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You Have Reached Your Destination

Beware the One Percent

By Staci TroiloPublished 3 years ago 6 min read
15

Ninety-nine percent of the time, Glenn Warren loved being a bounty hunter. The challenge of finding someone’s trail, the thrill of capture, and the righteous pride of justice being served combined into a heady rush that couldn’t be beat.

One percent of the time, however, it sucked. This was one of those times.

So many people waxed poetic about the majestic beauty of Alaska’s wilderness. Photos and videos showed massive forests, rushing rivers, and abundant wildlife. Sometimes the wonder of the Northern Lights. No one ever recorded the harsh realities of biting winter winds and hip-deep drifts of snow.

The tension in his neck and shoulders started to abate as the mountains surrounding him tapered to gentle slopes, then the ground leveled with the road. Nothing on either side of him but miles and miles of dense forest.

And whatever creatures lived in it.

His SUV fought for traction as he ascended a steep hill.

“You have reached your destination.”

Really? Because it looked like he was in the middle of nowhere.

Glenn stopped at the apex to get his bearings. Ahead of him was a valley with a frozen pond surrounded by a whole lot of trees and nothing else. Gray sky with wisps of grayer clouds stretched above him, sinking toward shades of charcoal and ink. It would soon be dark, a canopy of blackness so deep and fathomless, his headlights would be nearly useless, even reflecting off the snow. This wasn’t the place to be stuck at night.

“You have reached your destination.”

He glared at the GPS. “Yeah, I heard you the first time.”

Maybe he was close to the North Pole and the magnetic issue that made compasses work was all messed up.

Was that a thing with satellite navigation? Probably not.

He gave the terrain a more careful examination. Caught sight of an anomaly to the left of the pond. Squinted, then grabbed his binoculars.

A dock.

The cabin should be just around the bend, behind the copse of pines. It was the perfect hiding place for a fugitive from the law.

Almost perfect. No one could hide from him.

Glenn was cold, tired, hungry, and in a foul mood. Though caution would be prudent, there was no way to stealthily approach the door without a mile-long hike from the crest of the hill, which he had no desire to do. So he went for the bold approach and began his descent, only taking the initial curve slowly so he didn’t slide off the road, then accelerating down the hill. A log cabin nestled in a clearing, surrounded by spruce and fir. Its weathered boards had silvered over the years, allowing a natural camouflage with the frosted shrubbery around it. A thin stream of smoke wafted from the chimney, evaporating into the clouds above. One faint light flickered in the window. Three vehicles sat off to the side. One was covered with a foot of snow like it hadn’t been driven in a while. The second had about six inches on it. The third only had a thin dusting.

Was that the car Arlo came in?

He pulled right up to the steps, hopped out of the SUV, strode across the porch, then pounded on the door. “Arlo Wilson?”

“What do you want?” His voice was muffled through the door.

“It’s over. I’m here to take you in.”

“You’ve got the wrong guy.”

“That’s what they all say. Open up or I’ll bust down the door.”

“You’re trespassing. And that’s breaking and entering.”

“Then call the cops.”

“They’ll never get here in time. It’s starting to thaw.”

“Funny. In my experience, it usually gets colder at night.”

“You’re not from here. You don’t get it. When it gets warmer, the snow starts to melt.”

Glenn shrugged. “Seems like a good thing.”

“Until it falls off the mountains. That’s when we get avalanches. We’re going to be snowed in soon. No one’s going to risk coming up the pass.”

“I did.”

“You’re not local. You didn’t know better.”

“You coming out or not?”

“No.”

“Then I’m coming in for you. We’ll leave together.”

“It’s not safe to go back out.”

“We’re going. Now.”

“You go.”

Glenn’s fingers and toes were numb. His lips had lost feeling, and he wasn’t even sure he was forming words correctly anymore. “Not without you.”

“You’ll freeze out there.”

“I don’t intend to stay out here. Either you come out, or I’m coming in. I won’t say it again.” He pulled his weapon, preparing to breach the door. It felt strange in his cold, gloved hands, and he fumbled it.

Before he grasped it properly, the door flung open. The flash blinded him, the bang deafened. Then a searing pain bloomed in his abdomen before ripping through his body. His gun clattered to the porch floor a second before he joined it.

Arlo looked down at him, shaking his head. “Why couldn’t you just leave when I asked you to? I’m not a murderer.”

“No?” Glenn choked on the word. It tasted like copper. Warm liquid trickled from his lips.

“Well, I wasn’t. You forced my hand. I was innocent. That’s why I ran. Then you and your buddy showed up here, trying to drag me to jail.”

Buddy?

“I can’t go to prison.”

Monsters like him deserve that. Or worse. But Glenn couldn’t get the words out. He only managed a warm, painful gurgle.

A thunderous roar rumbled in the distance.

“Well, there’s the avalanche. Looks like I’ve got some time, anyway.” Arlo set down his rifle, shrugged into a parka, then donned a hat and gloves. He stepped over Glenn’s body before grabbing him under the armpits.

The agony of movement stole his breath. A wet cough stole more as he tried to talk.

Arlo dragged him off the porch toward the dock. “You and the other bounty hunter are easy enough to deal with. I have holes in the pond for fishing. Water’s real deep. No one’ll ever find your bodies. I’ve been worried about the vehicles. But the avalanche has bought me time. I’ll take yours apart and distribute the pieces in the pond and forest, and I’ll drive his to Canada. Doesn’t matter if I leave mine here. It’s an old clunker, anyway. Barely got me here.”

Glenn’s head bounced off the boards of the dock. His limbs were leaden, his fingers like pudding. He swiped at Arlo’s hands but couldn’t even tell if he made contact and certainly wasn’t able to break free of his grip.

Not that it mattered. He’d lost so much blood, he had no strength left to fight or flee. This was it. The end.

“This is your fault. I was innocent before the system failed me. And I asked you to leave.” Arlo flung him into the pond.

It was so cold, it burned. He gasped at the shock, inhaling icy water. His lungs threatened to burst. Stabbing pain assaulted his eyes and ears. Glenn choked, gagged. Thrashed.

He saw his mother. Dad. Siblings and friends. Kindergarten. Grade school. Junior high and high school. His first kiss, first steady girl. First time. First drive, first drink. Saw his wedding, his divorce. Saw his bounty hunting successes. Saw his one failure.

Then he saw nothing.

Short Story
15

About the Creator

Staci Troilo

Staci's love for writing is only surpassed by her love for family and friends, and that relationship-centric focus is featured in her work, regardless of the genre she's currently immersed in. https://stacitroilo.com

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