Lance knew he was close to the Everglades.

How did he know? Simple. There were crocodiles. Everywhere.

He was a long way from Louisiana.

“Why is it, that when you need a bigger boat, you can never find one?” Lance asked.

The woman looked at him, like she didn’t know what he was talking about.

He pointed.

A tail, 30 feet long, was following them, like a ship’s rudder.

She screamed. “Take us out to sea!” She started to mess with the sail.

“Keep your hands to yourself. Those things do better in the open water. We’re going to have to fend them off.”

“With what?”

Lance grabbed a harpoon from the bottom of his boat.

“With this.”

He had confidence that he could keep them from biting his bitch in half—just as long as he didn’t fall asleep, so staying awake, was going to be the hard part.

He kept alert, and the night fell like a blanket. There were monsters under his bed. Yellow eyes, everywhere.

“Don’t make a sound,” Lance said.

The eyes were getting closer.

He reached under his seat and pulled-out a stick of dynamite. Then he plopped it in a bucket, lit the fuse, and threw it behind them.

It got eaten, almost before it hit the water.


“That’ll teach ’em.”

To be continued…

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