Rogue Angel 47: River of Nightmares by Alex Archer

Damn night. It’ll take some finessing to get it to show up on screen. But it’ll be awesome footage to go with our series.”
    Annja’s empty stomach roiled. The loss of life, and Marsha was thinking about Chasing History’s Monsters. No wonder Doug hired her...they were very much alike. But even Doug would refuse to show all this death.
    The entire village had turned out by now. Men and women continued to throw spears that bounced off the caiman’s hide and pelt it with rocks. Annja picked up a dropped spear and hollered for everyone to stay back.
    The scent of the creature and its blood, coupled with the blood of its victims, filled her senses and made her lightheaded. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and edged closer, mindful of its tail and snapping jaws and ignoring the nervous talk of the villagers. The caiman remained pinned at the neck, but Annja could tell it wouldn’t for much longer. And she concentrated to keep the sword in this world and not let it vanish to its resting place.
    “Okay, I’m ready,” Marsha called. “I’ve got new batteries in and everything.”
    “Oh, come on,” Annja said, annoyed. “Put the camera down.” Time to end this, she decided. She sprinted forward, avoiding its buffeting tail, and landed on its back. She crouched to keep her balance. The thing gyrated, trying to throw her off.
    How to kill it quickly? The caiman’s hide was impossibly tough. It had taken all her strength to jab the sword through its neck, and this spear was a poor weapon. The sword then; it was her only recourse. She’d try using it again, aiming for the spine this time. Sever the spine and kill it.
    Now! She dropped the spear and with both hands grabbed the pommel of her sword, gritted her teeth, and yanked with all the strength she could put into it. At first the sword defied her efforts. But she tried again and was finally rewarded.
    The blade came up, but the act set her off balance and she slipped from its back.
    “Annja!” Marsha screamed. “Annja!”
    The beast was on her, whirling one way and slapping her with its tail, then bending the other direction so its jaws could reach her, its teeth scraped her leg as she scrambled out of the way. She raised the sword again as it shot forward and it didn’t miss this time. Its teeth clamped onto her leg. The pain was excruciating, white-hot daggers sinking in and burning like acid. She screamed, sweeping the sword down across its snout, trying to make it release her. The blade bit in, but not far enough to cause serious harm. She swung again, but the blade bounced off.
    The beast dragged her through the blood of its previous victims, then into the water. The caiman’s jaws were locked so tight that she couldn’t free herself. She felt her heart pounding, as if it were bursting from her chest.
    “Annja!” Marsha splashed into the water, spearmen at her side, some of them hurling spears and almost hitting her. Marsha retreated and kept filming.
    A part of Annja prayed the caiman would actually bite her leg off so she could crawl away, but that didn’t happen. It tugged her out farther, where the water was turbulent from the feasting piranha. She swung once more, feeling the blade sink into its flesh.
    She jerked the sword free and Annja had just enough time to grab a breath before the caiman took her under, beneath the feeding frenzy. It dragged her across the rocky bottom, objects she couldn’t see scraping her arms and face and adding to her agony.
    She could no longer effectively swing the sword, the water a barrier that slowed the blade’s course. Annja shifted her hold on the weapon, at the same time kicking at the caiman with her free leg—another exercise in futility. Using the blade like a spear, she jabbed at it again and again. But she couldn’t see and didn’t know if she was hurting it. Everything was black. She was effectively blind.
    Be well, Roux had told her, take care of yourself.
    He’d been worried about her for a