Regan Wolfrom - Coyote

“Yeah. Said the two of you’d arranged a bit of a surprise for her. What was it, anyway?”

“Oh, shit…”

I threw on my boots and grabbed my SIG.

I had no idea which way Sara had gone.

I went up to the junction with Nelson Road, to check for fresh footprints in the snow; she’d gone that way before.

But there weren’t any footprints there.

I saw some tracks heading up the trail to Ant’s sugar maples, so I followed them. All footprints, no ATVs… but as it hadn’t snowed in three days it could have been from some other time.

As I neared the graves, I saw sharp paw prints in the snow. Two sets of them. Two coyotes.

They were headed up the trail, following the various bootprints.

I passed by the burial plots and the sugar maples; one set of bootprints had kept on across the frozen stream, and the coyotes had crossed, too.

The trail moved north, out of the clearing and back into the trees, the last batch of trees before the highway and the burnt forest beyond.

I reached the firebreak.

And then I found her.

She was lying in the snow, on her back.

The coyotes were hovering over her.

I pulled my SIG and shot them both.

They’d torn her open… her neck, her hands, her chest.

They begun to strip her body like it was nothing more than a chunk of meat.

I took my SIG and shot both coyotes again.

And I shot them again.

But I knew I had to save one round.

She’d loved me. She’d given me all of herself.

And I’d hurt her. Over and over again.

And now I’d done this.

There was no way to fix it. There was no way to bring her back.

I took the barrel of my SIG and slowly pushed it into my mouth, past my teeth, pointing it up toward my brain.

I thought of Sara, of how beautiful she’d been. How she’d known me so fully and loved me anyway.

I thought of Kayla, of how much I’d wanted her, so much that I’d never realized that she’d been pushing for this to happen. She’d have to live with what we’d done.

I thought of Alanna; I’d never appreciated her as much as I should have, as much as she deserved.

And Cassy… I’d never had a chance to make my way home to look for her. Or really… I’d never taken the chance.

Then I thought of Fiona.

When Justin had told me to choose, I’d already known. It hadn’t taken me any time to decide.

I would choose Fiona. Always.

Fiona was back at the house, laughing about a wasted day of trying to tap the frozen sap.

Soon she’d start dinner without my help, cooking enough to fill seven supper plates.

She had no idea that Sara was gone.

And she had no idea that I was about to go, too.

She’d never understand how I could make that choice.

So I pulled the SIG out of my mouth.

And I emptied the clip on those goddamn coyotes.