“I don’t think the bait boat’s gonna work.” Ozzy muttered, though his words fell on nothing but deaf ears as the wind stole them from his lips.

  Colber had them moving, moving faster than any ship ought to go, especially one as boxy and un-aerodynamic as the wagon. It was a testament to the captains skill and practice with his vessel, despite nature itself seeking to slow him he flew.

  Even still it wouldn’t be enough, Ozzy had no idea how far they were from the murk and now that he was deaf he couldn’t even ask anyone. Beside him Emil looked just as hopeless. Between the two of them there was nothing they could do, magical or otherwise. They would have to sit and watch as their doom slowly rode in on them.

  “As if.”

  Unwilling to lie and let his destruction come without a fight Ozzy summoned his double barrel. He didn’t even bother thinking about the shotgun shells, if anything was gonna hurt this thing it was going to be the big bore. Summoning the round he felt the familiar drain and shook it off, doing his best to ease his raging nerves as he went to lean against the pole they’d attached Frank and the decoy dinghy to.

  Taking a deep breath he braced himself against the pole, he might as well have tried resting it on the fan blades for all of the help it was. With the dinghy bouncing along behind them and smacking just about everything they’d managed to dodge, it was honestly a miracle the little boat was still intact and attached to the pole. Problem was, it turned the pole into a vibrating and jarring mess.

  “Sorry buddy.” Ozzy’s words were lost to the wind once more as he pulled a knife from his belt, with a quick slash Ozzy severed the dinghy’s guide rope

  Frank looked on in betrayal and contempt as the dinghy that he’d been holding onto like the world’s most dangerous inner tube lost all support. In an instant the nose of the dinghy caught the island the wagon had just crested and went belly up, spraying its contents; namely the incredibly valuable bag of bait and Frank, in either direction. Ozzy liked to think the grizzled old rat had survived the impact and un-summoned himself, but after watching a furry four legged rat go spinning across the swamp in a shower of green light he wasn’t so convinced.

  With the dinghy no longer tethered to the pole it only moved just as much as everything else on board, which Ozzy would grant was a lot, but it was still a major improvement. Using a short length of leftover rope he solidified his stance even further by tying the gun to the pole and twisting the rifle end over end making the rope as taught as possible, locking it into place against the pole.

  While he would have preferred shooting from prone he was barely clearing the fan blades from where he stood. Holding on was also a prime issue, save for the two hunters everyone had tied themselves down tight to the wagon the second the fan had started going. He and Emil had to make do with just being tethered to the top platform. It was an exercise in, well exercise as they gripped the railings and anything else with handles to keep from getting thrown and tossed like food in a wok.

  Tying the gun to the pole gave him an extra point of contact however, and made it that much easier to line up what was arguably one of this woulds most technical shot and definitely Ozzy’s. It was hard enough just keeping the aperture centered over the front sight, and that was without trying to keep it centered over the leviathans eye. He was tempted to just wait for it to get closer to get a better shot but he didn’t want to lose his chance at followup shot.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  As it was, he estimated it’d be another two minutes before the leviathan caught them. So long as they didn’t run into anything to slow them down that was. It took him a little over minute to regain enough mana to summon one of his bullets after the first summoning, so he’d only get two shots. Maybe three if he was lucky but that wasn’t something he’d count on.

  As they continued their mad dash across the water Ozzy slowly began to adapt to the bone rattling, chaotic movements of the vessel. There was a pattern to the chaos, and slowly he learned to counter the forces bearing down on him each time they went airborne. Their airtime was the only window he had to shoot, otherwise the turns and bumps he’d come to expect as they rode across the surface were simply too erratic to predict.

  Each time they jumped over an island however they made about the same arc. There was the initial impact of hitting the island. Downward pull as they ripped free of gravities embrace. Several moments of weightlessness and the closest thing he could get to perfect rest, and of course a stomach turning drop and subsequent crashing return to the waters surface.

  Thirty seconds passed as he practiced, memorizing the pattern until for the first time he had a moment where his sights aligned with the great green leviathan eye. This was it, all he needed was one more pass and the leviathan would be one eye short if everything played out.

  Ozzy waited patiently, and when he felt the impact of an island and the lurch of the wagon catching air he took a deep breath, holding it in for a moment before letting it out slowly as they began their descent back to the water. Everything seemed to blur around him as he made micro adjustments in his stance and sight position waiting for the perfect moment to-

  BANG

  He’d been squeezing so slowly that the shot surprised him, the rifle slamming into his shoulder like a power hammer. Un-phased by the impact he watched for what had to be a direct hit. A second passed, then two, and he knew he’d missed.

  The 20 seconds he had to wait to summon his next shot were torture. It was like the leviathan was toying with them, and Ozzy swore he could see an evil gleam in the creatures eye as it came ever closer. It was only a couple hundred feet out now, and rapidly closing the distance. He wouldn’t get another shot with the rifle.

  Summoning his final Hail Mary he slotted the round into the rifle’s chamber with a thunk. It was strange to think this might be the last time he’d ever shoot. So much of his life had been spent around guns, but he never thought for a second he’d die with one in his hands. Maybe behind the wheel of a car, or old and grey in his cabin, but eaten alive by a fish monster the size of a Redwood? Fighting to survive to his last breath? Wielding magic powers?

  Not even a week ago he’d been lazing about, living off of the land and a seasonal tourism job. Now he had magic powers, he was a follower of The Lord of Powder, a monster hunting, cultist slaying, gunslinger; and he and everyone aboard the swamp wagon would die for trying to save their friend.

  The wagon leapt into the air.

  He lined up the shot.

  He fired.

  BANG

  The moment stood still, and he knew that he’d shot true. It hadn’t even left the barrel yet but he knew exactly where that bullet was going and it was dead center on that sorry excuse for a river monsters right eye. It didn’t even know it yet.

  Ozzy followed the bullets vapor trail as it flew straight for the eye, and right as it struck, the monster’s eye shone a brilliant green, blinding Ozzy as he watched in hope and wonder through the aperture of his sight.

  When the flash dimmed the monsters eye was left whole and a sensation of dread overcame him. He felt as his very soul was encroached on, like some unseen forced reached through him. The Leviathan’s eye flashed a second time and tearing pain lanced through his right eye and he ceased to feel.