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Long Haul - a series of stories

Flintlock Burnfur

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Sharon Hargrove brought the tow truck to a stop at the edge of the dirt road.  Dirt road might be a bad description for some, as it was actually a crumbled provincial highway between Uranium City and Fond du Lac, on the northern shore of Lake Athabasca.  She sighed as the flashing lights from the RCMP cruiser and EMS vehicle blinked against her rain soaked windshield.  She adjusted her ball cap and made sure her aviators were pushed up on her nose before she got out of the cab of her truck.


The usual people were on the scene; Constable Martin Kowalchuck and Constable Maria Twofeathers, Sammy Gerard with the local EMS, and Jimmy Starstruck from the auto repair shop in Fond du Lac.


"What's the deal, Marty?" Sharon called out as she pulled her coat a little tighter.  It was July, but still cold out thanks to the rain.


"Guy tried to avoid a bear on the road," Constable Kowalchuk said as he joined Sharon.  The two walked together toward the edge of the road where a 1994 Volkswagon Golf sat partially submerged in the marsh. "Drove his car off the road. Got himself stuck.  He's okay, but we need to get his car out of there."


"Who the fuck drives a Golf up here?" Sharon said with a sigh as she walked down into the ditch.  She reached down to the licence plate and scrubbed off the mud. "This guy drove all the way from Washington State?"


"Says he knows somebody in Fond du Lac," Marty replied. "They met online."


Sharon looked back to Marty before making her way back to the tow truck.  "That's not sketchy at all," she said with a hint of sarcasm.


"Think you can get his car out?"


"Yeah, it's not sunk in too deep," she said as she prepared the hoist.  "Fifteen minutes and I'll have it out, then tow it over to Jimmy's."


As Sharon walked back to the driver's side of the cab, she caught sight of the man in question sitting on the back bumper of the EMS vehicle.  And it hit her.  She could see his aura.  He was surrounded by what Sharon could only see as death, deception, cruelty and malice.  "That's the guy?" she asked motioning to a man being treated for a minor injury.


"Yeah, that's him," Marty replied with a nod.  "Arnold Brooks. Doesn't exactly strike me as the outdoorsy type."


"Have him ride with me on the way back," Sharon said in a quiet tone.


Marty's expression became serious, quiet.  "What are you getting off of him?"


"I don't know," Sharon said as she opened the driver's door and climbed into the cab.  "But there's something dark about him."

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