A Car in the Woods

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XI A CAR IN THE WOODS Nate trudged up the incline through thick underbrush. The wild growth looked cool from the house, but hiking in them became a chore. The sound of a creek that ran parallel to the road acted as his compact. He couldn't always see the creek, but the gurgling shallow water rushing across the rock bottom would help him find his way back to the farm. According to Hannah, it was common long ago for large estates to have a private cemetery. They agreed that Nathan Freedman was probably buried in such a place, somewhere on the land. A long shot, but one worth taking. Deciding it best not to tell his grandparents, Nate snuck out after breakfast to search the woods for a long forgotten overgrown cemetery. With a stick he fashioned into a staff, he probed the ground for any remnant of a burial site. But an hour into the search and he had uncovered nothing. Anything that looked like a vine covered fence, or a grave marker, erect or fallen, he investigated. From where he stood above and away from the creek, he could see that the land flowing beneath the canopy of trees. In the groves of maples, oaks, and evergreens, a carpet of leaves and fallen branches littered the ground. The thinning undergrowth made him think it would be a better choice for a search, but he would have to find another way to keep his bearing. The trees would probably muffle the sound of running water. With this new plan in mind, he turned and headed back to the farm. He'd worn cargo pants and a long sleeved shirt to protect against insect bites, scratches from thorny vines, and the threat of poison ivy. It all work to make him miserable, hot and sweaty though. Already he missed the feel of air co... ... middle of paper ... ...t was beautiful out here. Maybe these people hadn't realized they were on private land. Or maybe they realized it, so had picked the odd parking spot. Spotting something on the passenger seat, Nate continued to peer inside. What looked to be the sleeve of an airline ticket had been left open. This person had recently taking a flight on the same airline as he. Nate squinted against the glare off the glass to get a better look at the flight number. Flight 417. Whoa, Nate straightened and immediately froze. Beside his own reflection in the car window, a second reflection loomed behind him. Nate wondered if that warning about object being closer than they looked applied to the window as well. Because if so, he was in big trouble. He stood as still as he could, the way he heard you should if you were ever stupid enough to be hiking in the woods and ran into a bear.

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