The Edge

Chapter 16

Wes will be pissed that I snuck out and shut off my phone, but at least I left him a note, right? I feel bad about it, but I didn't particularly want him tackling me to prevent my departure. In my defense, I'm toting around a can of mace and a large, intimidating dog just in case.

Just in case Luke is, in fact, a psycho who's murdering everyone connected with his crime. In which case, I am probably an irredeemable idiot and deserve what I get.

Numerous backroads and dirt paths lead me to the trail Luke described to me. Mowgli scouts the path ahead, ever alert but unfailingly calm. The dog's reassuring presence lends me a reckless confidence, even I narrowly avoid soiling myself as a deer bursts from the underbrush. The fact that he halts on command instead of streaking after the animal lifts my spirits. If only more people were that steadfast, that willing to pass up their tempations.

A half hour march into the boonies (fully loaded with allergy meds, this time, take that Nature!) leads me to a little creek with a tent pitched alongside. Luke is crouched over a small fire, grilling what appears to be hot dogs. He spots me and waves a weenie-skewered stick at me. "I made lunch."

I make my way to the site and accept his offering. It doesn't appear to be store-bought meat, so I give it a suspicious sniff.

He smirks at the action. "Don't worry; cannibalism was never my thing. It's deer sausage. I didn't even kill it; I'm just charring its savory, savory corpse."

I nibble at the sausage. He's right; savory. "Impressive. I'd never have pegged you as an outdoorsy type. Does that make me guilty of stereotyping?"

"Well, I wasn't one the those guys who spent weekends huddled in deer stands or casting lines from the riverbank."

"I thought you hunted with Dominic."

"A few times. But my neck never turned the proper shade of red."

We munch on sausage and grilled corn for awhile, listening to the chirping of birds and insects and tree frogs. "I like my creature comforts and I'm not into the whole Nature thing, but this isn't too bad," I comment. "Peaceful."

"I like the simplicity out here. The solitude. I've spent a lot of time roaming these woods by myself. The lake was basically my second home."

"If you weren't that into hunting and fishing, what did you do there?" Chilling alone in the woods sounds like something only a creeper would enjoy.

"This'll sound stupid, but I wanted to...to commune with a higher power, I guess. Not God, necessarily. When I'm alone with the nature, that's the only time I feel there's a presence greater than what we can see. I used to believe I could communicate with that force. That is listened to me and cared. It was a pretty powerful sensation."

"That's not stupid. That's basically religion."

He smiles ruefully. "Yeah, I know. But at the time, I scorned organized religion as a cult and mocked its followers to their faces. I couldn't identify with these people. I couldn't grasp that we were all searching for answers to the same problem."

"It wasn't right for them to shun me, but I was in the wrong too. I could spout hate just as self-righteously as any of those people who shamed me for being different. Would have been nice if we could've treated one another with even a the tiniest modicum of respect. And even though no one gave it to me, I could have taken the higher road."

"Did you really practice witchcraft? Voodoo?"

"Spellcasting. A bit of ritual is good for the soul. Not that I believe in souls or higher powers anymore."

"What if I want to try my hand at a bit of witchery?" I can't deny how curious I am about his purported Satanic activities.

Something like scorn flickers across his expression. "Sorry to disappoint, but there was no 'magic.' I mashed together some pseudo-pagan bullshit to come up with my very own, half-assed personal theology."