BEAST
The logging road was barely a road.
More dirt than gravel.
More potholes than anything else.
Trees crowded both sides.
Tall.
Thick.
Perfect cover for a man who didn’t want to be found.
Sheriff Cooper’s deputies led the way.
Wolf rode beside me.
Trigger followed behind us.
Nobody talked.
There wasn’t much to say.
Gerald had bought food.
Water.
Batteries.
Shotgun shells.
He had been preparing.
And I hated what that meant.
We drove deeper into the hills.
Past an old hunting blind.
Past a rusted gate hanging crooked on one hinge.
Past a creek bed that had gone dry months ago.
Then Deputy Harris slowed.
His truck stopped.
Everybody stopped.
“What is it?” Sheriff Cooper asked over the radio.
Harris got out.
Walked toward a patch of mud near the side of the road.
Bent down.
