A Dark Autumn by Kristopher Rufty Page B

she could hear was the faint rustle of leaves as a breeze stirred the trees. A few leaves waved down from above her, grazing her shoulders on their way to the ground. She listened a moment longer, then started walking again.
    But she heard it again. Closer this time. Louder.
    Definitely a footstep, she thought.  
    Was it Ricky? Had he been hiding in the woods all this time, waiting for them to make a mistake? Such as the one she’d made by going back to the house to get something to wrap Lucy’s body in while the others slept? Yeah, exactly like that. She realized it was dumb to have gone back to the cabin alone, and couldn’t believe she had been contemplating doing it again for some food. But as she was lying by the dwindling campfire, staring up at the sky as the moon crossed to make way for the sun, she couldn’t handle the hushed tranquility of nature. It felt too good and wholesome after what they had done, after what had been done to them.  
    So, she’d dressed, then hiked back to the cabin. Not once had she worried Ricky might jump out at her, or attack the others while she was gone. But now it seemed like the most probable scenario.  
    He’s gotten them, and now he’s waiting for me.
    She stopped walking again, slowly turning in a circle. Trees waved past her. No sign of Ricky. She took a deep breath, turned around, and screamed when she bumped into someone. Michelle dropped the blankets. They landed in a heap at her feet, the roll of duct rape flattening the pile.  
    It was Helen. Amanda stood by a tree at the bend in the trail.
    “Where the fuck have you been?” she interrogated.  
    “I went back to the cabin.”
    “Why the hell would you do that?”
    “I…” Michelle didn’t like the way Helen was questioning her. It wasn’t her choice of words, but the choice of tone. There was accusation behind the foul words. “I went to get some blankets…and tape.”
    Helen grimaced as if she smelled something awful. “Why would we need that?”  
    “For Lucy.”
    “Lucy’s dead sweetheart, I don’t think she’ll be using them.”
    Michelle’s hand had shot out before she even realized it was going to and slapped Helen across the cheek. She looked at Michelle as she raised her hand to the red spot, her mouth yawning a surprise.  
    “Suh-sorry…” Michelle stammered.
    Helen shook her head. “Don’t be… I was out of line.”
    “Well…I still shouldn’t have slapped you.”
    Helen delicately rubbed Michelle’s handprint. She locked her jaw and stretched her mouth from side to side as if trying to get the feeling back in her face. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
    Sighing, Michelle squatted down and scooped up the blankets, leaving the roll of tape on top. She bundled them into a gaudy ball of fabric. “I went and got this stuff so we can wrap Lucy’s body. I can’t stand that…that look in her eyes…”
    Helen nodded. “Okay. But next time, let us know before you take off like that. With Ricky out there…” She took a deep breath. “None of us should wander anywhere alone right now.”
    Michelle nodded, and together they walked back to the campsite.  

Chapter Nineteen
    Britt finished urinating, tapped and zipped his pants. Using the heel of his shoe, he pushed down on the urinal’s lever to flush. Nothing happened. He tried one more time before giving up. He walked to the sink. Standing in front of the mirror, he glanced at the soap dispenser and saw it was empty. Then he stuck his hand in the paper towel block and felt nothing but aluminum.  
    No water, no soap, no paper towels. Great.  
    He’d taken the ramp off the highway when he saw the Rest Area sign. Away from the road and private, the roof was missing shingles and the screens over the windows were ripped and tattered, flapping in the breeze like feathers. It was a small shoebox of a building, old tanned bricks with two doors. One was for gents and the other ladies. The gents’ restroom had two urinals