Page 133 of Death is Familiar

“Yes, like that. Toss it to me.” The stick splashed, splattering the damp and decay across my face. My lips. I spat. “Grab more. Keep tossing.”

I rubbed my scent all over the sticks as they arrived, smacking and clapping against the surface of the water surrounding me, then tossed them every which way around the boggy banks. The majority, however, I sent afloat down the meagre current. The flow of ‘water’, slow as it was, was consistent. If we maintained the time advantage afforded by our head start, the sticks should end up a fair distance away.

“What are you doing?” Three asked as she sent me another stick.

“Hopefully, leading our scent away.” Otherwise, I just spent five minutes in the middle of a swamp rubbing wet sticks underneath my armpits for nothing.

“Why don’t we just walk in the water? If they do have dogs, they won’t be able to follow our smell there.”

She’d seen too many TV shows. “That’s not how it works.”

There was a heavy splash in the distance. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, as I listened for any other telltale sounds. Anything that might give way to a threat.

Being in the middle of a swamp, was probably a bad time to realize that we may be in bear territory. And I was carrying a bag of food around my chest.

I waited a moment, then two.

Nothing but the ambient sounds of the wilderness.

For now, submerged in the water, I’d focus on all the amphibious creatures and reptiles that could possibly be lurking mere feet away, and hope the splash was a tree giving way to the swamp.

“What was that?”

“I don’t know, but let’s get a move on.” I started moving towards the other side of the bank, the water slipping up past my hips, over my belly, just beneath my breasts. But I didn’t hear any movement behind me.

Looking back, Three hadn’t moved. She was statue-still as she stared at the water in front of her. I scanned the surface for signs of wildlife, and came up empty.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was doing everything in her power to slow us down. “Come on, Three, we’ve got to go.”

She swallowed. “I can’t swim.”

She’d been locked in a basement her entire life, of fucking course, she couldn’t swim.

I needed to calm my thoughts. My anger could be useful in many situations, but this wasn’t one of them.

“Okay, okay,” I said, as I tried to concoct a plan, and not think about all of the things that could be in the swamp.

Don’t think about alligators, or water snakes, or giant catfish, or snapping turtles, or leeches, or bodies…

I thought about alligators, and snakes, and catfish, and turtles, and leeches, and bodies, as I waded past the halfway point and felt the incline solidify beneath my silt-covered feet. The swamp was walkable. But the depth, if Three freaked out, would be a problem. Which meant I needed to go back and guide her across.

I hated this so, so much. Mentally, I added wading barefoot through a swap to my list of very rational fears. Perhaps even higher on my list than tornadoes, and tornadoes were pretty fucking high. In fact, I’d willingly opt-in to joining the vamps and partake in their activities involving red syrup, if it meant I would get out of this nightmare of a swamp.

“Take my hand.” Reaching up, I held my hand out for Three. “I’ll guide you across. We can walk the whole thing. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Biting her bottom lip, her fingers twitching, she sucked in a large breath as she took a hold of my hand.

“Good. Good, you’re doing good,” I said, wishing I had the luxury of looking up at the sky, which was the same course of action Three decided on. Nose upturned, her face was the embodiment of disgust. I couldn’t say mine wasn’t doing the same. “Great job, just keep walking and we’ll be there before we know it.”

We were just crossing the half way point when I spotted a disturbance atop the surface of the water. Eyes.

They were there one second. Then gone the next.

Shit, shit, shit. I plastered a smile on my face, encouraging Three to move. “See, it’s not that bad, we’re already on our way out.”

“I don’t like this, Two. I don’t like it at all. It’s wet, and gross, and,” while Three continued to list off all the things she didn’t like about traversing the swamp, the eyes reappeared. Closer this time, “and it’s cold, and I’m hungry, and my feet hurt.”

“That’s good, what you are doing is good, let it all out.” My attentions were fixed on the nearing reptilian snout.