Getting Even Isn't Easy

[PM2K]

Yet another tale of swamps, revenge and quicksand...

Getting Even Isn't Easy - by PM2K (2014)

Lynzee glances around carefully before climbing out of the black colored Toyota, trying not to let the oppressive August heat get to her.
She walks around the vehicle, which is parked to the side of a muddy road wending its way through a thick forest. Standing close to the rear bumper, she slides the car's key deep into the trunk's lock and pops it open.
Looking inside, the dark haired beauty smiles grimly, her grubby gray t-shirt soaked with sweat where her bare breasts strain to break through. Subconsciously, she runs her left hand along the side of her skin tight denim microshorts to finger the hemline, a mere fingerspan from her crotch.
She reaches in to grasp and lift out a rust spotted mountain bike, placing it on the ground nearby. A small blue nylon backpack, which bulges with contents, joins the bike on the side of the road.
Satisfied, she closes the sedan's trunk lid. Looking around once more along the deserted muddy laneway, she climbs around the car carefully, leaning into the open driver's side window.
Her light brown skin glows with moisture as Lynzee cranks the wheel, then strains against it. Slowly, the wheels turn, aided by gravity and the slight slope the vehicle had been parked on. She carefully lines the car up between the trees, then pushes hard, digging her sandaled feet into the grassy earth.
The Toyota obediently rolls forward, stopping once it slips into a slight hollow in the ground, set several yards away from the road. Lynzee walks towards several piles of brush and a large green tarp purchased several days ago in a town 20 miles from here. She quickly covers the car with the tarp, heaping on branches to conceal it from casual eyes.
She steps back, aware of the weight of the bloated August sun on her curvy body. The car is now hidden from the casual traveler, and should remain so from all but a determined searcher. It is a better outcome than she could have hoped for... and it didn't need to remain hidden for long.
Grinning, Lynzee uses her long dancer's legs to stroll over to scoop op the pack sack, then moves on to the rust stained mountain bike. She quickly straddles it, her left foot on one pedal, then pushes off with her right foot. Rolling down the narrow lane, she smoothly places her right on the remaining pedal and starts riding, heading deeper into the forest.

As she rides down the quiet roadway, which forms a snug passageway through the heavily treed landscape, Lynzee's mind runs through the events of the past year. The 28 year old had been one of the regular exotic performers at the Kit Kat Klub - the name and spelling was the brainstorm of the night club's founder, one which the five subsequent owners didn't bother to change - and had also been happily sharing the bed, shower, car and any other convenient surface with the club's current owner Johnny Q.
Not exactly a pretty boy - years before, Johnny Q had lost part of his face to a shotgun blast in a biker drug deal gone bad - Lynzee was nonetheless attracted to him, and found out to her delight he was a generous and highly skilled lover with the energy of men half his age.
When she found out he was married, it didn't bother her in the slightest. After all, Johnny continued to service Lynzee with the same enthusiasm as before, and she was under no illusions about replacing his wife. As long as he paid attention to her, and she continued to dance, she was happy.
But like all things, it wasn't to last.

Lynzee coasts down the muddy road, using the gradual incline to her advantage. She has been pedaling the bike for several hours now, and has not encountered anyone, as she expected. It was often quiet during the off season, especially in midweek, so she has the road to herself.
Her sharp eyes spot the tree, one of a multitude of willows which grew thick in this part of the county. It bears a bright orange surveyor's ribbon wrapped around one of its branches. She rolls to a stop, and reaches out to untie the strip of plastic. Looking around again to ensure she wasn't being watched, Lynzee turns the bike and pedals off the road, following a narrow dirt trail which snakes through the forest and thick brush surrounding it.

