Several people leaned over the railing, looking into the pond and yelling at an elderly man who was splashing wildly, cursing, and clearly not listening to the profusion of advice from above."Oh, Christ, it's Boote. I'll bet he's drunk." The voice sounded like Tessa's, but Lindsay didn't look behind her, instead she hurried to the scene and saw that a piece of lower railing had come loose."We need to help him," Lindsay said. "If he is drunk, he probably can't help himself."She looked over at the alligator. It was as still as a log in the same spot on the other side of the pond. She started to kneel down, but felt herself gently pushed aside."Boote, old man," said John West, kneeling and reaching out toward him. "Don't make me have to come in and drag you out of there. Swim toward me."The alligator submerged and someone yelled. Boote, as if just realizing where he was, darted his head back and forth, looking, then panicked, flailed his arms, and went under."Well, shit," said John. He sat down on the walkway, dangled his legs over the side, and eased himself into the water.The pond wasn't deep.
