Swamp Monster Massacre Read Online Free PDF

with his hands like it was going to come apart.  
    That’s when she saw the big guy, the one who had gotten them into this, sitting on a rock, watching them.  
    He said to the Italian guy, “Well, at least that’ll take your mind off your hand.”
    The guy stopped, looked at his hand that was more broken up than a trailer park after a twister, and wailed loud enough to be heard in the Bronx.  
     
    An osprey swept out of the sun-blistered sky and dove into the water, snatching a fish from its merry way, and disappeared over the tree line. Rooster watched it with a burning envy. He’d arm-wrestle the Devil to have himself a pair of wings. Slogging through the swamp in this heat, and later in the dark, could get him killed.  
    Getting up off his ass was no easy feat, but he made a point not to show the least bit of discomfort. It felt like every bone and organ in his body had been taken out, put through a cement mixer filled with bricks, and shoved back inside, all broken and bruised.  
    This was some motley crew he had to contend with. He sighed with resignation. The way he looked at it, they were all in this together. It was, when he thought about it, his fault that they were stuck here, some of them most likely gator bait. It wasn’t their fault he killed Cheech. And it wasn’t like they had asked to get shot at and spilled all over the place in a wreck. In his book, that made them his responsibility. Not that he knew what the hell to do with them, but it would come to him. Getting out of tight jams was his specialty, though this one was tighter than usual.  
    He’d try to do right by them…unless they pissed him off. In that case, all bets were off.  
    When he saw that he had their full attention, all eyes shifting to the loaded pistol in his hand, he said, “Let’s get one thing straight. I am not the bad guy. I was running from the bad guys. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
    “If you’re not the bad guy, how come you’re holding a gun on us?” one of the blonde girls said without a lick of fear. She was wrapping gauze around the pilot’s head. It bled like a waterfall, but head wounds did that. She may have been young and slight, but she and her sister were probably the toughest in the bunch. Despite the pain and their unfortunate circumstance, it kind of turned him on.  
    Rooster slowly slipped the gun through his belt on his right side. He moved his hand away and raised both to show he had no intention of using it on them.  
    “Is that better?” he asked.  
    She didn’t reply.  
    The ones who weren’t dazed shot daggers his way. He had to take control of the situation before somebody did something stupid. When people did stupid things around him, it was usually the last thing they did. The swamp had enough shit out to get them. He didn’t want to be part of the list.  
    “We’re gonna have to move out of here, and soon,” he said. “This is a good time to get yourselves fixed up as best you can with that first aid kit. Those of you that don’t need much should gather things like water and tools and anything else we could use for shelter or protection. I’d help you, but I think it’s best I supervise until you come to grips with my intentions.”
    The Jersey Shore kid without the busted hand said, “What happens if we don’t leave? You going to shoot us?”
    Rooster could tell the kid was trying to be brave, but the slight quiver in his voice gave him away. It wasn’t a challenge. He was just scared and wanted to know if he should pull out his rosary beads.  
    “I’m not going to do anything. The gators who have been nesting in all this sawgrass, however, will do plenty. They’re out in the water now, but you can bet those fuckers will be coming home soon enough. If you want to lay yourself out like an appetizer, be my guest.”
    He let that sink in. Now their anger at him had been replaced by fear of the gators. It was a start in the right