"Quite a crowd already," Alex said. He surveyed the cavernous lobby before signing the registration book.
"Oh, yes," replied the clerk. She wore a badge which read, "Wakulla Springs Lodge" with the name "Janice" above it. He suspected she was one of the young Florida State University students he had often seen working at the Preserve.
"Creaturefest is a very popular event. It’s a fundraiser for Friends of Wakulla Springs put on by the Tallahassee Film Society. We’re booked solid for the entire weekend," she said, leaning toward him. "My boyfriend and I always watch The Creature from the Black Lagoon on the Sci Fi channel."
"Really?" he replied absently, handing her his credit card as he continued scanning the lobby. Alex noted a number of people already dressed in 1950’s boating clothes. Some wore hats decorated with small Creature dolls, while others wore rubberized replicas of the Creature’s hands and feet. Their laughter made him regret the time he spent strolling around the waterfront, before checking into the lodge. He had done it to reorient himself. For just this one weekend, he wanted to experience peace and pleasure at Wakulla Springs rather than the turmoil it had recently brought him. The bitter controversy over his springs research had driven his wife and daughter away, and would possibly cost him his reputation as a scientist.
As he waited, he impatiently readjusted his Gill Man Creature suit which hung loosely draped over his arm like a deflated parade float figure. He was proud of his creation—made from an old diving wet suit and hood—and he hoped to be the only one wearing the full iconic outfit. Ever since he was a boy, Alex had loved to create and wear costumes. His father disapproved of the hobby, fearing Alex might one day become an actor…or worse.
Janice slid his credit card back across the desk and handed him a large room key. "Second floor with a view of the spring. So you’re going to be the Creature from the Black Lagoon?" she said, peering over the desk at the slime green costume. "Cool suit. Have a great weekend, Dr. Hadley."
He thanked her, reached for his overnight bag, and walked up the marble steps near the reception desk. He couldn’t help smiling as he turned the key to his room. He knew what to expect—the lodge was known for its old-fashioned simplicity, and the serenity of its natural surroundings. He entered the modest space and took a deep breath. He put his things down on the bed and was immediately drawn to the wide expanse of draped windows. He opened the drapes and stood looking out. An aura of peace descended upon him as he stared at the renowned spring through the broad expanse of lawn and moss-draped oak trees.
"This is just what I needed," he said, and felt a familiar sense of awe and intimacy for this seemingly ordinary pool of water. Alex had first-hand knowledge of its boundless depths and extensive caves. He was one of a privileged few professional divers to explore and map them. But, at this moment, he avoided any thoughts about the threats to Wakulla Springs once pristine waters.
Abruptly ending his reverie, he felt eager to join the company of others in the lobby, to swap stories about the making of the Creature movie. After a quick shower, and—dressed only in shorts, and a tee-shirt—Alex sat down and began pulling on the costume’s web-footed pants. He pushed his left leg into the bottom, felt an odd crunch under the foot, and felt the first sharp sting.
Instinctively, he slid his hand into the lower portion of the suit. He experienced another stinging bite on his finger. He quickly withdrew his hand, and saw a small red fire ant crawling on it. Biting stings intensified on his feet and up his leg.
Panicky—his heart pumping wildly—Alex lunged toward the bed to get his Epi Pen. He tripped on the corner of the metal bed frame, landed on the floor, and cried out, "Holy shit!" then crawled over to the overnight case which lay opened on the bed. He tossed its contents searching for the epinephrine syringe. He knew he was in great danger when he realized it wasn’t there.
"Impossible," he whispered, his throat dry from fear. "I know I packed it."
Still sitting on the floor, he clumsily tried to yank off the pants, but his swelling leg was stuck in the wet suit. His breathing became labored. His confusion and dizziness increased, and he knew he desperately needed to get help. He grabbed for the telephone on the nightstand, over-reached, and knocked over the lamp.
Exhausted, Alex fell flat on the floor between the beds. In between violent wheezing spasms, he gasped for breath and flailed at the costume. The pain from his leg was excruciating. His face, eyelids, and lips were grotesquely swollen.
In an almost dreamlike trance, he thought he heard someone knocking at the door. He tried to call out, but the swelling in his throat prevented it. Within minutes, he slipped into severe anaphylactic shock and unconsciousness. He lay still with one leg stuck in the Gill Man costume. Red ants emerged from the other leg of the costume, and blended into the rose-colored rug on which Dr. Alex Hadley lay dead.