The changes came slowly at the Kit Kat Klub.
Several months later, a new dancer appeared... a petite lady of exotic looks, jet black hair and golden skin named Miia. Her young looks raised everyone's suspicions - the Asian girl's naughty school girl act on stage was a bit too convincing - but they were assured by Johnny she was of age. Still, suspicions lingered...
What really bothered Lynzee was the attention Johnny Q paid Miia... the kind of attention she had enjoyed not too long ago. Within a month of the new girl's arrival, familiar sounds - cries and moans, the rhythmic slap of wet flesh - echoed from Johnny's office on a frequent basis, and no one at the club was surprised to see Miia gliding around the place with a certain glow about her, the air of someone who knows she is number one with the man in charge.
Lynzee herself received nothing more than indifferent shrugs, if that, from her former lover... but she held her tongue and waited until she could get him alone before airing her grievances.
"Maybe... maybe I might be in the coffee shop and see the sheriff or a state trooper... maybe I let it slip about that strip club owner's wife, and how she disappeared six months ago... sucking on cement..."
It was then Johnny laughed... laughed... at her! In her face!
"Oh, you aren't that stupid, babe... you know we're in this deep together..." he had chuckled. "You are an accessory to Murder One, and if I get the needle, you'll be lying right there beside me..."
"Maybe I'll become a witness for the state, huh?" she had snarled back. "Send you up the river for that, and a lot of other crap you're involved in..."
He laughed again.
"You, a two time felon? A witness? Good luck with that!" Johnny Q shook his head.
Lynzee's voice died in her throat. She knew Johnny was right. When she was incarcerated, only technicalities saved her from longer sentences... but those two years total behind bars she did serve... no, she couldn't bear any more of that...
Defeated, she turned to go. Johnny Q called out to her as she left. Telling her she still had a secure job at the club, so she shouldn't worry about what her boss did in his off hours for recreation.
"Besides... be a good girl, and maybe I'll invite you back to the shack for a weekend. Miia's been making noises about having a threesome.... and since you know your way around the place..."
He laughed at his own wit. Lynzee's back was to him as she exited, so he didn't see her lovely face transform into a twisted mask of rage. It was all she can do to keep from shrieking.

Pedaling with a steady rhythm along the trail, Lynzee notices fresh tread marks in the wet ground, where a set of worn Goodyears had torn up the mud. She smiles grimly.
Hell, yeah I know my way around the shack... I know it as well as the back of my hand...
The shack, a well worn clapboard cottage built on the shores of a dark bayou, a small dock in front jutting out into murky waters, stands alone, for there is little here except a lonely coastline facing the Gulf of Mexico, and an endless stretch of swampland reaching into the interior.
The partially hidden trail is the only land access to it, which made it a good place for secret rendezvous, such as smuggling drops from the water - drugs, weapons, cigarettes - as well as a place for a girlfriend to shout her lungs out during trysts without wondering what the neighbors would think.
Until recently, Lynzee was a frequent visitor here... but now there's someone new getting familiar with the shack... and she couldn't stand that.

It took her a couple of weeks to cool down enough to come up with a plan.
She picked up a suitable bike from a garage sale, and repaired it herself. She took to walking on her days off, looking for a car to boost which no one could trace back to her, and spotted a black Toyota parked two streets over from where she lived which would be ideal.
Then it was a short day trip to an old acquaintance of hers to get kitted up with the right hardware, and all she needed to do was be ready to move when the long weekend came up...

Lynzee coasts close to the large pickup truck, then quietly alights from her bike. The cottage stood exactly as she remembers it... her eyes drift over the peeling white paint of the building, the wire framed outdoor shower with faded yellow curtains flapping open, attached to the back. A wooden shed stands several feet away, filled with kindling and other fixings for a fire, if needed. She spots a gray, wooden flat-bottomed boat and an old green canoe tied to the dock, and nods to herself.
She creeps closer to the cottage, reaching into her pack sack. Her hands touch the short barreled pump shotgun nestled inside. It is stockless, ending in a curved pistol grip. The tube magazine beneath the barrel holds six rounds of heavy gauge shot, more than enough to shred two lovers at close range to hamburger.
Lynzee reaches the wood shed, trying to control the hammering of her heart, and her heavy breathing. She knew Johnny Q had weapons close at hand inside, including a semi-auto combat shotgun and a .357 revolver, plus a few knives.
Moving forward carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible, she finds her mind still trying to work out the rest of the details when the cabin's inner door and outer screen bang open. Her heart leaps into her mouth, and Lynzee leaps backwards, hiding behind the shed. She readies the shotgun...
Oh, Christ... is it Johnny? Did he hear her approach? Does he know?
She peers around the corner, cold sweat dripping off her nose... only to see Miia stroll out of the building. She is naked, skin and neatly trimmed pubic mound glistening, a dark towel draped over her shoulder. Her bare feet pad softly on the wooden deck which surrounds the building, her dark hair mussed, her hips rolling slowly... like she's always belonged to this place.
Lynzee feels rage being to bubble up inside her...
but it is the sleepy look of satisfaction on Miia's face which really pisses her off. Watching the Asian girl hang the towel over a nearby railing and enter the shower, she knows she has three choices... she can wait until Miia was done and returned to the shack... she can sneak past her, take care of her business with Johnny... or...

