In the Woods Read Free

But it was tough; the smell of fear was even more appealing than the smell of blood.
    The Impala made a grumble and groaned.
    â€˜I told you a hundred times to fix the muffler.’ Pete was jittery.
    â€˜Just be cool. Act normal.’ Bob pulled into the campground just before sunrise, parked near the RV area.
    â€˜What if somebody stops us?’
    â€˜Jesus Holy Christ. Nobody’s going to stop us.’
    â€˜What if they do?’
    Bob’s nostrils flared. ‘We’ve talked about it. What don’t you get yet? We’re a couple of dudes backpacking for a day, that’s all. We don’t need no hunting permits. No reservations. Nothing.’
    â€˜Right. Nothing.’
    â€˜You okay?’ Bob turned, looked at him.
    Pete nodded. He chewed his thumbnail.
    â€˜Because you’re doing that thing you do with your eyes.’
    â€˜What thing?’
    â€˜Where you blink real fast.’
    Pete shrugged and tried not to blink.
    â€˜You got to tell me you’re okay. Because once we get out of this car, there’s no going back.’
    Pete blinked a bunch of times. ‘I know.’ He reached for the car door.
    â€˜Not yet. Hold on. Let’s double-check the packs.’
    Pete twisted around and climbed onto his knees, facing the back seat.
    Bob reached into the pocket of his down vest, took out a list. ‘Okay. Dynamite.’
    â€˜Check.’
    â€˜Rope.’
    â€˜Check.’
    Bob read the list: cable, wiring, tool kit, blasting caps, detonators. Maps. Flashlights. Spare clothes. Tarp. Beer, beef jerky. Baggie of grass. Matches. Pipe bombs. Pete’s phone with the GPS.
    â€˜Check.’
    Bob’s eyes were glowing. ‘This is it, man.’
    Pete’s hands were shaking.
    â€˜Scared?’
    â€˜Shittin’ my pants.’
    Bob laughed. ‘That’s okay, man. Think of it this way. Before a tough football game – before anything tough, your body revs itself up. You feel scared sick, but it’s not fear – it’s just hormones or chemicals. It’s your body preparing itself for something big. So it’s a good sign if you feel sick.’
    Pete remembered Homecoming, senior year. He’d been scared sick then, too, and they’d won 28-11. Bob was right. His body was revving up to do something great.
    â€˜How about you? Do you feel sick?’
    Bob grinned. ‘Me? I’m so revved my eyes might pop out of my head.’
    Pete nodded, stared out the windshield. In a few minutes, the sun would come up. But, for now, darkness would cover them.
    â€˜Ready?’ Bob punched his shoulder.
    Pete didn’t answer, he just returned the punch. This was it, the day they’d been planning for months. This day, today, they were going to do something mind-boggling. They were going to become famous and change history.
    This day was going to be great.
    Just as the sun peeked over the horizon, Angela Russo led her husband Phil to the edge of the field.
    â€˜This is probably the best place to spot small game. You want to stay still, watch for movement. Don’t move because, if they spot you, they’ll freeze and you won’t see the grass moving.’
    Phil nodded. ‘I’ll be fine.’ She looked so beautiful out here, without make-up. Her hair up under her cap. Freckled like a tomboy. Or a modern Annie Oakley.
    â€˜You remember how it goes? Aim, deep breath, hold it, aim, squeeze off the shot, breathe.’
    â€˜Got it. I’ll be fine.’
    â€˜Be careful. Don’t take any chances on your first time out.’ She patted his arm.
    â€˜I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.’
    â€˜I’ve been hunting half my life, Phil. I know what I’m doing.’
    â€˜But you’ve never gone after bear before. At least not by yourself.’
    â€˜That’s the point, though, isn’t it? I want to bag one. Just me. All by myself. Without goddam Stan. Without