Authors: William W. Johnstone
A Crying Shame (105 page)
Right over there by the fence.” Christy pointed to the edge of the swamp.That big old oak tree on the other side of the fence is really shady. Just kick around for snakes before you sit down, though.” She smiled, showing off for the city girl just moved to the country.And look for funny-looking mounds of earth, too. Sometimes they're not very big.”What are they?”Fire ants.”Jean had just moved to the country from New Orleans. She had quite a lot to learn about rural life. But her education in other matters would soon take priority . . . very quickly.
Christy would be a bit more fortunate . . . in a manner of speaking.
From their hiding places, the Links watched the girls, becoming more aroused, sensing females, new mates. They liked to hear their victims' screams; for them it only heightened the sex act.
Don't snag yourself climbing the fence,” Jean was warned.This is barbed wire.”I'm not that stupid!”While the girls were parking their bikes, their backs to the swamp, the Links crawled and slithered closer.
The girls jumped the narrow spit of water and spent a moment kicking the ground, looking for snakes. Satisfied they were safe from cottonmouths and rattlers and an occasional coral snake, the girls dropped to the ground and sprawled out on the slightly damp coolness under the arms of the live oak tree.
How far you think we rode this afternoon?” Jean asked.Oh ... pretty good ways, I reckon. Just about one o'clock.”How could you know that? You're not even wearing a watch.”The sun.” She pointed.See, it's just off center toward the west.”Other books
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