 I drove our family SUV down the rain-soaked backcountry road at 25 miles per hour. The wind blew droplets hard against the windshield. The wipers could barely keep up with the onslaught as long lines of moisture accumulated on the edges of their reach. We were less than 10 miles from home, but it would take nearly 30 minutes at this speed. With my wife and four-year-old son in the back, safety came first. A pair of headlights raced up behind me and began to tailgate me hard. The vehicle swerved back and forth. Then the driver flashed the high beams four consecutive times. I slowed down further as we approached a hard hairpin turn. I lived in the area all my life and knew the road flooded out badly just around the bend. The driver of the other car, a small black sedan, gummed the engine and passed me on the left in the blind curve. He honked the horn as he sped by, dived back into our lane, then brake checked us hard. He nearly hydroplained as the rear wheels fought for traction in nearly three inches of standing water before getting power. The car accelerated off into the night. Jesus, this guy is an idiot. I growled as I came out of the turn and gained speed back to 30. My hand was already gripping the wheel with white knuckles due to the inclement weather. David, it's fine. Don't take things so personally. My wife Carolyn said as she lightly touched my wrist. She was right, of course. My blood pressure returned to normal and I chanced a glance into the back seat to check on our son, Jason. He gleefully moved his small plastic Godzilla figure up and down. It made little growling noises. He'd only just opened the toy an hour earlier at my brother's home. It had quickly become his favorite and devoured several of our cousin's micromachine toys in a vicious battle for the living room carpet. You okay back there, mutt? Daddy, I got Godzilla. Roar! He grinned widely as he made the sound effect and showed me his teeth. I couldn't help but smile back. I thought we'd left Christmas at my brother's home in enough time to outrun the storm. I clearly thought incorrectly. It had been a mild winter, with average temperatures falling only into the high 40 degree Fahrenheit mark at night and sometimes rising into the 70s on sunny days. Had this been a storm during another year, there would have been a foot of snow on the ground by now. Very unusual for this part of the South. Winter in North Carolina was always unpredictable and this winter was no different. The small town of Creedmore was being bombarded by what amounted to a tropical storm on Christmas Eve. My brother Ken lived deep off the beaten path, even for a small town. His home was nestled at the base of Bald Mountain and abandoned Opal Mine. Now overrun with diamondback rattlesnakes. The old phone reception was non-existent this far out. We left the small intersection of Shufley behind as we turned onto old NC 75 Highway to return to town, passing the locally famous 100 year old gas station with a giant Coca-Cola painting on the side. The SUV sputtered as we went uphill and I looked down at the gauges. The gas light was on. I hadn't even noticed. The rain was slowly letting up, making it a bit easier to drive. I thought you filled it up yesterday, babe. I said to my wife, she looked up at me over her eyeglasses before looking at the gauges and frowning. No, I didn't drive it to work yesterday. I took my car to the shop and drove us home. Remember? Ah, right. She stared at me in a matter of factly way as I realized I'd messed up. We were down to one car. We were close to home, but the needle was on E. It was a winding, hilly, two-lane highway with no gas stations or safe places to pull off. We drove for another minute or two, the engine struggling as I realized we were practically running on fumes. We dipped down into the bottom of a steep hill and the car struggled as it crested the top and looped into another hairpin turn, this time leading to the first of three bridges over Rogers Swamp. We crossed the first bridge slowly. A thin layer of water crested over it from the earlier downpour, threatening to flood the bridge completely by Christmas Day. As we crossed to the second bridge, the SUV sputtered one more time and died. I pulled it over as far off the roadway onto the shoulder as I could, then activated the emergency flashers. I flicked the key, but the engine didn't turn over. Great. Daddy, is the truck broken? Everything's okay, mutt. The truck is hungry. It needs some more gas. I unbuckled myself from the driver's seat and removed the house key from the keyring. Carol looked at me incredulously. David, you aren't thinking of walking home, are you? It's too far. We're about three miles from the house. It's not that far, and it's a straight shot back to town. I said, as I pulled my jacket back up around my shoulders and slid my arms through the sleeves. Daddy, I go with you. Jason looked concerned as the dim blue LEDs from the dash reflected off his face. Sorry, but I need you to do something really important for me. I need you to stay here and protect the car. Who else is going to look after mommy if you're with me? I saw his face scrunch as he pondered the question for a moment. You come back, right? Take Godzilla. He keeps you safe. Jason presented the small figure to me. The eyes glowed softly in the dark. I pushed the toy gently