~ * * * ~
Dana kneeled on the ground and carved her initials into the dirt with a short, stubby stick. The letters weren’t of the standard block variety, but rather had an ornate style to them, with a perfect arched parabola on the D and rococo flourishes atop the stems of the H. Her flair for art had been obvious since she was a toddler, and she was encouraged ad nauseum over the years by her parents and teachers to develop her natural talent for drawing—which is the exact reason why she didn’t pursue artistic endeavors with any zeal: because it was someone else butting in and making decisions for her. If there was one thing she despised, it was being told what to do and how to do it. Her middle school guidance counselor characterized her behavioral issues as “a problem with authority figures.” Just like Stan.
“So how did my brother hook you into this?” Dana wondered aloud, as she continued her sketching.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just a sucker for a person who has a passion for something, anything really,” Keisha responded. She was hidden behind a thick patch of bushy overgrowth several yards away from Dana as she took her turn utilizing the al fresco potty. “Besides, he’s one of the few guys I’ve met on campus who hasn’t tried to ram his tongue against my tonsils.”
“Yet, you mean,” Dana snickered. “He’s totally crushing on you.”
Keisha was quick to dismiss the notion of Stan’s amorous intentions. “Nah.”
“Oh, yeah, I can tell,” Dana affirmed. “He hasn’t hollered at you at all. That means he likes you.”
“I’m, uh, flattered.”
“Well, don’t be. He sleeps with his socks on and gets nose-bleeds a lot.”
Keisha giggled. “I’ll try to remember that.”
“He’s only ever had one girlfriend his whole life,” Dana revealed. “If you could call one date a girlfriend. Her name was Mary Louise Babcock, and she used to live on our street. They were both juniors in high school. The parents arranged the whole thing because they thought they would make a cute couple. I mean like, gag me, right? Anyway, they went to a movie, but Mary Louise ended up leaving because Stan got annoyed that she was eating her popcorn and slurping her soda too loud. He said it was disrespectful to the actors. Mary Louise got so upset that she poured the Cherry Coke all over his head and ran out. She called her parents to pick her up and never spoke to Stan again. I guess you would be girlfriend number two.”
“Lucky me,” Keisha mused.
The splintering of twigs snapping in the near distance interrupted the banter and prompted Dana to hasten to her feet. She stood motionless and listened as her head darted back and forth, trying to hone in on the source of the noise. “What was that?” she called out in a timid whisper.
Keisha hustled out of the darkness and joined her just in time to hear another scrunch coming from the black void. She shone the beam from her flashlight in the general direction of the sound. “Hello? Mr. Munyon?”
No answer, just more crunches on the carpet of the forest, but this time more distinct and a lot closer. Keisha and Dana began to retreat, inching backward as someone—or something—advanced toward them.
Dana reached down and picked up a hunk of fallen timber with the girth of
a billy club on steroids. “What’s worse—getting eaten by a bear or a cannibal?”
“Do you really want to find out?” Keisha crouched low in a defensive stance, her arms positioned to fend off any invasion.
“Nope.”
“Me neither!”
They whirled and bolted as Dana flung the wad of wood aside. Ignoring low- hanging branches that slapped and scratched at their panic-stricken faces, they tore through the woods at a feverish pace. It was more of a frantic, clumsy scramble than a pure run. Tripping and stumbling the entire way, Keisha and Dana at last arrived at the clearing in front of the shack. They sprinted for it like it was Fort Apache and the cavalry was waiting inside. Racing at breakneck speed onto the porch, they ripped open the door and plowed inside, screaming their lungs out every step of the way.
Chapter 11
Dead As Dutch Page 18