“No!” She ran the last few steps to the edge, but when she looked down into the water, he was gone, the only sign of his passing a growing wave of ripples that moved the dock ever so slightly. If he was still there, she couldn’t see him.
The water around the dock was suddenly muddier than the rest of the pond, as if stirred up at the bottom. A dead, bloated fish floated only feet away, its eyes the same curdled milk color as the squirrel’s had been. It’s swollen belly a floating restraint for flies.
Then the flies scattered, and the fish rolled over in the water. With a splash of its yellowing tail, it slipped into the muddy water and vanished.
“What the hell?” She was no outdoorswoman, but that fish had been dead. Dead! A floating maggot buffet one second, swimming away the nex