back to his chest. Right back, I promise. You hang on to it. See you soon. Okay, fine. Loves you, Daddy. Love you too, mutt. David, be careful. Carol said to me, call me when you get to the house so I know you're safe. There's no phone service here. I don't think it would go through, but I'll try. See you soon. I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and tussled Jason's long blonde hair. I grabbed the emergency flashlight from the back of the seat and checked to confirm it turned on. Then I stepped out into the strangely warm winter night. The rain had softened to a dull, aggravating drizzle. I walked on the fog line and cursed at myself for not checking the fuel levels before I left. It was a silly mistake. The pungent odor of methane drifted towards my nostrils as I checked the concrete bridge over Roger's swamp. The rain had filled the bog nearly to bursting and small trickles of water washed over the bridge in certain places. Small traces of fog drifted over the bridge. I couldn't tell if it was the fog from moisture or caused by gases from deep in the swamp. Frogs croaked somewhere in the distance. The half moon broke through the clouds and provided some illumination of the surrounding area. I crossed the half-mile long bridge, splashing through standing water and nearly stepping on a black snake, probably stirred from hibernation by the unusually warm climate. I walked for about fifteen to twenty minutes when I reached the third and final bridge over Roger's swamp. The bridge, like the other two, was flooded. An inch or two of standing water flowed freely under the guardrails and across the concrete surface. I took a moment to wipe moisture from my forehead. A bank of fog floated across the bridge and I saw a dim red light through the haze. I squinted into the darkness. It was a small black Lexus. The emergency flashers were not on, just the steady glow of taillights. I approached it cautiously and realized it was the same black car which had passed us several miles back. It had run off the road and slammed nose first into a large oak tree. The front hood was crumpled and steam rose steadily from the engine compartment. Hello? Are you in there? I called out to the driver. There was no response. A radio chattered softly. The battery was still supplying power to the car. I shined my light over the wreck. The door was crushed and I knew it was impossible to open. I approached apprehensively, not sure of what I was about to see. Us littered the ground around the driver's side door. I raised the flashlight and gasped as I looked inside. The driver inside had not been wearing a seatbelt. He was young, barely 20 or so. He was draped over the deflated airbag, glass shards buried deep into his face. Hollow lifeless eyes stared back at me in the soft warm glow of my flashlight. Small droplets of rain pitter-pattered off his cheeks and dripped down onto the interior. The windshield had a clear impact mark from his head. I looked to see if he moved at all, but there was no rise to his chest. It was then that I saw something infinitely more disturbing. His left arm was gone at the shoulder. I hadn't noticed it at first. I was so focused on his face. He was wearing a leather jacket, but it had been torn away just above the biceps. Blood had sprayed onto the interior of the car, splattering across the white leather seats. I began to realize the car displayed signs of brutal damage, which was not caused by the crash. Deep gashes were ripped into the roof and both driver's side windows had been smashed inward. Young jagged slashes were gouged out of the hood. The young man had been savagely murdered. I took a step back from the car and shined the light into the deep blackness of Roger's swamp. Everyone who lived in Creedmoor or any of the small towns nearby knew the stories. Lake Rogers was not a picturesque recreational lake like Falls or Kerl Lake or the idyllic vacation spot like Lake Gaston or Smith Mountain. No, Rogers Lake was a deep murky black pit some two miles wide surrounded by unforgiving rotten bogs. Roger's swamp, a sprawling untamed marshy flat connected to the east of Lake Rogers, spanned over 1000 acres on its own. It was completely unnavigable with dense tree cover and long deep creeks leading into the interior overrun with downed logs. What lay beyond was that rumor and legend fishermen often spoke about seeing things in the water. They will tell you they could see something beneath the surface just out of sight. As we'll tell you, there's something in the rolling Hills Forest around Rogers Swamp. They say you can hear strange growls and see a large shadowy figure move in the darkness on the edge of Lake Rogers. You could occasionally see animals behaving oddly or spot a strange footprint in the muck near the shoreline. One had a story about the thing lurking in Rogers Swamp. I took a step back and appraise the situation. I was a rational man, a robotics engineer by trade. I didn't believe in the tall tales and had not given them more than a passing laugh since I was a child. Still, the grisly scene before me was completely unnerving. I removed my phone from my back pocket and checked the top left corner. No service. I pressed the emergency call button, but it failed to go through. I was less than a mile from home. I would grab the gas can from the storage shed and I'd