James flicked the lighter open and a flame ignited from the spark. The lighter was worn and dull from years of abuse but it was as reliable as the sun. James stared at the flame as it burned like a beacon in the night. Then he flicked it close. It took just a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once his eyes could begin seeing details in the night, he flicked the lighter open. He thought about lighting the cigarette teetering on the edge of his dry lips, but discarded the thought. The lighter clicked close.
James began to slowly walk across the wooden bridge, his steps echoing on the dry weather worn planks. It had been some time since a drop of rain fell from the sky. Where there used to be tall tree’s and brilliant green shrubs were now tall sticks rising from a conglomerate of brown tangles. It looked as if a giant had taken dead branches and stuck them into dead grass. Somehow, amidst all this bareness the river still ran. Its surface shined and reflected the stars and moon. Fish could even be seen swimming under the surface during the day. At night however, the river gave the land an eerie feeling.
The lighter clicked open and a small flame illuminated the night. The fire licked at the darkness and brightened just enough for James to see his next step. He raised the lighter closer to his face, inches away from the tip of the cigarette and held it there for the span of a breath. The lighter clicked close. Byron was late. James turned to pace back to the other side of the bridge when he heard someone approaching. James stopped and listened.
The hushed voices were coming from his right, on the other side of the wooden railing. He dared a step closer and peered over to the glittering river a dozen feet below. Two figures were carrying a large net. James let out a relived sigh. His first thoughts were of something mischievous and dark but he was glad to be proven wrong. One of the men lumbered to the side awkwardly and fell to the ground. James opened his mouth to call out to the man to see if he was alright when a hand clasped over his mouth.
James threw his hands up and twisted in an attempt to get away, when Byron’s face came into view. James looked at Byron confused when the realization came to him. The pair inched to the edge and starred over the railing. It was indeed a net the two men were carrying, but inside the net was a woman as bare as a babe, with deep colored bruises covering her entire body.
James turned to Byron to whisper his decision of retreat. He was met with a thunderous crack. Byron had already raised his rifle, acquired one of the men in his sights, and dropped him to the earth, dead. Half a heart beat later a second crack rang out through the night, and the second man was sprawled on river rocks. Byron tilted his head in a silent command. There was no emotion on his face. He could very well have been saying, “lets go grab a coke down the street at the gas station.” Instead of “lets check on the two men we just killed.”
Only they weren’t both dead. One man had been blown apart that was for sure, but the second man who landed on the river rocks was still alive. He had a large hole through his chest just below the rib cage, but he was still clinging to life. Byron barely spared a glance at the first man. He knew where he shot him. Instead he made his way directly to the second, where the shot was meant to put him on the ground but not kill him. Byron placed himself right above the mangled and bloody body while James stood a few feet behind him.
James watched as Byron dropped to his knee and whispered into the mans ear. James couldn’t make out distinct words with the roaring of the river so close. So he turned his attention to looking at the women in the net but soon had to avert his eyes as the contents of his stomach threatened to rise up his throat. He eyes landed on the outline of the wooden railing above him, and he stared at it trying to rid his mind of the dead. He flicked his lighter open and lit his cigarette.
Mile 29 