Least of the Beast

"Hutchinson writes with a deep love and knowledge of the sport"
Indie Reviews

"A Grand coming of age tale"
Jack Magnus, Reader's Favorite - 5 stars

"Entertaining and Inspiring"
Jeff F - 5 Stars


Bear Hammock is a straight shot into the heart of darkness. It bounces like an endless jeep road touring a shadowy savanna. Every few hundred meters Connor braced himself as palmetto bushes shuffled in the periphery. Creatures moved about, heard but mostly unseen. He did catch a glimpse of a raccoon squatting behind the base of a wooden post. It scrutinized him briefly then scurried into the underbrush. The post was marked with a number written in blue paint but with no map to guide him, it didn't hold any meaning. He had not seen a tire tread of any kind in the past half hour. The only prints were from animals both large and small.

After passing a couple more markers and fearing that he was going absolutely nowhere he took the next right turn. The grass was thicker, knotted and somewhat soggy. He stopped upon hearing a sloshing nearby. Putting a foot down in three inches of water he grabbed the bike light and made a sweep. He was standing on the edge of a wide body of water that had spilled up onto the trail. There was little room to ride without getting soaked to the ankles but that wasn't what concerned him. The murky waters of the pond were moving.

He stepped off the bike and carefully watched the low ripples. Alligators. A pond teeming with alligators. He couldn't see them but that made it even worse. Suddenly Florida wildlife had taken on new meaning. Those guys were not pulling his leg. It was the stuff of nightmares and his feet were in the drink.

A few slow steps backward and he found drier land. Connor turned the bike around to start backtracking but the moment his light swung about, he stopped again. He was not alone. Ahead in the darkness floated a pair of glowing eyes reflecting off his beam...

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