The dream had come and gone throughout the night, in between Kevin’s usual midnight piss in the dark, and several heart-stopping wake-ups, where he thought he had heard something big walking around his camp.
Morning came with nothing short of relief.
* * * *
After a good stretch, Kevin brought the fire back and made coffee. He sat on a rock, hands cupped around a steel mug for warmth, and inhaled deeply the aroma of dark roast, as he stared at the surrounding woods, the patches of blue sky, the cold dirt at his feet. The nightmare had stamped his morning with disturbing images; along with grim reminders, as he suddenly recalled how the media had reported Spencer Heathrow’s fate: …thoroughly disemboweled, roughly butchered, and stuffed unceremoniously into his backpack.
Even so, Kevin h
