Tower Rock IslandA
t dawn, Shake left Jim sleeping and retrieved his old coffee pot. He’d miss the catfish for breakfast but no reason to go without coffee. When he got back to the campsite, Jim was awake, sitting cross-legged on a rock and looking frazzled. Whatever sleep he got had apparently not refreshed the man very much. No wonder. He had friends that might be chopped up into marketable body parts any time now.
Shake made coffee, poured some for himself, and then handed a cup to his new friend. He still had some reservations, but a night of thinking it over had brought him to a few decisions. He was going to look into this thing, help the man and the others being held captive where he could. What he needed most was information. No use going to authorities with this kind of fantasti
