Prologue
The Swamps near Jena Village, Shipper Parish, Louisiana
“Mud?” Flora Ramer called out, her matted blonde hair covering one eye.
“I’m right here, Mama.” Ten-year-old Mud dropped the stick she’d been holding and hurried to her mama’s side.
“They’re coming soon, Mud! We have to be ready.”
Mud swallowed her fear. This wasn’t the first time her mama had warned her of what was to come. And lately, those warnings had grown more frequent. As had Flora’s outbursts.
Growing up in the swamps, Mud had been isolated from the outside world. Sure, she’d seen people in the village a few miles to the north, but she’d never been allowed to approach them. Flora had occasionally taken her daughter to gather what they could from the dumpsters in Jena, but she’d always forced Mud to stay in the shadows, citing that the folks in the small town were deceived by the Devil.
Flora suddenly grabbed her daughter by the arm, jerking her out of her scattered thoughts. She pushed the girl into the small shack they’d been squatting in for as long as Mud could remember. “We have to get ready.”
Mud wasn’t sure what that meant, but she didn’t question it. She simply hurried inside and waited for Flora to enter behind her.
Pacing the small shack, Flora wrung her hands, her gaze continuously going to the door. “The Devil wants you, Mud. We can’t let him get you.”
Mud adjusted the tattered and far-too-big pair of pants she wore and sat cross-legged on the floor. It terrified her to think someone wanted to hurt her. “Is that why we live out here, away from the others, Mama? ’Cause of the Devil?”
Flora stopped her pacing, the eye not covered by her hair growing hauntingly distant. She began to mutter something Mud couldn’t understand, and then her gaze grew clear and sharp, slicing in her daughter’s direction.
Mud couldn’t seem to move. She sat completely still, listening as the words began to spill from her mama’s mouth.
“Happy and fortunate are ye who cast your seed upon all waters, when the river overflows its banks; for the seed will sink into the mud, and when the waters subside, the plant will spring up; you will find it after many days and reap an abundant harvest, ye who safely send forth the ox and the donkey to range freely.”
Still, Mud didn’t move. Though she had no idea what any of Flora’s words meant, she was held captive by the seriousness of her mama’s voice—her stare.
“Don’t you see, girl? That verse was told to me before you was born. I knew it was a sign of what was to come.”
“Is that why you named me Mud, Mama? ‘Cause of the verse?”
Flora nodded sharply. “Yes. The Devil might come for you, but he won’t get you. I made sure of it.”
And just as quickly as it had come, Flora’s urgent and desperate demeanor changed. She spun toward the door, shifting from foot to foot. Her worn and faded dress hung well below her knees, and her bare feet were nearly black from fishing on the banks of the swamp. “Go check them traps afore it gets too dark. I’d like to have something besides fish for supper. If I never see another fish, it’ll be too soon.”
Mud blinked, the fear of her mama’s words still swirling through her young mind. She got to her feet. “Yes, Mama.”
“Here, better take this,” Flora insisted, handing Mud the only weapon they possessed: a weapon she’d stolen a few years ago on one of her trips to the village.
Mud accepted the old wooden-handled knife and jumped from the shack door to the ground.
“Watch out for snakes,” Flora instructed as Mud struck out toward the tree line. “Specially, them copperheads. They’re poisonous.”
“I know, Mama.”
Mud had walked the trails of the swamp more times than she cared to remember. She could travel them with her eyes closed.
At ten years old, she knew just about everything there was to know about baiting traps, fishing, and killing and skinning her food. She also knew the dangers that lurked in the swamps. There were far worse things than gators and snakes slinking about. There were poachers.
Poachers sometimes traveled the swamps in search of alligators. They killed, took what they wanted, and then left the carcasses on the banks to rot.
Mud had never seen a poacher up close, and she hoped she never did. But she’d spotted them in their boats.
Though Mud and her mama lived far enough away from the village to not worry about strangers wandering too close to their home, Mud knew it was possible. And for that reason, she never let her guard down.
Mud arrived at her destination approximately twenty minutes later to find two of the traps empty. The third one, however, held a large tan rabbit, thanks to the meager vegetables she’d managed to save from Flora’s small garden.
Opening the makeshift door on the top of the trap, she reached in and wrapped her fingers around the animal’s ears.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, hating to do what she knew she had to. She quickly dragged the knife across the rabbit’s throat, understanding it to be the most humane ending for the beautiful creature.
She picked up her soon-to-be meal and turned toward home.
Her mama would be proud when Mud returned with enough meat to ensure they could eat for a couple of days.
* * * *
Mud felt as if she’d walked for miles, the rabbit growing heavier in her hand with each step she took.
She wiped the sweat from her forehead and shifted the rabbit to her other hand. At least she would be home soon and could turn her kill over to her mama to prepare for dinner.
The small garden Flora worked on a daily basis had already yielded a few vegetables this year. And for that, Mud was grateful. She loved potatoes more than anything.
A strange sound suddenly reached Mud’s ears the closer she drew to home.
She slowed her steps, her gaze scanning the surrounding area for signs of life.
The sound came again, followed by a gurgling noise.
Stepping from the tree line, Mud slowly approached the shack she shared with her mama, the sickening noises growing stronger with every step she took.
Mama! her mind screamed in denial. Something had happened to her mama.
Mud dropped the rabbit she held and broke into a run. She slid to a stop at the open door to the shack, her mouth trembling in horror. There, on the floor, was her mama, on her back with blood oozing from her neck. A man lay between her legs, holding her arms above her head.
The sounds he made overrode the horrific gurgling noises coming from Flora’s cut throat.
Mud’s entire body began to shake uncontrollably. Terror unlike anything she’d ever known consumed her, taking her breath as well as her mind.
Something snapped inside her. Reality gave way to panic amidst the nightmare playing out in front of her.
Her mama had been right. The Devil had come for her… And he was there now, in the form of the man on that floor.
Mud’s vision tunneled. She pulled the knife from her pants pocket, gripped it tightly in her palm, and jumped through the door of that shack.
She landed on the back of that Devil and brought that blade down as hard as she could.
His head jerked up, and his body froze beneath her. Still, Mud didn’t stop.
A scream exploded from somewhere inside her, filling that shack with its bloodcurdling intensity.