Reflection of a Silent Scream

The spotlight led my way up the black river. Cypress knees, tooth-like projections above the water, rose in clusters along the shoreline. With the dense foliage and fallen trees, it looked inhospitable as hell. Snaky. I really didn't want to get out and walk around. Florida has changed drastically, every decade, but not here. The eyes of gators and other critters reflected in the light. Bats and large moths occasionally passed near its beam. A different world at night.

I had listened to that boat engine for what seemed like ten minutes. It came on and on. I nervously squeezed and released the grip on the SIG. I put the pistol down and picked up the .44 magnum. Only four shots left, but they were haymakers. Suddenly the engine became twice as loud as the boat rounded the point and came into view. A blur of white floating in the darkness, when someone began yelling and firing. A figure was shooting to the left, bright muzzle blasts into the air. I followed his line of fire and saw it ...