Chapter One
It’s fucking hot.
Even though I’m naked, I’ve kicked all the blankets off in the middle of the night .
T he sun isn’t even up yet, and it’s still blisteringly hot in the middle of the desert, somewhere west of Pinon , Arizona . I roll over on my back and try to blow air down my chest, letting the sweat there mix with my breath to cool me down a bit. It helps, but only when I’m actually exhaling .
The bed squeaks as I drop my legs to the side and hope I don’t end up with a nother fuckin g splinter from the ancient wood floors. My eyes fall to my Barrett , a long barreled rifle with an elaborate scope , which is propped up in the corner of the room, next to the bed. It is my constant reminder of how I ended up here. I stretch and moan a little before I take a quick piss and dig around for a clean pair of boxer shorts, my jeans , and a faded Jesus and Mary Chain concert T-shirt. Once I’m dressed , I go outside and check the level of gasoline I still have for the generator. If I don’t run a fan and only use the electricity for cooking and checking my email, I’ve got enough to keep me going another week or so.
Internally I h ope that will be enough, b ut I know in the back of my head that it probably won’t be . I will have to mak e the one- hundred mile trek to a gas station where I have yet to b e seen. Lots of people pass through th e area on the highway several miles from here, but they don ’t ever stop twice in the same place. Even if they did, chances are no one would notice, but I’m not one to take chances.
Before I can head back through the door of the small, two room house, I hear a magnificent sneeze followed by the thumping of four canine feet across the dusty ground.
“Come ‘ere, Odin ,” I say with a yawn, and the Great Pyrenees lopes over to get his head scratched. Though his white coat is still pretty close to his skin, in this heat h e needs another haircut . I wonder if I have enough juice to charge up the electric trimmers. If there isn’t, I’m going to have to do it by hand with a pair of scissors . Odin isn’t going to like it much , and it will probably end up looking like shit , but it’s better than overheating .
I fill his water dish from the pump outside and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. There’s just enough light to see by as it streak s across the barren landscape while the sun decides to make an appearance. I do a quick look around , check the wires hooked up to the battery of the old Chevy truck in the back of the house , and verify they’re still connected. The wire runs the perimeter of the tw o acre property and would set off the vehicle’s horn if breached.
It’s not the best security around, but I’m supposed to be dead anyway.
I stretch out, do a few pushups and sit ups, then jog around the shack a few times before I head back in. Odin follows me b ack inside, and I take quick inventory of the place out of habit, not because I don’t know what I will find . There isn’t much to go over – a bathroom with rusted out fixtures, a kitchen area with a mini-fridge full of room temperature – that is, warm – bo ttles of water, and a small electric stove. The main room is mostly occupied by my twin-sized bed with a cast-iron frame , once painted white , but is now chipped and falling apart . Pushed against the wall is a card table with two folding chairs . There isn’t even room for a full sized chest of drawe rs or anything, so the small amount of cloth ing I do have is folded up in the drawer of a short nightstand. I showed up here with a single duffle bag , so I don’t have that much, anyway.
“Fucking paradise,” I grunt to myself.
Odin looks up at me and snuffs. He hardly ever barks but seems content to huff through his nose and occasionally whine at me. I’m not one to talk to the dog a lot either, though he is my steadfast companion. He’s eight years
It’s fucking hot.
Even though I’m naked, I’ve kicked all the blankets off in the middle of the night .
T he sun isn’t even up yet, and it’s still blisteringly hot in the middle of the desert, somewhere west of Pinon , Arizona . I roll over on my back and try to blow air down my chest, letting the sweat there mix with my breath to cool me down a bit. It helps, but only when I’m actually exhaling .
The bed squeaks as I drop my legs to the side and hope I don’t end up with a nother fuckin g splinter from the ancient wood floors. My eyes fall to my Barrett , a long barreled rifle with an elaborate scope , which is propped up in the corner of the room, next to the bed. It is my constant reminder of how I ended up here. I stretch and moan a little before I take a quick piss and dig around for a clean pair of boxer shorts, my jeans , and a faded Jesus and Mary Chain concert T-shirt. Once I’m dressed , I go outside and check the level of gasoline I still have for the generator. If I don’t run a fan and only use the electricity for cooking and checking my email, I’ve got enough to keep me going another week or so.
Internally I h ope that will be enough, b ut I know in the back of my head that it probably won’t be . I will have to mak e the one- hundred mile trek to a gas station where I have yet to b e seen. Lots of people pass through th e area on the highway several miles from here, but they don ’t ever stop twice in the same place. Even if they did, chances are no one would notice, but I’m not one to take chances.
Before I can head back through the door of the small, two room house, I hear a magnificent sneeze followed by the thumping of four canine feet across the dusty ground.
“Come ‘ere, Odin ,” I say with a yawn, and the Great Pyrenees lopes over to get his head scratched. Though his white coat is still pretty close to his skin, in this heat h e needs another haircut . I wonder if I have enough juice to charge up the electric trimmers. If there isn’t, I’m going to have to do it by hand with a pair of scissors . Odin isn’t going to like it much , and it will probably end up looking like shit , but it’s better than overheating .
I fill his water dish from the pump outside and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. There’s just enough light to see by as it streak s across the barren landscape while the sun decides to make an appearance. I do a quick look around , check the wires hooked up to the battery of the old Chevy truck in the back of the house , and verify they’re still connected. The wire runs the perimeter of the tw o acre property and would set off the vehicle’s horn if breached.
It’s not the best security around, but I’m supposed to be dead anyway.
I stretch out, do a few pushups and sit ups, then jog around the shack a few times before I head back in. Odin follows me b ack inside, and I take quick inventory of the place out of habit, not because I don’t know what I will find . There isn’t much to go over – a bathroom with rusted out fixtures, a kitchen area with a mini-fridge full of room temperature – that is, warm – bo ttles of water, and a small electric stove. The main room is mostly occupied by my twin-sized bed with a cast-iron frame , once painted white , but is now chipped and falling apart . Pushed against the wall is a card table with two folding chairs . There isn’t even room for a full sized chest of drawe rs or anything, so the small amount of cloth ing I do have is folded up in the drawer of a short nightstand. I showed up here with a single duffle bag , so I don’t have that much, anyway.
“Fucking paradise,” I grunt to myself.
Odin looks up at me and snuffs. He hardly ever barks but seems content to huff through his nose and occasionally whine at me. I’m not one to talk to the dog a lot either, though he is my steadfast companion. He’s eight years
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