The Trackers


Despite the chill, sweat from under his hat ran down the back of his neck.

Where’d he git to?

Shhh…you hear anything?

Leaves’re too wet. Can’t hear shit.

Maybe up on the ridge there-to the right?

Over the high point?

You think?

Don’t see him climbing. Thinkin’ straight up the creek.

That’s funny.


Cellphone buzzes softly

It’s Carole.

Christ, don’t answer it!

I’m not a fuckin’ idiot!

She leave a message?


Let’s just keep up this way…

Never been this far back.

Woods’re woods.

He adjusted his holster and they slogged deeper into the hollow.


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