Swamp Monster Massacre (5 page)

“How much water we got?” Rooster asked.
 

“Not a lot,” the middle-aged guy said. He had his arm around his wife, whether to hold himself up or console her was anyone’s guess. “There’s six bottles of water, two bottles of Gatorade and three sodas.”

We’re fucked
, Rooster thought. Heat like this, dehydration was going to be on them quicker than a fart through an asshole.
 

The pilot walked over to him. He had an old gunny sack over one shoulder and was holding a black plastic case. He said, “I don’t suppose you’re going to let me send up some flares.”

Rooster shook his head. “Can’t let that happen…yet. Why don’t you hand them over before temptation gets the better of you?”

He held out his hand. The pilot thought long and hard about it, but finally slumped his shoulders and gave him the case. Rooster was glad he had come to him and asked, rather than sending one off and forcing him to put a few of these new bullets in his head.
 

The pilot was about to walk back to the group, paused, and said low enough for no one else to hear, “You see any sign of that monkey we run over when we came to ground?”

Rooster’s first instinct was to laugh, but the man was dead serious. That head injury must have really scrambled his brains.
 

“What the hell are you talking about,
some monkey
? There’s ain’t no monkeys in the Glades.”

“That’s what I thought, but I saw it clear as day and even felt the boat thump it when we went over it.” He looked toward the water and pointed. “In fact, I think it was standing right there.”

Rooster patted his back with enough force to send him back to the others.
 

“Don’t you go worrying about no monkeys. We got bigger problems, Mac. Why don’t you help the girls get that kid on his feet?”

Fucking monkeys. Wait until thirst started settling in. The rest of them would be seeing flying giraffes and talking hippos before this day was done.
 

He watched everyone work together in silence, occasionally stealing glances his way. When he yawned, a family of mosquitoes got sucked in by the backdraft and lodged in his throat. His lungs went into instant convulsions and he coughed to beat the band. Stooped over, he hacked as hard as he could to get the bastards out, but it was no use.
 

Hocking up whatever he could, he spit into the water, hoping to expel at least one.
 

He stopped coughing and spitting the instant he saw the mangled lump of bloody fur and flesh curled up in a ball by the water’s edge.

Chapter Nine

Mick saw the big guy stop and stare at something by the water. His eyes looked about ready to fall out of his skull.
 

“Guess I’m not so crazy after all,” Mick muttered.

“Say what?” the Italian kid asked. He was busy tying a pair of Windbreakers together so he could make a sack to carry supplies in.
 

Mick didn’t answer him. Instead, he walked over to where the big guy stood and fixed his gaze on the mangled body sitting in muddy water, blood and brain matter.
 

“What the hell is that?” Mick said.
 

“I’ll tell you what it’s not. That ain’t no fucking monkey.”

“It looks like it has two legs and two arms, but they’re so tore up, it’s hard to make heads or tails. Maybe if we can see the face.”

Mick found an old, gnarled stick and used it to try to turn the body over. It had been squished into the mud and sand, neither wanting to give up their desperate hold. When it came loose with a sickening burp, the foulest odor he had ever had the displeasure of smelling exploded out of the carcass.
 

“If I had anything in my stomach, it would be on the floor right now,” Mick said, pinching his nose shut. “Feel free to get as close as you want, mister. That’s as far as I care to look.”

“Name’s Rooster,” he replied. “Mister is for old men and fags. Here, give me that stick. I want to get a better view.”

“Be my guest,” Mick said, backing up and shifting upwind.
 

Rooster worked the stick back and forth like a pry bar until the body completely turned over.
 

“Guess it’s true,” Rooster said. “The grass isn’t always greener on the other side. Looks like it head-butted the boat. No telling what it looked like before it became swamp kill. But I’ll tell you one thing, I’ve watched enough animal shows to know that ain’t no monkey. A full-grown chimp, maybe, but I never seen one with such long hair. I have no fucking clue what it could be.”

“Oh, my God, that’s gross!” One of the girls had come over to see what the fuss was about. Mick tried to gently guide her away with a hand on her shoulder, but she wouldn’t budge. Aside from the grisly body, he thought it only right to keep the girls away from their hijacker. There was no telling what was going on in his head. “Did we hit that?”

“Pretty hard,” Mick said.
 

A long, dark shadow crept over them, turning the day to dusk in seconds. Mick looked up at the sky and shook his head.
 

“Afternoon storm’s coming in right on time.”

“Good. At least it’ll cool us off and get these damn mosquitoes to quit biting us.”

“Not that simple,” Mick said. “The rain won’t last long, and then you’ll be soaked with no way to dry off in this humidity. The mosquitoes will be back when it’s over, and in full force.”

No sooner had he said the words than a crack of thunder signaled the downpour to follow. The rain came down in a frenzy, with no buildup. One second they were dry, the next it was like the angels were dumping truckloads of water on their heads.
 

Everyone started to move toward the trees, some quicker than others depending on the severity of their injuries. The one Italian kid just lay on the sand, taking the storm full in the face.
 

“Stay outta the damn trees!” Rooster yelled over the rumble of thunder and roar of the rain. “You don’t know what’s in there waiting for a fool like you to walk right in. Unless you’re that witch from
The Wizard of Oz
, a little rain won’t hurt you.”

Mick was shocked. He realized that if Rooster (
did he really say his name was Rooster
?) wanted to get rid of them, the last thing he would do is warn them about going places that could get them killed and out of his hair.
 

But he did still hold on to his guns.
 

So they stood away from the trees and the metal boat, riding out the deluge. The sun had been obliterated and it was almost as dark as night. Mick knew these storms were as short-lived as they were vicious, but it was unnerving nonetheless.
 

