Into the Swamplands

By Rich Cole

The swamps of Atchafalaya is filled with wonders and magic of nature, and Army veteran Nate goes in search for Crocs, but meets a deadlier set of predators—humans. Suddenly, his world gets darker than the sins in his nightmares. He must survive, and in doing so, he must become the man he used to be. The man he had sworn to never be again. This book is complete with monstrosity and shows how easy a good day can turn into the most terrifying week you have ever seen. You will sit tight, keep turning—because how do you stop?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Seagull Editions
• Release date: May 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223476085

Book preview

INTO THE

SWAMPLANS

© 2021 Seagull Editions s.r.l.

www.seagulleditions.com

Chapter One

Nate took a long gulp of his beer, staring ahead. The water was not beautiful. It was almost as dark as night and he could see nothing when he looked over the side of the boat. For miles all he could hear was the soft, rising groan of the Gator-tail. The boat wasn’t old, buts he wasn’t old either. She was just perfect. Nate scratched the small growth that were sprouting out his cheeks. The beer tasted like shit, but it was still a bit cold and that was a miracle.

Where the hell are they?

He had been asking that since he realized he was already going further than he wanted to. He steered the boat out of the way of a jutting tree truck and then another. The further he went, the darker it looked, and the silence kind of grew. He had always been the kind of man who loved peace quiet. He loved the way nature enveloped everything in places like this. That was why he was here—right?

Nate scoffed and pushed the question away. He was not trying to dive deep into his problems. He was in the water, in this black, deep of southern Louisiana because of croc and gators; that was all. He was not running from anything, nor towards anything. He sighed and shook his head.

The water stretched like a filthy sheet of dark dream onward. The sun was up there, beautiful and hot. Nate stared at it through the glass fixed in front to create a screen. He was dying for a cigarette, but that was something he was trying to live without.

He knew he should turn back, steer the boat back, and go home. He knew that. He could feel the wrongness of his decision to stay on the brackish water. But there was something he had picked up while serving his country. He had probably had it all his life, not just while he was in the army, but it felt new. The resilience. It was sharp and intrusive. It was while the Gator-tailed boat was still on the water, it was probably why he was not dead.

The thought made Nate laugh. It was a funny one, because he knew why he was not dead. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the thoughts of the past, the memories he had always wanted to push out. He closed his eyes and opened them, imagining he was starting over, thinking new things.

The swamp’s quietness was one of the things he loved about it. It was flowed forward, leading him from the life he knew where cars and cafés were the shining medium of life. This quietness let him think, reflect and when he was tired of that, he cast his hook out of the side of the boat while he waited to sight a croc or an alligator. Those bad boys would fetch quite the money in the market and at the end of the day, he had both money and a good time.

He stared at the cooler of beer. There was about eight more in there. That should serve him until he was ready to turn back home, which could be the next minute or the next week. He sighed and tried to focus on what was ahead of him. The water was clear at the moment, but he could be shocked by a tree stomp or something in the water.

He had heard of story of fishermen who had gotten turned over from little mistakes like looking away for a short time. He wondered what it would be like to reel a huge gator in, how exhilarating it would be to have done something so extraordinary. Finally, Nate decided he would have the second bottle of beer.

There wasn’t much to do with his hands anyway. He would take one more as the evening descended on him. He couldn’t believe that he had all this body of water to himself. It felt like he owned a huge piece of nature, and he ruled it. But that was stupid.

He stopped the boat’s engine to get a late lunch. He was not hungry, but he was stuck in his routine, like much of his life—he ate when he should, took water when he should, slept when he should. Even took a dump when he should. Army life was a molder of habits and he was easily infected with the plenty habits the life of soldering offered.

The only thing he hated when he came back was the smoking. He hated how it controlled his life, how it gave him an escape from whatever dump life was giving to him. He ate the sandwich quickly and drank half the bottle of water and belched. He was not filled, but that wasn’t what was important. The important part was eating something at all, anything to keep his stomach occupied.

