Excerpt
Brad looked up, an artery in his neck pulsating as his heart rate shot up at once. He tried to dispel the image of Cajun Bill’s hatchet from his mind as he made his way to the structure as quickly as his jellied legs would allow. As he got closer, the screaming intensified. He looked around for a weapon of some kind; a rake, a shovel, a sturdy branch, but there was nothing in plain sight. His vision started to blur and he felt a little queasy as he reached the door. The rusted hinges resisted, and he had to push as hard as he could to gain entry.
“Charlie!” he called out as he burst inside. “Charlie, are you okay?” It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and when they did he immediately saw his brother-in-law sitting up on the floor, his back against the far wall. One of his wrists was shackled to a steel loop cemented into the ground and he was bleeding from a gash on his forehead.
“Help me,” Charlie pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes fluttered in their sockets. He was on the verge of unconsciousness.
Just then Brad noticed that his brother-in-law’s left leg had been hacked off at mid-thigh. The nub of his exposed femur was smashed and splintered. There was so much blood pooled around him that Brad thought there had to be other victims being held captive and tortured in the shack.
“Oh, my God.” Brad felt his gorge rise and he staggered back, gagging, vomit spilling from the sides of his mouth. Something came out of the darkness behind him just as he stumbled over Charlie’s amputated limb, and as a result, the blunt end of the hatchet, intended for the back of Brad’s head, only grazed his temple. He went down hard yowled in pain as his tailbone struck the blood-soaked floor with a numbing crunch that electrified the nerves running down his legs. He maintained consciousness and he was able to scramble to his feet and out the door.
“Gotta be live bait,” Cajun Bill said, giving chase, “or t’ey won’t bite.”
Brad thought he could still outrun the old-timer and get to his truck safely, even with the blow to the head and his legs wobbly, but then he heard an unusual hissing sound and made the mistake was turning around to see what it was. Astounded by the sight, he was unable to look away. He paused momentarily, and that was all it took to seal his fate. He wondered if the knock to his skull was more serious than he thought, making him see something that wasn’t real. He could only watch in wide-eyed terror as Cajun Bill began to shapeshift before his very eyes. The man’s face distorted and elongated, his eyes rolling up to the top of the head as a scaly snout pushed outward, blunt teeth lining the top and bottom of its jaws. His arms shrank back, as did his legs, and a thick, muscular tail formed behind him. Just like that, the man had completely transformed into an absurdly large alligator with skin that was the color of blood wine. Its ancient lizard eyes locked on Brad, and the beast hissed again. As the colossal reptile lurched forward, Brad made a feeble effort to run but only managed a couple of steps before his feet got tangled in some Spanish moss vines and he tumbled to the ground. When he looked back, the sprawling gator raised its legs and belly off the ground and transitioned to a high walk, slithering toward him at a surprising rate of speed.