On hearing the water running, Lynzee puts the pack and the shotgun down by the shed, and extracts a straight razor, unfolding it. She steps out of her sandals and slowly makes her way towards the shower. The curtains billow, and she can see water splattering on the rubber mat Miia is standing on.
Moving around to the other side, Lynzee waits to ensure the girl has her back to her. She knew the shower frame is open at both ends, allowing anyone easy access. The curtain shifts, and she looks over the small, yet well formed hips and ass of her rival.
With a cold grin and a surge of excitement, Lynzee steps into the shower...
A head taller than Miia, she has no problem overpowering her. She wraps her arms around the girl's naked body, holding its wetness against her own as the shower plasters her own clothes to her bare skin. Lynzee's left arm presses into Miia's neck, while her right hand clamps over Miia's mouth and nose,sealing them tight and smothering her startled cries. Lynzee relishes the sensation of the girl's bare ass grinding against her groin as she struggles to free herself.
Miia's eyes are wide and fearful as they dart around, then lock onto Lynzee's, as she leans close to whisper into her ear. Terror wells up in them as she sees the ice reflected back.
"Bye, bitch..." she hisses.
The girl arches her back, her toes digging into the rubber mat, her arms flailing, hands clawing painfully at the hand and arms cutting off her air. Lynzee finds she has to struggle to maintain a grip on Miia, who's slippery with soap and water...
Slowly, Miia's face darkens as she is suffocated, and Lynzee feels the girl's struggles slow, her arms and legs grow limp, the moans which had vibrated her hand cease.
She maintains the seal on Miia's mouth and nose until she is certain the girl is dead, then lays her down on the mat, letting the shower spray splash into her open eyes.
"Not such hot stuff now, are you?" she thinks, permitting herself a smirk.
Retrieving her shotgun and the pack, Lynzee again moves towards the cabin. Her shirt is plastered tight to her skin, her generous breasts and nipples clearly visible. The denim shorts feel nice and slimy against her bare skin, as does the sun baked wood beneath her bare feet.
Now, the moment of truth.
Lynzee peers into the bedroom window and sees Johnny sleeping, sprawled naked across the mattress, tattoos and his dick very much in evidence. He snores nasally.
It doesn't take long to slip into the cabin. The sharp scent of marijuana and opium mingle thickly, and she knows the rest of this will be easy. Now sitting down on the bed, the shotgun in her left hand, pressing the barrel against the good side of his face, Lynzee removes the handcuffs from the pack...
This is just too damn easy...

