Deputy Smith mounted the four-wheeler and started the
vehicle. She looked down at the gas gauge and noticed that the
needle was hovering just above empty.
“Really?” she muttered, switching off the vehicle.
As much as she had wanted to blame the near empty tank on the
sheriff, she knew that it was as much her fault as it was his. He
did say he would take care of filling them up last week after he and
she had used them to check up on a group of tourists who had lost one
of their members on their camping trip. Since then the vehicles had
been sitting idle with plenty of opportunity for refueling. Had she
thought to check before they left the station, she could have filled
up with one of the spare tanks. Now if she wanted to have enough gas
to make it back to the station, then she would have to conduct her
search by foot. She didn't like the idea of wandering around in the
dark with whatever was out there, but she had no other choice.
Deputy Smith set out on foot looking for clues to
where Dick might have been dragged off to. She searched the grass
surrounding the cabin for signs of a struggle. As she directed her
beam along the ground, it passed through what looked like rusty spots
on the grass. Deputy Smith snapped a glove on her hand and touched
one of the spots. She rubbed the thick red liquid between her
fingertips. Blood. In addition to the blood, she also noticed a
flattened trail of grass where it looked as though something had been
dragged through it. She began following the trail, which headed in
the direction of the nearby woods.
As she walked along the trail, she noticed two lights
bobbing in the distance. She froze, instinctively placing her hand
on her pistol. The lights grew larger and the rate of the bobbing
increased. The figures behind the orbs of light began to take shape.
Shirley Sue and Buck ran into the deputy's view. The pair were out
of breath, their clothing was tattered, and their faces were smeared
with dirt.
“Thank god it's you!” shouted Buck.
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