
Friday Fiction #18
It's time for Friday Fiction! Dying to know what's going to happen next to Erica and Shane? Read on and you'll find out. First time reading the CTW Friday Fiction feature and want to catch up on the story? Go here to read from the beginning!********
"What is that noise?" Erica whispered, taking hold of Rags by the collar in an effort to restrain the little dog who was, at this point, growling low in his throat.
The noise was a faint rustling in the dried brush beyond their camp, and Erica thought she could also hear a car radio in the distance.
"Not sure," Shane said. "Stay here and I'll take a look." He lifted the leg of his jeans and slid a hunting knife out of the side of his boot and hefted the handle in his palm. Where did that come from? she wondered. He was a walking weapons locker between the two pistols he'd had in the RV and now the hunting knife.
He stalked the few steps up and over the low rise beyond their camp and into the scrub. Erica sat by the fire, her muscles tense and the bile roiling in her stomach, waiting for Shane to return. She strained to hear anything, but there was only the occasional crunch of Shane's footsteps on gravelly sand and rock as he got further away from camp.
She scratched Rags behind the ears, as much to comfort herself as to comfort him, but he was alert and squirming, not at all interested in her attention.
The wait was interminable. What's taking him so long? she thought. And then she began imagining all the horrible things that could have happened to him, leaving her stranded alone in the middle of the desert. Snakebitten? Lost? Fell in a hole? Captured by drug runners? She wondered if she should go look for him. But what if nothing had happened to him and he was just being careful about his reconnaissance? If she went crashing through the brush looking for him she'd ruin his lookout.
But just sitting and doing nothing as the minutes ticked by was driving her crazy. Patience wasn't something she was good at. She strained to hear anything, and could still pick out the car radio in the distance, but the rustling had stopped.
Rags was restless. Erica stood, intending to top the rise and at least survey the scene. Maybe she could see something.
As she took her first step she heard a distinct thud. Then another and another, followed by a grunt and a strangled scream.
She charged for the top of the rise. "Shane?!" she called.
There was no answer.
Written by: 
HAH! That's perfect! Also, funnily enough, almost exactly what I was thinking of when I wrote my piece...
You have any psychic skills you haven't told us about?
; P