"What the fuck?"
Lynzee laughs, taking a long draw on the fat joint of Colombian Red she rolled up an hour before, the tone in Johnny's voice simply hilarious. He really didn't know...
She steers the boat deeper into the bayou, the canoe neatly tied up off the stern. The motor is old, but seems to work fine.
She is topless, having tired of feeling the wet fabric against her upper body. Her shirt lies spread across the seat in the canoe, drying out. The pack and shotgun lie close to her, by her feet.
Johnny is seated in the bottom of the boat, still naked except for the handcuffs which secure his arms behind his back, and the long chain which tightly binds his legs together. It loops through a cluster of three cinderblocks, which Lynzee found on the property.
Lying beside him, her legs also chained to the concrete, is Miia, her nude body sprawled limply, arms akimbo. Her eyes stare sightlessly, her mouth slack.
Several bags lie scattered about the boat. It had taken Lynzee some time to gather the pair's belongings, and fill the luggage with enough stuff to weigh it down. Her bike lies close to the bow.
Johnny Q shakes his head, greasy hair shuddering, then glances over to Miia. "You didn't need to do that to her..."
Lynzee snorts.
"She's old enough to know better..."
They had been traveling together for several hours now. This part of the swamp is truly lonely... no one came out here. The fishing wasn't good, the gators were scarce, and the place was just black water nasty. Despite the late afternoon heat and the bugs in the air, none seem to bother Lynzee, even as Johnny tries to ignore the mosquitoes tormenting him.
"Look... just think about this... what you're doing..." Johnny says. "You gotta know I'm connected... If you get rid of me, my partners will come looking and they're gonna perish you... in really bad ways..."
Lynzee giggles, and takes another long drag on the joint.
"Oh... I knew that..." she says, grinning, her eyes dope clouded. "After you acted like an asshole that day you gave me the brush off, I wanted to just come out here and blow you and the bitch away... even got the gun to do it with... But then I figured the cops and your mob buddies would come at me straight away anyway... see through any story I could come up with... and either by the needle or the hack saw, I'd be dead..."
Johnny smiles, though he doesn't feel it inside. Maybe there's still time to talk sense into her...
"Yeah... you're right about that..." he said, then sighs. "You know... maybe I did you wrong... should have treated you better... you're one serious bad ass, and would be a great partner at the club..."
Lynzee smiles back, but there's no warmth in it.
"Yeah... too bad you're only figuring this out now..."
Johnny stares at her in shock. He looks at her with the eyes of a man seeing someone for the very first time, and he is scared by the knowledge.
"You crazy bitch..." is all he can manage to say.
"Maybe..." Lynzee replies quietly. "But when folks enter your office on Monday and find the safe empty, and no sign of you two, what are your partners going to think?"
Johnny blinks several times. The puzzlement clearly etched on his face forces a short snort of laughter out of her.
"Oh? You didn't think I'd keep track of the combination after all those times of watching you open it? All that cash... not as much as what I found in the shack's stash, but enough..."
"Smart..." he nods, his face grave. "But what about you?"
"What about me?" she says. "You keep no records on your dancers... Most of us are criminals or on the run, anyway... that's why you pay us so little. No one cares about me in the slightest... They will be just following you, where they think the money is..."
Johnny glares at her in silence. Lynzee feels a smirk coming on. He really did underestimate me... and he isn't used to being outsmarted... especially by a woman.

Looking around at the thick swamp surrounding them, Lynzee reaches into her pack, and extracts a slim metal device. Pressing its plastic screen with her thumb, she checks the GPS display, nods to herself, and cuts the engine. The boat drifts forward, then slows.
Smiling, she grabs both shotgun and the pack and stands up in the boat. The pack she tosses into the canoe lashed to the side. The shotgun she cradles. Johnny's eyes track her every move.
"Well, this is where I get off..." Lynzee says cheerfully. "I'm sure you and the missus will be very happy out here..."
Carefully, she climbs inside the canoe, and kneels, taking a seat. Then, she readies the firearm, takes careful aim, and pulls the trigger.
Johnny jumps at the noise. It takes a moment to realize she wasn't aiming at him.
His eyes stare at the large hole blown through the bottom of the boat, through which warm slimy water pours through, and rapidly begins to fill the vessel.
"What the fuck?" he utters.
Lynzee starts laughing as she undoes the tow line connecting the two watercraft. The canoe begins to drift away as the water reaches the half way point, sloshing over Miia's body. It laps at Johnny's belly, and covers the cinder blocks in no time.
"No way either of you will be found out here.... " she says. "Water's a good twenty feet deep, and the mud down there is loose and bottomless... or so you once told me..."
"You think about that, while you are sucking water..."
Johnny looks around frantically, but realizes he is done for. He glares at Lynzee, even as the black water laps at the boat's gunnels.
"You fucking bitch... you'll never get out of this swamp..."
"Oh, I think I will..." she smiles, waving the GPS. "Got a car stashed just over there..." and indicates with a toss of her head the shoreline, lying several hundred feet away across thickets of lily pads and green scummed water.
Before Johnny could say anything more, the rest of the boat slips under, displacing a shallow wave which makes the canoe rock gently. He manages to utter a few curses before the water closes over his head and he vanishes with a loud gurgle, leaving behind a stream of foamy bubbles on the surface as the weight of the concrete blocks take him, Miia and the boat straight down.
Lynzee watches until the bubbles cease rising, shotgun across her lap in case Johnny manages to kick his way to the surface. But of course he didn't... she had been careful to ensure he was well secured to his anchor before they had set out.
Peering into the dark waters, she is amazed by how completely the boat had vanished from sight. And that is before it sank into the soft mud below. No, there really wasn't a more secret place to bury the pair of them. In this environment, their bodies won't last long.
Lynzee suddenly bursts out laughing as a giddy thrill races through her. She had filled her pack sack with the plastic wrapped cash she had found under the cabin's floor - another secret Johnny had been careless with in front of her - and the trunk of the car she borrowed held a bag containing the safe contents. All of it untraceable.
It really had been too damn easy...

