house as he struggled to find sleep. The last two weeks with Janice had been free of his recurring dreams of Kuwait; the first time that had happened in over a decade. When she left, he knew the dreams would come back.
He thought about asking her to stay, but decided against it. Not because he thought she’d say no, but because he thought she just might say yes. She doesn’t belong here, Colby, he thought. And you know it. Don’t be selfish, now. He zipped the flap behind him and made his way back to the table, telling himself the moisture in his eyes was due to pollen.
When he reached the table, he checked the guns again, just to give his mind something else to think about. Twenty-three live rounds. Should be plenty. He picked up the jerky and popped a piece into his mouth. His stomach gurgled, excited at the sudden intake of food, and he dug out some more. He sat in silence, eating from the package and drinking from his water bottle, wondering when he would be able to sleep again. He couldn’t do it while Janice was asleep, that was certain. Someone had to stay awake and keep watch. Tonight, it seemed that someone was he.
***
Moretz and Allen watched as Colby sat at the table. Moretz wanted to run into the clearing and rip the bastard’s head clean off, but Allen held him back. Probably better, anyway. Moretz knew he could never get to Colby before the fucker got a shot off. Having seen firsthand how good the man was with a gun, he wouldn’t risk it. He would bide his time and wait until Colby fell asleep. Sooner or later, fatigue would win.
Then Colby would be dead, and Janice would be free for the taking.
Chapter Fourteen
Colby sat at the table and willed his eyes to stay open. It was too dangerous for sleep, that much was obvious. He’d just have to wait until daylight, then he and Janice could hike east toward Caribou and, with any luck, pick up a cell phone signal before the day was over. It shouldn’t be too hard. Even in northern Maine they built cell phone towers, they just put most of them far away from the woodlands because no one lived there. But the closer they got to town the more likely it was they’d pick up some of the weaker signals. Hell, any signal would be better than none at all. He’d take a staticky call over sitting in these fucking woods any day of the week.
The problem was, try as he might, he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open. He kept nodding off, and he’d jerk his head up as soon as he felt it slipping down.
The forest didn’t help. Crickets chirped around him and night birds sang. An owl hooted a soothing call, and small animals rustled softly through the underbrush. All these soft noises tried to lull him to sleep. He’d sure like to hear a cabbie swearing and honking right now, or maybe a heated argument in the next apartment. Something other than the constant low buzzing of the night time woods, which seemed designed to keep people like him from staying awake. What a fucked up universe.
His head dropped again, and this time his shoulders followed it to the table. What harm would it do to lay his head down, anyway? It was so heavy. He could stay awake with his head on the table, couldn’t he? Of course he could. He pulled the .45 from his holster and laid it on the wood just underneath his palm. There, easy reach. Anyone who stepped into the camp would have to face his gun.
Then, against all his better instincts, Colby closed his eyes.
***
Moretz watched as Colby’s head went down to the table. He never took his eyes off the gun. From his vantage point, he couldn’t tell if the gun was cocked, loaded, or if the safety was on. It didn’t matter, though. Once Colby was sound asleep he’d make his move and walk into the campsite. Moretz spent the next few minutes imagining many horrible deaths for Colby. A burning stick through the eye, decapitation, even skinning alive, he smiled at each new thought. But in the end they were just fantasies, and none of them
He thought about asking her to stay, but decided against it. Not because he thought she’d say no, but because he thought she just might say yes. She doesn’t belong here, Colby, he thought. And you know it. Don’t be selfish, now. He zipped the flap behind him and made his way back to the table, telling himself the moisture in his eyes was due to pollen.
When he reached the table, he checked the guns again, just to give his mind something else to think about. Twenty-three live rounds. Should be plenty. He picked up the jerky and popped a piece into his mouth. His stomach gurgled, excited at the sudden intake of food, and he dug out some more. He sat in silence, eating from the package and drinking from his water bottle, wondering when he would be able to sleep again. He couldn’t do it while Janice was asleep, that was certain. Someone had to stay awake and keep watch. Tonight, it seemed that someone was he.
***
Moretz and Allen watched as Colby sat at the table. Moretz wanted to run into the clearing and rip the bastard’s head clean off, but Allen held him back. Probably better, anyway. Moretz knew he could never get to Colby before the fucker got a shot off. Having seen firsthand how good the man was with a gun, he wouldn’t risk it. He would bide his time and wait until Colby fell asleep. Sooner or later, fatigue would win.
Then Colby would be dead, and Janice would be free for the taking.
Chapter Fourteen
Colby sat at the table and willed his eyes to stay open. It was too dangerous for sleep, that much was obvious. He’d just have to wait until daylight, then he and Janice could hike east toward Caribou and, with any luck, pick up a cell phone signal before the day was over. It shouldn’t be too hard. Even in northern Maine they built cell phone towers, they just put most of them far away from the woodlands because no one lived there. But the closer they got to town the more likely it was they’d pick up some of the weaker signals. Hell, any signal would be better than none at all. He’d take a staticky call over sitting in these fucking woods any day of the week.
The problem was, try as he might, he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open. He kept nodding off, and he’d jerk his head up as soon as he felt it slipping down.
The forest didn’t help. Crickets chirped around him and night birds sang. An owl hooted a soothing call, and small animals rustled softly through the underbrush. All these soft noises tried to lull him to sleep. He’d sure like to hear a cabbie swearing and honking right now, or maybe a heated argument in the next apartment. Something other than the constant low buzzing of the night time woods, which seemed designed to keep people like him from staying awake. What a fucked up universe.
His head dropped again, and this time his shoulders followed it to the table. What harm would it do to lay his head down, anyway? It was so heavy. He could stay awake with his head on the table, couldn’t he? Of course he could. He pulled the .45 from his holster and laid it on the wood just underneath his palm. There, easy reach. Anyone who stepped into the camp would have to face his gun.
Then, against all his better instincts, Colby closed his eyes.
***
Moretz watched as Colby’s head went down to the table. He never took his eyes off the gun. From his vantage point, he couldn’t tell if the gun was cocked, loaded, or if the safety was on. It didn’t matter, though. Once Colby was sound asleep he’d make his move and walk into the campsite. Moretz spent the next few minutes imagining many horrible deaths for Colby. A burning stick through the eye, decapitation, even skinning alive, he smiled at each new thought. But in the end they were just fantasies, and none of them
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