Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 747(@200wpm)___ 597(@250wpm)___ 498(@300wpm)
“What have you done? KAGE!”
“Both men, who ain’t no kin to me, thank the Lord, are packaged like prime rib in disposable coolers, ’bout a quarter of a mile from your gate.”
“WHAT?!!! Kage, you better be makin’ that up! Them boys ain’t done nothin’ to you!!!”
“Oh, believe me, my imagination ain’t all that creative. I prefer proper facts ’nd figures, and I figure you sent them to private property. They got a proper welcome to the pearly gates. Now, you can properly bury them. Case closed. Now, as a courtesy, their heads are on top, so you know which is which, bitch. Tell their mamas it’s time for those black dresses and closed caskets, and tell your mouth to kiss my hairy white ass. Pucker up, buttercup. You better hurry. Soon as these cougars ’nd such get a good whiff of this fresh meat, they’ll tear these coolers apart and have the supper of a lifetime. I heard that people taste like pork.”
He could hear a bunch of whispering and commotion on the other end of the line.
“Don’t you EVER—”
“Naw! Don’t YOU ever! Don’t you ever send another motherfucker my way unless you want him to leave in pieces. You knew not to fuck wit’ me, old man, but you took your chances, anyway. You say I’m crazy, but you ain’t seen crazy yet! I’M JUST NOW WARMIN’ UP! COME GET ’EM, OR I’M GONNA DUMP THIS SHIT ALL OVER THIS GOTDAMN ROAD FOR THE VULTURES! They move fast, and pick the bones clean… I did you a favor by returning them to you in the first place. YOU NEED TO THANK ME, YOU UNGRATEFUL PIECE OF HORSE SHIT. DIE, BITCH! DIE!”
“You’re completely out of your mind, unhinged… YOU LUNATIC ASS MOTHERFUCKER! KAGE! I’M GONNA RIP—”
He ended the call, got back in his truck, and drove away, singing to the tune of, ‘JamWayne’s, ‘Country Boy.’
“… Get stoned in the mornin’! Get drunk in the afternoooon!”
CHAPTER ONE
Bobcats and Bullets
Poet’s twelve-year-old beat-up red work truck shimmied and sputtered down the trail. She had a much better vehicle at home, but the wilderness was no place to drive her spotless white Toyota RAV4, and besides, this was a work-related trip. Business as usual. She turned down the music, some rap song she’d never heard from one the local R&B stations that was now mostly static, and listened to her surroundings. The sputtering was now accompanied by mechanical-ish growls.
“Damn it,” she muttered. “What bad timing for you to act up on me again.”
The RAV-4 was only two years old, but couldn’t handle the rough topography of these parts. At least not without special, expensive tires. The backwoods were relentless, isolated and unpredictable. She’d been to places like this plenty of times, though this was her first trip to this specific area. She was used to these sorts of work outings, but they could do a number on a vehicle if ill-prepared. She’d had the truck recently repaired for the umpteenth time, and usually it didn’t give her additional issues for at least a three month stretch. Nevertheless, she began to regret her choice as the truck once again sighed, as if it had seen and heard enough.
This is a mess. I just got you back out the shop! She slapped the steering wheel, hoping for the best. Too late to turn back now. She looked at her gas gauge—a bit over half a tank. That was plenty. Well, it could be worse. She was thankful that the truck wasn’t running hot as it did from time to time. Only a couple more miles to go. She finally made it to her destination, exhaling with relief.
There were rumors that quite a few Lynx-rufus, otherwise known as bobcats, prowled the area. They weren’t ordinary bobcats, however. The ones spotted in this specific location had unusual coloring: a much darker shade of red. Several eyewitnesses had remarked about their beauty. If that’s true, what a find. I’d like to get a photo of ’em. Since bobcats were nocturnal, loners, and usually rather timid when it came to humans, she didn’t expect to see much activity in the middle of the day, but it was worth a shot.
The Houston Museum of Natural Science, where she was employed, requested the assignment, and she was more than willing to venture out instead of standing in the sterile office with her scalpel dissecting roadkill. The added bonus would be the slim but conceivable possibility of seeing these magnificent burgundy-hued creatures herself, and sketch their environments, too.
Grabbing her rifle, bookbag filled with a couple of notepads, drawing pencils, and camera, she parked her truck off to the side of the uneven trail, and walked the rest of the way. It was a beautiful day, the air slightly crisp. She pulled her dark green hoodie over her thick black curls that were bobby-pinned away from her face, and continued her walk until she found the perfect spot to set up camp for a few hours. Getting down onto her knees in her jeans, she quietly laid out a blanket to sit on, and began sketching the area. Not more than fifteen minutes later, she heard something. She looked sharply to her right but didn’t see anything.