Chapter 8

He heard the thud first, then the gunshot. At first, Gary Reynolds thought he had been hit. He backpedaled backwards several steps before falling on his rear. Gary looked around at his body and patted all over, looking for any entry hole.Finally, he was satisfied that no bullet had entered his body. Gary was not amused. He figured out the bullet hit the tree, not by accident. Jimmy Don Anson didn’t miss. This was a warning for Gary and his buddies to leave the property.

Gary raised his binoculars while peering around the small tree and looked down in the valley at where Jimmy Don was sitting on a stump with the rifle laid across his lap. The dog was sitting beside Jimmy Don, also looking toward Gary.

He noticed Jimmy Don was not smiling. For some people, this would have been funny. Jimmy Don didn’t seem like the type to smile. But neither was Gary, who planned on sending a message back to this country hick. It wouldn’t be now, but soon.

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Michael Hunt was working at home in his old bedroom, trying to salvage a paper for the week. It wasn’t going that great and for the first time ever, the Langford Review’s publishing date would be set back at least one day.

He heard the knocking at the door and hoped it would quit. Michael knew who was pounding on his door, it was his mother. She was persistent.

The pounding didn’t work so she opened the door and poked her head in. “Michael!” she said. “I have been knocking at your door.”

She was a little upset. When somebody knocked on a door and a person was inside, that person should answer. Especially when she was the person knocking.

“I’m kinda busy here, Mom,” Michael said.

“Do you want anything to eat?”

Michael gritted his teeth. If he wanted something to eat, he knew where the kitchen was located. The same place it had been since he lived in this old house as a child.

“I’m not hungry,” he said.

“But Michael…”

“Not now, Mom. I have to work.”

His mother could not imagine anybody skipping a meal. His father sure never missed one in all the years he was married to the woman interrupting Michael.

“I can heat up some casserole!”

“Casserole makes me throw up.”

She started to say something, but paused. “You used to always like my casserole!”

“No, I ate it cause you made me.”

She looked hurt. Mrs. Hunt was proud of her casserole cooking skills and had never thought somebody, especially her son, wouldn’t love it.

“How about a salad?”

She was on him constantly about his weight. Michael could stand to lose some, but it wouldn’t be from eating salad.

“No thanks, Mom.”

“It’s good for you, Michael.”

He looked up from his laptop toward his mother. “I am aware of the nutritional value of salad, Mom. I just don’t want any.”

She started to say something, right before the phone rang. She looked at the old phone on his desk, at Michael, then back at the phone. She quickly pounced on it, before Michael could get it. The caller could be one of her network with big news. The news about the man dying downtown and the Review burning was making the rounds tonight. Somebody might have new information!

“Hello, the Hunt residence,” she said. Michael shook his head. He didn’t think anybody answered the silly phone like that in this day and age. His mother did, though, and took great pride in her etiquette. She listened to the caller and the smile slowly worked into a frown. “Hmph!” she said. “It’s for you.”

She handed the receiver to Michael. The cord wasn’t long enough so he had to get up from his chair and grab the phone.

“This is Mike,” he said. She shook her head. Her son didn’t even offer a greeting! How rude. She started to say something, but he was already waving her off.

He recognized the caller’s voice. The tone suggested it was important.”I needs to talk to you,” the caller said. It was Bubba Anson.

“Okay, go ahead,” Michael said. His mother slowly walked out of the room, doing her best to hear every word.

“Not on the phone. It ain’t safe.”

“Okay, where do you want to meet?”

“The dock at Cedar Lake. Thirty minutes.”

Michael started to protest that he couldn’t meet tonight, that he was too busy, but heard the click and knew the call had ended.

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He had mixed emotions on the drive out to the lake. This place always brought back memories of the night he and Sandy shared together. That was the night when everything changed. Before, they were just really good friends. As they sat next to each other on their graduation night, both of them realized they felt different about each other. They only kissed and held each other, but that was the last time. After that, they both knew things had changed and didn’t know how to handle it. Michael went off to school and Sandy stayed in Langford.

He remembered the way the wind sounded as it went through the pine trees that night, the cool breeze of late spring before the onslaught of summer heat. Michael had avoided the dock for so many years because of the bad memory. Now, it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as he and Sandy were together again and planned to get married.

Michael parked his truck in the parking lot and saw Bubba’s old truck parked off to the side. He got out and started walking down the steps toward the dock and the lake. It was dark as clouds covered the thin slice of the moon. Michael heard the wind howling through the pines and the call of some bird that sounded like a shriek.

He stopped halfway down the steps. Every nerve in his body was alive. Not because of the bird, but something else. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing at attention. Michael looked around, but could not see anybody or anything that looked out of the ordinary. But something was wrong. He knew that without any question. Michael had never been scared of the dark or the woods before, but it seemed like the trees were too close. He heard the wind lap against the dock and the beach and almost jumped.

“Bubba?” he said, but got nothing back. Michael proceeded slowly down the steps, constantly looking around. He was so busy looking around that Michael didn’t watch where he was stepping.

Michael tripped over something and went face first, hitting the rock step in front of him. He heard the crack and knew something wasn’t right. A sharp pain went up his left arm. Still laid out on the ground, Michael reached over and felt of his wrist. It was angled in a position that it had never been before, broken back enough that it almost felt like a bone was sticking out of the skin.

He felt something on his face and realized that blood was gushing out of his nose and mouth. Cradling his broken wrist, Michael sat up and looked behind him to see what tripped him.

What Michael Hunt saw on the thin path made him forget everything about the broken wrist and other injuries.

“Oh my gosh!” he screamed, loud enough that a person on the other side of the lake could clearly hear. That person smiled, walked back to his truck and drove off into the darkness.