Making her way to shore using an easy j-stroke of the paddle, Lynzee sees the thickets of willows looming before her eyes. Just beyond, a short stroll away, rested the black Toyota, waiting patiently. She's have to ditch it quickly, but it should be good to get her across state lines. After that... who knows?
The canoe glides easily though the swamp water and its thick carpet of lily pads and weeds while Lynzee hums to herself. She isn't worried about discovery or anything right now. There's no one around for miles.
Then, about 30 feet from shore, the bow of her canoe pushes into something soft, and she finds she can no longer move forward. Frowning, Lynzee crawls along the vessel and once at the bow peers over the side.
"Aw... crap..."
The front of the canoe had nudged itself into a mud bank of some sort, which is lying just below a think skin of water. The lily pads had given no indication of this barrier, remaining level with their peers, and yet, here it is... with no way around it that she can see.
The water level must have dropped recently, she thinks, or maybe it has always been this way. Taking the paddle, she probes the surface with a few well placed jabs, and she finds it resists the pokes well enough.
Guess I'm getting muddy... Lynzee says to herself.
Into the pack to join the money goes her now dry t-shirt, sandals and GPS. She zips it up, and slings it over her shoulders, the wide straps digging slightly into her bare breasts. Johnny never knew or suspected she had grown up in bayou country similar to this...
Staying put inside the canoe, she uses her right leg to feel past the thin tepid water to the mud beneath and finds it is firm, if a little rubbery under her bare foot. Slowly, still inside the canoe, she rises, putting more weight on her foot. The mud gives a little bit, but seems solid enough to support her.
Satisfied, Lynzee gets out of the canoe, taking the paddle and shotgun with her, and carefully steps atop what she gauges are the heaviest clumps of lilies.
She uses her left foot to push the canoe away into the swamp, and watches as it drifts away. She didn't bother trying to sink it. Out here, there wasn't anyone who'd find it anyway. On the off chance someone did locate it, no one would now be able to use it to find her landfall.
Lynzee begins to move towards the shore, using the paddle to feel her way, while keeping an eye out for snakes and alligators. The ground sloshes under her feet, brackish water soaking her bare legs and shorts in no time.
It is slow going, and the waning sunlight tells her she doesn't have a lot of time left if she wants to reach the car before nightfall. Still, the last thing she wants is to get mired in a soft spot, or worse...
The mud beneath the water begins to vary in consistency, becoming softer one place, then gummier and jelly-like the next. Looking down didn't help, as the surface she can see shimmering through the murk is coated with the same dark brown silt. Probing with the paddle helps, but even that couldn't tell her all she needed to know...

