Dark Resurrection by Ron Chudley

Author:Ron Chudley
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-926971-12-4
Publisher: Touchwood Editions
Published: 2011-01-17T00:00:00+00:00

nine

Art stopped the car at the gate at the bottom of the dirt road. The wood into which it vanished was suitably anonymous, firs of uncertain vintage, not large enough for harvesting but substantial nonetheless. The whole of this province, he mused, was awash in trees, which sprouted like mushrooms in all directions, plastering every hill, ridge and uncultivated valley with a coating of dull, unending green: a situation seemingly made to order for hiding out—or going bush crazy. With a sigh, he drove up the winding lane beneath the darkening canopy, coming at last to a clearing, with a small, cedar-shingled cabin: his new house—made necessary by the happenings in Victoria.

It had all started, he seemed to remember, as a sort of prank, to relieve a life which, although wonderfully luxurious and free, had also become somewhat boring. He would not—could not—ever let himself admit that he might be lonely, as his wise-ass sister had claimed. But after years of having everything a person might desire, it was hard to remember how desperate he’d once been to get away from his situation, or to recall the enormity of what had happened to make his charmed existence possible. When the strange coincidence had occurred, of running across his own flesh and blood, it had definitely seemed like fate. Ever since his mega-stroke of fortune in New York, everything had gone his way, so using this recent piece of luck to provide a diversion had seemed a clever idea: a small adventure, an exciting drama, a bit of boasting and then, done. Great fun! Why not?

He should have realized the danger when he’d started following her around. A harmless entertainment, it had been. A game. But it had caused him to remain in once place far too long. That was the key, he was sure. He’d become complacent, allowing, for the first time since his escape from New York, his attention to be deflected from the main task, which was his own survival.

It had not been Elizabeth who’d sicked the bastard Rubestein on him, he had figured that. Still, hanging around Victoria because of her had certainly been the mistake that had led to his discovery. He didn’t know how this could be, but one of these days he was going to find out.

He pulled up in front of the cabin, stretching, surveying his new domain. Rather than being depressed, he knew, he should be feeling grateful. Cruising around in the outer limits of Mill Bay— inevitably, he’d returned to the area occupied by his sister—he’d come upon the ad on a notice board outside a country store: small cabin, fully furnished, $400 a month. Checking out the place, he saw it was a perfect short-term solution. Nothing like the cozy house in Victoria, so hastily abandoned, but fine for lying low—and a ton better than a jail cell. A day later, here he was moving in.

Not that that took very long. After all, he’d left with little more than the clothes on his back—and, of course, his precious stash.

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