Despite what Ray had hoped, the SUV was found almost an hour after Greg dumped it and set it ablaze. This was because Frank Boone and Dwight Hardy were going hunting.

Frank’s braying alarm went off at 4:00am and, being a deep sleeper, he didn’t hear it at first. His wife elbowed him in the back, in his kidney to be precise, and he woke up with a yelp because her elbow was pointier than a spear and she used it better than any Roman Centurion ever could. He turned off the alarm, muttered an apology and slunk to the bathroom yawning and using the flashlight app on his phone to light the way. After a quick shower, he threw the lunch he had packed the night before into his cooler and headed out to his truck. He went back inside to get his rifle and once he stowed it safely in the back seat, he drove to Dwight’s. Frank was hoping Dwight would already be awake. It wouldn’t be the first time Frank pulled into the driveway with the house in darkness. He hated ringing the doorbell. Dwight’s hound always barked his head off when the doorbell was rung and wouldn’t stop until you let him sniff your crotch so he’d know you were a friend. Frank suspected Chevy, the hound, didn’t have the best eyesight but kept it to himself because Dwight got right defensive about any potentially negative comment about his dog.

From the street, he saw the front light shining above the porch. In a chair beside the door sat Dwight. A red ember flared by his mouth.

Frank pulled into the driveway, rolled down his window and said, “You’re not smoking in my truck.”

Dwight stood and said, “I know that. I’m smoking on my porch.”

He flicked the ember into his neighbour’s bushes, slung his lunch bag over one shoulder and his bow case over the other and got into the truck.

“You smell like smoke.”

“Is this what we’re doing today?”

“What?”

“Stating the obvious?”

“Shut up, Dwight.”

“Alright.”

They were at the mid-point of deer season. They had been out four times this year and would triple that by the season’s end. They hadn’t been successful yet and after much beer inspired discussion, decided they were hunting where everyone else hunted. Mathematically, they were contributing to the over-saturation of hunters in a certain area. Sure, the places visited by the other hunters were popular because the trails stalked were ones used by the deer to migrate. But no one had been successful this year, well, except for that prick Toby but he went out with all the expensive tech to locate the deer. Rumour had it he had access to a satellite with infrared image capabilities and could easily track the deer and set up where he knew they would be. Now, Frank outwardly told people that was a stupid idea. Who had access to a satellite, floating in space, from their tiny one-horse town? Sure Toby was rich but that was just stupid. Some people were lucky is all and Toby happened to be one of those lucky people. If anyone wanted proof of that, they just had to look at his wife. She was stunning and Toby, well, Toby could be mistaken for a Sasquatch. But after Toby had taken home two deer in two outings, Frank inwardly thought maybe the satellite rumour wasn’t so far-fetched after all. He would never admit that to anyone, especially not Dwight, but after sitting in a blind for four long days and seeing nothing, Frank began to wonder.

Looking at maps and listening to other hunters, they decided to go somewhere new and take a look around. They could get deep enough into the woods using an old service road with the truck and walk in further from where they parked it. The road was bumpy as hell and almost overgrown with misuse which is why they took Frank’s truck and not Dwight’s Toyota Prius. They knew the road ended at a boulder with carvings on it. The rock had been a big deal twenty odd years ago when some hippie discovered it and thought there were old Iroquois carvings dating back to some three thousand years ago on it. But the hippie was a hippie and not an anthropologist, archeologist, historian or someone who might know what the hell they were talking about and the rock was forgotten. Frank even forgot all about it until the maps showed that’s where the service road ended.

Frank knew game trails ran all through that area and they would find one, wander along it and see what they would see. If they saw deer spore, they’d be in business. All they had to do was mark the boulder with their handheld GPS units and they’d be able to find it at anytime no matter how far they went away from it.

They had scouted the area the week before and decided on a general direction to travel based on the known deer migrating routes. They wanted to be ready to start their walk when the dawn lightened the sky and made black outlines of the trees. Frank saw a hill overlooking a game trail and wanted to get set up there to watch and wait. If nothing happened, they’d move to the next spot. Simple plan, easy to remember and easy to execute.

On this morning, they missed the service road entrance because it was dark.

Dwight said, “You missed it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” Pointing out the window, Dwight said, “Notice the water tower we passed? The road was before that.”

“Shit.”

Frank slowed down and using the shoulder, did a U-turn. Using his high-beams, they found the entrance and drove down the trail. They traveled at a slow pace because of the encroaching trees and the deep ruts disuse and weather had carved into the dirt. It wasn’t until fifteen minutes into their drive down the road that they saw a light in the distance. A wavering bright yellow glow visible through the dense trees.

Dwight said, “What’s that?”

“I don’t know.”

They crept forward squinting into the early morning darkness at the incongruous brightness. The windows were down because of the humid summer. They smelled the smoke first. Not a wood smoke but a plastic scent, a burning rubber smell.

Frank said, “A car fire?”

“I don’t know. Don’t smell like no campfire.”

Drawing closer, the flames became a bright focal point in the darkness. When the flaming SUV came into sight, they were hit with an aroma familiar to them both.

“Smells like roasting pig, doesn’t it?”

Frank said, “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

Through the front window of the burning SUV Frank saw a distinctly human silhouette.

He said, “Oh shit.”