1990 - Mine v4 by Robert McCammon Page A

she thought.
    "What're you doin' out here? Kinda far from the road." He kept his rifle pointed at the ground. The first thing his father had told him: never point a gun at a person unless you're gonna use it.
    "Just hiking." She saw him look at the pistol again. "Target shooting, too."
    "I heard some shots. That was you, I reckon."
    "That was me."
    "I'm squirrel-huntin'," the boy said, and he offered a gap-toothed grin. "I got me this here new rifle for my birthday. See?"
    She had never run into anyone out here before. She didn't like this, didn't like it at all. A boy alone with a squirrel rifle. She didn't like it. "How come no one's with you?" she asked.
    "My daddy had to go in to work. He said if I was careful I could come on out by myself, but I wasn't to go too far from the house."
    Her mouth was dry. She was still breathing hard, but the sweat was drying on her face. She didn't like this; she could imagine this boy going home and saying to his parents I saw a woman in the woods today. She had a pistol and she said she was out hikin'. She was a big, tall woman, and I can draw you a picture of what she looked like.
    "Is your daddy a policeman?" Mary asked.
    "No, ma'am. He builds houses."
    She asked if you were a policeman, Daddy , she could imagine the boy saying. I can remember what she looked like. Wonder why she asked if you were a policeman, Daddy?
    "What's your name?" she asked him.
    "Cory Peterson. My birthday was yesterday. See, I got this rifle."
    "I see." She watched the boy's gaze tick to her.38 once more. How come she had a pistol. Daddy? How come she was out there in the woods by herself and she don't even live around here? "Cory," she said. She smiled at him. The sun was warm out here, but the shadows still trapped winter. "My name is Mary," she told him, and just that quick she decided it had to be done.
    "Pleased to meet ya. Well, I guess I'd best be gettin' on now. I said I wouldn't be gone too long."
    "Cory?" she said. He hesitated. "Can I have a closer look at your rifle?"
    "Yes ma'am." He began walking toward her, his boots crunching on dead leaves.
    She watched him approach. Her heart was beating hard, but she was calm. The boy might decide to follow her if she let him go; he might follow her all the way to her truck, and he might remember her license number. He might be a lot smarter than he looked, and his father might know someone who was a policeman. She was going to be leaving soon, after she'd gotten everything prepared, and she would worry about this boy if she didn't tie up the loose ends. Daddy, I saw this woman in the woods and she had a pistol and her name was Mary . No, no; that could screw up everything.
    When Cory got to her, Mary reached out and grasped the rifle's barrel. "Can I hold it?" she asked, and he nodded and gave it up. The rifle hardly had any weight at all, but she was interested in the telescopic sight. Having it might save her some money if she ever bought a long-range rifle. "Real nice," she said. She kept her smile on, no trace of frost or tension around the edges. "Hey, you know what?"
    "What?"
    "I saw a place where a lot of squirrels are. Back that way." She nodded toward the thicket she'd broken through. "It isn't too far, if you want to see it."
    "I don't know." Cory looked back in the direction of his house, then up into her face again. "I figger I'd better be gettin' on home."
    "Really, it's not far. Won't take but just a few minutes to show you." She was thinking of the ravine where dead leaves and kudzu covered the bottom.
    "Naw. Thanks anyway. Can I have my rifle back now, please?"
    "Going to make it hard on me, huh?" she asked, and she felt her smile slip.
    "Ma'am?" The boy blinked, his dark brown eyes puzzled.
    "I don't mind," Mary said. She lifted her Colt and placed the barrel squarely in the middle of Cory Peterson's forehead.
    He gasped.
    She pulled the trigger, and with the crack of the shot the boy's head was flung backward. His mouth was open, showing