is just a phase. Derek will come to his senses, you’ll see.”
“If he doesn’t, then everything depends on that crazy redneck-and he’s not exactly a charter member of the Derek fan club.”
“Think positive,” Raven said.
At that moment, a disgusting glop of something flew out of the monkey pen and splatted in her hair.
“You have got to be kidding,” she said.
The director ran for cover as the monkeys threw more, yowling uproariously.
TEN
Mickey Cray was surprised to learn that Derek Badger didn’t want any of his captive critters on location. Mickey had never wrangled for a nature show that used only wild animals, nor had he ever encountered a person less qualified than Derek to handle untamed specimens.
“How ’bout if I bring a water moccasin? I got a three-footer so calm that a baby could play with it,” he said. “Or maybe a couple of the raccoons-they’re always fun to have around the set.”
Raven Stark said no thanks. “Derek wants to do this totally wild and raw.”
“Slow and dumb doesn’t mix with wild and raw.”
“Thanks for your input, Mr. Cray.”
“Seriously. The man almost got killed by the world’s laziest alligator.”
Raven said, “See you bright and early.”
The next morning, Mickey got the kids up first. While he went out back to check on the animals, they ate a quick breakfast and loaded the truck. Wahoo told Tuna that she should call her father to let him know she was all right.
“I already did,” she said. “He hadn’t even noticed I was gone.”
“Didn’t he ask where you were?”
“Nope. He was too busy yelling.” She tossed her tote bag into the back of the pickup. Her black eye looked worse than it had the night before.
Wahoo said, “Your dad could go to jail for what he did.”
“What if I told you I hit him back? Let’s just say he won’t be riding any motorcycles for a while.”
They spritzed each other with bug repellent and walked down to the pond because Tuna wanted to have a look at Alice.
“Wow. That’s a major Alligator mississippiensis.”
“A queen,” Wahoo agreed.
“To think, she almost ate the great Derek Badger.”
“She wasn’t trying to eat him. He climbed on her back and she spazzed out.”
Tuna grinned. “Whatever. It’s still epic.”
Expedition Survival! was one of her all-time favorite TV shows, and she was excited about the opportunity to see Derek Badger in action. Wahoo didn’t want to burst her bubble by revealing that the man was a menace to all other life-forms. She’d figure that out for herself.
“Do you think I’ll get to meet him?” she asked. “Would he autograph my jacket?”
Before Wahoo could compose a diplomatic answer, a racket arose from a nearby enclosure-the raccoons, demanding food.
“Procyon lotor,” Tuna said.
Wahoo wanted to know how she’d learned the scientific names for so many animals. She explained that the study was called taxonomy, which classified all living things into categories based on traits and common ancestors. The first part of the scientific name identified the genus, and the last part was the species.
“Every organism, from a fungus to a whale, has its own special place on the taxonomy chart. You should
