Chapter 15

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, (That’s literal ... the cabin IS on a ranch.) the rifle was lonely ... stuck in the secret closet with no visitors ... not even the mice, rats and roaches that used to visit in the tunnel. The roaches were at least friendly ... until there was nothing left to eat. When dead Jason had nothing left to snack on...

Some people think that inanimate objects cannot carry a curse. That the object must be imbued with human qualities ... so ... the rifle, he, sorta had a soul ... at the bare minimum, awareness ... situational awareness.

He knew the buyer was defunct. The rifle also knew it wasn’t his fault. Somebody had fucked with him. Had messed with his innards ... even left filings in his works.

The works ‘fuckerwith’ didn’t have a presence ... a physical presence anyway. But ... she did whistle while she worked. Seemed to enjoy what she was doing. The happy whistle was accompanied with darkness... revenge and duty and a touch of obedience. Not a single drop of regret though. It was a pleasure, a chore out of the way.

Fulfillment.

Until next time.

But ... she had been noticed ... always nice to be noticed. And there was the joy of her witch when the task was complete.

The J&S Hawken may have liked the company, she was gone too sudden. Not even a, “It was nice fuckin’ wid ya, bud.” on leaving.

Over the years, after even the roaches stopped stopping-by, he would have been grateful for the company.

When the collapse had covered the tunnel mouth, he missed the light. When the quasi flood washed away part of the base and began the long slow reveal the sliver of light was welcome. The first reveal wasn’t enough to attract the hunter but the message sent, ‘you need to look at that crack,’ was remembered years later. He heard the struggle of boots in the wrack and ruin of the fall and hoped for companionship again. The climb of the climber uncovered more of the gap.

More light.

Boots on the wall and the thud of the jump excited him.

And now he was in darkness again. But he had expectations.

The man ... and a woman ... he could tell her by the smell ... had finished the chores, cooked, fed and retired. Eventually Sleep ... the sleep of exhaustion and happiness ... took them.

In the morning, the brown truck drove down the long drive, the driver knocked. Marion answered.

“I’m looking for the log cabin between the esses on Wolf Creek road ... is this it?”

“Hairy ... get your lazy ass up ... UPS is here!”

“Must be some mistake, receiver’s name is David. Sorry to bother you.” Mr. Brown Driver headed back to his box van.

He was stopped before he got back to the road.

“You’re at the right place,” David said.

David was barechested ... The driver wasn’t stupid.

“Hairy ... not Harry.”

“You got it...”

David produced the requested ID.

UPS doesn’t allow riders.

While Mr. Brown Driver was turning around, David walked back to the garage. He was sipping aromatic coffee while Mr. Driver unloaded.

“Cup?”

“Sure, why not.”

The driver had a thermos but the fresh brew smelled and tasted better than the cafe coffee.

“Sign here.”

“Need to look first.”

It was as ordered and accepted.

David signed.

“Have any trouble finding us? Ah ... never mind ... rhetorical question.”

“The office was explicit ... the name threw me.”

“Well ... now you know.”

“Yup. See ya next time.”

“I’ll follow you up and get the gate.”

“Thanks.”

At the gate, Mr. Brown Driver said, “That’s quite the drive.”

“Keeps the riffraff out.”

“Too much to bother with?”

“Yup, see ya.”

“Good coffee, that’s quite the woman you got there.”

“Wasn’t expecting nude, was ya?”

“Nope ... made my day.”

They both laughed. David shut the gate.

Marion was waiting.