The danger comes lightning quick, a flicker from the corner of Lynzee's right eye. A cottonmouth slithers rapidly towards her, skimming the swamp's surface with its sinister sidestroke. Stepping back and pivoting on her heels, she aims the shotgun with one hand and triggers it, destroying the reptile with the blast. The recoil forces her to rapidly shift her weight
The sudden movement triggers some change in the mud beneath her feet, and Lynzee's eyes widen as she feels it crumbling, unbalancing her. Teetering and on the brink of falling backwards, her reflexes kick in, and she takes several stumbling quick steps backwards in an effort to regain her footing.
Lynzee knows something is terribly wrong the minute her feet glide effortlessly downwards into the muck, taking her legs with them past the knees. She looks down to see some dark gray gritty slime welling up from around her limbs, pushing aside the silt.
"Damn..."
Wiggling in place, Lynzee attempts to free her legs, but finds them stuck firmly. Putting shotgun and paddle atop a nearby cluster of lily pads, she uses her free hands to grab her right leg and pull. She grunts in effort, but is unable to budge it any higher than an inch.
After tugging on her left leg produced a similar lack of results, she pauses to evaluate her situation. Seems I found a clay patch, she thinks, frowning. The stuff is soft and yielding, yet is thick and sticky with an iron grip.
Angry and impatient, and egged on by the fading daylight, Lynzee begins to violently thrash against her captor, rolling her hips and cursing as she does so. Her skin glistens with perspiration generated by her efforts. Damn stuff just doesn't want to let go...
Her motions churn the wet earth into a pudding-like consistency, the puddle of grayness expanding slowly around her as it emerges from the water like some primordial creature.

Wrapped up in her struggles, she fails to notice how the lily pads in the immediate vicinity are beginning to wobble in time with her movements.... The shotgun has begun to settle into the quavering surface, while the paddle rises and falls with the ever expanding ripples.

Lynzee feels the clay mud begin to loosen its grip around her calves, and so encouraged, now rocks back and forth and side to side, trying to speed the process. Twisting, she finds she can lift her right leg a few inches upward, and decides to try and free it from the sucking muck. Straining, she slowly extracts the limb, the skin thickly coated with swamp slime. As she concentrates, her weight shifts to her left leg...
Deep below, her foot flexes as it tries to adjust. Rocking slightly, the foot bends forward, her toes plunging downward in reaction. They sense another change in the firmness and texture of the mud... and push deeper into it...

"Oh, shit!"
Lynzee feels her left leg suddenly plunge downwards, driving her groin deep in the rubbery mud. Wiggling her hips, she arches her back and reaches behind herself to try and find a firm anchor point, but finds she can't get any leverage. Instead, her right leg slips back under, and she feels the wet surface gently cup her ass.
Her toes wiggling, Lynzee feels around for any sign of a solid bottom, but finds only more mud. It flows sluggishly around her, and it is only when she feels her pelvis being swallowed that she realizes what peril she is in...
"Oh, fuck... quicksand!"
She fights off a rising panic as she feels the thick muddy slime slowly suck her down. Looking around, she catches a glimpse of the shotgun slipping under the water and sees the paddle floating out of reach. Noticing the carpet of lily pads undulating in reaction to her moves, she curses her carelessness.
It isn't just this spot... this whole mud bank is unstable... every move I make just makes it dissolve under me...
The semisolid muck presses firmly against her crotch as it oozes up to smear itself over her quivering bare belly.
Lynzee feels herself squirming at its warm slimy touch, even though each movement she makes draws her in deeper. The mud forces its way into her shorts, rising up her trapped legs to slide past the hem lines. She flinches at the sensation as her short pants fill with swamp mud, rubbing against the bareness of her body beneath the fabric.
Sunk past her waist now in dark filth, Lynzee grips the pack's straps and unslings it from her back. Frowning in concentration, she twists in place, holding it back behind her, then pivots, sending the pack arcing forward, towards what she hopes is more solid ground.
To her dismay it falls short, smacking into the mud with some force, sending slime flying everywhere in a turgid spray. Before her eyes, the pack disappears into the shuddering mire.
"Fuck!" Lynzee screams her frustration at the willow trees. Her effort to toss the pack had driven her past her belly in the muck, which forms a rubbery ring around her midsection. She feels the gooey mixture sucking hard on her legs and feet, dragging her downwards with an almost supernatural force.
In desperation, she leans forward to grab at a handful of lily pads, hopeful they might provide her some form of anchorage, a way of extracting herself from this death trap. Her breasts, which swing free, dip into the mud, and Lynzee feels her nipples stiffen at the swamp's touch.
Pulling, she cries out in frustration and fear as the plants crumble into wet pulp under her fingers, which dip into the muck to dig shallow trenches in its surface. Leaning back, she feels herself slip to her ribs in the quaking ooze, which seems to hunger for her body.