He sat for a moment. The sun was beginning to feel like a tired, old thing. The warmth was soothing, but not harsh and the wind was picking up. It would be evening soon, and he would need to anchor somewhere and find solid ground to sleep. Or he could just sleep in the boat like he did the night before. It wasn’t comfortable though.

His resting period took only about eight minutes and he was back to steering. Nate was shocked when he saw two boats about thirteen minutes later. The engines of both boats sounded beautiful. They were probably new boats, or well maintained. The groan of the engines were smooth. Nate looked away as they sailed past him, towards the other side.

He turned around, thinking they were going towards the side he just came, but they were not. The white boats moved towards the densely woody part of the swamp. It was still clear, but Nate knew the farther they went, the more difficult it would be to wade through the waters and it wasn’t just that. There was a reason he was avoiding that part of the swamp.

This far deep into Louisiana, there were stories about that part of the water. Not legends and myths, more like stories people heard in the news. Nate cursed. He was stuck in the throes of minding his business or warning them off. They had sailed past him like he didn’t exist and he had liked it. He didn’t want any greeting, because with that, he was less likely to get into any kind of problem.

Hey! Nate shouted. He pressed his horn and screamed some more. He stopped his boat, yelling and screaming. He had decided too late, he realized. He could chase after them, but that would be going too far out of his way and he didn’t want to be stuck in whatever problems they were going to find themselves.

Who takes a boat into that part of the swamp at this time? There would be less light soon and with less light came the possibility of a lot less troubles. He had read extensively on this part of the Atchafalaya Swamp. He knew almost everything there was to know about the water—enough to keep him safe. This was not the first time he was venturing into the water, but this was the first time he was staying this long on it.

He watched the boats go with some measure of guilt weighing down on his heart. He wished he had been able to stop them. In the army, Nate had realized that most of their lives were spent trying to save other people. There was still much of that left in him, even though he was just a civilian now.

The white of the boats disappeared into a bend, but Nate couldn’t move. He couldn’t stop staring at the point where the boats had thinned until it made the curve. He felt that if he stayed there long enough, he would hear them ask for help and he could rush to them. But the longer he stayed there, the more he realized night was coming and he was the one losing time.

He smacked his lips, sighed and turned to kick-start his boat. He was stupid, he told himself. The people in the boat had looked like they were tourists, but he was stupid to think they were clueless about the water. He started his boat and moved forward. The flow of the water was getting stronger, he realized. He would need to be careful if he didn’t want his boat hitting something and bellying up.

There was a strong smell of something he couldn’t put his finger on—dead, decaying trees? Some rotting animals? Filth in the water? Or was it just the water itself? Nate steered his boat carefully, pulling up the side lights a little bit early so he wouldn’t forget.

He turned once in a while, expecting to hear the white boats. He still felt they were going to come running towards his, screaming of monsters and cannibals. He knew he was being silly, but he couldn’t shake the feeling off. He couldn’t push away the thought.

Cannibals are not real, you idiot. He knew that, and at the same time, he didn’t believe. There were bar stories of people who came out the Basin looking for fish or gators and never came back. He had always laughed at those who peddled the stories, but now, staring at the water as it got darker and darker in the darkness? He couldn’t believe how stupid and close-minded he had been.

Surrounding the water was a dense forest of huge, old trees. Trees that had been there since before he was born and some new ones. He was being shortsighted if he though he knew everything out there, he told himself. It was nothing short of being crazy.

Nate sighed. There was no need to fill himself with dread. He pulled out another beer.  The last for the day, he assured himself. He was not substituting one vice for another. Smoking was out of the door and soon, drinking would follow. He was walking his way back to a life he had only known briefly.

He decided he would be sleeping in the boat after all. He stopped it somewhere, pulled out his map to see if he could tell where he was. Nate sighed when he realized he should have done that in the morning, that would have been easier and since there was no GPS, he tossed the map back in his bag and then laid down facing up.

The sky was darkening slowly, and soon it was going to be a complete night, he thought. He could feel a light buzz from filling himself with alcohol throughout the day. He could feel the thin layer of cold spreading all over his body. It was like the night before, so he