pull 911 from there. I hated to be so pragmatic, but my family was alone on the side of the road and that poor soul wasn't getting any more dead. He would have to wait. As I walked towards the point where bridge meant road again, I noticed something odd. All the frogs had stopped croaking. It was completely silent except for the occasional rustling of wind through leafless trees. I picked up the pace a bit and broke out into a sweat. I crossed the final bridge and looked towards the sharp right turn which led away from the swamp and into town. The fog completely covered the roadway, blending the street with the surrounding forest. The only indication of where one ended and the next began was the tops of the towering evergreens illuminated by the moonlight and glistening with fresh moisture. That's when I heard it. A low powerful rumble. At first I thought it was far off thunder. Then I heard a deep inhalation of breath followed by another rumble. It was guttural like the sound an alligator makes. I looked but could see nothing in the overpowering darkness. I stepped into the middle of the highway and I broke into a jog, adrenaline course through my veins as I thought about what could be out there in the deep recesses of the swamp. My mind wandered to my family. I saw a large green sign materialized from the fog. Welcome to Creedmoor, population 5249. I'd made it back to town. In just a few short minutes I found myself in my own driveway. I quickly phoned for the county sheriff informing them of the accident and the general location. I grabbed the five gallon tank of fuel I normally use to the lawnmower. Less than half full, but still more than enough to get home. I called my wife's phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Damn it. I still had a long walk ahead of me and set out as quickly as I could. I swapped the tank from hand to hand as I became tired. Two gallons of fuel still weighed 20 pounds, not a small weight when carrying it for miles. My walk was filled with anxiety as I thought about the dead man in the car and how long my wife and son had been alone. The familiar sight of headlights told me I was back at the wrecked Lexus. I walked past quickly. I cut a short glance inside. Dead eyes stared back at me. As I reached the end of the bridge, I heard that familiar rumble. Deep, throaty, and threatening. I looked back in the direction of the ravaged car. In the half moonlight, I could just make out the shape of a thing standing beside it. It was tall, well over six feet. The body was lean, but strong, like a swimmer. A long, powerful tail, easily longer than the entire body, dragged the ground. The shoulders were broad, but slumped over, giving it a slightly hunchback appearance. They led to long, lanky arms and oversized hands. The face was horrifying. It looked like a snub-nosed crocodilian. Several rows of small spikes protruded near the snout and ran down the length of the back to the tail. The eyes reflected the light in the darkness. The creature of Roger's swamp, the Roger's bog beast, the lizard man. It clutched the corpse of the driver in its left hand. His body hung limply in the powerful grip. Water cascaded across the bridge as the small streams and rivers connecting to the lake overflowed with water. It splashed against the thing's powerful calves. It flexed its huge clawed feet and took a step towards me. Then two fear gripped me as I realized the gargantuan crocodilian viewed me as live prey. I took a step backwards for each one it took forward. The creature had long strides and covered the distance quickly. It was upon me in mere seconds. I couldn't outrun it. In what felt like moments, it stood right in front of me. It towered over me, the long powerful tail swishing in the water on the bridge. The slitted yellow eyes showed no emotion, only a hunger. The mouth opened, snagled teeth jutted forward. A powerful rumble emanated from deep inside the thing's chest. The nostrils flared as it smelled me, possibly deciding if it thought I would be better than the meal in hand. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of a siren echoed off the trees. The monstrous thing turned its head upwards to the night sky. As the siren inched closer, it looked back at me. The creature leaned down and met eye to eye for a moment. I thought to myself, this is the end. It's gonna bite my head off right here. But it didn't. Instead, the creature crossed the bridge, dragging the dead body behind it, like a toy. It stepped up onto the guardrail, bending it in a foot. It leaped over the side with a loud splash and was gone. White red and blue lights reflected off the trees of a hairpin turn. The ambulance turned the corner and high beams washed over me. A white Dodge Charger with a county sheriff's insignia followed right behind. The deputy stepped from his car and tried to talk to me, but I couldn't hear him. All I could hear was that deep rumble. After several moments, I regained my composure enough to respond to questions. I told the officer, I had no idea where the driver had gone. He wouldn't have believed me anyway, and I would have spent Christmas morning in Holly Hill Hospital if I had. Call it sheer dumb luck, call it a Christmas miracle, call it nature taking course. I survived my encounter with the creature of Roger's swamp. I now had my own story to tell.