Dave Freedman - Natural Selection

She focused on three massive trunks lined up next to one another. Was something behind them? She stepped off the trail and walked closer. Then… A rifle appeared, pointed right at her.

“Oh my God,” she stammered.

Standing before her were three very large men in red-and-black checked shirts, hunters.

“Son of a bitch.” The one with the rifle looked devastated. “I am so sorry, miss.”

Ranger Laura Meyer exhaled. “You scared the hell out of me!”

The guy noticed the baby. “I am very, very sorry.”

She gave the guy a filthy look. “We have signs everywhere that the park’s closed. I should probably ticket you, you know.”

“Ranger, I wouldn’t blame you if you did, but is there any way you can let us off this time? We are so sorry; we really are.”

Laura looked up at the guy. He was fiftysomething, balding, bearded, and enormous—six-five with a big belly. Went by the name Big Tim. The two other guys were in their early twenties; one, the spitting image of the older one, clearly his son, and the other his son’s friend.

“We’re good citizens, really. I’m Tim Jameson. This here is my son, Timmy. And this runty guy is Tim’s buddy Greg.”

Laura chuckled. Greg was six feet and didn’t have the belly that father and son had. She looked them up and down. They didn’t look like criminals, and she didn’t even have her ticket book with her. She considered calling the police, but they were seventy miles away, and with the phone problems… She had more important things to worry about.

“How’d you get here?”

“We drove, ma’am.” Big Tim waved. “Truck’s back there.”

“Leave immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am; thank you. Have a good night.”

As they walked off, Laura considered asking if they’d seen the missing jogger. But no. If they had, they would have mentioned it. They disappeared behind some trees, and it became perfectly silent again. Laura glanced at her baby, then continued down the trail.

ON THE riverbank, Darryl halted.

So did everyone else—quizzically.

“What is it?” Jason said, looking around.

Darryl stared into the forest, dark and shadowy. “Something’s in there.”

Craig shook his head. “Gimme a break.”

Darryl said nothing. Rifle in hand, he walked to the edge of the trees. Then slowly entered.

“OH, WILL ya look at that.”

Crammed in next to Timmy and Greg in his red Chevy pickup, Big Tim shook his head. Right in front of their speeding truck, six deer, one a big-horned buck, dashed across the road, then disappeared into the forest on the other side.

His son turned excitedly. “We gonna go get ‘em, Dad?”

“Ah, you heard what that ranger said, Timmy.”

“Gimme a break; what’s she gonna do? Ticket ya? I thought you were gonna teach me to hunt.”

Big Tim shook his head. Something didn’t feel right. What was that ranger doing out there anyway?

“Oh come on, Dad!”

Big Tim suddenly jammed on the brakes. “You’re right. What’s she gonna do?” They parked and quickly got out of the truck. “Come on, boys. Big Tim’s gonna show you how to do it right.”

ALLEN MEYER saw the footprints immediately. In dark soil in the dead center of the trail. They were widely spaced, clearly from someone who’d been jogging. He removed his hat and studied one closely. In the middle of it was a fat letter N. New Balance running shoes. He removed his walkie-talkie.

“Laura?”

He waited for a moment, but there was only static.

“Laura, you out there? Laura?”

He waited again. Still nothing. His wife was no doubt still charging.

He holstered the walkie-talkie and followed the prints.

The trail was eerily quiet, but the prints continued, right down the middle of it. He followed them for a few hundred yards, passing a two-and-a-half-mile marker, a small footbridge, and then… The prints went off the trail.

Allen Meyer paused. Was he seeing things?

But no, plain as day, the prints went straight into the woods. His blue eyes began darting. Why the hell would the guy have left the trail? Only one way to find out.

He entered the trees.

IN THE forest, the prints continued… past redwoods, fern patches, a field of tiny white flowers, a trickling stream… right into the middle of a wide clearing.

And then they stopped. Just disappeared.

The ranger looked around. Where the hell did they go?

Confused, he walked forward. They had to be around here somewhere.

“TOLD YOU there was nothing here. Let’s get back to the water.”

They were in the woods now, fifty feet from Redwood Inlet.

Listening to his own advice, Craig Summers started to turn. Darryl Hollis didn’t move.

Then there was a snapping sound from the direction he was facing.

Craig turned back nervously. “What was that?”

No one answered. They just studied the shadowy trunks and ferns, all perfectly silent now.

There was another snap.

Then a man in a tan ranger outfit appeared. “Are any of you Wayne Abbott?”

Darryl looked at him. “Sorry?”

“ Wayne Abbott!” Ranger Allen Meyer was annoyed, realizing these people were wearing jeans and not joggers at all. “The park is closed; you know, you’re not supposed to be here.”

Jason just stared at the man, a ranger. A ranger looking for someone. “Who’s… Wayne Abbott?”

“A missing jogger. You didn’t see him, did you?”

Jason couldn’t believe it. “We haven’t seen anybody.” Then he noticed Lisa, visibly terrified, her face as tight as a drum. He forgot about the ranger. “Are you OK?”

Lisa didn’t answer—just shook her head.

Monique turned. “Hey, girlfriend. You want to go back to the boat?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“Thank you very much, Monique.” Jason patted her on the back.

“No problem; everything’s cool.” She put her arm over Lisa’s shoulder. “Guys, we’ll see you back there.”

As the women walked off, Allen Meyer was even more annoyed. Who the hell are these people? And how am I going to find this jogger? The park was enormous, more light was disappearing every second, it was just him and his wife and… “Damn it!”

Jason turned to him. “Anything we can do to help?”

Meyer didn’t respond. He worried he and Laura had miscalculated badly, that the jogger was nowhere near here. Four years ago they’d dealt with a similar situation. A teenager had gotten lost and gone missing for three entire days, finally turning up in the cornfields at the northern tip of the forest. Could the jogger have reached the same spot? Meyer wanted to check that next, but it was getting late, the fields stretched for miles, and there was only one way to search that kind of terrain. He turned to his unwanted guests—

“I don’t suppose any of you know how to fly a helicopter.”

Darryl and Craig shared a look. “Actually, we both do.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“All right… You’re going to help me. Right now.” He removed his hat and started sprinting. “Come on….”

They all ran after him.

“ LAURA, YOU out there? Laura, come in. Laura?”

Allen Meyer drummed his fingers impatiently, waiting for a response.

But the walkie-talkie was silent, nothing but static.

He put it down on his now-moving SUV’s dash and turned to Jason, in the passenger seat next to him. “My wife. She must still be charging hers.”

So was she outside too? Jason tried to appear casual. “She’s also looking for the jogger?”

A nod. “Since it’s just the two of us, we had to split up.” They pulled into the massive empty parking lot amid the trees. “You guys fly either of those?”