After the Flood

by John McDonnell

Copyright© 2011 by John McDonnell

Horror Story: Lucky and Pedro are running drugs in the New Mexico desert when they run out of water. What happens next could be called justice, or it could be called revenge.

Tags: Ma/Ma   Heterosexual   Horror   Paranormal   Transformation  

"Will you shut up about Noah?" Lucky said to his partner Pedro. "I'm sick of hearing about some stupid flood in the Bible when we're driving in this damned desert. The last thing I want to hear about now is water."

"It's just, they say there's markings in the Grand Canyon that prove the flood in the Bible was real," Pedro said. "Isn't that cool, bro?"

Lucky cursed again, and pushed down hard on the gas pedal. They had been driving for hundreds of miles in the New Mexico desert, and he was hot and tired and thirsty. The air conditioning in the car was broken, the meth he did hours ago had his body drenched with sweat, and his mouth was dry and cottony.

"God said after the Flood he would never destroy the world by water again. Never," Pedro said, with that annoying tone of certainty.

"Will you shut up? Christ, you're an Indian anyway. I thought you didn't believe in that crap. I thought you had your own religion, smokin' dope in your tepees and havin' visions."

"No, I'm a foursquare Baptist. I was baptized when I was sixteen. Been a believer ever since."

"Foursquare, huh? How's that square with all the bad stuff you've done?"

Pedro smiled. "Oh, I'm goin' to Hell, I know. But I ain't bitter about it. It's only what I deserve. Besides, I'm used to the heat. I figure it won't be much worse than here."

"Ha! If it's anything like here, it'll be terrible. I hate this godforsaken place. If I didn't have to drive through this desert just to run crystal back and forth from Mexico, you'd never find me here."

"It's my home," Pedro said. "My family has lived here for a long time."

"Yeah, well, speaking of family ... I'm sorry I had to make you shoot your brother Jesus. He was asking too many questions. I can't afford to have any problems with this shipment. You understand, right?"

"Sure," Pedro said. "I understand. But you know, in my world, killing a close relative makes me a Skinwalker."

"What's that?"

"A Navaho witch. A shapeshifter."

"I thought you said you were a Christian."

"I am. But I have a foot in both camps. Self-preservation, I guess."

"You're one crazy Indian. Damn, it's hot. And I'm thirsty as hell. Reach me another one of those water jugs in the back, will you?"

"There's no more."

"No more water? What do you mean?"

"There ain't no water jugs in the back."

"What?" Lucky slammed on the brakes, and a cloud of dust rose up around the car. He turned and looked at the back seat, and cursed. "I told you to put the water jugs in the back. Stupid Indian. You put most of them in the trunk, didn't you? Where they'll get all hot. I hate drinking hot water."

Lucky got out of the car and opened the trunk. There was no water there.

"What is this, a joke? Where the hell is the water?" he said.

"I'm sorry, boss. I thought you put the jugs in the trunk. It's an honest mistake."

"Honest mistake? We're three hundred miles from the nearest town, and it's 110 degrees outside. And ten minutes ago I just pissed away every ounce of water in my body, you idiot. What are we supposed to do now?"

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