Devil's Forest by Anthony M. Strong

Author:Anthony M. Strong [Strong, Anthony M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-19T16:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

Decker hardly slept despite his own advice and lay staring at the sides of the tent until it was his turn to keep watch. He exited the tent before Strand even had time to fetch him, and approached the firepit, where the Ghost Team operative was sitting in a camping chair with the rifle leaning next to him.

Strand looked up at his approach. “You’re ten minutes early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah. I get that.”

“Any movement since our encounter in the forest?” Decker asked.

“Nothing.” Strand stood and shook his head. He offered the rifle to Decker. “Here’s hoping it stays that way.”

“Roger that.” The rifle felt heavy in Decker’s hands. Much better than the Glock, which he now offered up in its place.

Strand took the proffered weapon with a nod. “Thanks.”

“I want that back later,” Decker said. It held sentimental value for him as one of the few remaining connections to his former life as a sheriff in Wolf Haven, Louisiana. Nancy was the other connection. An old high school sweetheart with whom he’d reconnected with upon returning there after many years in New York as a homicide detective. Now she was his fiancée.

“Like I’m going to let you keep the rifle.” Strand grinned and started toward his tent. “I’m going to hit the sack for a few hours. Wake me when it’s time for breakfast.”

Decker watched him leave, then settled into a chair next to the fire. He threw another log on and looked out at the brooding, empty forest. Somewhere in that vast wilderness was an unknown creature. Perhaps it was many miles away by now, or maybe it was somewhere in the dense foliage looking back at him. That thought made Decker shudder, and he pushed it from his mind, trying to think of something else. Anything else. But over and over, his thoughts returned to the creature they had encountered out in the woods. Something wasn’t right about the situation, but still, he could not put his finger on it.

An hour and a half went by.

The sun began its slow ascent, peeking above the top of the trees and throwing long golden rays across the fall landscape.

He threw another log on the fire then settled back in the chair and watched the trees at the edge of the clearing, and the gloomy spaces between. Nothing stirred. He yawned.

“What, no breakfast yet? I’m starving.”

Decker looked around to see Strand walking toward him. “You know I’m not the camp cook, right? Besides, the others aren’t up yet.”

“You could at least have put a pot of coffee on,” Strand said, looking at the stainless-steel quart-sized coffee percolator sitting next to the circle of stones they had gathered to surround the campfire the previous day.

“I can fix that right now.” Decker reached for the percolator. “Want to take a look around after breakfast? See what we can find.”

“Sure.”

“Count me in, too,” said a voice from behind them. Levesque was striding toward them from the direction of his tent. He was dressed in khaki pants and a cable-knit sweater.

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