Vivian Confidential - Part Nine

G grabbed me around the neck and refused to let go. Honestly, if I could have run back to the car, I would have. G’s arms and my own rubbery legs prevented me from it. It didn’t matter. Within seconds, the throaty blast of a large gauge shotgun locked us both into place.

“Oh shit,” G said. “We’re going to die.”

“I think you’re right. Let’s get the hell back to the car.”

“Not without my purse,” she said.

“What’s in that purse that’s worth dying for?” I asked.

My words caused an unexpected result. G began to cry, softly at first. Soon, her sobs and cries of anguish were so loud, I became afraid they would attract the wolf, or the person with the shotgun. With some effort I unlatched G’s arms from around my neck, grabbed her hand and pulled her in the general direction of the Fairlane. She was having none of it.

“If you’re so scared, then run back to the car and wait for me. I’m going to find my purse.”

I could see G’n s resolve as she stood staring at me beneath the golden light of a full moon. Duly chastised, I changed directions and continued walking toward the general direction from which the growls had come. I’m not a brave person and, to put it colloquially, my asshole was puckered.

We followed the narrowing trail another 100 yards, or so, light from the moon guiding our path. We stopped when we reached a grove of trees that blocked out the light.

“It’s in there,” G said, pulling me gently into the darkness. Suddenly she froze and said, “There it is.”

I could barely see it in the cloaked darkness. Something attached to a rope was hanging from a tree branch. For all the world, it looked like a butchered body.

To Be Continued