“No, not really. It’s…it’s more for my mother than me. She went there and pledged a sorority, so she thinks I should. I’d really be happy to stay home and go to Alabama.” She looked up at the stars.
“Mom took me two summers ago, and we walked through The Lawn. I really got excited. Mom started signing me up for everything after that. Don’t get me wrong: it’s a beautiful campus and a great school, but I’ll miss everybody, especially you,” she said and kissed his neck.
“I think you should do what you want to do.”
“I don’t want to disappoint her. She’s so excited. I think she wants me to do all the things she did and didn’t do,” Elizabeth explained and sighed.
Well, that’s it. Tanner knew the make-out session was over, and that all they were going to do was talk. He was used to it. He just loved being with her. That was one reason he knew he was in love. It didn’t matter what they did…just as long as they were together.
“So we could run off and get married,” Tanner said with a sly smile, and he meant it.
“You think?” She grinned as she responded. “You had better get a new car first…and pass English!”
“Is that all?”
“One with a roof.”
“I have a roof. It’s called a top, and I’ll pass English.”
“It’s plastic, and you can’t conjugate a verb.”
“Well…that’s true…I can’t, and the top is actually high-grade waterproof canvas and-”
“Kiss me, Tanner. I’m tired of talkin’,” she interrupted before he could finish.
“Yes ma’am.” And he did.
When it was time to leave, he composed himself enough to start the Jeep. He paused, “I sure hope it cranks.”
“It better, it would take days to walk out of here; plus, I just noticed my cell phone isn’t working,” she replied, brushing her long black hair.
“This area’s dead; there’s no service. It’s just too remote,” he answered.
Tanner paused another few seconds and watched her brush her hair. She’s got no idea how beautiful she is. The Jeep cranked and he smiled at her. “I love being with you.”
She leaned over and kissed him. “Me too. Crank up the heater. I’m kinda cold,” she said, briskly rubbing her hands on her arms.
They started the five-mile ride down the abandoned railroad track that was used for a road. She turned and held his hand and passionately kissed his right ear. Tanner was struggling with shifting and driving one-handed. He was in heaven.
“I’ll teach you how to conjugate verbs,” she whispered, then laughed out loud.
By midnight Jake was in the middle of the recurring nightmare he’d been having since he was fifteen years old. It was so real, so vivid. It never changed-he was walking to a deer stand in the predawn darkness. For every step he took, he heard something or someone following him. He walked a bit faster and then stopped. Whatever was following him stopped and stood still, in step with him. He began walking and could hear it following him again. It sounded heavy. He shone a flashlight, expecting to see glowing eyes-he couldn’t see a thing. Then suddenly he stepped on something out of place. There was a body, someone familiar to him, lying there dead. Brutally murdered. His throat was cut. There was blood everywhere. The exact moment the flashlight turned on, there was a high-pitched cackling scream…demonic…from whatever was following him.
Jake always woke up at this point, sweating and chilled. He could never go back to sleep. For twenty-two years this nightmare had haunted him. Jake knew a psychiatrist could have a field day with this. He’d never told a soul, and to this day, he wouldn’t go into the woods, day or night, without a flashlight.
Jake was roused from the nightmare by the sounds of a vehicle on the gravel road leading into the camp. The camper was toasty from the orange glow of the electric heater. That’s gotta beTate. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Jake got out of bed, slipped on his boots, then checked on Katy. She was sound asleep, snuggling with her Beanie Babies. I’ll ask him to stay in the camp house; his snoring’s louder than a freight train.
Wearing nothing but his boxers and boots, Jake cracked open the camper door and immediately heard several male voices and Hank Jr. singing “Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound.” Jake couldn’t see who it was. The gate was about 150 yards from the camp. He strained to hear what they were saying. Multiple voices. This was odd. His heart was in his throat. He didn’t like it at all. Jake could tell that they were arguing. He heard someone with a gravelly voice say, “The gate ain’t locked.” When Jake heard someone else say, “Then we won’t be breakin’ in,” he knew he had trouble on his hands.
He quickly stepped to his truck, opened the door, and grabbed his pump shotgun. He fumbled through his turkey vest for his shells. He found the only three he carried on a hunt, fed them into the magazine, and quietly worked the action, loading one into the chamber.
Two pickup trucks slowly approached the camp with their lights off and parked side by side with their windows down. Jake had stepped into the shadows next to the camp house. He had no idea what to do next.
“I ain’t never seen that camper before,” one stated.
Another said, “Let’s steal the truck.”
“And beat the shit out of the owner,” a third one added with way too much enthusiasm.
“Shut the hell up and let me think!” the fourth guy commanded.
All four men got out of their trucks and gathered at the rear of Jake’s. Without saying anything, they started approaching Jake’s camper like they owned the place. Jake saw the biggest one pull a pistol and work the action. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d never pointed a gun at anybody. He couldn’t imagine shooting someone, but he was in a bad spot and needed to make good decisions. Jake’s heart raced so fast he was dizzy.
From the shadows, Jake said loudly, “That’s close enough. You boys need to leave right now. I got a gun pointed at you.”
They all stopped and looked at the skinniest one in the group. With a wicked laugh and a confident step forward, he asked, “Is it bigger than mine?” pulling a .44 Magnum Ruger Blackhawk from his boot and pointing it in Jake’s direction.
This can’t be happening. Jake said, “I’m serious, you need to leave…now! This is private property.”
“He ain’t got no gun, Johnny Lee!” the fat one yelled out.
“Quit using my name, you stupid shit!” the one with the .44 said in a fit of anger.
“Look, I don’t know anybody or remember anything. Y’all just leave right now!” Jake yelled.
“I don’t think he’s got a gun either…else why would he hide in the shadows?” one of them said with an air of confidence.
“I’m here turkey huntin’, and I’ve got a shotgun pointed right at y’all, so I suggest you leave.” Jake was really getting nervous. He thought about showing himself so they could see his shotgun. But just how intimidating could I be in plaid boxers? Jake wondered.
They seemed to be weighing their options. The group didn’t look like together they were capable of making change much less a decision of this magnitude. Then things started happening in slow motion. Jake could tell that the skinny one, Johnny Lee, wanted trouble. Jake sensed that the others would follow his lead, so he kept the shotgun pointed at Johnny Lee and pushed off the safety.
“They ain’t no turkey hunters in this club…I know…he’s bluffin’. He’s out here cheatin’ on his wife with his sport-model girlfriend, I bet,” one of them said excitedly.
“That true?” Johnny Lee asked calmly although Jake could see his eyes getting wilder. “Where is she?”
The wolves smelled an opportunity and were getting more eager by the second.
Staring straight in Jake’s direction, Johnny Lee shouted orders. “Check out the camp house.” He motioned to the muscular one, who went through the front door with unbridled enthusiasm. Jake could hear him stomping around, slamming doors and cabinets.
Jake kept his shotgun trained on Johnny Lee.
In a few minutes the big guy was back outside and rejoined the group.
“Ain’t nobody inside.”
“Check the camper, Reese.” Johnny Lee grinned.