Game Plan: A Kira Brightwell Novel

1 The boy pushed a flop of sandy blond hair from his eyes as he trudged up the hill. Ancient trees towered over him. The only sounds were the shuffle of his feet through the undergrowth, the calls of distant birds, and the steady rush of his own breathing in his ears. The light of the afternoon sun filtered through the leaves above as he walked, shafts of golden light punctuating the forest floor. An odd feeling of déjà vu struck him, making him pause. I’ve been here before. He was dreaming. Yes, that was it. He struggled for a moment to regain consciousness, even though he knew it was futile—it always was once the dream had begun. The fleeting moment of self-awareness passed and he descended deeper, his memories of the present forgotten. He had been walking for over an hour. His uncle’s cabin was far from school, and there were no buses. Uncle Russ didn’t like him going to school in the first place, so getting a ride wasn’t an option either. A strange sense of foreboding fell over him as he thought of his uncle—almost as if part of him knew something bad was going to happen and was dreading it. He shook his head and kept going. He was sweaty from the long walk. The cuffs of his jeans were stiff with dirt. They hung almost an inch above his ankles. His T-shirt wasn’t much better. It had been white once, but now it was more of a brownish-gray. His uncle wasn’t nearly as good about laundry and buying new clothes as his mother had been. The boy suppressed a sigh. It was only one of many things that made him an outcast from the other kids at school. He didn’t particularly care what most of them thought of him, but he disliked being dirty. He would have to try washing in the river again, maybe when Uncle Russ was asleep. He reached the top of the steep hill, which opened into a small clearing. His footsteps slowed. Uncle Russ’s pickup truck was parked beside the crude log cabin. Usually, he would still be out running errands, but today he was home early. The boy’s stomach tightened. Muffled screams coming from inside the squat shed beside the cabin confirmed his suspicions. His uncle had gone hunting again. The muffled screams and pleading became ragged. The boy froze. He hadn’t thought his uncle would go hunting without him. People tended to be more trusting when a child was around. They were quicker to let their guard down. It had been easy enough to see once Uncle Russ had explained it to him. He had thought if he just kept going to school... Well, clearly he had been wrong. The screams didn’t bother him. He had heard them enough times before. The voices might be slightly different, but the blind panic behind them was always the same. No, what bothered him was his uncle wanting him to become more... involved in his extracurricular activities. Uncle Russ’s clients paid well enough for his services, and he was fairly decent at his job, but the money didn’t matter to him. Oh, he enjoyed his work, that was certain. No, all he cared about was the cover it provided him to collect his own bonus, as it were. His enthusiasm was unnerving. Not only that, but it was stupid. Yes, Uncle Russ was careful, but hunting should never be personal. Each ‘bonus’ he took was an unnecessary risk that could ultimately lead to his exposure. The screaming came to an abrupt stop. The boy looked up. The shed door opened and his Uncle Russ came out, fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He shook out his curly, blond mullet and flashed a sleek-looking smile. “You’re finally home,” he said. “Too bad you didn’t get here a bit earlier. She was a real live one.” He c****d his head toward the door of the cabin. The boy flushed, but remained silent. “It’s been a good season,” his uncle continued. “Lots of runaways and tourists coming through town. I figure it couldn’t hurt to take another one between jobs. It’s been too long since the last one.” Most of his uncle’s clients were particular about their ‘packages’ being unspoiled, much to the boy’s relief. “Anyway, you’re thirteen now,” Uncle Russ said into the awkward silence. “Practically a man!” He clapped his nephew on the shoulder. “Tell you what, the next bonus that comes along is all yours.” He flashed one of those charming smiles that always seemed to make women smile back at him, even though it didn’t quite reach his pale-blue eyes. The boy considered saying something, but thought the better of it. He knew from experience he would never be able to get his uncle to understand his reluctance to take part in the spoils. It was a waste of time. Instead, he swallowed and nodded. “Good man.” His uncle gave his shoulder another hardy pat. “Now you’d better go in there and get the shovel. We’re going to need another hole.” The boy squared his shoulders and walked toward the shed. He knew what he would find waiting inside.