"No... no... this can't be... can't be happening!"
Lynzee starts to thrash about, clawing at the swamp bog which shakes and bubbles as trapped, foul smelling gasses are released from its depths. Her only hope is to stir the mud, beat its thickness into a loose slurry, freeing her legs and allowing her to swim and crawl along the surface...
...but it is too late for even that desperate act. Her lower body is firmly mired in place, and while she can now move her legs through its bulk, it refuses to relinquish its hold on her. Instead, her motions speed her descent, and within moments the bottoms of her breasts are slapping wetly on the sucking surface of the quickmud pit, then slowly submerge as she continues to sink.
Lynzee stops struggling once the mud reaches the half way mark on her breasts, leaving her nipples awash in the mire. She spreads out her arms, hoping to at least stay afloat long enough while she tries to think of a way out of her predicament.
God... I can barely move in this slop...
Lynzee grimaces as she feels herself still settling downwards. The mud is a monster, greedily sucking her under, and she feels herself losing her fight against the panic rising within her. When the rest of her breasts submerge, mud squirting through her cleavage, she realizes she going to die out here.
Biting her lower lip, Lynzee can only wait helplessly as the mud laps at her collarbone, and nestles in her armpits. Her arms are half-sunk into the tepid morass, which quivers in time with every breath she takes.
"Damn you, Johnny..."

As the early evening sun softens the light, Lynzee feels the mud flow slowly over her bare shoulders like thick cake batter, pushing the under. She doesn't bother to yell for help, as she knows there isn't anyone around for miles to hear. It was her reason for coming out here in the first place.
She manages a weak smile as the mud rises over her neck to softly press under her jaw. So this is how it ends... and no one will ever know where we're buried...
A phrase she heard in the movies pops into mind... something about digging two graves if one was looking for revenge. The irony forces a short bark of laughter out of her.
Lynzee feels her mouth slip under the quavering surface, which also laps at her earlobes. She doesn't bother to try and prolong things by tilting her head back, instead letting her air slowly out to bubble on the surface, even as the swamp muck plugs up her nose.
She keeps her eyes open as long as possible, and listens to the frantic pounding of her heart as her ears are filled. She is forced to close them as the mud slops over her cheekbones, and shivers at the sensation of the heavy wet earth gliding over her eyelids and forehead as it swallows her head...

There were no eyes to witness Lynzee's departure from the world... the way her hair floats for a moment atop the filthy, lily pad covered water before being dragged under in a swirl of wet mud and bubbles... her hands clenching fistfuls of sloppy dirt before slipping underneath its gently heaving surface...
The bubbles stir the water for a short time, then fade away into a series of violent bursts before ceasing all together. The wet hole in the lily pads fades from view, and by the time the sun rises the next morning it is barely there at all. In a week, the gap in the greenery would be filled in with new growth, and there would be no trace left at all of Lynzee and her final trek.
In the murky water itself, if it had been possible to see all the way to the bottom, a viewer would be disappointed to observe only a slightly disturbed muddy bed. Nothing to indicate a boat and two souls ever settled upon it.

If the swamp had been a sentient being, it may have thought to itself erasing these humans' existence had been too easy...

[Chimerix]

Wow.... that was intense! LOVED it!

[mudmanic2012]

Another great story WOW!... Intense just doesn't do it justice!

[Stephymink]

Another fantastic story Purple Monkey!

[water_bug_62208]

An outstanding, intense, and beautifully written story! Love your writing style and your detailed description. You could see the background and feel the sweltering, humid conditions of the environment through your descriptions.

Also, a nice stoyline about quicksand lying just below the water's surface with lily pads deceptively covering the trap.

Thanks for sharing!