Come on, I said. Let’s get moving.

Chutsky shuddered and shook his head. I couldn’t even move, just lying there listening to what he was doing to Frank. He sounded so happy—‘What’s your guess? No? All right, then—an arm.’ And then the sound of the saw, and—

Chutsky, I said.

And then when he got me up there and he said, ‘Seven,’ and ‘What’s your guess.’ And then—

It’s always interesting to hear about someone else’s technique, of course, but Chutsky seemed like he was about to lose whatever control he had left, and I could not afford to let him snuffle all over the other side of my shirt. So I stepped close and grabbed him by the good arm. Chutsky. Come on. Let’s get out of here, I said.

He looked at me like he didn’t know where he was, eyes as wide as they could go, and then turned back to the mirror. Oh Jesus, he said. Then he took a deep and ragged breath and stood up as if he was responding to an imaginary bugle. Not so bad, he said. I’m alive.

Yes, you are, I said. And if we can get moving we might both stay that way.

Right, he said. He turned his head away from the mirror decisively and put his good arm around my shoulder. Let’s go.

Chutsky had obviously not had a great deal of experience at walking with only one leg, but he huffed and clumped along, leaning heavily on me between each hopping step. Even with the missing parts, he was still a big man, and it was hard work for me. Just before the bridge he paused for a moment and looked through the chain-link fence. He threw my leg in there, he said, to the alligators. He made sure I was watching. He held it up so I could see it and then he threw it in and the water started to boil like . . . I could hear a rising note of hysteria in his voice, but he heard it, too, and stopped, inhaled shakily, and said, somewhat roughly, All right. Let’s get out of here.

We made it back to the gate with no more side trips down memory lane, and Chutsky leaned on a fence post while I got the gate open. Then I hopped him around to the passenger seat, climbed in behind the wheel, and started the car. As the headlights flicked on, Chutsky leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Thanks, buddy, he said. I owe you big-time. Thank you.

You’re welcome, I said. I turned the car around and headed back toward Alligator Alley. I thought Chutsky had fallen asleep, but halfway along the little dirt road he began to talk.