Dave Needs to Stay Dead by C.C. York

Author:C.C. York [York, C.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Methy in the Best Way

Shane parked his car on the side of the road a bit past the turn off for Greg Fever's farm. He clutched the GoPro camera in his hand, wincing at the gravel crunching with every step he took in between the tall, quiet woods.

Vermont was the second least populated state in the US, topping only Wyoming. He didn't have to go far out of town to feel like he was in the boonies, and Greg lived a solid hike outside of town. And up a long hill. He paused to catch his breath and checked his watch for the hundredth time. In and out, under an hour, regardless of what I do, or don't, find. The Town Hall meeting should last at least an hour.

He didn't tell his dad his plans. The stubborn old man would just try to come if he couldn't stop Shane. So, he texted Gary once more to reconfirm that he spotted Greg in the crowd. Text me if he leaves the room.

Greg Fever had removed any trace of plants or grass at the top of the hill where his RV was parked. A yellowing trailer with a gash down one side sat opposite the RV, and a collection of tires and broken down cars formed a semi circle around them. A trash can fire still smoldered off to the side, and a few glass bottles were scattered around an old folding chair aimed at a wide fire pit.

Darkness settled an hour before, but Shane could see well enough with the moonlight and contractor lights that Greg had staged around his fiefdom.

Alllllright. No going back now.

He strapped the GoPro on his head, cringing despite being alone. The Hi-ho song from Snow White would be stuck in his head for hours after he wore the camera on his forehead. Shane turned the camera on, its beam illuminating a few paces ahead of him, and made a wide circle around the RV and the trailer to make sure there were no surprises lurking. He planned to voice over the film later, so the only noise audible besides the occasional owl was his panting breath.

Shane entered the RV first. Shoes, piles of dirty dishes, and fast food trash greeted him. He tried to block out the smell of sweat and feet as he walked from one end of the RV to the other. What were you expecting? A treasure box of pills labeled "illegal"?

He opened the few drawers and kitchen cabinets, half expecting a rat to jump out at any moment, but turned up empty. With a groan he put his hands on the floor, avoiding a sticky patch by sheer dumb luck, and checked under the couch/dining room bench. Nothing. He panned the GoPro light under Greg's bed and it bounced off a long black case.

Please don't get stuck, please don't get stuck. He used a hanger and his freakishly long arms to drag the case towards him without getting fully wedged underneath. He turned the three digit dials to 1-2-3.

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