He jumped when he heard the scream. The sudden movement brought a fireworks display to his cracked skull.
 

When he tried to steady himself with the girl, he saw that she had grabbed hold of Rooster’s arm.
 

Now everyone was screaming, most of all the Italian kid who couldn’t stand.
 

Something big was dragging him off, and it didn’t sound happy.
 

Rooster had perfect eyesight, but he still couldn’t make out the tall, broad figure through the wall of rain and gloom. It had to be a man, and one hell of a big one at that. If Rooster was right, it was over seven feet tall, if not eight. It was hard to tell with it all hunched down, wrangling the kid.
 

“Noooo! Noooo! Noooo! Somebody help me!” the Italian kid bawled.
 

He was being lugged away from them by the ankle. He clawed at the sand in a futile attempt to halt his progress into the total darkness beyond the trees.
 

“Angelo!” his buddy shouted, running over to help.
 

Rooster was suddenly hit by an overwhelming odor that made the ball of mess in the water smell like potpourri. It was like a combination of gasoline, body odor, wet dog and the inside of a baby’s diaper. Everyone else must have smelled it, too, because he saw a lot of crinkled noses.
 

Suddenly, there was a loud roar, like what Rooster would imagine a tiger caught in a bear trap would sound like, that turned the piss in his bladder to ice.
 

And it was coming from the thing carting the kid off.
 

The kid’s friend was almost on top of him, and there was another roar, followed by a hard slap, and the kid went down like Tyson had given him an uppercut.
 

Rooster pulled the gun from his belt and cocked the hammer back.
 

A pair of red eyes cut through the murk, pausing for a moment on each one of them, taking them in, daring someone to make a move.
 

He took a few, slow steps forward, refusing to blink despite the irritating rivulets of water burning his eyes. The girl kept by his side.
 

“Oh shit,” Rooster hissed.
 

That wasn’t no man holding the kid.
 

He couldn’t recall any man being over seven feet tall
and
covered with hair. Its hair was long and matted, and he realized the awful stink was coming off of it in repulsive waves. There was a small, hairless patch of what looked to be rough, sun-scorched skin just around the nose, eyes and mouth. But those eyes. Dear God, it was like looking into the eyes of Satan himself!

“Let me go!” the kid shouted, breaking the stare-down. He tried to kick the beast with his free leg, but it twisted his body with the ease of flicking a jump rope, causing him to miss badly. There was a loud crunch and the kid wailed so hard, Rooster thought his throat would burst.
 

“Was that his ankle?” the girl whispered.
 

Rooster nodded. He sure as shit couldn’t think of any man who could crush another man’s bones like that.
 

“Shoot it,” the girl said.
 

He didn’t need to be told twice. Rooster raised the gun and squeezed the trigger. The gun went off at the exact same time as a flash of lightning lit up their world, temporarily blinding him. When he opened his eyes, the beast and the Italian kid were gone.
 

A swath of sawgrass waved from side to side, the fading sign of the monster’s quick escape. The only sound was the pounding of the rain on the water and the long, heavy leaves of the trees.
 

How did I miss it?
There was no way it could have ducked his shot. Nothing on earth was that fast. Nothing.
 

He looked down at the girl. “Stay right here.”

Everyone else was huddled together by the wrecked boat. Rooster strode over to where the other kid lay, keeping his gun well out in front. His finger applied enough pressure on the trigger to make the gun go off with the slightest provocation. Bending down on one knee next to the kid, but keeping his eyes on the tree line where the monster had taken off, he gave him a soft slap on the cheek. The kid answered with a dull moan.
 

“You good enough to get up?” Rooster asked. His guts were pulled tight and his nose wanted to call it quits. The smell was even worse here.
 

“I…I think so.”

“Then do it quick. It ain’t safe here. I’ll help you.”

He lifted him with his free arm and walked backward to the rest of the group.
 

The relentlessness of the rain eased up, signaling the beginning of the storm’s end. Less than a minute later, it had passed, leaving them soaked, confused and frightened. And true to Mick’s word, the heat came back with a vengeance, as did the mosquitoes.
 

“Anybody got a fucking clue what the hell that was?” Rooster said. His head swiveled in every direction, waiting for it to reappear. His heart was beating so hard he thought it was going to turn his rib cage to dust.
 

All heads turned when the little guy stammered, “I think I do, but I sure do hope I’m wrong.”

Part Two

Fright

Chapter Ten

“My name’s Jack Campos. I was just taking a break from a conference, wanted to get a chance to see firsthand what the Everglades were like, you know? All I expected to see were some alligators and birds. You all might think I’m crazy, but I’ve seen that
thing
before.” Because of his missing teeth, he whistled a good deal of the words.
 

Everyone had gathered in a circle around him. Jack wasn’t used to being the center of attention, and their incredulous looks weren’t making things any easier for him.

As he struggled to find the right words to say, the man with the gun said, “I find it hard to believe that anyone has ever seen anything like that before.”

Jack cleared his throat. “Now, I…I didn’t say I had ever seen one with my own eyes. Don’t get me wrong on that. What I am saying is that I’ve heard about that particular creature and saw some artist renditions and a few grainy photographs. I’m a—” He paused. “I’ve always been fascinated by cryptozoology. If I thought I could make a living off of it, I would have traded in my desk job a long time ago. Plus, I have a nephew, Tobi, who’s really into all that paranormal stuff. He’s got good reasons to be. Kid’s got gifts.” He lost himself for a moment, thinking about Tobi, then shook his head. “Being his favorite uncle, I get exposed to a lot of it.”