Then she steps aside. I get in my truck and pull out. As I drive past, she’s standing there on the curb.
Watching me with those huge, unblinking eyes.
I feel nothing. Just an empty hollowness that sucks away my capacity for compassion, for regret, for doubt.
It’s the best fucking feeling in the world.
I drive up to the cabin fast. The wind in my hair, the sound of the car engine roaring on the climbs… it’s good. It’s right. Action. Motion. Decision. It’s what’s been missing from the moment I first stepped into the white-tiled bathroom and found Esme cowered in the corner.
When I pull up outside the cabin, the mutt is missing.
“At least someone in this fucking town can take a hint,” I grumble.
I swing open the car door and drop down to the ground.
The moment I’m out of the Jeep, however, something feels off.
I can’t see anything obvious. It’s just a feeling, warning me that someone has been here.
Someone has been fucking around in my space.
I grab the gun I brought with me and walk straight into the cabin. I kick the door open and walk in, but whoever was here has left some time ago.
One thing’s for certain: someone’s definitely been here.
I move around the cabin, trying to sniff out what the fuckers wanted. I throw the bedroom door open and walk in.
Then I see it: my alcohol is gone. Whatever remained, that is. And the pistol I left on the kitchen counter.
Someone’s gonna die for this.
I stride right back out to the wrangler and pull out a bottle of whiskey. I open it fast and take a long swig. When I lower the bottle, sensing eyes on me, I turn my head to the side and see two large brown eyes staring dolefully at me from behind a huge, thorned bush.
The mutt.
He’s shivering. It’s clear he was here when the intruders came by.
I take another swig and put the bottle down. The loss of one gun is irritating but not a tragedy. I never keep all my weapons in one place. They’re stashed around the cabin grounds and the woods at large.
I stomp over to the shed, fuming, to retrieve a rifle tucked in the ceiling in there.
The mutt follows behind me, shivering the whole fucking time.
“You better fucking learn now,” I tell him. “If you stick around, there’s gonna be a fuck ton more of this shit.”
The dog whines a little, as though refuting the fact.
“You want a peaceful life?” I continue. “You want safety? That’s not gonna happen with me.”
The dog doesn’t move. I duck into the shed. I find the rifle I’m looking for and sigh gratefully.
Then I step back out into the cold air and cock it.
Whoever you are, you picked the wrong fucking man to fuck with.