Vampires of Miami_Vampires of the World by Geoffrey Knight

Author:Geoffrey Knight [Knight, Geoffrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Squid INQ Press
Published: 2020-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

His feet sank into the mud, and the black bayou water splashed up around his shins, his thighs. The light from the candle flames, trying desperately to stay alive as he dashed through the night air, illuminated his glistening naked body, wet with sweat, painted with cracked red wax and spattered with cum that slipped down his tanned torso.

The lights of the house were long gone.

The full moon cast a strange blue glow through the bayou, shadowed by long branches and dripping vines.

The sounds of men fucking and champagne corks popping had quickly faded away, leaving nothing but the sound of his panicked breathing, of frogs chirping and water slushing madly around him as he waded through it, trying to find a way out.

He had no idea where he was going.

No idea how far the bayou stretched.

If he was lucky, he might stumble across a road in the next few feet, or he could be staggering through the swamp for the next three days. That is, if he survived that long.

Suddenly, he heard a swoosh of water in the darkness behind him.

Jaxon stopped dead, thigh-deep in the swamp, moss-covered bayou branches sinking into the marsh all around him. He turned quickly—too quickly—and dropped the candelabra, the flames hissing as they hit the water. In the light of the moon, he caught a glimpse of a large reptilian tail with two ridges of craggy scales running down its length. It slid through the water before disappearing beneath the surface, leaving small eddies of swirls and currents.

Another splash in the water off to his left was enough to make him realize things were about to get a whole lot worse.

Panic-stricken, Jaxon began to run as fast as he could, churning through the swampy waters with all his strength and speed.

Suddenly the waters turned into a storm all around him, a frenzy of whipping tails and thrashing bodies, and the heads of a dozen or more alligators snapping and chomping through the bayou, all headed straight for him, coming from all directions.

Jaxon’s legs pumped. His bursting, fear-filled eyes caught sight of a small, muddy island ahead, covered by the twisted roots of a tree that stretched high into the night sky. He knew alligators couldn’t climb—he’d be safe if only he could make it to that tree.

The hungry alligators powered through the water on all sides, jaws chomping, eyes rolling back in their heads, ready for the kill. Jaxon crashed through the swamp, the island and tree only a few feet away, now. The waters became more and more shallow with every step.

Then suddenly he slipped in the mud.

His naked body fell facedown into the murky, black waters. As he heard the monster alligators splash through the water, he tried desperately to claw his way onto the small island. But his feet slipped helplessly, and his hands slid uselessly through the sludgy bottom of the marsh.

Then he felt it.

A pair of jaws clamped down on his calf, and ripped through his flesh.

Jaxon

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